#with some quantity that will probably be broken and taking a step back to look at the impact on people. the messages they’ve had.

[sukunasun]

sunny do NOT leave us after mentioning professor nanami. he will forever be on my mind. 😣

heres some stuff i fished out from the drafts:

nanami kento phd sets his alarm for precisely six in the morning everyday. this is important because he's already taken into account the morning rush crowd and the weather forecast has predicted sunny skies today, which is rather unlikely for ...england. so he's not buying it, there are only a few precious hours to make up for the time it takes to set up the slides and get the creaky projector to work—not surprising since the university is about eight hundred years old and has yet to figure out why students can’t find assignment posts on canvas—but out the door he goes, a loose sock falls down to his ankle like always, and he would relish in that little bit of familiarity and routine, but there isn't enough time to do so when it's already six thirty.

"attendance will be taken into account for your final grade, five minutes is the cut off point,” he announces every semester, with every new batch of students, and like clockwork, it’s followed by a chorus of groans. 

but none of them try to fight him on it, they think the old man has enough to deal with, given that he’s always got the moodiest face on, brooding and emotionless. he’s barely 30 but he receives senior citizen discounts at the cafe nearby. already looks the part with his brown sweater vests and thick rimmed buddy holly glasses, shoes clacking on pavement as he's rushing from one lecture hall to another. but the pants are nice, he’s thrifted them from his first time at a market in camden (sans spectacles and or orthopaedics. those had to be custom made.) 

his laptop is shoved into his worn out leather messenger bag clumsily, who cares, it's a PC, they’re sturdier and he’d rather settle for thinkpads than buying into that fruit company. the zipper's broken so he clasps it shut with his fingers, briskly side stepping slow walkers and mutters a "fucking hell," under his breath when he comes across couples making out in the open, sucking each other's faces off, he's cringing at how obscene it is, enough to turn his croissant bland. rammed into his open maw, he has no time for jams or butter, so a soggy, saliva-drenched mess will do.

about 200 people show up to his class and that's only because they started having a stricter application process, he remembers when there were more. still, the quantity doesn't phase him, because eventually students will drop out, people fail assignments. the numbers shall dwindle because he's over the hand holding. it used to be fine back when prerequisites were a jumbled up bunch of different majors, he'd help out with a little calculus here and some linear algebra worksheets, y'know, just the basic stuff. but it's about time he stopped the coddling. makes a mental note to remind himself just how much he takes this course seriously. econometrics isn't for everyone, but a bare-bones understanding of basic concepts in probability theory and statistical inference is all he asks for. "you will fail to grasp anything beyond the first week of this syllabus," he tells yuuji itadori who sits in the front row, an enthusiastic kid, eager to learn, but ultimately and unfortunately...foolish.

"what did you major in last semester?" nanami asks impassively, not at all curious really, but just to gauge where he's at. meanwhile another part of his brain is already planning and working out an alternative plan if itadori chooses to stay. maybe something simpler, he's heard accounting is all the rage, as long as he's done something relatively close to mathematics—

“sports marketing!” yuuji exclaims. so self assured, and nanami is about to rip his hair out, fisting at blonde clumps. he really shouldn’t do that, it would be such a shame to have him balding at such a young age. maybe he’ll do a silly side study on it, ‘progressive deterioration of the hair shaft over a two year period primarily caused by excessive weathering and self-inflicted damage.’ (quickly taps out a short intro in his notes app and emails it to geto and gojo with no subject and the one line; ‘thoughts?’) 

nanami breathes out a deep sigh, he's going to have a not so friendly chat with the admins after this. "and why have you chosen this course, as a challenge i presume? i should remind you this is a postgraduate program," which should have been his first clue to itadori's determination.

"i just thought it'll be fun to take your class, you're like, the smartest guy i know," to which nanami can't deny him when he's so earnest about it. if he were being realistic, the chances for yuuji to achieve much are slim, or at least where this course is concerned. but nanami has never been the kind to discourage, so he just hands itadori a list of pdf textbooks he can download for free off some random account, and schedules tutoring sessions on his thursday afternoons. ('thank you @ mr_overtime for providing free and accessible academic resources!' yuuji types before posting it to a message board.)

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

nanami’s moved to an old research lab the next day, the same group of students show up except there are a few who join him online in a teams channel he’s humorously named ‘ABSENT 7/3/22’ ...just to emphasise on the importance of face to face interactions. he thinks it’s funny. no one laughs. but he didn’t think they would. he’s mapped it out on a data visualizer programme he’s been working on and is proud at the very least that results were accurate. still, the conditions are less than ideal, the stone floors scuff the leather of his shoes, the heating unit is broken, and of course, no projector. “i guess we’ll do graphs today,” he says. 

a choir made up of sifting hands and rustling papers start singing alongside graphite and red cedar grinding under a blade, the quick push, push, pushes of a thumb on pen, cables thrown across one table to another—there are no outputs here. with swift vertical swipes, nanami thinks he’ll suffer the clown lung and the inevitable dry, dust-filled grooves of his fingertips for this, especially because it’s been awhile since he’s used the hagoromo chalk. there’s a pause, everyone waits for the maestro, and he conducts a tune of old, one that’s been unheard in years. when his perfectly straight lines come out thick and layered like snow on a forest floor, phthalo turning into golden-sheen moss green when the sun cuts a slant of light at the right time. his rosy fingers translucent like an orange, pressing, gripping, swishhh-es lines he’s seen again and again, equations he knows by heart, the tapping of rock reverberates, and everyone else follows after its echo.

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

a replica of ‘wanderer above the sea fog’ gets delivered to his office that afternoon. “still into romanticism?” gojo asks. doesn’t even try to point at the painting, already disinterested. with hands tucked into his favourite parka, he swivels his head around and bounce on his heels like a child, looking for whatever would grasp his interest, wide blue eyes taking in nanami’s office that’s untouched by renovation of any kind, it still smells a little damp and the curtains are yet again pulled shut, but gojo shines with curiosity enough to light up an entire room. 

he shrugs, “‘still into’ suggests fixation, i only observe it as what it is— a painting,” nanami defends, head tilting to the side, “they were going to get rid of it, what was i supposed to do?”

“you make it sound like it were a stray animal,” gojo teases, seeing that nanami doesn’t entertain the jab, he eases the tension by the only way he knows how, bringing attention to himself, “but what do i know, i’ve only just won a nobel,” he shoots nanami a grin that curls from ear to ear. yet again, the scowl is ever prominent. 

moving closer to inspect it, gojo forces himself not to pull a face. yeah no. nothing interesting here; man looking out towards a fog and endless sky. there’s no truth to it. only that the varnish is applied sloppily, and it’s cracking, nooks and crannies gathering dust, rivers splitting down the middle. is it a piece worth anything? worth saving? he doesn’t think so. an artist should just paint what’s in front of him.

nanami overachieves but never finds any meaning in all of it, who's turning into a doubter, a pessimist, "you’re always in a bad mood, must be the weight of that intellect you have," gojo likes to say. one who seeks for something beyond because he uncovers the mysteries of the world and what then? feels like a ghost, hollowed and waning. thou art a scholar horatio, speak to it. watching himself live a life he can't control, every passing moment slipping through his fingers. they're cold and slightly calloused, chalk-dusted. there's a detached way about then, a dismissive wave of his hand, brushing off excuses and late submissions and all the compliments that fall on deaf ears. 

“you see yourself in it,” suguru adds from his corner, nonchalantly. he’s lazing in an armchair with book in hand. when he looks up at the two of them, they stare at him like he were speaking in a foreign language. snapping his book shut, he stretches his limbs out like a cat, “it’s a piece depicting reflection; morality, feeling, something tells me you’re lost kento,” geto gives his hypothesis. and it lingers there. 

[maniculum]

The College of Grotesque Arts -- Week Six

For new people, I’m doing the Dungeon23 megadungeon project, basing each room on the marginalia of a different page in the 14th-century Luttrell Psalter. Previous entries in this project can be found here.

Room 2.5: f.30v

Had a bit of trouble working out what to do with this page. Spent a while trying to figure out what this woman is holding; the only explanation I was able to find online is that this is St. Catherine holding a representation of the wheel she was tortured on. Hm.

The floor of this empty and perfectly circular room is in constant rotation like a wheel for some reason. (Appendix A actually made this one circular, which I see as serendipity.) The floor is uneven, apparently by design — the floor is constructed out of stone blocks, which seem to form steps up or down apparently at random. Walking across the floor will require a Balance check. Falling does a small amount of damage. Entering or exiting likewise requires a check to move through the door without falling.

Broken mechanisms scattered about the room resemble distaffs, spindles, and other sewing tools. Was this some kind of textile-related device? The world will never know.

Room 2.6: f.31r

The eastern portion of this room is occupied by an artificial pond.

The pond is filled with small blue-gold minnows.

There are also geese, being hunted by a fox.

Sunk into the mud at the bottom of the pond are the remains of Ilger, a previous explorer of the dungeon. Ilger was a cleric who held some rank in his former church, and may have some good items on him. (That crozier looks pretty fancy…) If anyone uses speak with dead, Ilger is from a sect that practices burial at sea, and he’s pretty sure his former party would have tossed his body in the pond as a gesture towards that. He suspects that, had they survived, they would have retrieved him to either resurrect him or take him to a proper sea.

Room 2.7: f.31v

Appendix A originally had this room connected to 2.8 and 2.10, also by secret doors, but I’ve decided that’s silly. Anyway. That hallway to the east there appears to end in an empty storage closet, but a bit of examination will reveal that the back wall will swing open with a good enough push. 

When the door is opened, a fungal stench wafts out, followed by a handful of flegatters. The room has an unfinished dirt floor, and fungus of some kind has been encouraged to grow over the walls. It is inhabited by a seemingly endless quantity of these flegatters. A flegatter is, essentially, a bright orange slug that has been granted wings. It’s extremely venomous. These creatures have escaped to the outside world, so a Knowledge(Nature) check would warn you about them — probably too late for anyone who was in the closet when the door was opened, though.

Flegatter: CR 2, XP 600; N Fine Magical Beast; Init +2; Senses Low-Light Vision, Darkvision 60ft; Perception +0

DEFENSE: AC 20, touch 20, flat-footed 18 (+8 size, +2 Dex); hp 26 (3d10+9); Saves Fort +6, Ref +5, Will +1; Immunities Poison

OFFENSE: Speed 5 ft., fly 10 ft.; Melee contact +7 (0 damage + poison); Space 0 ft.; Reach 0 ft.; Special Attacks Poison (Ex)

STATISTICS: Str 2, Dex 14, Con 17, Int 2, Wis 10, Cha 10; Base Atk +3; CMB -9; CMD 3; Feats Acrobatic, Athletic; Skills Fly +10; Special Qualities Magical Beast Traits

SPECIAL ABILITIES:

Poison (Ex): Anyone who comes into contact with a flegatter has been exposed to a venom that has a Fortitude save DC of 14, a frequency of 1/round for 10 rounds, causes 1d2 Con damage, and takes two saves to cure.

Flegatters don’t so much attack as they just stick to you and then you’re poisoned. They may do this on purpose; they’re carnivorous, and just landing on something then waiting for it to die is basically a hunting behavior for them.

If you leave the door open, more flegatters keep coming out.

Room 2.8: f.32r

This page is not great for my purposes. There are some grotesques, but two of them are just “some kind of worm thing with a human face”, which isn’t helpful, and the third is this one, which I just can’t parse in any kind of way I want to engage with:

That leaves us with a human figure, so sure, whatever, there’s a guy here.

This is Hagin, a member of the Gatekeepers, doing a little amateur exploring. (If you’ve really been keeping track, you may remember that the Gatekeepers have Februaria’s keyring and therefore can teleport to this level — the key goes to Room 2.26, though, so Hagin’s wandered some way from where he came in. He does not have the keyring on him.) He’s a sorcerer a couple levels higher than the PCs, and he just happens to be wandering through this room, which is otherwise empty but for two rows of pillars. (I’m also going to put him on the random encounters table for this level, so if the PCs have already run into him, you can choose to not have him in this room.)

Hagin is cheerfully overconfident. He’s of course happy to give the PCs tips or even travel with them, but of course that’ll cost them. The other Gatekeepers would frown on one of their members offering services to explorers free of charge, after all. (Hagin uses that as an excuse, and it’s not untrue, but he doesn’t have any kind of problem with profit-motivated behavior, and would probably charge them for his services regardless.) The fees are exorbitant, but you can haggle. Hagin has a pretty good idea of the contents of this level, but is cagey about sharing unless you pay him.

Room 2.9: f.32v

The room is empty and featureless.

This is the room where Caretaker Three remains when it’s not doing its rounds — if the PCs enter during the day, they will find it here, inactive near the northern wall. It’s a stone construct with a humanoid upper half in bluish stone, and a piscine lower half in reddish stone. Its tail has a little beak on the end, which it uses as a somewhat crude extra hand.

Caretaker Three carries an odd golden staff; one end acts like a set of tongs, and can be used to close around the limb of an escaped creature if needed. This is the Rod of Beaſt Restraint, and will be detailed below the following stats.

Caretaker Three: CR 7, XP 3200; N Medium Construct; Init +2; Senses Low-Light Vision, Darkvision 60ft; Perception +0

DEFENSE: AC 21, touch 12, flat-footed 19 (+2 Dex, +9 natural); hp 70 (9d10+20); Saves Fort +3, Ref +5, Will +3; DR 5/- SR 18

OFFENSE: Speed 20 ft., swim 20 ft.; Melee rod +16 (1d12+7) , tail +11 (2d6+7); Spell-Like Abilities (CL 9; DC 10 + spell level): At Will: Create Food and Water, Daze Monster, Minor Creation; 3/day: Charm Monster, Rainbow Pattern, Telekinesis; 1/day: Fabricate, Wall of Force

STATISTICS: Str 24, Dex 14, Con 0, Int 0, Wis 10, Cha 1; Base Atk +9; CMB +16; CMD 28; Special Qualities: Construct Traits

Rod of Beaſt Restraint: Ten times per day, this rod can cast hold monster. Additionally, this rod can be used to initiate a grapple by seizing a creature with the tong-like end; it confers a +5 bonus to your grapple check when you use it in this way. The rod can also be used as a bludgeoning weapon for 1d12 damage. 

Caretaker Three is a little slow and clumsy — the fishtail doesn’t work for movement as well as it might. Like the other Caretakers, it doesn’t interfere with the PCs unless they interfere with it first. If it becomes convinced that they’re a problem, it will attempt to render them unconscious, charmed, or held, then move them to Room 2.26. If it is particularly concerned about them posing a threat, it may begin the combat with a wall of force to cut off escape.

Room 2.10: f. 33r

This room is spacious and high-ceilinged, with a deep soil layer as its floor and two rows of pillars supporting the roof. It has several trees within it, as well as a small pond in the southwest corner.

The pond is stocked with small blue flying fish. That’s exactly what it sounds like. They’re about minnow-size. They don’t go far from the pond, because they can’t breathe out of the water.

The trees contain gold-winged bellbirds. These are standard songbirds, except unusually loud. If agitated, they can deafen anyone within five feet.

The room is also inhabited by unusually friendly squirrels. They seem almost domesticated, even a bit dog-like in the way they react to people.

Room 2.11: f.33v

This is another latrine. The opening to said latrine is located in the southwest corner.

In the southeast corner, there is a rather nice fountain depicting a bird-like grotesque with water coming out of its mouth.

The latrine itself, while clean, is inhabited by a spike-tailed worm. This creature is a blue-and-red serpent with a rabbit-like head and a long, spiked tail. It attacks by constricting, and may well do so if you decide the PCs are having too easy a time of it — if they do not investigate the latrine, feel free to have it emerge and/or grab them.

Spike-Tailed Worm: CR 4, XP 1200; N Medium Magical Beast; Init +2; Senses Low-Light Vision, Darkvision 60ft, Blindsight 30ft; Perception +11

DEFENSE: AC 18, touch 12, flat-footed 16 (+2 Dex, +6 natural); hp 45 (6d10+12); Saves Fort +6, Ref +7, Will +2

OFFENSE: Speed 30 ft., climb 30 ft.; Melee tail lash +11 (1d8+5/x3); Space 5 ft.; Reach 10 ft.; Special Attacks Constrict (1d8+5), Grab (tail lash)

STATISTICS: Str 20, Dex 15, Con 12, Int 2, Wis 10, Cha 10; Base Atk +6; CMB +11 (+15 grapple); CMD 23; Feats Ability Focus (Constrict), Alertness, Toughness; Skills Perception +11; Special Qualities Magical Beast Traits, Blindsight 30ft

SPECIAL ABILITIES:

Constrict (Ex): A Spike-Tailed Worm can crush an opponent, dealing 1d8+5 bludgeoning damage, when it makes a successful grapple check (in addition to any other effects caused by a successful check, including additional damage).

Grab (Ex): If a Spike-Tailed Worm hits with its tail lash attack, it deals normal damage and attempts to start a grapple as a free action without provoking an attack of opportunity. Grab can only be used against targets of a size Medium or smaller.

And there’s Week Six. I think I’ve managed to keep this one a bit shorter.

[seahdalune]

Seana’s 2022 art highlights (a thread)

(Note: this is a reupload of a thread i did on twitter a few years back. so these are really old. don't worry, this is the final reupload.)

this thread, unlike the previous 3 art threads, will be full of holes. this is because i haven’t drawn shit this year, mostly introspect. and gaming. tf2 has done horrors to my schedule.

January: I didn’t draw anything. Skip. well, nothing of SHOWING, anyways. i scribbled, but they’re horseshit and that’s all you should know about them.

February: Charlie’s family, ft Mia. i drew the left picture for the comic but i’m gonna be honest... i don’t, like the poses that much. posing has been a big weakness for me, for a long time, and the limited bends in objects kinda highlight that.

March: redraw of an old traditional drawing. i don’t think i liked this one either. unsatisfied. there’s been a pattern for this year. also [there's] a commission, that’s been asked for since January. i wish i didn’t take that long. i’m still very sorry to my commissioner.

April: Portal phase. my commission money was spent on the Orange Box... because i didn’t know Portal 2 wasn’t on the Orange Box. oops. my friend bought Portal 2 for me. i’m really thankful for them.

[note: hey! some of these i've actually posted on tumblr... lemme link those posts.] [post 2] [post 3]

May: strangely, i drew Cutter Knife a lot? i like him, wish i had time and motivation to work on the comic, but i fucked with myself by hastily releasing it when i still didn’t know everything about them.

June: didn’t have much drawing opportunities, due to finals and the vacation to America that followed. i did draw these 2 things tho, and i think these are the pieces i’m very satisfied with.

July: probably the last month of this year that i ever worked hard on. i had online writing classes, which means i just tuned the video as background noise while i tried out some stuff. it was the best month i ever had. oh, btw, trad art from May~August is mostly lost because my main phone was broken for that time and i was forced to use my older phone. they still exist, just not saved onto my device.

August: made during the writing class. i’m not very happy with this, but i was trying to do something. maybe the fact i didn’t have a clear vision of WHAT, was blocking me from what i wanted to do.

oh, there are these things too. hi guys, hope sunlight wasn’t too dear to you.

September: i surprise myself more and more. i did draw characters a lot! but that wasn’t what i wanted for this whole year. i wanted to draw cartoons. characters living. talking. i just captured their souls behind a dead, white, background. [note: ?]

October: my persona. the new one. [art 1]

i realize, i’m not posting my trad drawings. there isn’t much to post. here are some from random points of the year, though.

November: i start drawing things about tf2. and i’m still going strong, thanks. (ft. Dicey Dungeons)

[art 1+2] [art 3]

December: as i said, nothing much. stepped away from coloring to focus more on the shape. coloring exhausts me.

[post 1] [post 2]

*looks at past threads* oh, right, i still need to do my retrospective.... something, things. i planned a lot this year. but i just kinda ended up... burned out. school has been a big factor, but it’s been partially my fault for just doomscrolling on twitter, not doing things. partially?? no, this is entirely your fault, mister. anyways, i hope i can just... do things again. draw. not feel like i need to do something groundbreaking for each piece. i think i’ll focus on quantity over quality, for next year.

[note: this post ends by saying "hopefully this site lasts for me to do a 2023 art retrospective thread"... hah, well, funny thing is...]

[librarianandguardian]

Playlist Inspired Ficlet

Playlist - POV : Gojo Satoru , Nanami Kento And You Messed Up A Mission, Whole Chaos Fandom : Jujutsu Kaisen Pairing : Platonic Nanami x Gender!Neutral Reader x Gojo Words : 665 (short D’: This is actually inspired by an OC I’m building in my head)

Warnings : Blood and Injuries. I mean it’s a failing mission in JJK what do you expect ?

A.N. : DOUBLE POST !? Yeah I wanted to publish some fun for once. I’m actually really proud of this one lmao. I’ve mainly been inspired by the Bruno Mars part at 9:34 but it fits the rest ! Yes, I’m putting the main blame on Gojo. Listen I like him BUT GOOD GOD way too much energy in this white fluffy mountain. But he’s a good teach’. So he passes. ANYWAY ENJOY THE TINY CHOAS, WOOP.

To be fair, you knew it was gonna go down this way. How could it not ? The Gojo factor was way too volatile on missions. Reading the reports, you had wondered if the curse hadn’t been underestimated. Ah, how right were you. It scared you.

That curse was horrifying to say the least, and Gojo disappearing mid-fight without a reason hadn’t helped. AT ALL.

“You guys can handle it ! I know ! You make a great team. I’ll be back soon. ”

A wink and thumbs up later, that bastard had vanished.

So here you are, a small (okay no big) hole in your side. Cuddled up in Nanami’s arms with a tree branch to try and regenerate yourself, you giggle. Your poor co-worker is starting to run out of breath and the curse is catching up. Damn your nature-based technique, this situation looks ridiculous.

“Turn right.” You weakly whisper.

The blonde takes a sharp turn, almost losing balance. Did I mention the metal bar stuck in one of his shoulders ? Yeah, that’s not ideal. You guys do make a great team. Not against a Special grade curse unfortunately. You, a druidic like sorcerer, fighting in an abandoned warehouse in the industrial part of Tokyo, miles away from any sort of real flourishing greenery, holding onto weeds and the rare outside trees. Nanami and his 7:3 technique against a size changing target. Yeah.

The Grade 1 sorcerer ducked in a nearby closet. You pushed close the door with your foot. The curse screamed and started banging on the door. With the little strength you had left, you both pushed some furniture to block the entry. After doing so, you sat on the floor against the farthest wall of the room. Nanami cursed loudly. That made you laugh like a maniac. He side-eyed you, angry, only to realise you were probably going lightheaded from the quantity of blood you lost. Your hand and the withering branch were covering your wound. His eyes conveyed his worry. Not in the mood to tease him further, you showed him that the wound was now only a nasty gush, not a HOLE. A small grin on your face, you looked around. A bunch of weed and leaves covered the ground; a broken window roughly 6 feet above you. Too small to allow any of you out. You’re trapped.

Groaning, you straightened.

“Wanna take the bar out ? I can stop the bleeding with the weed. I think.

-No, save your strength.”

You rolled your eyes. The pile of rusted furniture was shaking.

“Dude, at least you could run away without risking the curse to catch you by the bar.”

He sighed, brows pinched. You wondered how much more Nanami was gonna be able to resist Gojo’s bullshit before REALLY snapping. His self-control seemed endless.

“Damn that motherf-”

A loud bang echoed, the constant shake of the furniture stopping. You raised an eyebrow. Checking on Nanami, you both got to your feet, a bit shaky. You picked up some leaves, ready to transform them into dangerous blades. A few steps later, a loud obnoxious laugh echoed.

“Phew, just in time. Come on guys, stop making out in the closet !”

Both of you rolled your eyes. Once you’re out, the first thing you did was throwing a hardened leaf at Gojo. Of course, he dodged it with a shitty grin.

“We have done it, good friends ! Mission Successful !”

“Successful !? Gojo, you blew our main energy storage, killed 10 people in the explosion and your two colleagues are on recovery leave for two weeks. IN SUMMER.”

Head Master Yaga was beyond upset, judging from the forehead vein popping out while scolding the manchild. You looked at Nanami, who was infinitely happy with the scene unfolding. Easy to tell with the slight smile on his face. He caught you staring. You winked, very pleased.

The pair of you did make a great team. Especially without Gojo.

[redorich]

For the canyon au, what would happen if one of the hermits got hurt during a scout? Like, if etho is out scouting, something happens, and he’s unable to message the hermits or get help. Would he be willing to be seen? Would any smpers besides Puffy help him?

Zedaph didn't mean to leave the canyon, honest! He was just looking for a sheep of his own for a completely ethical experiment involving pistons and a perfectly reasonable quantity of peanut butter, thank you very much. He wasn’t about to steal a sheep from someone else’s farm, and for some reason sheep don’t tend to spawn at bedrock level. So really, he had no choice!

Zedaph is rethinking a lot of his decisions. He’s also wondering if he left the jump-powered stove on. Then he remembers that it’s jump-powered, and as he is not currently jumping on it, it is most likely unpowered. Unfortunately, it seems as though Zedaph is going to be eating a lot of cold food for a while if he makes it out of this alive, because he’s not going to be jumping on anything with a broken leg.

Despite his punishment for trying to take a cross-section of something that he now knows is probably sentient (oops), he can’t help but want to go back, to learn more. What is the rate of growth of those red vines? Are they all from the same plant? Are they actually sentient, or is the crimson kudzu in possession of an automatic response to attempted harm? Did the vine know it was hitting him off a ledge which would break his leg, or did it just know “whack human away from vine”? Would the vines taste good in soup? Are they flammable? Could Zedaph theoretically knit a fashionable sweater out of them, and if so would the sweater be capable of independent movement?

He is torn from his musings of a wriggly evil sweater by another thrum of pain. He hisses. There’s... more blood than is advisable. Outside of his leg, that is. Inside his leg is likely less than the advisable amount of blood, and come to think of it, his head’s probably a bit empty as well, seeing as how he’s having so much trouble thinking straight-- well, straight for him. His jumps in logic are incomprehensible to most on a good day, but right now even he can’t follow his own thought process. What was he thinking about again?

Ah yes. The overwhelming pain from being yeeted off a ledge. Come to think of it, the ledge he fell off-- the one he’s sitting leaned against-- is shaped awfully unusually. It must be manmade. Whoever made this is not a good terraformer. Zedaph should bake Scar some cookies. Is Scar allergic to peanuts? Ow. Ow. Ow. Zedaph will need to borrow Impulse’s oven-- or he could set up his own oven with an armor stand that jumps for him?

“Hey there, who are you?” says a female voice. Zedaph looks up. He doesn’t have to look very far up.

Standing in front of him is a woman with a cool pirate-looking coat (red, of course; all self-respecting pirates wear red), with long fluffy hair like white wool and rainbow fringe! Oh, and she’s, like, half sheep or something. That’s cool too.

Wait. There’s something about sheep he’s forgetting... How could he have been so stupid?! He came to the surface in the first place in search of a sheep, and now he’s (kind of) found one!

The cool pirate lady says something, but Zedaph-- well, he does hear it, but it doesn’t process. Words are just mouth-sounds. He is in pain.

“Found a sheep,” he mumbles, “Come back to the canyon?”

“You’re hurt, man,” the sheep-pirate-lady says. She has pretty rainbow hair, and the white parts look like clouds.

She laughs. “Thanks.”

Clearly, this woman is a mind-reader! As well as a sheep. Really, two for the price of one. Zedaph isn’t quite sure what to do with a mind-reader, but his head will be much clearer and therefore able to dream up wacky hypotheses once he respawns--

He gasps, jerking forward and choking on his own breath when he remembers the cold truth. Xisuma won’t be able to respawn him, not for several days. Zedaph doesn’t want to spend that long in the void.

“Woah!” the woman exclaims, rushing to steady him. “You look pretty bad, dude. Let’s get you home or something. Where do you live?”

“Canyon,” Zedaph rasps. “I’m not supposed to tell you that, I don’t think. Can’t remember why.”

The nice woman goes very still. “Hey. My name’s Puffy. I’m gonna take you to the canyon. Do you think you can stand if I help you?”

“Puffy..?” Zedaph squints off into the middle distance, trying to remember something. “She’s the person who keeps coming back to that barrel, isn’t she?”

Puffy pulls Zedaph’s arm over her shoulder and gently pulls him up to his feet. “She is,” Puffy says softly.

“I hope she liked the enchanted diamond shears,” he mumbles.

“She did,” Puffy says softly. “She didn’t even know diamond shears were a thing.”

“I was going to make an emerald flint and steel,” Zedaph rambles, “but it turns out that items made of flint and steel aren’t conducive to being made of not-flint and not-steel."

"Who would have thought?" Puffy laughs, then trips over a vine. Zedaph makes a pained noise at the jostle to his leg, which is dragging a bit on the ground because Puffy is so much shorter than him. She notices this, and rethinks her strategy.

"At this rate, we'll never get back to the canyon," she gripes. "Climb on my back instead, I'll carry you."

Zedaph obliges, but warns, "Tango says I'm heavy.”

“I’m stronger than Tango, I’ll bet.”

The Hermit is actually a bit heavy, but this is a matter of pride now. And also, quite possibly a matter of urgency. The Hermit isn’t responding anymore. He’s still holding on, so he isn’t dead or completely unconscious; still, he’s not in a good state.

As soon as the elevator down to the bottom of the canyon comes into view, Puffy books it. Surely, in the canyon base, the Hermit will have healing potions? He (They? Multiple Hermits?) gave her a whole beacon, so obviously he/they are late-game enough to have plenty of potions.

Stepping into the elevator, Puffy presses the button, then puts her hand on the Hermit’s neck. It’s a bit of an awkward position, since his chin is hanging over her shoulder, but it makes her feel better to have a hand on his pulse. He makes a pitiful noise as the elevator descends.

“Easy there,” Puffy says, “you’re almost home.”

The moment the doors open, she ventures out into the village. The only safe place she knows is the barrel where she leaves her items for the Hermit(s), so she takes him there. Now that she’s looking, she spots shadows, eyes, movements, throughout the supposedly empty village. One such person comes out of the woodwork, sprinting.

“Zedaph!” exclaims a tall, musclebound man. His face is twisted in naked worry as he meets Puffy at the barrel, which she sets Zedaph down on.

The large man, who wears a black shirt with a creeper face on it (does that mean something, Puffy wonders?) scrutinizes the blond man on the barrel for a moment before springing into action, splashing potions and bits of lapis and-- holy shit, is that a Totem of Undying?! When the blond man, Zedaph, seems to come back to himself enough that he could reasonably eat a golden carrot with minimal choking hazard, the new man hands him one. Finally, he turns to Puffy.

“Thank you,” he says. The relief in his voice is tangible.

Puffy shifts awkwardly. “I was just doing the right thing. I noticed, uh, his bracelet.”

They both look to Zedaph’s wrist. It’s got a woven bracelet on it. The textile isn’t astounding, but the pattern on it is intricate. Puffy would know, she made it herself as a gift for the Hermit. As Puffy and the other Hermit look at each other, she realizes that he is also wearing something she made: a pair of fingerless gloves which are now stained with redstone dust.

He catches her staring. “We all have one-- oh, uh, my name’s Impulse, and this is Zedaph--”

“Impulse,” a new blond man hisses from behind the two. Puffy jumps. She didn’t hear him coming.

“Tango!” Impulse greets, suddenly nervous. Why a man as big as Impulse would be nervous when facing anyone, let alone a normal-looking guy like Tango, is beyond Puffy. Maybe Tango’s red eyes have some sort of significance?

“Impulse,” Tango repeats, looking around for anyone that isn’t a Hermit. “You’re not invisible.”

Impulse’s eyebrows draw together in a frown. “I had to see Zedaph.”

“Yeahhh,” Zedaph slurs.

“Besides, if we can trust any of the natives, it’s Puffy,” Impulse insists. He crosses his arms in what should be an intimidating display, but truthfully looks more like a pout.

“You know what Xisuma said,” Tango says. “I’m grateful to have Zedaph back, but...”

“Xisuma would agree with me,” Impulse says stubbornly.

Tango sighs explosively, full of nerves. “Alright, fine, can we at least get out of sight? Anyone could come wandering across the surface and spot us.”

“How many of you are there?” Puffy breathes. Everyone’s eyes snap to her.

“Twenty-four,” Zedaph says happily.

“Zedaph!” Tango admonishes.

Rolling his eyes, Impulse scoops Zedaph up off the barrel like he weighs nothing. He carries the dazed blond man down the path and into a cottage-style house. As Tango goes to follow, he catches Puffy’s eye.

“Sorry,” he says, “nothing personal. Just trying to avoid being explodificated, which means not being seen by the people who live on this server. You get it, yeah?”

He jogs off to catch up with Impulse, and Puffy hurriedly follows. Tango’s got a bracelet like Zedaph’s, but it’s one of the ones Puffy made out of different shades of red. She wonders if all the Hermits wear something she made.

The inside of the house is a bit cramped, but it’ll do. It’s got a bed, at least, so Zedaph’s got somewhere to keep his leg off the ground. This all feels surreal.

“So, uh...” Puffy says into the stuffy silence of the room. “How about that, uh, bedrock?”

Nobody has anything to say to that. Fuck.

Out of nowhere, yet another Hermit shows up. There’s a trapdoor in the wall that, now that she looks at it, Puffy realizes that Tango was hiding intentionally. That’s all gone to shit, though, because a man with white hair and a mask over his face peeks his head out from the hole in the wall.

“Hey guys, what--” The man takes a look around, spots Puffy, and freezes. “...On second thought, I’ll come back later.”

“Wait!” Impulse says to the man. “Get Xisuma, or at least tell him Puffy’s here if he can’t make the trip right now.”

“Karl thinks you’re Mothman,” Puffy blurts out to the white-haired man.

The man looks very self-satisfied for someone who’s only showing a quarter of his face. “Oh? Where does he live? For absolutely no reason, of course.”

“Etho...” Tango groans.

“Oh, alright, I’ll go get X.”

The man leaves. Oh boy, thinks Puffy, this is going to be interesting.

[nejibaby]

Time

Pairing: Sanji x F!Reader

Summary: Time is such an essential variable for a pirate cook like you. But outside cooking, you try your best not pay attention to it, most especially when it comes to the past. And yet because of the unpredictability of the Grand Line, you’ve come across someone from your past who you desperately wanted to forget. This incident makes you realize that despite how much time passes, sometimes feelings don’t really change.

Song reference/inspiration: Don’t You by Taylor Swift

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: It’s done! It’s finally done! I had this idea for quite some time now and I’m finally done with it. Imagine my relief. 😌 I liked how this turned out! But please let me know your thoughts about it… 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

There are a lot of oddities in the Grand Line. Among the concepts that are too complex to be explained are the drastic changes in the weather, the crazy magnetic fields of islands, and devil fruit powers.

What doesn’t change is the concept of time. In all technicality, time is what the clock reads. And regardless of your location inside or outside the Grand Line, it’s set on stone. There’s sixty seconds in a minute, sixty minutes in an hour, twenty four hours in a day, seven days in a week, and so on. It’s a fact that’s definitive, irrefutable, and beyond dispute.

And as a cook of the Kid Pirates, time is one of the essential variables, alongside temperature, in bringing dishes to life. That much you learned and mastered from the years you’ve been observing chefs in a certain restaurant in East Blue before you ran away to the South.

However, outside the kitchen — or to be more precise, outside cooking — you don’t pay too much attention to the time and dates, similar to your Captain, Kid.

You and your Captain would need Killer to inform you about preparing banquets and feasts for birthday celebrations for crew members, or to remind you of other important dates.

While you’re completely capable of keeping track of time, you didn’t want to and wouldn’t bother. What’s the point, really? It’s just that you didn’t want to be reminded of just how long since you ran away from the chefs who took you under their wing. You didn’t want to be reminded of just how long since you’ve last seen a certain curly-browed cook who you fell in love with but unfortunately got turned down from.

You’re entirely fine by saying it’s been a while since you’ve last seen those people. There isn’t any need to label a precise quantity of time since that moment in your life. It’s all in the past, and you have long learned to keep yourself busy so as not to be reminded of them in any way.

After all, remembering them always leads to pangs straight to your heart, and as a member of the Kid Pirates, it’s highly discouraged to wear your heart on your sleeve and show vulnerabilities like that.

Since leaving Baratie, you moved along with your life. You worked at a local restaurant in South Blue and somehow ended up meeting Kid and Killer. With Eustass Kid being impressed with your skills in the kitchen and the air of authority you exude while working, he demanded you join their crew. And in all honesty, it didn’t take too much convincing on their part as you too wanted to travel the world, and perhaps find All Blue, a dream you shared with the man you fell in love with.

Pledging loyalty to Eustass Kid is one of the decisions you could never regret. Ever since joining the crew, they have become masters of being subtle in their ways of showing they all care for you. And it’s only evident by the way they’re all overprotective of you (even if you’ve pretty much mastered self defense and the art of using a gun) simply because among the group of brutes, you looked like a lone flower — splendid, precious, and delicate. And due to that, traveling the seas with the Kid Pirates is particularly enjoyable for you; dangerous, sure, but enjoyable nonetheless.

On account of the unpredictability of the Grand Line; more precisely the New World, you have learned to always be ready to face anything. But maybe you aren’t as prepared as you thought you are.

Because somehow, in between gathering food supplies alone for the crew and fighting against a group of Marines who found you, you came face to face with the cook you desperately wanted to forget.

And to make matters much worse, when you quite literally bumped into him, you’ve already been shot twice by the Marines, leading you to lose your consciousness right in his arms.

For some reason, with how huge the Grand Line is, you have never taken into consideration the probability of meeting him once again. And this unpreparedness unsettles you right away. So when you wake up in the Straw Hats’ sailing ship, all bandaged up and weak from the loss of blood, you’re quick to show hostility as a defense mechanism.

But that facade doesn’t last long, your mask easily slipping after a day with the crew, showing your naturally gentle and sweet side to everyone except to a certain man named Sanji. Ultimately, it’s quite impossible for you to remain hostile and aggressive in the presence of such nice and hospitable characters, especially when they kindly offered to drop you off to the next island and allowed you to contact Kid to let him know about your predicament.

You do, however, isolate yourself from the Straw Hats as much as possible. The only time you allow yourself to be in everyone’s presence is during meal times. As a chef, you know well enough that food is at its best when served right away and eaten in the presence of company.

But you aren’t dumb. You know the dishes served by Sanji aren't purely coincidental. With just one look at the table, you could easily recognize all of your favorite meals — meals that reminded you of the days when you had fallen in love with him. It’s blatantly obvious that some of the foods on the table are made especially for you.

This is where your reservations come in. After all, the reason why your favorite foods were your favorites was because they’re what Sanji used to cook when you’re upset. And because of your feelings for him, the food would always make your heart full and happy. And to be honest, you didn’t want to remember that feeling.

Moreover, you didn’t want to give Sanji the impression that everything’s fine between the two of you. You also didn’t want him to think that you’ve forgiven him for turning you down, and proceeding to step on your heart by letting you watch him flirt with other girls.

If you were any other person, you probably wouldn’t even touch the meals he made to prove these points. But you’re a cook, and it’s against your morals to let food come to waste. The most you can do so as not to give Sanji the upper hand is to stop yourself from eating as much as you usually would, regardless of how delicious the food is.

You can tell it’s working from the way Sanji’s lips are slightly downturned as he watches you only take a nibble of your favorites while consuming the other meals that are meant for the other crew members. This goes unnoticed by the others though; they’re too enamored with the new variety of dishes on the table to even pay attention.

This goes on for a few meal times, but you have to admit that despite only taking a few bites of the dishes you used to love, they’re still capable of bringing back the memories of your past with Sanji, maybe not in full force, but it’s enough to disconcert you.

On your third day with the Straw Hats, after seeing him fawn over Nami and Robin, the tension between you and Sanji becomes a little too overwhelming for you to the point where you feel the need to hide in the crow’s nest to calm yourself down.

When you get there, you’re surprised yet relieved that Zoro isn’t there. You instantly take a seat facing the window. You relish the silence. But it’s only momentary, broken by the sound of someone knocking on the door.

Rude as it may be, you don’t acknowledge the person. Whoever it is still enters the room anyway.

“Y/N-chan, can we talk?”

You hate the way your heart starts wildly pounding again just by the mere sound of Sanji’s voice.

“I thought we’ve established the fact that I don’t want to talk to you,” you respond coldly.

This doesn’t discourage Sanji though. “If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine. But will you please listen to me?”

You frown, but you remain silent. Sometimes, most especially at times like this, you wish you could hate him. But that’s just something you can’t do no matter how hard you try.

He takes your silence as a good sign, so he sits himself beside you.

You aren’t looking at him, but you can feel his eyes on you. This lasts for a few minutes, Sanji just gazing at you without uttering a word.

You didn’t mean to count, but by the second minute of silence, you snap. “What? I thought you wanted to tell me something? Why aren’t you talking?”

He looks away and clears his throat. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just… it’s been five years since I last saw you.”

His statement takes you by surprise. Has it already been five years since you left Baratie? And more importantly, was Sanji keeping count?

For whatever reason, Sanji chuckles. He faces you once again and smiles, “It’s been five years but you still look as gorgeous and radiant as ever.”

As always, Sanji has a way with his words. The compliment makes your heart beat impossibly faster. But you know you shouldn’t fall for his words. “Sanji, don’t. Let’s not go there,” you say with a sigh.

He visibly deflates at your response. And it makes you want to take back what you’ve just said. “What have you been up to?” He tries asking, his voice low enough you almost don’t hear him, as if this conversation hurts him just as much as it pains you.

You didn’t really plan on responding. The agreement was to let Sanji do the talking and you do the listening, but you can see his sad expression in the corner of your eye and it tugs your heartstrings a little bit so you reply, “I’m a pirate now.”

“You are?” He perks up upon hearing you responding. “Who’s your captain?”

You finally face him, wanting to see his reaction. “Eustass Kid.”

His face instantly contorts into displeasure. “Kid?” He asks once again. When you nod your head, there’s a different look on his face, almost like he’s angry or he’s annoyed. “Why Kid? Don’t tell me he forced you to do it?! That bas—”

But before he could even finish his sentence, you pull out your gun and point it at his head.

He’s taken aback by your speed and the look of determination in your eyes.

“Watch your words, Sanji.” You cock your gun. “Just because we’re on speaking terms doesn’t mean I won’t shoot you. You can call me bad names if you want, break my heart like you did, but if you say one more bad thing about my captain, I won’t hesitate on putting a bullet through your head,” you threaten.

Sanji gulps, raises his hands in surrender, and nods his head.

Yet you pull the trigger anyway. Sanji could only close his eyes once he sees your finger move.

But there’s no impact at all. When he tentatively opens his eyes, he sees you putting away your gun in its previous location.

You’re well aware that you have no ammunition left, having used them all up when you fought the Marines, but sometimes even an unloaded gun is enough to intimidate and scare someone into submission, and to get your point across.

Silence envelopes the crow’s nest after that incident. Sanji isn’t afraid of you per se, he’s just a little bit surprised with the change in your attitude.

For a moment the thought of you having feelings for Kid passes through his mind, and he internally gets upset with the thought. In fact, he hates it but he doesn’t let it dissuade him from trying to make amends with you.

He allows you to have a couple more minutes of silence. But when he has decided that it’s time for him to talk, the first thing he blurts out is, “I missed you a lot when you left.”

His confession breaks something in you. You didn’t like the way you equally liked and hated hearing this from him. “Sanji, don’t…” your voice cracks and your vision blurs. “Don’t smile at me. Don’t ask me how I’ve been. Don’t you say you’ve missed me if you don’t want me. Don’t get my hopes up, because you don’t know how much I love you still. Just don’t…”

“Y/N-chan…” he calls out to you, his hand hesitantly reaching out to you. And when you don’t protest, he pulls you into a hug, rubbing his hands gently on your back.

Sanji hates seeing you like this — so defeated and broken, all because of him. He didn’t like seeing you cry. But right now he knows he needs to explain himself. “I liked you too back then…”

You pull away in shock after hearing his words, wiping the tears in your eyes. Just as you’re about to ask why he turned you down, he continues, “But the old geezer was against it. He says if I couldn’t stay loyal to you, then I’d only hurt you more and make matters worse.”

What Sanji was saying makes a lot of sense. Zeff highly respects women, which was why he couldn’t turn you away when you had nowhere else to stay. And knowing Sanji, you can tell just how much he looks up to him, despite him always talking back to the older chef. It’s only natural for him to heed Zeff’s words.

“I was young and I didn’t think I was ready yet, so I turned you down as gently as I could… and when you said it was fine, I was so relieved. But then you left without a word and I… I just… I really did miss you all these years.”

“What about now?”

“Huh?”

“Do you still… like me?” You ask meekly.

Sanji smiles, which makes you feel butterflies in your stomach. “I do, but…”

You sigh sadly, “But?”

He looks over the window, and you follow his gaze. The sight of Luffy being chased around by Usopp on the deck welcomes you. “My loyalty still lies elsewhere.”

You immediately understand what he’s trying to say, and for the first time since you arrived in the Thousand Sunny, you genuinely smile. “Someday, then?”

Sanji faces you once again, and reciprocates your smile. “Yeah. Someday.”

[hauntedfalcon]

living in midnight

for day four of Nile Freeman Week: "Nile & Struggle" plus a fantasy AU in which superheroes exist, Nile isn't one of them, and she doesn't let that stop her. 1700 words, rated M for swearing. content warning for wounds and needles because it's Nile's turn for sapphic patching up, as a treat

the title is from Lianne La Havas’s “Midnight”. many thanks to @flightsofwonder for beta reading <3

read on AO3 or below

Nile opens her eyes to see an unfamiliar ceiling. There is an unfamiliar pillow under her head, and she is recumbent on an unfamiliar sofa. Above it is a window, where streetlights reflect in the sinuous trails of raindrops.

Rain. Knives. Three attackers. She fought like hell, might have broken someone’s arm, but they landed one good hit. They left her for dead in an alley. She watched her own blood run into a puddle.

She bolts upright--and hisses when a wave of agony breaks over her, starting in her abdomen and shooting everywhere.

“Please don’t move,” says a softly accented voice. “You’re safe here. I haven’t seen your face.”

Nile collapses back down to the pillow and touches her face, just to be sure. Her mask is still in place. She drops her hand and forces one eye open, blurry with pained tears, to get a look at whoever dragged her in from the alley.

A white woman. Dark shoulder-length hair. Youngish, maybe Nile’s age. Dressed all in black, much like her--not for stealth but for soft goth vibes. Cute, if she’s honest, but this isn’t the fucking singles bar, get it together Freeman.

“I staunched the bleeding,” her rescuer says, “but I was waiting until you were conscious to do the stitches.”

“Do we have to?” Nile groans before she can stop herself.

A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smile. “I’m afraid so. Would you like some fortitude?” The amateur surgeon holds out a bottle of Everclear.

Ugh. Nile takes the cap off and drinks deep, leaving enough in the bottle to sterilize whatever needs to be sterilized. It tastes like ass and lingers at the back of her throat.

Before the alcohol can set in and obliterate her senses, she says, “Can I borrow your phone?”

The woman hesitates. Very wise of her.

“Listen,” Nile says. “We had two leads come in at the same time. Al-Tayyib took one and I took the other, and mine was a decoy, which means...” She can’t, won’t, say it aloud. She hates how feeble she sounds. “I just have to check in with him. Please.”

The woman hands her a smartphone, unlocked. Nile hits the keycode to make the call anonymous, then dials Joe’s shitty flip phone from memory. He keeps it on silent when he’s on the rounds, and he’ll only answer if he’s safe.

Pick up, she wills him, because if she has to hear his stupid cheerful voicemail greeting now of all times, she’s going to scream right in front of this poor woman who didn’t ask for any of this drama in her life. Pick up, pick up, pick--

“Pronto.”

Nile’s gut tightens (painfully, but that’s not what matters right now) at the sound of another unfamiliar voice. The assassin. Joe walked into a trap.

“Where is he?” she demands, trying to sound hard and not like she’s lying on a stranger’s couch with an open wound.

A gust in the speaker. Is he laughing at her? She strains to hear anything that would give away their location: traffic, a clock tower, machinery, anything. There’s nothing else. No hint of Joe yelling in the background, either.

“I will return him to you presently,” says the asshole. Very formal.

“What, after you shank him like your goons did to me?”

“They were instructed not to kill you,” he says in a voice that wouldn’t fog a window in January. “Did you die?”

White-hot rage flares out of her with no place to go. “Where is he, you son of a--” But he has already hung up on her.

Nile resists the urge to growl. If this was her phone she would throw it against the wall. Instead she quickly deletes the record of the outgoing call, and hands the phone back to the woman, who pockets it. “Thank you,” she says tightly.

“I’m sorry to say so,” says the woman as she holds the tip of a curved needle in a candle flame, “but you are in no condition to save anyone right now.”

She blows out a sigh in answer. When she pulls the hem of her shirt up and peels away the medical tape and bandage pad, she discovers that the woman is absolutely right. This isn’t the worst Nile has been hurt and still fought, but it is pretty bad.

And it’s one thing to trash a gang of traffickers while she’s actively bleeding. It’s something totally different to track down a guy who has been three steps ahead of them this whole time, and seems to have removed his sense of morals with an ice cream scoop.

There’s only one thing left to do: say a silent prayer. The way she learned to pray feels insufficiently casual for the circumstances; she wishes she knew more about the format of the rakat. All she remembers is, “God hears the one who praises him,” so she starts on the Lord’s Prayer because praise comes before petition.

In place of, “Give us this day our daily bread,” she substitutes, “Get Joe out of this with his head,” and then she has to hold back a giggle at the rhyme. She must have lost a lot of blood.

The woman wipes the needle down with Everclear. “You know, I met the old Guardian too.”

Nile eyes her carefully. She won’t say Andy’s name in this woman’s presence. She won’t say Joe’s name either, much less her own. She won’t slip no matter how much blood she’s lost or how strong the alcohol is or how fundamentally good and trustworthy this woman seems or how much this is going to hurt. “Not under the same conditions,” she presumes.

“Very similar,” the woman says with another fleeting smile. “I hope she’s well?”

“She’s good,” Nile hastens to reassure her. “She retired.” And she left Nile her nom de guerre and all the weight that went with it.

“I’m glad she made it that long.”

“Probably thanks to you,” Nile says, and she gets a longer smile for it.

Then the needle bites into her skin and Nile whimpers softly and throws an arm over her eyes. She’s hard. She’s tough. This is what she does.

The woman’s gloved hand pinches the wound closed as she stitches. She works quickly, professionally. “I’m really glad you found me,” Nile manages. “I can’t exactly go to a hospital.”

“I think you would be surprised,” the woman says. “You are well loved in this city. People would protect your identity.”

That’s not it. Nile can’t go to hospital because there’s a chance her mom would be on shift, and the only thing worse than keeping her alter ego secret from her mom is the idea that she would find out because Nile came in on a gurney. She can’t do that to her.

A tug, as she ties the thread off, and then a snip of the shears. Nile lifts her head and looks down at a slightly puckered, neatly stitched, no longer bleeding knife wound.

Her laugh sounds brittle, just this side of hysterical. The woman glances at her. “I have work tomorrow,” Nile says weakly.

The woman tapes a fresh bandage over the wound. “Me too.”

No rest for the righteous. “The struggle is real, huh? Sorry for keeping you up late.”

“I will call in if you do,” the woman offers.

But going into the office in the morning might be the soonest opportunity to make sure Joe is okay. Nile pulls her shirt down and zips her bomber jacket over it. “I should go.”

The woman sets one hand on Nile’s arm. “Please stay. You shouldn’t be out alone tonight.”

“They might have been watching when you brought me inside,” Nile warns.

“Then I will need your protection, won’t I?” the woman says without blinking, as if she’s not the one that just saved Nile’s whole life.

Nile cracks an incredulous smile but the woman just gazes at her solemnly.

“Okay,” she says at last. “Okay, I’ll stay. Thank you. And I’m sorry for bleeding on your couch.”

It’s not enough, but the woman just sets about cleaning up her supplies. Nile settles back against the pillow and wills her muscles to unclench.

“May I ask,” the woman asks as she washes her hands, “why you do this? You don’t have superpowers.”

No, and none of the people who do have taken this city under their protection. Flippant, lazy answers parade through Nile’s mind, because she’s not in a charitable mood. Anger issues. No one else is gonna do it. I’m a giant masochist, actually.

But when she opens her mouth, the first thing that comes out is Andy’s answer, from when Nile asked her years ago. “Because there are people worth fighting for.”

Then Joe’s answer: “People who won’t get justice any other way.”

And, finally, one that’s all hers. “I have a responsibility. This is my city”

She’s going to pass out any minute, but beneath her fatigue there’s still a live coal of the feelings that made her put this mask on in the first place. This is her damn city. She spends so much time in the guts of its shitty justice system, and the rest of the time punching assholes, that she sometimes forgets her city is full of ordinary, decent people. Good people. People who will bring someone in from the rain. People like…

“What’s your name?” Nile asks, and then catches herself. “I can’t--give you mine. Sorry. It might be safer if I don’t know yours.”

“Celeste,” says the woman.

Good people like Celeste. How comforting that is.

Her pain is down to an ache instead of a burn, and her eyes drift closed. In the morning, she’ll be out of Celeste’s hair. She’ll shower at her apartment, carefully, and she’ll go into Legal Aid, and Joe will be there, a little banged up but alive. He’ll hug her, quick and tight, and they’ll loiter by the coffee maker and speak in low voices and sort out their next play. And when the work day is over, they’ll go with Andy and Quỳnh down to Booker’s for drinks and darts, and Nile will order a bouquet of flowers sent to Celeste’s apartment in thanks. Everything, for given quantities of everything, will be fine.

Confident in her safety, secure in her purpose, Nile rests.

[julemmaes]

Honey - part two

Elide Lochan x Lorcan Salvaterre roommates au

A/N: I’m so tired yall have no idea. My eyes are burning and my fingers are cramping cause I’ve been writing all day to get this done, so yeah, I’m very satisfied and some of the blogs that I consider big or are big for a fact started following me and commented on the first part, so I freaked out a little, but I can tell that I’ll sleep peacefully tonight because of that, so thank you all. Enjoy!:)

Oh, and I almost forgot, the song at the end is called “Honey” and it’s by Johnny Balik (shoker, as my man Kieran would say)

masterlist

Word count: 4,966

Lorcan's least favourite day was definitely Friday, unlike all people his age. Not because he didn't like going out in the city at night to have fun and drink until you forgot even your mother's name, but because it was the only day of the week he had to work at both the shelter and the toy shop.

He loved working with the dogs and the few cats they brought in, and although he wasn't really a people person, he enjoyed spending time deciding with the kids and parents what was the best gift to go home with. And although Lorcan would never admit it out loud, he had grown fond of some of the regulars - especially a mother of three who he knew worked as a lawyer in one of the offices above the shop. Almost every day she would come in during her lunch break to buy one of those surprise sachets that cost a euro each and if Lorcan didn't see her coming before he went on his break, he would wait a few minutes before closing up just for her. Elide had managed to find out this detail a few months later after she moved in and he knew she would never stop teasing him because he had a heart of gold.

The phone vibrated in his hand just as he got behind the wheel and he wasn't at all surprised to see that the last message he had gotten was from Elide.

He huffed, not even opening yet another link that would surely send him to yet another website with information on why the world was ending very slowly and why humans were to be blamed entirely. He started the car and drove off towards their house.

Lorcan wasn't a bad person and he really cared about everything Elide was sending him, but he was tremendously tired and all he could think about was how much he wanted to take a shower and pass out in his bed. The fact that none of this was going to happen because Fenrys and Rowan had forced him to accept the invitation out to dinner made it all worse.

It took him less than ten minutes to get home and when he parked and saw the lights in their living room on, he seriously considered backing up and getting out of there to get to Vaughan's house before Elide noticed his car and he wouldn't be able to get away no more.

He was sure his friend would take him in without question if he asked to put him up for a night.

But luck was not on his side as Elide's petite figure appeared in the window and Lorcan could not see her face, but he knew she was smiling as she bounced and waved to greet him.

Despite everything, Lorcan raised his hand in turn and smiled back at her, knowing full well that even she could not see him so low and hidden by the evening shadows.

As he climbed the sixth flight of stairs and mentally prepared himself for two more, he could foresee the flood of words that would wash over him when he entered the house. Elide hadn't kept quiet for the entire day, sending him voice messages and staying with him on calls for the entire duration of his lunch break, so much so that at one point he had wondered if she had gone to class and then to work. He had discovered that yes, she had gone, but she hadn't paid the slightest attention to what they had explained and had gotten half the customers' orders wrong.

When he opened the front door, he recognized the melody of one of the songs she'd put on her apology playlist, the one he'd made for her nearly three weeks earlier after she'd found out he still smoked. She'd seemed so hurt that after he'd gone to bed and cleaned the tiles of his blood until they glistened, he'd stood at the kitchen table and spent hours and hours searching for the perfect apology songs. A bit dramatic perhaps, but it had had the desired effect.

He sighed, slipping off his jacket and putting it as far away from Elide's as possible, so that no animal hair would get on hers. He would clean it later.

The girl in question sputtered out of the living room with a beaming smile on her face, her cheeks strangely red and her eyes so bright they were glossy, "Hello, handsome."

"Hi, Ellie." he murmured, straightening his back and making the bones in his neck crack. Elide approached and Lorcan took a step back, bumping his back against the door, "I haven't showered yet," he put his hands forward to keep her at arm's length, "you can touch and hug me all you want later, but please not now," he begged her.

She gave the cutest pout he had ever seen, "But-"

"No buts, you can wait three minutes for me to wash up without dying," he continued, walking past her without touching her or making any overly sudden movements.

"You're such a pain in the ass," she complained, that adorable pout deepening all the more, "I can always take the antihistamine if I get allergies."

Lorcan shook his head, turning a confused expression on her, "I'd rather you didn't take medication just because you want to hug me."

It was true.

To their great misfortune, Elide was one of the very few people he knew who was allergic to animal hair. Any animal. More precisely, she was allergic to the mites that lived in the fur and the dust that accumulated in it in enormous quantities even on a normal basis. Given that the dogs Lorcan worked with were left to run loose in the fields all day, when he came home he was covered in anything that could kill his friend and roommate in one sniff and he didn't want to have to take her to the emergency room again because they couldn't tell if she was breathing properly.

It was why every night since he'd started working at the shelter he had taken a shower before doing anything else. It was why their water bill had gone up so much since they had found out about this allergy of hers.

"It's just a pill Lor, it's not like I have to get shots or..." she shrugged, as if to indicate anything more invasive than a simple pill.

He brought his hands in front of his mouth like a prayer, looking her in the eyes, "How many times do I have to explain to you that if you take one type of medicine every day, after a while your body no longer perceives it as an extra foreign thing to help you, but as the norm and so it no longer has any effect?"

Elide grimaced, "I hate you."

He chuckled, walking backwards until he reached the bathroom door, just in case she had the great idea to ambush him and jump on his back, "Just wait five minutes."

"It was three before," she said frowning, "And, speaking of showers-" and then she did something that made Lorcan freeze in his tracks. He didn't register what was going on until Elide's shirt was too high up for him to avoid seeing everything. And by everything, he meant everything.

"Elide what the fuck are you doing?!" he turned around, screaming, then his eyes went wide, trying to figure out if what had just happened was true or not. He squeezed his eyes shut, closing his hands into fists, biting his knuckles, "You're not wearing a fucking bra." he said in a voice sharper than he had intended.

He heard her giggle, but the sound came out muffled, "Loorcaaan." she crooned, "Help."

"I can't turn around Ellie, you're naked," he pointed out to her with his eyes still closed, then in a lower voice, "God, you're naked. What has gotten into you?"

He felt her move as she walked around him and stopped in front of him, "Help." she said in a flat tone. Lorcan had to laugh, her tone reminded him so much of the way the green aliens in Toy Story talked.

"Help what?" he asked letting out an amused laugh.

"I'm stuck." she said slurring her words and he felt her move, she was probably wiggling to get out of her t-shirt. And if she was wiggling, that meant her-

Lorcan took a sharp breath, cursing under his breath and trying to quiet his wandering mind.

He arched an eyebrow, though he was pretty sure she couldn't see him either, as doubt crept into him, "Are you drunk?"

Elide was silent for a while, then giggled like a child, "Just a little tipsy."

"Ellie it's seven o'clock," he exclaimed amused, but surprised to learn that she had been drinking, "why on earth are you drunk at seven?"

"Just a little tipsy," she repeated like a broken record. Then she screeched like a pterodactyl and Lorcan burst out laughing again, turning and taking a step or two forward to avoid risking accidentally touching her once more.

"Alright, why are you just a little tipsy at seven o'clock on a night when we're supposed to be going out with the others?" he asked now a little more eager to know the answer.

He heard her snort audibly, "The world is ending, Lorcan, why won't you understand that?"

He opened his eyes wide, not believing what she was saying, pinning them on the picture their friends had given them for Christmas, the one with all their best pictures collaged on a coloured canvas.

And here he thought he was the dramatic one of the two.

He nodded to himself, "So you're telling me that the reason you decided to get drunk before you even went out is because of global warming?"

He heard a rustle and then something hit him on the head, "Sorry, I didn't mean to slap you," she said in the tone of someone who couldn't care less about having hit him, "Anyway, yeah. Global warming and forests catching fire and animals dying and plastic burning..." she took a deep breath and then continued for a few minutes, making a list of all the things she had learned that afternoon by reading all the articles she could find about why humans were the worst living thing in the world.

Lorcan stood patiently listening to her, occasionally getting lost when she introduced topics that were a little too specific, but listen to her he did. The way she was saying all those things was always reminiscent of the little green aliens, but he knew the subject was more serious than it sounded.

With his arms crossed over his chest, he didn't think he'd moved too much, but at one point Elide sneezed and he cursed himself for not having moved fast enough to go to the bathroom.

"I told you you'd get allergies."

"But I didn't even touch you," she squealed back.

"You know that's not necessary for even your soul to start itching too," he scolded her.

Elide remained silent for a while longer, then started talking again, "And we should seriously get some glass bottles, if I see you with those stupid plastic bottles again I'll kill you. Scout's honor." she threatened him.

Lorcan chuckled, "Elide you've never been in scouts."

"How punctilious of you." she scoffed at him, then gasped, "We could buy matching flasks, with glitter and," she gasped again, sounding increasingly excited, "We could have one of our pictures printed on it."

A smile broke out on Lorcan's lips and he knew that if he had looked in the mirror at that moment he would have seen the face of a boy lost in love. He pulled himself together, straightening his back, trying not to think about how he felt about Elide. It wouldn't have done any good to admit that those feelings were real and tangible inside him.

He was staring at Fenrys' face in one of the pictures they had taken on holiday that summer, when Elide spoke again.

"This is a list of things that should make you understand why we have to shower together."

Lorcan choked on his saliva. He coughed a few times, patting his chest.

How had they gone from polar bears dying from melting ice to them showering together?

"What are you talking about?" he asked her in a squeaky voice.

The fact that she was alluding to them showering together while he knew she was half naked behind him, a breath away practically, made him feel so many different kinds of wrong.

"We can't waste water Lor, it's not hard." she sounded exasperated, then muttered, "Sometimes I really think you're being obtuse or stupid."

Lorcan's eyes went wide, "Wow, thanks Ellie."

"You're welcome." she chipped.

He shook his head, sighing and running a hand over his face, "Don't you think there are plenty of other ways we can start saving the world, before we have to shower together?" he took the fact that she wasn't answering as a cue to continue, "Like start recycling?"

Elide gasped again, making him chuckle, "Did you sign the petition?"

"Which-" he trailed off. She was talking about the petition to have a door-to-door rubbish collection service introduced in their town. Something that would force everyone to sort their garbage. "Yes, I signed it."

"Good." she whispered.

"I signed them all," he reiterated, because it was true and he knew that Elide never sent him stupid petitions, that whatever she sent him must be important and it didn't cost him anything to put his email and name on a website if it meant he could make a difference in his own small way.

"Thank you. I really appreciate it." she said in a weak voice.

Lorcan felt strangely uncomfortable all of a sudden.

And not because of the fact that Elide was naked behind him and had just confessed to wanting to shower with him, but because he would have wanted to turn around and kiss her, not do what any other guy would have thought of doing with a half-naked girl. No. Lorcan just wanted to kiss her and take his time in the process, savour the kiss and not be hasty and quick.

He wanted it to be slow and heartfelt, he wanted her to feel every single thing he couldn't say out loud.

"Lorcan?" she whispered, "I'm always stuck and I'm starting to get cold."

He blinked, "Yeah, you're right." then interrupted. They were silent a few seconds, "You really can't pull your shirt down?"

"No."

He took a deep breath. Then another.

"Okay, I'm going to turn around and keep my eyes closed, please stay still so I don't touch- anything. I'm not touching anything. I'll try to help you." he stammered, clasping his hands along his sides. She made a simple grunt of assent and he huffed, raising his hands in the air and lowering them slowly until he touched her head. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and then released the elbow that had gotten stuck in her shirt.

"Yay." exclaimed Elide.

Sensing that she was moving freely on her own, Lorcan pulled away again and when the sound of clothes stopped, he asked, "Are you done?"

"Yes," she said singing.

His shoulder sagged a little and he smiled. He opened his eyes, ready to move Elide to the side and go take that holy shower, but whatever he'd thought when he'd asked if she was done must have been the exact opposite of what she'd thought, because Elide's tits were freer than ever between the two of them.

Lorcan grunted, slapping a hand over his face to cover his eyes, "What the fuck, Ellie. Stop flashing me, I'm begging you."

He heard her giggle and then a gust of wind and her laughter fading down the corridor let him know she had run off. He opened his eyes tentatively, peering through his fingers to make sure she wasn't still in front of him and sighed with relief when he finally managed to get into the bathroom and lock the door behind him.

He leaned against the sink, clutching the ceramic between his fingers and staring at his reflection in the mirror.

He never thought the first time he would see Elide's tits would be under these circumstances. He ran a hand over his face again, trying to somehow erase the image he knew he would never forget.

He had just stepped into the shower when he heard something very large and heavy slam against the door. Something that seconds later burst out laughing. Lorcan could only follow as he imagined a half-naked Elide running towards the bathroom and failing to stop in time.

"Are you alright, honey?" he asked her just in case. He turned on the water, hissing when he found it frozen, but not moving from under the jet. After all, a cold shower wouldn't hurt him.

"Let me in." she shouted, slamming her fist against the door, "Let me iiin!"

"Are you dressed?"

"No."

"Then you can't come in."

A scream of despair followed by what could only be a fake hysterical cry made him burst out laughing again, but then for a few minutes all that was heard was the sound of the shower and water falling from his hair.  

"Ellie, are you still there?"

The answer came quickly, "Yes."

"Are you still naked?"

"Maybe." then he heard her move against the door and realised she'd been sitting on the floor.

Perfect, he was stuck in there. He reached for the phone and thought of something.

As he finished untangling the knots in his hair and washing out the conditioner, Elide was talking about how harmful the soaps they used were and had even gone so far as to say that they should both shave their heads so as to minimise their impact on the environment.

"What did you do today?" she asked him suddenly.

Lorcan didn't answer, dialling the number of a certain blonde girl who could help him out of this situation. Aelin answered after the fifth ring and Lorcan knew full well that she had done it on purpose, hoping he would hang up so she wouldn't have to talk to him.

"Hello?"

"Listen, something kind of weird happened and I need-"

"Who is this?" Lorcan arched an eyebrow, pulling his ear away from the phone to check the number. It was Aelin's phone. And the chick's voice on the other end was her, he was sure of it. "God, Lorcan, I'm fucking with you, what's up?"

"Funny," he deadpanned, "Elide's already drunk."

"What? But it's not even eight o'clock."

"I know, I came home and she was already like that."

A few moments of silence passed, "Okay, and what do you want me to do?"

"Well, she took her shirt off at one point."

Lorcan waited for a reaction, but Aelin didn't respond.

"And now she's naked in the hallway and blocking the bathroom door and-"

"She's what?" the friend burst out laughing.

"She's naked," he gritted through his teeth, "And she's blocking the bathroom door. I don't know how to get out and I don't want to open the door and push her off and risk hurting her. Is there any way you could come over here and help her? Help me?"

"I’ll make sure she'll never hear the end of it." Aelin laughed louder and Lorcan heard Rowan ask her what was going on. The blonde took breaths before saying, "Ellie flashed Lorcan and how he's stuck in the bathroom because he's afraid of a pair of nice-looking boobies."

"So are you planning on coming?" he asked before he completely lost his patience.

He imagined her wiping tears from under her eyes, "Yes, we'll be there in fifteen minutes."

"We?"

"Me, Ro and Fen. He's the one driving tonight and he picked us up."

"Okay," Lorcan murmured, "but they can't come up to the house."

"Why?" drawled Aelin, "Because you're jealous?"

He counted to ten, restraining himself from hanging up on her, "No, because this is going to be humiliating enough for Elide without two more of her friends seeing her half naked, so please just come up alone."

Aelin huffed, "You're right, but you're no fun."

They said their goodbyes and Lorcan put the phone down, starting to blow dry his hair.

"Lorcan."

"Lorcan."

"Lorcan."

Elide hadn't stopped saying his name for half a second throughout the call and it was starting to annoy him. Then he shook his head, no. He wasn't annoyed by Elide, it was Aelin.

That girl could get under his skin like few could.

"What?"

"You didn't tell me what you did today."

And Lorcan did, so that at least she would stop slamming her hand against the door.

He told her about the last man who'd come to see what dogs he could give his daughter and how he'd seemed so much like the guy who'd abandoned them on the side of the road after not even a week and it had pissed him off. He told her the morning had been even worse, because one of the children had started opening all the toys on display and his mother, who had been right next to him the whole time with her eyes fixed on the phone screen, hadn't stopped him and it had been up to Lorcan to tell him he couldn't do it. It was only then that the woman had realised what a mess it was and had simply apologised to him, running out of the shop so fast that he hadn't even noticed they had left. He had to call his manager and he was not exactly pleased to hear this story, but he also said that they would donate the toys to the church down the street, which was responsible for distributing them to kindergartens in the neighbourhood. That cheered him up a little.

By the time he had finished his story, Aelin had arrived and once he had taken her to her room. Lorcan could finally go out and get ready himself.

***

It was after midnight, the entire group was rocking out on the dance floor of their favorite outdoor club, a place called "The Wild Night" that was on the edge of town, closer to the forest than anything else, and normally Lorcan would have joined his friends to dance and sing, but there was a problem.

A big, huge, handsome problem.

And the problem was called Kyllian.

He couldn't figure out whose idea it had been to invite the boy with them that night, but whoever it was, this person's days were numbered, because Lorcan would kill them first and then use the limbs of their corpse to kill Kyllian.

Kyllian who had now been rubbing up against Elide for hours and who had offered her more drinks than stupid charming grins - and he really was reserving a lot of those for her.

"If you don't stop looking at him like that you're going to make his head explode," someone said, throwing themselves onto the small bench next to him.

He turned his head so fast he wondered how he had managed not to break his neck, "What are you talking about?"

Fenrys arched an eyebrow, "Even if you weren't staring at Kyllian like you wanted to see him disappear off the face of the earth, everyone here, including Elide," he told him with so much as a glare, giving him a slight shove, "would know that you're not really into what's going on on that dance floor."

"He's right," Rowan said to his left, sipping the drink of Aelin's she'd left him. When the hell had he sat there?

Lorcan didn't answer, remaining motionless with his sullen expression.

"I can give you a hand if you want," Fenrys murmured, sucking on the fuchsia straw sticking out of his equally pink glass.

He inhaled through his nose, "And how would you do that?"

"You have to trust me."

"Never." said Lorcan as Rowan said at the same time, "Don't."

Fenrys looked at them both with his mouth wide open and a hand to his chest, "I'm hurt." then finished what was left of the drink in one gulp and stood up abruptly, staggering a little, but holding himself up nonetheless. He cast a glance over his shoulder at the two boys still sitting, grinning, and Lorcan knew immediately what was going to happen.

"Ellie!" he shouted, turning more heads than necessary, "Love of my life!"

Kyllian pulled away from Ellie just enough for Fenrys to grab her hand and spin her around a few times until she burst out laughing and begged him to stop. The new boy didn't even seem to exist anymore as his best friend laced her arms around Fenrys' hips and rocked left and right, increasingly drunk.

Lorcan's heart clenched in his chest as he heard that sound so carefree, so happy.

He didn't realise he was smiling until Rowan cackled beside him, "God, you're fucked."

He didn't pay any attention to him and stood up, keeping his gaze fixed on her face.

He heard Lysandra and Aelin calling his name, hyping him up and threw them a real, quick smile that made them scream even louder, as if they were fans at one of his concerts. When he finally reached Fenrys and Elide's side, the blond spun her around ninety degrees and for a moment she closed her eyes, giggling, intoxicated by the amount of alcohol she had ingested, but when she opened them again and saw Lorcan standing in front of her, a smile as wide as he had ever seen it spread across her face.

"I'll leave you Ellie, you're in good hands," Fenrys told her, winking at him from above her head.

But neither of them even looked at him.

His eyes locked into hers as they both took a step forward and found themselves a caress away. Her chest rose and fell in an agitated rhythm. After all, she'd been dancing with everyone for hours, so much so that Lorcan wondered how she hadn't thrown up yet.

His gaze ran over her body, her bare shoulders, the line of her collarbones, and further down between her breasts. Breasts he'd had the chance to see for a millisecond a few hours before and remembered perfectly. The darker shade of pink that had characterized her-

"Lorcan."

He felt his heart pounding in his throat.

She had never said his name like that.

His eyes went up, sliding over lips so full, so perfect, up, over her nose and then up again, finding hers and the music changed, becoming slower, the lights dimmed as the strobes were turned off. Elide seemed to recognise the tune as her lips parted slightly, "Lor," she repeated. He raised a hand until his knuckles brushed her cheek and when she let go a shuddering breath, Lorcan began to sing under his breath.

"Tell me everything and hold no lies. Say you're waiting for better skies," he leaned forward as his other hand slid to her hip and Elide moved closer, until their bodies were fully joined to each other and one of her legs was between his and their hips were one thing moving in sync with the music. He felt Elide's breath against his neck and had to suppress a shudder when she too began to sing along with him.

"Oh, but honey don't taste like summer no more. Stick around now, I miss you every night,"

He lowered his head even more, brushing her nose with his own. The hand that had been on her cheek had slipped over her shoulder and was now tracing the path down her back, grazing the top of her bottom until it rested on her hip.

"Elide," he whispered, breathing on her lips. She closed her eyes, pushing herself up, towards him, and Lorcan held her tighter, moving his fingers over the exposed skin between her miniskirt and the black top she was wearing and there he was. Elide was there, with him, and she was so close to his body that he could feel the heart beating in her chest.

She was there and the next second... she wasn't. Because Elide had snapped away and was now vomiting on his feet. Lorcan held his breath as she was shaken by another gag and he had just enough time to take a step back that she threw up again.

The people around them quickly scampered away, creating a small circle of spectators and casting a quick glance at his friends he saw that they had a large audience. He just hoped Elide was too drunk to remember what happened the next day.

He looked down and grimaced, all sorts of emotions swirling inside him as the girl he loved clutched at him and puked her dinner all over his clothes.

He cursed at whoever decided how things went for breaking the best moment of his life with vomit and then gathered her hair into a loose ponytail, tying it with an elastic band he kept on his wrist specifically for these occasions.

He heard her whimper and put both hands on her shoulders, stroking her in circular motions to help her warm up. Aelin and Lysandra appeared next to them shortly after and when Ellie was firm enough on her feet to walk, they stepped over the pool of vomit and Lorcan wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pushing her towards the exit.

"Let's go home, Ellie."

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[willadisastercry]

When the dust clears and you almost wish it hadn’t...

tw: emetophobia warning (brief but there), depictions of being trapped/pinned, broken bone, head injury, blood, threat of being crushed, threat of drowning.

The paladins respond to a distress signal on a foreign planet and make quick work of getting its civilians to safety, but on their last sweep surface side, shit hits the fan. Pidge and Lance are hurt but Shiro is trapped and can’t help them. On top of that, the conditions they’re stuck in are only getting worse. With no access to the coms and no tools to help them, the trio is forced to get creative and make some sacrifices.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

Dust rained down in a continuous sheet, the tiny particles lit up in beams where the brightness of the day outside peaked through the mottled roof of debris now sheltering them. It seeped through their shattered visors and cacked their lungs making whatever ragged breaths they took after they realized they’d finally stopped falling harsh and desperate.

Shiro was the only one who hadn’t been knocked out after the initial collapse, more just dazed in momentary shock from the suddenness of it all, his visor most in tact and his com emitting static output that would catch a few garbled words every now and then.

The planet they were on had sent out a distress signal when the galra outpost stationed in their solar system had somehow managed to pull their moons out of alignment, and like on earth, their moons had significant influence over their tides.

Before they arrived, the land had only been hit by minor floods but as soon as voltron and the castleship entered their atmosphere, the unruly currents ramped up tenfold and small tremors could be felt from somewhere deep underground.

The abnormal weather phenomena hadn’t yet delved into anything seismic, just tidal, but they’d only been planet-side for ten minutes before alarms started blaring and the locals emerged from their homes frantic and scared.

Evacuation via lion had actually gone relatively smoothly, the paladins able to relocate the citizens before the trembles of the shifting plates became truly dangerous.

It had started off pretty tame, the rumblings far between and only enough to shake the windows and trees. But they steadily amplified the longer the evacuation went on until shaking became shuddering and soon trees were swaying and buildings were groaning.

After everyone was loaded onto the castle outside of the planets orbit Pidge flew the green lion flew back down to the surface stowing Lance and a lionless Shiro. They were in charge of carrying out the final sweep to check for stragglers, though the only thing they’d actually found was themselves caught in the height of a particularly large quake.

They were in the city center attempting to make it back to Green who was stationed at the beginning of the tree line on the outskirts of the city, antsy and waiting. But they would never get there because the intense trembling brought them to the knees before they’d even caught sight of the lion.

It would’ve been alright if the solid ground they thought they were on was truly as solid as it appeared, but it wasn’t, because the cracks splitting the pavilion open splintered towards them before they could even cry out and then the last thing they could hear was a roar almost as deafening as the sound of the planet ripping apart beneath their feet.

The fall wasn’t long or else they wouldn’t be alive to choke on the sheer amount of crap in the air, their helmets not surviving the broken bits of sediment that accosted them on the decent, cracking their visors and damaging their com systems.

Though cumbersome and clunky, their paladin armor was also sturdy and could withstand the weight of the rubble they were more or less sandwiched in. Their suits were ultimately what saved their lives in the initial collapse but it beat their human bodies to hell in the process.

Their senses returned with the panic of not being able to breathe, the moment they realized the ground beneath them was rough with rubble and uneven uprooted earth that wasn’t quite earth audible, marked by disoriented cries of surprise at the debris still falling while the quake that brought them down tapered out.

Pidge and Shiro came back to themselves first, raucous coughs pulling each other to reality over their ringing ears as they worked to clear the soot from their mouths and lungs. It was hard work. The air was dense with all kinds of minuscule specks of ruin that silenced them for a good minute while they struggled against the dryness in their throats.

It was Pidge who tried to move first. She was slumped over a chunk of what used to be a stone pillar from the building that was sucked into the chasm of non-earth along with them, her legs tucked awkwardly beneath her. She stopped abruptly to let out a strangled wail when she went to push herself up.

She hadn’t felt much of anything when she first woke up, just incredibly dazed as she fought to open her eyes under the layer of dust encrusting them. But when she put pressure on her arms she discovered that something was seriously wrong with one of them, collapsing back onto the jagged piece of stone to writhe as pain shot through to her shoulder and seized her back.

“Pidge?”

She barely registered the crackle of a low voice from somewhere nearby, her mind entirely consumed by panicking over the pain she was in as well as the unknown regarding the extent of the injury.

“Pidge is that you? Are you okay?”

It clicked then that it was Shiro speaking but she didn’t have air in her lungs to produce any answer other than a panicked whimper, too afraid to lift herself off of the injured limb to see the damage and incite another wave of agony. She didn’t have enough air to handle that again, sucking down what she could in too large of quantities for such a limited supply.

Shiro was going through a similar mental battle, though the first thing dawning on him as he registered his new surroundings was that Pidge needed help, not his own physical wellbeing. So naturally, he’d tried to get up as soon as he heard her call out only to discover he couldn’t move much because he was sprawled on his back amongst an ever growing pile of debris, his prosthetic arm likely crushed to shit under a sizable slab of stone with smaller chunks pressing against his chest and legs.

He was sufficiently stuck, pinned in place and unable to get to her but forced to listen as her anguished sounds continued.

“Pidge I’m trapped, I can’t—shit, I can’t get to you. And I don’t have visual confirmation from Lance yet so you’re gonna have to work with me here... talk to me, where are you hurt? How bad does it look?”

The sound she contrived then was like the ones before, except not for her own misery, not entirely at least. Because that meant there was still no sign of life from Lance which meant there was a very real concern that there wouldn’t be which left Pidge having to pull herself together and search for him since Shiro was otherwise incapacitated.

This would be sucky and not ideal at all, but necessary.

”Pidge?!”

Logic told her that bones mend and that pain was fleeting. That agony would be temporary, fear too, and once she found Lance it would be better, bearable at least.

And so with that resolve she willed her breathing to slow enough to form a coherent statement.

“It’s my arm,” she huffed quickly, the shrillness in her voice evidence of the severity of the injury.

“Okay, can you move? Is there something on top of you?” Shiro asked calmly, his voice level and sympathetic.

“No, I’m on top of it... if-if I move again—“

“Take a breath, it’s probably broken.”

Clearly, but Pidge was already ten steps ahead, her brain grappling with the notion of whether stabbing pain meant safe compounded fracture or gruesome and bloody and open fracture that would make her sick if she even caught sight of her own arm like that.

She shuddered violently at the thought and bit back a gasp when it jostled whatever lay beneath her.

“You’re okay, just breathe... are you sitting or laying down?”

Still so calm, somehow. So incredibly practical and disarming. It was almost unnerving how well he could do that, compartmentalize everything.

“S-sitting, sort of.”

“How?”

Awkwardly, Shiro. The man might be terrifyingly apt at rationalizing the impossible but seemed utterly incompetent in predicting the obvious.

“Folded over a rock and using it as my pillow... all my weight is on it—on my arm,” she ammended with a gulp.

Shiro took his precious time turning this information over in his head and the radio silence almost had Pidge worrying he’d passed out until his voice came back somehow even more blunt and pragmatic than before.

“That’s better actually. What I need you to do is hold your arm in place with your good hand, press it to your chest and use your shoulder to lean on as you sit back again. It should be less agitating that way—“

Shiro’s gentle instruction was cut off by Pidge’s cry as she sat up and away from the slab of stone like he recommended, her vision whiting as she cradled her arm against herself.

When she could see properly again she found her curiousity too overwhelming and spared a look at the mangled limb.

It was both better and worse than she had imagined. The forearm component of her armor was hanging on in pieces and clearly displayed the horrifying mess that lay under what remained. No skin was broken, but the tip of her bone was very visibly poking the already swelling flesh where the middle of her forearm sported a new joint.

The sight was overwhelming and her breaths soon came in short pants, the threat of passing out suddenly very real.

“Good Pidge, that was great. Take a couple deep breaths for me while you adjust,” he asked gently, his voice taking on a more solemn tone now.

She already knew what was coming next and began rearranging her legs beneath her, several deep breaths required to clear the black dotting her vision before she was confident she could stand testing their strength without them turning jelly.

“I know you’re in a lot of pain right now, but you need to find Lance... I’m not mobile and I haven’t heard him yet.”

“Already... on it,” she panted as she leaned on her knees before coming to a shakey stance.

The lighting was sparse in the pocket of nothing that the pavilion collapsed into after the fissure opened, barely enough to make out the terrain in front of her and then some. So she made her way slowly, toeing rocks and larger slabs before proceeding, checking for stability with every step as she slinked across the unnatural landscape.

“Follow my voice... I can hear you now... watch out for the crap still falling...”

Finding Shiro wasn’t difficult when his voice carried so well through the wreckage, even despite the shifting fauna and bits still crashing down and settling.

There hadn’t been another quake in the time that they’d woken up, but that only made finding Lance that much more important. If he hadn’t responded yet then it was more than likely he was pretty hurt, which would be even more dangerous for him to be alone if the rubble decided to rearrange itself.

“Hey...” Shiro laughed pitifully as she ducked under a slanted piece of stone to get to him.

Pidge saw his predicament immediately, he was looking at her from where he was propped up one elbow, his metal arm wedged underneath a piece of stone bigger than he was.

“Well, that’s not good,” she stated before coming down hard on one knee, clutching her arm extra close as she lowered herself to the floor for a better look.

“Let me see your arm,” he ordered in his leader voice, a futile attempt to deflect from his own issues.

“My arm is snapped, let me see if you still have one,” she countered expertly, pushing away his searching hand after once he’d laid back down try and examine the disfigured appendage now securely in her lap.

He sighed in defeat. Pidge had too many years of experience dodging brotherly coddling with Matt to concede to Shiro’s fretting and let him distract from her own triage efforts.

“How bad? Can’t really tell from this angle...”

“I’m not seeing much but there is quite a bit of space between the floor and the rock still so that’s kind of promising for the integrity of the prosthetic... let me get this crap off though—“

“No, you’re hurt don’t push yourself, it’s fine.”

But Pidge acted as if she hadn’t heard him and began to remove the rocks, turning over the more meager pieces of broken stone from his chest with her good hand.

“Pidge, it’s okay. I’m not hurt and you need to save your energy to look for—“

“Wait! Shut up...”

“Excuse me?!”

“Shhhh!”

Pidge held her hand up to Shiro’s face as she closed her eyes and listened for something. Shiro only heard a faint whooshing and a steady trickle until it happened again. A very guttural but human moan.

“Lance! Shit.”

“Go, he’s gotta be close, he was just beside me when we fell...”

Pidge moved swiftly, more nimble than she could’ve thought possible as she maneuvered around the rubble with only one arm to steady her.

“Lance, call out!”

Every time she moved her arm throbbed horribly, but slowing down was not an option, not when another quake was due and could occur at any moment.

“If you can hear me I need you to make a sound, throw something, anything!”

Her repeated shouts are what in the end got him to groan again, the sound of her pointed words coming closer making the pressure in his skull swell exponentially.

“That’s it, keep making noise...!”

As he tried to wake up and open his eyes he only succeeded in making himself more disoriented, the world seeming to spin even with his eyes squeezed shut.

It dawned on him then that closing his eyes when he had absolutely no idea what sort of life threatening situation he may or may not be in was a sort of really bad idea. He had no clue how he was oriented, no grasp of what was up or down, how his body was positioned, if he was hurt or not. He wasn’t even entirely sure he was alive but the second heart beat on the side of his head seemed to eventually convince him he was.

“Lance?!”

But then again the agony swirling around in his brain didn’t seem to care if it was stupid to close his eyes, nor did the intensity of the light above him that burned his retinas when he attempted to open them.

“Call out!”

Uh, no I will not, thank you very much.

Whoever was screaming in his face needed to learn some manners and stop. The sound pierced his ears like a thousand needles and traveled to the center of the heartbeat in his skull, another pathetic moan escaping his lips as he tried to reach for the spot.

“Oh, no—no, don’t do that.”

He was sprawled on his side, limbs askew and otherwise undamaged aside from his armor appearing nearly shredded in some places with how roughly he’d been tossed around in the fray. His helmet was missing and it took Pidge a few moments to locate it, almost wishing she hadn’t once she did.

The left side was dented, the visor cracked so severely that there was nothing but a few jagged shards left of it.

“You’re okay, I’m here Lance, it’s Pidge.”

Lance didn’t care that it was Pidge, she was screaming at him and it was making him nauseous. He couldn’t understand why she insisted on being so loud when he had such a bad headache or why she held his wrist so tightly.

“You’ve got a pretty nice gash there—” she muttered, her restricting hand releasing him to turn his head to the side “—a nice few gashes, actually.”

He must have made a protesting sound at the movement because she stopped and cupped his cheek instead, using the top of her thumb to wipe the tears making their way to his chin.

“Hey, you’re gonna be alright. Can you open you’re eyes at all?”

“Mmmmm.”

“Can you try? Only for a second, I just need to see something. C’monnnn, don’t you want to see my pretty face?”

He made a softer sound then and his eyelids began to flutter as he tried to pry them open, wincing at how painful even the dim lighting was once he did.

“Good, that’s good. Okay, I’m just gonna help you out here, don’t be scared...” she said as she moved her thumb and pointer finger to prop open one eyelid at a time and keep them still so she could get a good look.

His pupils were blown which was probably why opening them hurt so bad, more light was coming in than should be which couldn’t feel nice for his clearly rattled brain.

“Kay, all done... I think you have a concussion, but nothing else seems to be wrong aside from the still gushing head and facial wounds. Can you keep your hand there do you think? ” she asked as she brought it to where the bleeding was worst and pressed down, illiciting a hiss but no other resistance as he held it place.

“Great, you’re doing so great. I know you probably feel really out of it but we need to get you over to where Shiro is... and my arms kinda busted so I can only give you one hand...”

His groaning halted for a moment to let loose a low whine as he tried to open his eyes long enough to look at what she meant, his face scrunching up with concern when he finally managed to.

“You-your arm... s’hurt...” he choked out, more a restatement than a question, his tongue unwilling and his energy spent as he tried to form something coherent.

“Yeah, as I said, busted. But don’t worry about that now, just give me your hand.”

Lance seemed a bit confused at her command so she took up the hand that was limp at his side and moved it to his lap where she could reposition her own at his elbow.

“This is gonna be a tad tricky so just work with me, okay?”

He grunted a sort of ‘uh huh’ and returned with his own grip on her upper arm.

“I’m gonna stand up and lean back, when I do you’re gonna lean forward and stand with me...” Pidge detailed as she moved his legs so that they were bent towards his chest and in front of him.

It wasn’t that he was immobile. The rest of his body was free of visible injuries but his brain and his limbs seemed to be on different frequencies for the time being, the channels of communication disconnected and not taking signals from one another making his movements sluggish and sloppy.

“Okay, ready? Alright, up we go...”

What happened next was anything other than graceful. As soon as Lance was upright he lilted into Pidge who fixed her stance as he stumbled to keep standing, his grip tight on her arm and his weight almost entirely on her hip as he held his throbbing head.

“You good? Here, arm around my neck, just don’t touch my arm... there ya go. We’ll go slow, it’s not far,” she assured as she began to walk forward, Lance following in his own sort of zigzag next to her.

They made their way excruciatingly slow. Pidge moved with care, constantly analyzing the most doable path to lead Lance into, stepping on top of and over boulder sized bits of stone as he continued on whatever even ground she could find.

It was only when she was tapping her toe behind his knee to get it to buckle that he was aware they’d made it. He hadn’t heard Pidge asking him to sit, didn’t even register her hand on his face as he fought with the terrible heat on the side of his head that threatened to make his stomach act on how unsettled it was.

He let out a breathless ‘oh’ as his butt connected with the ground, a layer of recently upturned dust rising after him. Once he was safely seated Shiro removed his hand from his back from where he’d been assisting the transition.

“Shiroo...!?!” he gushed, the word sloshing in his mouth.

“Hey, Lance.”

Though he knew his friend’s demeanor was the result of a pretty gnarly head injury, Shiro couldn’t help but let a fond smile appear at his almost childlike vocalization.

“How ya feeling?”

“Oh, not good I think, right Pidge?—yeah, really not good...”

“Concussion, I checked,” Pidge provided after Shiro took Lance’s bloody hand away from the source of the bleeding to check the damage out for himself.

“That looks painful,” Shiro sympathized before returning his hand to the spot as gently as he could.

Lance processed that his hand had made contact again about ten seconds after which seemed to send his head realing because the next moment he was choking back a gag.

“Crap, it’s alright if you need to throw up. Just get it out, don’t hold it in,” Shiro ushered, his hand moving to Lance’s arm as he doubled over himself, his throat clenching against the bile rising and he sputtered.

He was sufficiently out of sorts and could hardly hold on to a coherent thought but he knew that he did not want to throw up. Not here in front of his friends, especially Shiro.

But the wave of nausea that was making his stomach cramp and his head throb was overshadowed by the sound of something crashing, like a stack of precariously placed objects falling over abruptly except much louder and followed by a sustained gush.

“Shiro..?”

The trepidation in Pidge’s voice made her sound so much younger, like how she did before Shiro left for Kerberos.

At the same time that fear erupted in his friend’s chests, saliva welled up in Lance’s mouth and he let out a pitiful sound, the new commotion having him seeing stars with how angrily his head pulsed from it.

“It’s probably just rubble settling, can you see anything?”

Pidge moved towards the biggest source of light from where the surface above them split apart, the scene hazy through clouds of dust and substantially obscured by larger breakages of sediment. She lifted herself onto her toes to try and makes sense of the destruction around them.

“No...”

Pidge couldn’t see much through the chalky blackness, just hints of structures here and there.

“There’s nothing there—oh.”

The gushing sound seemed to pull to the forefront of the concerning noises then, like a geyser of something had erupted and was emptying itself out into the chasm that had opened up beneath them and swallowed them down. This was concerning for a lot of reasons.

“Yeah, never mind we are so fucked.”

Lance wasn’t even trying to follow the progression of events going on around him, listening intently enough to make sense of a single sentence worsening the pressure behind his eyes while he stomach continued to flip.

The acid taste coming up his throat was putrid, but mixed with a grating layer of dust irritating the back of his throat, the presence of it while already massively disoriented was overwhelming.

“What is it?-crap Lance. It’s okay. You’re okay,” Shiro soothed, his hand secure on the other boy’s back while his frame shook from retching so hard.

“Pipe must’ve burst, well I guess not a pipe, more like a main...”

“A main? As in a water main?”

“Yes,” Pidge deadpanned, using her good hand to steady herself against a taller shred of stone as she continued evaluating just how fucked they were.

Shiro gulped, convinced he could actually feel the tons of weight on top of his foreign prosthetic growing heavier the longer he remained wedged under it.

“How much is coming in?”

He could hear it clearer now, like the rumble in your ears when wind rushed past them.

“Too much...”

With a hiccoughing whine, Lance pitched forward, nearly collapsing into the puddle of his own sick as he continued to gag.

“Woah, okay! You’re alright, I’ve got you... just do what you have to do bud.”

Shiro’s free hand on the center of Lance’s chest was the only thing keeping him upright as he worked through the rolling waves of dizzying nausea.

Pidge spared a cursory glance towards her friend, watching how his shoulders worked as he heaved for a moment before returning back to her internal spiral.

“Coms are wrecked but they’re out of range so it’s not like that really matters anyway... the air is pretty thin already, but the longer we’re down here the less viable o2 there’s going to be... and the crater we’re in is flooding so the more pressing issue is—”

“Pidge,” Shiro drawled slowly, his tone placating as he watched her pace back and forth, images of Matt doing the same thing surfacing in his mind as she did.

She might resemble her brother in appearance but their personalities for the most part could not be more opposite. Though during his time in the castle of lions Shiro had found that they actually share a lot of the same nervous mannerisms.

He knew Pidge probably had no idea how similar their actions are and he’s sort of glad only he does, suspecting the knowledge would only make her sad.

The only issue with this discovery is the fact that even though her reaction isn’t new to Shiro, dealing with it was, and once Pidge’s mind started working it was hard to get it to stop.

Lance was winding down then. His breaths still heavy and uneven, the stream of blood down his neck and front steady as ever, but he wasn’t gagging anymore.

“You’re arm is... fucked, my arm is fucked, and Lance’s head! Oh god, this is—“

“Calm down, we can figure this out.”

She spun on him abruptly enough that Shiro was scared for a second she might’ve given herself whiplash.

“Calm down?! How do you expect me to do that when we’re going to be underwater in an hour, hell maybe even a couple of minutes?!”

Lance’s shoulders seemed to slump somehow further from the volume of her voice and Shiro took a second before launching into his response to help him sit back on his heels and away from the vomit.

“No, I’m going to be underwater. You and Lance are going to start walking, climbing, whatever it is you have to do to get to higher ground—“

“Yeah okay, fuck that. We’re not leaving you—uh buh bah, save whatever case you were gonna make because I’ll promptly stop listening.”

The visage of Matt retreated entirely with Pidge’s indiscretion, her words seeding with irritation as she shut Shiro down.

“Pidge!”

“I’m so very sorry for my attitude but you really did just pitch us leaving you to drown, are you really that surprised?”

Shiro took a practiced breath, the kind he uses to ground himself because the pit in his chest was expanding and the last thing they needed was him devolving into panic.

He eyed the way Lance swayed as he sat with his legs splayed on either side of him, his hands limp in his lap and coated in blood from the gash on his head.

“You can’t stay here, not when Lance is hurt like this.”

“Okay.”

“Huh? Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. If you want to waste your energy trying to convince me to let you die, then that’s whatever because the reality is that you’re the one stuck under a rock and I’m the only one whose mobile. This is very much my call. Sorry big guy, but we’re sticking around.”

Shiro actually laughed.

He couldn’t ignore the way that his heart filled with admiration at Pidge’s defiance but it was overwhelmed by the burden of the fact that no matter how much pride he had in her for stepping up, he was still trapped and they were still going to watch him die.

He shuddered and Lance hummed at the movement, wondering vaguely if Shiro was hurt at all before the thought disappeared and the only thing he could remember was how insanely painful the knot on the side of his head was and how heavy his aching body felt.

“M’tired... think I’m gonna... mmmh, gonna lay down,” he managed with some concentration and put his hands on the ground to brace himself but didn’t make any further moves, his face scrunching up in confusion as he struggled to figure out how to maneuver himself down when his arms were so difficult to control and his head pulsed blindingly any time he moved.

“You can’t go to sleep yet, dude. Just sit with Shiro for now, I need you to keep an eye on him for me anyway,” Pidge instructed with a grin.

Shiro huffed and narrowed his eyes but it only made her smirk widen.

“W-why? Is Shiro hurt?” Lance asked worriedly, forgetting himself entirely and attempting to twist around to see.

The gravity of the action caught up with him a beat later, the groan that bubbled in his chest ungodly.

“Easy there, hot shot, I’m okay. Just a little stuck,” Shiro assured, stilling him with a firm hand on his shoulder when the surge of pain had him tipping nearly over.

“Kay... s’good,” he noted through clenched teeth before his eyes fluttered shut and his head began to lower to his chest.

A sharp pain from where Shiro flicked the side of his cheek that wasn’t cut up and coated in blood roused Lance from his attempt to rest.

“Ow. Rude.”

“Not rude, necessary. There’s no napping on the job.”

“I’m so tired though... just wanna sleep... you guys are so mean... why can’t I just—“

“Nope. You’ve gotta keep your eyes open for me bud,” Shiro chided, shaking his shoulder gruffly enough to have his bloodshot eyes shooting open.

“But why?” he slurred, the exasperation in his whine sort of heartbreaking, “I could just nap through... the worst of this, it’d be... it’d be so nice... wouldn’t hurt so much...”

“Since when are you all about what’s easy, you’re like the most stubborn human I know?”Shiro asked, his voice full of fondness.

“And you get enough beauty rest as it is, lover boy, you’ll live if you miss a few hours.”

The rushing water filled the ambient silence while Pidge made her way back to her friends from her watch post amongst the rubble.

“Are... we?”

Lance’s voice was a broken whisper, the gravel in it a painful attribution to the stress his throat had been put under between the abuse of the acid in the bile and coarse texture of the dust.

“Are we what, Lance?”

“Live... are we gonna live?”

The gush of moving water rose up in Shiro’s ears like roaring wind again but stronger this time, effectively tunneling his attention on those words, the innocence of them.

“Of course we are—“

“I want it on the record that I, Pidge Gunderson, am making no such promises.”

“PIDGE!”

“So loud... please... shhh...” Lance cried desperately, his hands almost comically slow to rise and cover his ears.

“WHAT?! I’m being honest!”

“You’re being negative!”

“Coming from the guy who just told me to leave him for dead!”

The fire in both paladins eyes was burning so brightly Lance could’ve sworn there was an actual glow with how horribly his head was beginning to hurt from listening to them.

“Alright, I might’ve had a moment of doubt, but we can’t—“

“Stop shaking me Shiro...” Lance whimpered as he drew his knees up to his chest carefully “—it hurts... please quit it...”

This broke the two out of their heated argument.

“I’m not touching you, Lance...”

“Then t-tell whoever is... to fucking stop!”

His chest hitched pitifully when punctuating the last bit with a pleading whine had his head swimming in vengeance. If it weren’t for the stability of hugging his propped up legs so tightly he would’ve fallen over with how dizzy he was.

Pidge looked at Shiro as if he’d know any better than her what the hell he was talking about.

Unfortunately for the both of them, he did not.

“Deep breaths, Lance. You’re probably just disoriented, it’s normal for head injuries to mess with your sense of balance and equilibrium—“

“Shiro...?”

He was beginning to hate hearing his name being called when it was almost always followed by something he really wouldn’t enjoy hearing.

“Yeah, Pidge?”

But she didn’t have to continue because he felt it then.

A steady thrumming from somewhere below.

A rumble.

“Quiznak...”

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 20

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: age gap

A/N: enjoy xxx

NEXT CHAPTER

Y/N was sat on the floor of her bathroom, leaned against the absurd quantity of objects barricading her door. She would be alright, she would be alright. Only someone with super strength could break through it ... or an axe. As that thought crossed her head all she could think of was of a little memory of her childhood. She and her younger brother had padded down the stairs to where his parents were watching a movie she would later learn it was the Shinning. She couldn’t forget the scream she had let out as she saw Jack break through the door using an axe and right now, right now all she could think of was that, something breaking through her door and harming her.

She looked at everything in her bathroom thinking of what she could use as a weapon to defend herself. Suddenly her friends back home forcing her to choose reusable razors were her best of friends. She could probably arm someone with the razor blade or try to stab them with eyebrow scissors. Bucky had once told her the damage doesn’t need to be big, only in the right place.

She continued to stay sat down, mumbling to herself she would be fine until she heard footsteps. They were loud, heavy and echoey. Her breathing stopped, hands over her mouth fully knowing any sound would give away her location. However was walking in her flat kept walking and the steps got closer and closer until there was a knock on her door.

     - Y/N? Y/N, it’s Steve. Open the door. - her heart returned to beating, breath normalising as she broke through her barricade, opening the door. It was really Steve, standing in front of her and was this another situation, she wouldn’t know what to act but right now, right now he was the best thing that could’ve arrived.

Steve however seemed to lose colour to his face as the mirror became visible to him. Bucky hadn’t told him what was written in the mirror and if he didn’t know, he wouldn’t definitely be pleased about it. 

    - I checked the flat, there’s no one here. Whoever wrote that isn’t inside the flat, you’re safe. - he put his hands in his back pocket, seemingly conflicted of what to do or what to say. His eyes whoever were glued on those words, scribbled in big letters, tarnishing her reflection. He felt guilty for those words he had told her, maybe Bucky was right in being mad at him. - Do you want some tea? Yeah, you should get some tea, maybe some food? 

   - I really don’t want any of that.

   - It’ll help you calm down.

   - I’m calm! - the words came harsher than she anticipated, tears pooling at her eyes as she turned her head away from him. However, turning his head away from him meant looking straight into the mirror, those words in front of her, written across her forehead only added salt to injury. She held her hair, trying to hold in the tears. No, she was not going to cry, she was not going to cry.

    - Hey ... - Steve pulled her in for a hug. - It’s okay. I’ll make you some tea and we’ll wait for Bucky. I promise no one is gonna come in and harm you. 

   - I don’t want Bucky to see me like this. - she wiped the tears with her back of her hand.

   - It’s okay, just come with me okay? - Steve took her by the hand to the kitchen but not before locking the bathroom door. He’d deal with that later. Walking into the kitchen, things looked normal. Everything looked so normal, Steve wondered how someone could’ve easily entered her flat. - You can wash your face in the sink, it’ll hopefully reduce some puffiness and the red eyes. I’ll put on the kettle and we’ll have a tea, okay?

 She didn’t reply to him, merely nodding before making way to the sink in the skin. Shaky hands reached to the tap, moving it and causing the cold water to start streaming. Her mind got lost in sound, not wanting to get lost in her insecurities. The sound of water running, water boiling in the kettle and the cold feeling of the water against her warm skin. She felt like crying again. She shouldn’t be crying, she shouldn’t be a cry baby, she told herself. The water kept running, being slashed onto her face occasionally until the sound of the kettle on the background ceased.

Turning off the tap, she wiped her face clean with some kitchen towel before turning to face Steve who held one of her mother’s Christmas’ mugs up to her. She had that mug for what felt like ages now, the painting was starting to chip and there were English Breakfast tea stains on the bottom yet she couldn’t let go of it. She couldn’t let go of the only thing which seemed to make her feel as if she could control her life in a house filled with agency bought furniture. 

  - Is Bucky coming? 

  - Yes, he is. Just stuck in traffic. Brooklyn traffic is quite bad. - he chuckled, trying to break the ice. - We once got jammed in it when we were trying to leave Coney Island. Bucky hadn’t told his ma and she gave him an earful. 

   - Was it worth it? - she laughed of the thought of Bucky getting reprimanded by his mother.

   - Yeah, he made me ride the Cyclone over and over again until I threw up and then tried to bribe me with ice cream. 

   - I know, he told me. - she smiled at Steve, taking him off guard. Bucky had talked with her about him? He wasn’t expecting that. Bucky barely spoke to him after the incident at the compound, if he did it was normally because he had no choice and if he were to guess he would say the two of them would probably be bad mouthing him behind his back. 

    - Wh ...

    - Y/N. - she turned her head to the familiar voice, jumping from her seat when she saw Bucky standing in the kitchen, catching his breath in a white wife beater shirt and light grey yoga trousers. She wrapped her arms around him, letting his warmth involve her as he kissed the top of her head, arms supporting her against him. His eyes roamed the room, falling on Steve. - What are you doing here? Where’s Sam?

   - Sam had his meeting ... I offered to come check on Y/N instead. 

   - How nice. - the sarcasm rolled off his tongue, something which came by unappreciated by Y/N who looked up at him with disapproval in her eyes. 

   - You should probably take her to a hotel for a few nights, maybe your Brooklyn flat? I can get Natasha and Tony to come take a look at her flat, look at the security cameras, scan for fingerprints. 

   - I can protect her, I don’t need your help. 

   - Can I show you something? - Steve remained his regular calm self, arms crossed over his chest as he motioned with his head towards the bathroom. Bucky was reluctant to get away from her, afraid if he let go something would happen to her. She, on the other hand, pulled away from him, giving him a reassuring look. His hand unlaced from hers as he followed Steve onto the bathroom. 

He expected broken glass, artefacts that would show a break in but as Steve opened the door, the bathroom was intact. There was no broken glass, no forced entry just the word Slut scribbled all over her mirror. His blood boiled, fists clenching as he went to grab a towel to scrub it of the mirror but Steve stopped him.

    - We need to examine it, first. It’s no good scrubbing it off. Right now, you need to take her out of here. We’re not sure how the person got in or how he got out, if there’s a blind spot he might try to use it again. Go to a hotel, register under one of your old alternate identities or to your Brooklyn flat.

   - Yeah ... uhum ... you’ll sort it from here or should I drop her off in Brooklyn and return?

   - Go be with your girlfriend, Bucky. - Steve smirked at the word, not remembering the time he had called anyone Bucky’s girlfriend.

   - Should I pack? - Y/N poked between the two friends.

   - No, I’ll ... I mean, I’ll get Sam to drop some of your stuff wherever you guys go. 

   - Thanks, Steve. - the actress gave him a quick hug before disappearing onto the kitchen to grab her bag and phone. 

    - I’ll see you around? 

Bucky didn’t reply, instead turning on his heel and leaving the blonde hero in the bathroom. He didn’t know what to say, he didn’t want to say anything and so he left him there, instead walking to the kitchen and taking Y/N by the hand. She thought better not to say anything until they were in the car. 

     - What happened between you and Steve? - she asked once they were stuck on the traffic leading back to Brooklyn. 

     - Nothing happen between me and Steve, princess. - his eyes were glued onto the road, hands gripping onto the steering wheel. 

     - Really? Because if my best friend of more than fifty asked me a question, I wouldn’t just leave.

     - It’s really nothing, Y/N. He was rude to you and he didn’t apologise, that’s all. 

     - No that’s not all. - she turned her head to face him. - At least it doesn’t feel like that’s the only reason. Do you wanna tell me? Is it because he was the first one on the flat?

     - No, listen ... Y/N, it’s complicated. 

     - Do you want to be mad at Steve?

     - It’s more complicated than that, princess.

     - It’s a yes or no question, Buck. 

Bucky sighed, turning the wheel towards Brooklyn once the traffic cleared. The conversation ended there but it didn’t end in her mind. She didn’t want Bucky to be mad at Steve because of her, or him to be mad at Steve at all. Yet, she wasn’t going to push his buttons, she knew better so she just put her hand on his tight, head tilted against her own shoulder, watching his wild blue eyes on the road. The drive seemed longer as he tried not to look at her. He didn’t want her to get caught up in whatever he was dealing with Steve. Maybe it was wrong of him to get mad Steve due to things he had bottled up for years, yet, he just couldn’t help it. He wasn’t a baby, he wasn’t a cripple, he shouldn’t be treated like one. 

He drove up to his street, exiting the car first to check if there was any danger before opening the door to her. She looked around the neighbourhood, it was rather picturesque. Open large streets with close by apartments with little trees in front. It was the type of neighbourhood you would see in a coming of age movie. 

      - Come on. - he took her hand in his, walking her to his flat building. She stargazed at everything, watching the beautiful doors and matts until she reached Bucky’s door, the only door without an entry mat. - Listen, before you get it, you should know ... it’s not the best flat in the world. I’m still ... doing some things.

      - I’m sure it’s charming. 

      - If you don’t like it, we can go into a hotel. I want you to be ...

      - James. - she interrupted his rambling. - I’m sure it’s great.

      - Okay ... - Bucky insecurely opened the door of his flat, pushing it open with his feet to allow her in.

She furrowed her brows as she entered the empty home. There was no furniture, just boxes and a furnished kitchen, possibly bought that way. Now she understood why he was so insecure about opening the door, while she had too much in her flat, he had too little. Y/N moved further into his flat, opening the first door she saw which proved to be his bedroom and her heart shattered. There was no bed, just mattress on the floor and a few notebooks surrounding it. No pillows, no sheets. Nothing. 

     - Uh .. we can buy you a bed. Whatever bed you’d like. - Bucky came up from behind her, kissing her shoulder. 

     - Bucky, how long have you had this flat?

     - For a while now ... I know it doesn’t look good but I was thinking about buying some paint ... Yet, I don’t really know if I get to be like this for a while.

      - What do ... Oh. - she turned around and placed her hands on her shoulder, giving him a slow, soft kiss. - You’re not going back to that. I know you’re not, you’re strong. This is your home, you should treat it like a home. 

      - Princess, I don’t need much.

      - Well but if you don’t get a bed, I’m afraid I won’t sleep with you. Sounds dangerous. I don’t want to end up in A&E and explain to the nurse that my spine is cracked because my boyfriend doesn’t have a bed. 

      - Holding sex? That’s a low move, princess. 

      - IKEA. We need to go to IKEA.

      - Are you sure you don’t want to rest? I mean, you just wen ...

      - We could get meatballs. - she interrupted him, clapping happily. - Meatballs and home shopping, it’s gonna be marvellous. 

      - Y/N, we can order in meatballs.

      - But not IKEA meatballs. Come on Bucky, it’ll be fun! It’s like playing the Sims but in real life. 

     - I’m not gonna question you about what the Sims is. - he smiled at her excitement, pulling a strand of her hair behind her ear. - Are you sure you don’t want to test the mattress? I think I can make you like the bare mattress.

    - I know, love. That’s exactly why I’m not gonna try the mattress. - she held onto his shirt, little smile on her lips. - But I do think you need to change out of your pyjamas and maybe put some shoes on. 

    - You’re being awfully demanding of me, Ms. Y/N. I might have to punish you later.

    - Bed first and then you can do whatever you want. 

taglist: @disasterbii​​​ @lookiamtrying​​​ @buckysteveloki-me​​​ @americasass81​​​ @jamesbarnesappreciationclub​​​ @lostinthebeans​​​ @mariahthelioness29​​​ @buckyandsebastian​​​ @peaches-roses-sins​​​ @theadorasabditory​​​ @sipsteacasually​​​ @saiyanprincessswanie​​​ @booktease21​​​ @noiralei​​​ @learisa​​​ @everythingisoverratedbutgreat​​​​ @uglipotata72829​​​​ @naturalthrone22​​​​ @husherstan​​​​ @mandiiblanche​​​​ @vicmc624​​​​ @newyorkgoddess​​​​ @itsallyscorner​​​​ @chipilerendi​​​​ @emzd34​​​​ @writerwrites​​​​ @bluevxnus​​​​ @that-girl-named-alex​​​​ @captnrogers​​​​ @nsfwsebbie​​​​ @sarge-barnes-sir​​​​ 

[colorseeingchick]

Onigiri and Second Chances

Pairing: Osamu Miya x Reader

Summary: The Black Jackals are hosting a Christmas party, and Osamu agrees to come. But there’s some details Atsumu forgot to tell him- 1, he’s supposed to mass-make Onigiri for the party, and 2, a figure from his past is making a reappearance. 

Warnings: Mostly Fluff, some Angst, suggestive content, swearing 

Word Count: 3.7k 

A/N: Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays everyone! This is far from my best work but I hope its fun regardless !

Osamu swears he can see his breath crystalize before him in his kitchen as he plots the murder of his damned brother. 

Well, plotting his brother’s demise is currently secondary to the molding of the  onigiri in his hand. It feels odd, the contrast between the soft, squishy rice warming his palms as he meticulously works at it and the prickly cold that bites his forearms, bare and at the mercy of the cold air of his kitchen, unprotected by his rolled up sleeves. 

Now, you probably have a lot of questions! 

Why’s Osamu Miya making some lip-smacking onigiri at 4 pm on Christmas Eve? 

Because his bitch of a brother tricked him.

Why’s he making 70? 

Ask Atsumu smh (if it’s not abundantly clear, my boy Osamu is VERY salty).

Has he been here for like, 3 hours already? 

Yeah, he sure as hell has. 

Will he be here for a good few more?

Uh huh. 

Why? 

Well, Osamu doesn’t take onigiri lightly. 1. If he’s gonna make em for Atsumu’s party, he was gonna do em right. Even though Atsumu forgot to mention that onigiri was gonna be the special dish to Osamu- the one making the onigiri- until 10 am the day of, (I’m sure y’all get why Osamu is mad now) there wasn’t a chance in hell he was gonna let his dishes fall flat, especially for a party this big. He has a bunch of specialty flavors he’s been wanting to showcase anyways, and in the process of making so many for such a large number, he knows it’s easy to get lost in a ‘quantity over quality’ mindset. No matter the amount, Onigiri Miya’s quality never wavers (A/N: period king as you should). 

But the AC being broken? That’s not a part of his plan. And it was just kinda, icing on his metaphorical cake of reasons why he’s pissed as hell right now. It makes him question if all this effort is really worth it, at least for tonight. 

Osamu’s initially thought that, because his brother’s the host for this party, that maybe he should try to spruce up a bit, come in lookin like an acceptable counterpart to his charismatic, showy brother. But now? He’ll realistically be here in this kitchen till the time of the party, so he’ll show up lookin a lil rough. Effort that should’ve gone into his looks is not being put into his food.  If Atsumu complains, Osamu will not hesitate to shove an onigiri up his-

It’s whatever. It’s not like he has anyone he needs to impress there anyways. He’s just the onigiri twin tonight. 

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The party is in full swing when Osamu arrives. But unlike Atsumu’s usual parties, the music wasn’t blaring- it’s festive and moderate. And despite being ‘party’ attire, everyone seems a little less scandalous. I guess that’s natural when some business representatives and officials from the volleyball world are also present. Unfortunately, this does mean that Osamu is the most underdressed, but he’s come to terms with it. 

But knowing his brother, there’s no way a Miya party would be fully professional. There has to be some element of childishness or stupidity somewhere in this party-

And Osamu gets his answer when he looks up. 

Mistletoe. And lots of it. It’s not everywhere everywhere. But there’s more than one, and they are seemingly strategically placed. 

Osamu chuckles. Leave it to his brother to try and start shit. All this means is that he has to be careful to not end up in the wrong spot with some random person. He’ll be fine. 

Giant container filled with onigiri in hand, he maneuvers his way to the kitchen, nodding and smiling at his acquaintances as he goes. As he’s about to step onto the cold tile of the kitchen, he stops dead in his tracks. 

Fuck his brother. 

He didn’t say anything about you being here. Somebody’ll have to stop him from slugging his asshat of a twin across the face. 

“SAMMMMUUUU!!!!!” Speak of the devil. 

Atsumu slings his arm over his twin’s shoulder,  a cup in his other hand.

“Are ya drunk?” 

“Huh? No. Gotta keep it together! I’m the host after all.” Atsumu smiles wide, rather stupidly. 

“Great. If yer sober, that means I can beat the ever livin’ shit outta ya and yer gonna remember.” 

“Oi, oi, what did I do!? Ya just got here!” Fear shined Atsumu’s bright eyes. 

“If you could like, not beat my boyfriend up, I’d appreciate it a bit, Samu-kun,” a female voice gently chimes in. 

“Homura-chan, hello.” Osamu’s shoulders relax as his brother’s level-headed girlfriend pops up in between the two, giving Osamu a side hug only to watch Atsumu pout. 

“Homura…” Atsumu’s whine is enough for her to placate him with a tight hug, but she continues to face Osamu. 

“Why do you wanna kill him this time? Not that you’re wrong for wanting to. I’m just curious.”

“Hey!”

“He didn’t tell me they were gon be here.” Osamu’s eyes shift to you, laughing in the kitchen, talking to Hinata and Bokuto, while filling cups with hot chocolate. 

“Oh I thought you were gonna yell at him for not telling you about the onigiris till this morning.”

“That too.”

“HEY!” 

“But I guess it’s my fault they’re here. I invited them, they are my best friend after all. But I should have told you. I’m sorry, Samu.”

“No, no. Its fine Homura-chan. I just…” 

Osamu doesn’t know how to verbalize it. He’s had a crush on you since 2nd year, and it didn’t go anywhere even through college. You two knew each other pretty well, and he almost asked you out. Emphasis on almost. Being honest, he abandoned ship when he saw some guy kissing you after class one day- he figured he had waited for too long. He cut off communication with you soon after, despite your attempts to reach out. Homura had time and time again reminded Osamu that you didn’t hate him, and he did trust her. But that didn’t help him shake off the feeling you did, and always would, resent him. 

It also did not help that his stomach jumped the moment he heard your beautiful laugh resonate in the kitchen, or that his face heated up when he saw you warmly hug your cup of hot chocolate, sipping it so gently. So cute. 

He’s still whipped. Fuck. 

Homura nudges his shoulder, one hand intertwined with Atsumu’s. “We’re not gonna make you talk to them-”

“maybe...” adds in Atsumu.

“-But if they come up to ya, maybe it won’t be the worst thing.”

Osamu looks down, tightly gripping the strap attached to his container. “Okay,” he quietly agrees.

Atsumu slaps his brother’s shoulder with a smile and comments, “ya know where my clothes are, grab em if ya need em” before taking his leave to go entertain other guests.

“I’m assuming you have more containers?” Homura asks, standing by Osamu’s side.

“70 onigiris definitely do not fit in here.” Osamu smiles with his quip, and she smiles back. 

“Figured. I’ll help ya grab the rest. Go and put that down first.” She heads towards the front door, leaving him in the doorway. 

He takes a deep breath before recomposing himself, restoring his classic blank n’ bored expression. He strides into the kitchen, placing the black container down softly and attracts eyes in the process, including yours. He feels your soft gaze somehow dig into the back of his head once he swiftly turns around, walking away back to the front door. As he steps back into the winter breeze, he’s met with Homura’s knowing gaze. 

“They’re single, ya know.” 

Osamu huffs out cold hair, eyes closing at the sting of the wind. And somehow, the cold sting filling his lungs eased the fear in his stomach. 

“I look like shit.”

“Atsu said you could take his clothes. Let’s go pick somethin’ nice out for ya.” 

This is gonna be a long night. 

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Osamu sits himself on the couch, a glass of champagne in one hand. Atsumu’s maroon button-up faintly smells like his signature cologne, and although he usually hates it, something about it helps Osamu channel his brother’s cockiness confidence, which feels very helpful right about now. 

But the confidence he’s tryna channel can only do so much. Suna and Akaashi are both worried as they watch Osamu space out mid conversation. Its far from normal. Suna knows exactly what’s on his best friend’s mind, while Akaashi is astute enough to make a guess. 

“Myaa-sam.” Akaashi gently calls to Osamu. No response. 

So Suna gives him a nice kick. 

“Oi!” Osamu rubs his shin. 

“Talk to them, before ya go crazy and take us all down with ya,” Suna’s tone is flat and bored, but the intensity of the statement is clear. 

“I dunno…” 

“Myaa-sam, don’t you think it's worth a try?” Akaashi’s approach is different, soft and coaxing. 

“Ya know how awkward it’s gonna be?” His leg is bouncing now.

He wants to. Very badly. But he can’t. It might only make things worse. 

“It’s only awkward if ya make it awkward. And that’s comin’ from me. Ya know, from both of our personal experiences, waiting too long is the worst mistake you can make.” Suna turns his gaze back to the kitchen, wistfulness is his voice. 

“We fucked up. But yer gettin’ a second chance. Don’t do it again.” 

Osamu knows Suna’s pain. He knows he’s right. 

“How the hell do I even start?” 

Suna’s gaze shifts to something, or someone, else before quickly locking eyes with Akaashi. 

“Don’t run.” He then gets up wordlessly and walks away. 

Akaashi brushes his pants off before standing, a small smile resting on his face. 

“Just remember Myaa-sam, you’ll only regret the things you don’t do. It’s best to be honest,” and with that, Akaashi also walks away. 

As Osamu’s eyes trace Akaashi’s path of escape, his eyes are caught by you, happily bounding towards him- a smile on your face and onigiri in hand. 

Yeah, that’s you for sure. Osamu is caught between the nerves in his stomach and the fuzziness in his mind as you come up to him. 

“Osamu, hello! Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, L/N.”

“Can, can I sit here?”

Don’t run. 

“Yeah.”

As you sit down, he notes the distance, he notes how your arms are in front of you, he notes your smile, and he notes how your eyes shine. He notes how cute you look with the onigiri tightly held in your hands. 

“Your onigiri’s are amazing! I always knew you were a great cook, but I’m so sad I never got to try them before!”

“Thank you, L/N. These definitely aren’t my best, Tsumu didn’t tell me I needed to make em till this mornin’ so… I was worried they weren’t as good.”

A lie. He knows they’re not bad. But he wants you to think they can be much better. 

“If this is bad then I’ll definitely have to come by and try more! Because this is the best onigiri I’ve ever had. But maybe that’s because you’re the one who made em.” You quickly move on from your comment by taking a giant bite out of your onigiri, and Osamu hopes that you don’t see how intensely his face heats up. 

Are ya, flirting? With him? Nah, yer just being you, all nice and all. But that doesn’t do anything to mitigate how much you’ve just stroked his ego. 

“Sounds like classic Atsumu, to forget to tell ya something important. What was your day like? Having to prep all this so fast.” You look up at him, expectantly, eagerly ready to listen to him.

Your undivided attention does illegal things to his heart, ya know. 

But just like that, you two fall into your usual pace, as if y’all had never stopped talking in the first place. He tells you stories, you add in charismatic quips, you both share laughs, and slowly the gap between you two closes. Osamu’s hand is now empty of any glasses and lounges against the back of the chair right by your head. You, on the other hand, have your legs pulled up under you, your knees gently pushing against his thigh. 

“Oh my gosh I should be at more Black Jackals games from now on, this sounds amazing,” you say as you wipe a tear from your eye after laughing too hard. 

“If yer goin, lemme know, I can keep ya company,” Osamu lets the words fall from his mouth before he processes what he’s saying. 

You pause, soaking in his words. “Really?”

Now it’s his turn to process his offer. “Uh.. only… if yer interested-”

“I’d love that.” You smile at him, excitement clear in your voice. 

As Osamu indulges himself in the sight of your smile, he realizes that some rice clung to the corner of your face. Out of instinct and enabled by proximity, his hand resting in his lap reaches out to you. His hand caresses your jaw while his thumb drags against the corner of your mouth, down over your bottom lip. Out of shock, you could do nothing but stare at him as his eyes meet yours. 

In this moment, in this place, time has stopped. Osamu has one thought on his mind as he thumbs at your lips. 

I need to kiss them. Now.

But then he didn’t. 

Osamu sharply retracts his hand, a “ah, sorry,” running off his tongue. 

“You’re, you’re fine.” You look down, flustered. “I’ll, be right back.” Osamu sighs and feels his heart start to sting as you walk away, head lowered. 

Fuck me. I fucked up again, didn’t I? I just didn’t want to do anything they didn’t want. 

 Osamu snaps back to reality as he feels a hard slap against the back of his head. 

He’s ready to fight when he turns around, only to see Homura and Atsumu behind the couch. 

“The fuck was that, Samu?” Atsumu aggressively yell whispers. 

“What doya mean!” He knows what Atsumu means. He hates admitting Tsumu is right, but he can’t admit that. 

Homura’s disappointed glare quiets him down. “Don’t do anything you don’t want to, Osamu. But if you want it, you can’t keep running away. And don’t lead them on either, that ain’t fair.” 

“I didn’t know if they wanted to…” Hasn’t that always been the problem? Osamu is a confident guy. He pulls a lotta people, pretty consistently too. But you were different, always had been. Osamu never wanted to hurt you, never wanted to make you uncomfortable. Never wanted to ruin your friendship. But in trying to do that, once it was too late, he knew that’s exactly what he did. And he couldn’t find it in himself to do that again. 

“They want it. I know my best friend. They want you as much as you want them, headass. So if you’re not gonna make a move, I will.” With that, Homura turns on her heels and walks away, Atsumu glaring at his brother while his girlfriend pulls him along. 

That’s definitely a threat. What does it mean? Who knows! But better to not find out.

Osamu’s eyes scan the room and he finds Suna leaning up against a wall, Akaashi standing next to him. Suna’s lazy gaze makes contact with Osamu’s for a moment before closing while sipping at his hot chocolate. Akaashi’s squint also feels more piercing in this moment. 

My boys are talkin’ shit about me? Incorrect, Samu. In case you have not realized, your boys are not the type to talk in the first place. 

I deserve it this time though. He rubs the back of his neck as he stands up to stretch. 

You do regret the things you don’t do. Dammit Akaashi. Time to talk it out. 

Osamu strides through the house tryna find you. He finds you stepping down the stairs, wiping at your face. His heart shatters and he really wants nothing but to hug you. But he resists, mind determined. 

“L/N.”

“Osamu! Hi um… I’m so sorry if I’ve been bothering you.” 

“L/N.”

“I’ll just let you go, I don’t wanna make you anymore uncomfortable.”

“Y/N.” Osamu grabs your arm as you try and walk away and gently tugs you to face him. “Please. Can we talk?” 

You pause, take a deep breath, and then turn to him, eyes still ensuring him that he has your undivided attention. 

With butterflies fluttering in his stomach, he calmly speaks. “I like you.”

Your eyes widen.

“I like you a lot. Since 2nd year-”

“In college?”

“High school.” 

You shudder and tears pool in the corners of your eyes. Instinct takes over Osamu as he pulls you forward with all his weight, throwing you against his chest as he wraps his arms around you. 

“I’m sorry I never told ya,” he whispers to you as he rocks you side to side, your face buried in his chest and your arms tight around his back. 

“I’ve always been so scared of, hurtin ya. You were one of my close friends, and I didn’t wanna mess it up over feelings. I didn’t wanna lose ya.” 

You nuzzle against his chest as he feels you start to shake.

“But when I saw that guy kissin ya one day, I thought… I thought I lost you anyways. I realized I waited too long and that I made a mistake. And then I proceeded to do everythin’ I never wanted to do, I hurt ya and I fucked up our friendship.”

“Osamu, I never wanted him to kiss me.” Your voice cracks. 

“...What?” His eyes go wide with concern and confusion. 

“He kissed me outta the blue. I thought we were just friends but he didn’t see it that way. I was just being myself, though. But right after that I told him there was someone else I liked.” 

Osamu internally hits himself. Maybe he should just ask Atsumu to punch him. How could he be so fuckin’ stupid? 

“I was gonna confess to you after that, but that’s when you dipped on me. I didn’t know what I did, and Homura told me to talk to you and find out for myself- she said it’d be fine if I talked to you, and that I should learn to communicate with you but I… I didn’t reach out. That’s my fault.”

Osamu pulls you closer to him, crushing you as much as he could. It’s his turn to shed a few tears, in frustration and pain. He coulda been with you all this time, but he was being a headass. Maybe Homura should punch him instead. 

“I’m...I’m so so sorry Y/N. I missed ya so much.” He cradles you in his arms, a calming (self-calming) sigh falling through his lips. 

“I’ve missed you too, Samu.”

You two look at each other for a good, long moment before small smiles crawl onto your faces. Osamu pulls you against him once more. 

“Let’s try this again. I wanna get it right this time.”

“Sounds good to me.” You say, sniffles stopping and giggles rising out of your chest. 

He buries his nose into the top of your head drawing in the sweet smell of your shampoo while his hands grab onto your fluffy sweater. 

“So cute! NOW KISS.” You and Osamu jolt out of your hug when Atsumu barks. All Osamu’s (and your) friends had now come to look at you two, smiles all around. 

Akaashi smiles fondly. Suna smiles lazily, and your favorite dumb Black Jackals (Bokuto and Hinata), who were unaware of any history between you two, are now in shock while also smiling like crazy. 

“Get it, Mya-samm!” Bokuto cheers out, causing everyone to erupt into laughter. 

“Wait, wait!” Atsumu runs down the hall, jumps, and then runs right up to his twin. He then proceeds to hold a mistletoe right above yours and Osamu’s head. 

“ I’ve been waitin’ for this shit to happen for Ion even know how many years. No chickenin’ out of it this time.” 

“Wasn’t planning on it, jackass.” 

Osamu’s hands find their way to your cheeks, gently caressing it with his fingers running up and down your jaw. His eyes take their time inspecting every inch of your face, mentally mapping every beautiful feature that adorns you. With the fire hot in his stomach and his lips aching, he pulls your face to meet his, lips gently massaging yours, telling you everything he had said earlier all over again, but this time with his actions. 

He likes you. A lot. For years. And he’s missed you so much. 

He slows the kiss down, taking his time to let you feel his lips against yours. When your hands reach up to hold his face he can’t help but try and pull you closer. 

As he pulls away after a mere 30 seconds, which did indeed feel like forever, his adrenaline is pumping and his smile is uncontrollable. The whooping and hollering slowly starts to die down, not that either of you heard it while so focused on the other. 

Osamu’s eyes find Suna’s. Suna has his camera out, as per usual, but his face has a small smile on it, and he nods to his best friend. With that, he nudges Akaashi and they walk back to to the family room. 

“Alright alright let’s get going boys. We have games that need to be played.” Homura grabs Bokuto and Hinata by the arm and collar (respectively) after giving a look to you. 

In that moment, Atsumu winked at Osamu while doing the ‘okay’ sign with his hands before walking to the room with everyone else. 

It was a signal the two had established way back in high school, when he and Homura started dating. It was their nonverbal sign of permission to the other twin for guaranteed privacy- which was important in a household of shared rooms and shared, well, everything. 

“What now Samu?” You look up at him, tugging him closer now that everyone else was gone. 

“I’m not done with ya just yet.” He smiles down at you, his eyes mischievous. 

You tilt your head in confusion. 

“I’m throwin ya over my shoulder, okay?” 

“Yes but why-” 

With that, Osamu sweeps you off the floor and throws you over his right shoulder easily.

“I messed up for years of my life, and now I have to make up for lost time. I told ya I’m not done with ya just yet.” 

Osamu proceeds to carry you up the stairs, giggles falling from your mouth. 

He’s gonna make sure you know much he really likes you. He’ll shower you in so much love, there won’t be a doubt left in your mind. 

He promises.

Epilogue- the next day

As the Black Jackals all slept like logs in their rooms, the smell of pancakes and coffee filled the air, attracting some of the other guests.

Some of the other boys, Suna, Akaashi, and Osamu, had all slept over, and were the among the first to find their way to the kitchen. 

“Samu, did Y/N get home ok?” Homura asks him while flipping some pancakes at the stove. 

Rubbing his eyes as he approaches her with a cup of coffee in hand, he nods. “Happy n’ safe.” 

“I’m very glad.”

“Homura-chan, I have a question for ya.” 

“Yes?”

“You knew both of our sides of the story from a long time ago. Why did ya never say anythin’? I’m not mad but I’m tryna figure it out.”

She smiles before saying, “It didn’t feel right. I love you both. A lot, obviously. But I think we both know intervening can... make things worse. A lot worse.”

A shared memory flashes through their minds. 

“And on top of that, I don’t think it would’ve solved the real issue both of you had. I wanted y’all to be happy in a relationship, but that meant y’all would have some barriers to cross. Y’all needed to grow before you could work as a couple. So I figured time would do its work.” 

“Although!!” Atsumu’s bright voice cuts in as he marches into the kitchen, wrapping his girlfriend in his arms, “us not telling you they were coming yesterday was 100% planned.” 

“And not telling me about onigiris?”

“Yeah that was intentional. Had to keep ya away from the house long enough.” 

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill ya, Tsumu.” 

A/N: I hope y’all enjoyed! The ambiguity with Suna, Osamu, and Homura was intentional, so stay tuned!!!

[atruedonaldist]

ATD’s Mystery Skulls Future Analysis Post (SPOILERS INBOUND, READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!)

Alright gang, here we go, welcome to my analysis of Mystery Skulls Future! I’ll be going over everything I noticed during the video that calls back to both previous videos and information found on MysteryBen27′s posts (about Mystery (the dog) and Shiromori! Another analysis of Arthur and Lewis’ side of the story along with Vivi and The Ancestor will come later.)

It’s highly possible that I may get things wrong, so please feel free to correct me or lend a voice if you spot anything!

Without further ado: let’s get this party started!

Alright first off: wanted to start off with Mystery because HOOO BOY. This doggo. This poor canine.

When Shiromori and Vivi start fighting, he watches in surprise--not lending a hand to either side.Instead, he watches them fight until Vivi gets cut.

That’s when Mystery gets off his laurels and throws Shiromori away (Team Rocket’s blasting off agaiiin!)

And here’s what I wanted to point out. Mystery decidedly did not get involved in their fight until one of them is about to, or gets hurt. Case in point, he didn’t transform until Vivi was nearly beheaded by Shiromori in the beginning, using his own blood as a lure.

After Shiromori blasts off again, he takes Vivi and they work together to defeat Shiromori--but where Vivi is firm and ready to take her life, Mystery looks sad.

He steps in Vivi’s way. Despite Shiromori wanting his blood, he doesn’t want her dead.

Vivi accepts this, but even as she walks away, she’s suspicious of Shiromori. Mystery just sends Shiromori a sad look... like he doesn’t want to leave her, but can’t stay either. Why?

Shiromori’s look is also interesting: she’s surprised, like she wasn’t expecting him to save her. She was surprised when during Hellbent she found him by Vivi’s side, seeing The Ancestor in her, but more on that later.

When Vivi and Mystery walk away, Shiromori is pissed. And she runs with her blade at Mystery again--only to be stopped by Vivi... and then Vivi gets hurt. For real. Not just a nick, this time.

And then Mystery loses it.

Oh would you look at that: Mystery now has eight tails.

Also note the green around his pupil and in his mouth for later, folks--also the bandaid where the blue light burst from.

And in his rage (also note the RAGE!), he attacks Shiromori... becoming injured.

And she’s crying. She drops her weapon, and she sheds a tear. Why?

Mystery tried to stop her, and showed her weakness--and Vivi took advantage.

But watch his reaction.

He’s horrified. More horrified than when Vivi got injured--he cares about Shiromori. And watch Shiromori’s actions too.

She reaches out for him--like she’s asking for help.

And she becomes what looks like (I forget the exact word for it, but they’re brought to life as soldier or such in japanese mythology. I’ll edit this post when I figure out what I’m thinking of, but just think of her as an animated figure like a golom.)

There’s the white light. Note the bandage, once again.

Oh, would you look at that: nine tails.

Oh boy. Generally from the little I’ve researched, Kitsune gain tails by how old they are and by how powerful they are. In Mystery’s case, I wouldn’t be surprised if he gains tails because of everything that he’s lost. I do remember reading somewhere that Kitsune can also gain tails by gaining wisdom, but I can’t find the source of that.

Now, I want to bring attention to the lights.

I think we can all agree that this is Mystery’s heart. Broken, battered, cracked and full of holes. If we take out the two lights we saw before, the blue and white, we have six lights... six tails. Add the original tail, and you’ve got seven during the beginning of Future.

In the original Mystery Skulls, we can see that Mystery had six tails.

But see this:

It’s a little hard to see, but you can count nine tails here. A flashback of The Ancestor that Shiromori sees when she first fights Vivi in Hellbent. Nine tails. We see the bandaids covering Mystery’s heart, exactly where two spots of light are. Important? I think so, but we’ll get back to that later.

I also recall seeing a gif of Mystery’s model where he has seven tails, a preview for either Freaking Out or Hellbent, but someone else will have to find that for me.

Now then: REMEMBER THE GREEN?

HOO BOY. MYSTERY. BUDDY. PAL. (also note: nine tails here as well!)

We also see Lewis and his deadbeatz covering their ears like it’s hurting them, and Arthur’s arm going haywire...

Now, this isn’t particularly hidden, but...

Pretty safe to assume that whatever possessed Arthur took advantage of his moment of a hurt heart. But we also know that it only possessed half of him... while for Mystery--

It took it all.

(also note the smile. Jesus, this thing likes smiling at despair.)

Just. Just. WhooOOOOO BOY.

His tails also reflect the colour of the lights... now, who wants to bet that the orange and the purple is Lewis and Arthur? Blue is Vivi of course, and the White being Shiromori.

Speaking of Shiromori, let’s rewind a bit back to Hellbent.

Here, we see Mystery looking at a flower. The forest around them is dead, devoid of life.

And then we see Mystery giving his blood to the flower...

And the forest, now in full bloom. Would you look at that: Nine tails. Wonder where those tails went, Mystery?

In the next scene in Hellbent, we also see The Ancesor and Mystery fighting... and Shiromori’s outrage when she sees him working beside Vivi. Somewhere along the way, either Mystery and The Ancestor became buds (evidence by the flashback with the Ancestor protecting Mystery) or The Ancestor chained Mystery somewhow. I’m putting my faith in the former, though.

And here’s what I wanted to bring to light.

It seems obvious that Shiromori was created by Mystery--or at least, nurtered to full bloom by him. And he cares for her too... but when she starts seeking out his blood actively, he’s forced to leave, to preserve his own life. Despite knowing how to kill her, he never does. Instead, he runs.

And remember how he looked when she was finally killed? And the way she reached out to him? It makes you think, doesn’t it? He didn’t want either of them (Vivi or Shiromori) to get hurt or killed. But they were at odds... and the bandaids holding together his heart finally broke.

How much of his actions were performed out of loneliness? He nurtered Shiromori, brought her to life... but in the end didn’t kill her, even though she wanted his blood. And even when she did slice him in Future, she cries. She cries for him, like she didn’t want it to come to this. Why?

Why did Mystery lose two of his tails? What are the other four lights, assuming that Arthur and Lewis are two of them? How did the fight between The Ancestor and Mystery end up with him accompanying Vivi?

There are so many questions and definitely not enough answers, and I don’t have the smarts to come up with theories for them all.

I hope this analysis helps some people, though! These were just a couple of things I noticed while watching about Shiromori and Mystery--Mystery especially because he’s been my favourite since day one, and I always wished he could get the limelight at some point... though not like this.

I also know I probably missed so many things about them, so if you catch any that I forgot or missed, please let me know! I hope you enjoyed reading!

EDIT: Wow, I thought I edited this but I guess it didn’t save. Thanks, tumblr.

Wanted to point out that I completely forgot to mention my previous thoughts about what Shiromori was--I believe she could be a jubokko.

According to folklore, it appears in former battlefields where many people have died, and its appearance does not differ that much from ordinary trees. Since it becomes a yōkai tree by sucking up large quantities of blood from the dead, it lives on human blood. When a human being happens to pass by, it supposedly captures the victim and, changing its branches into the shape of a tube, sucks the blood out of the victim. A Jubokko that sucks life out of human beings in such a way is said to always maintain a fresh appearance.

Of course she’d be feeding off of Mystery’s blood instead. This lends way to the theory that Shiromori wasn’t originally a creation of Mystery’s, but rather a creation of the graveyard of warriors that tried to attack Mystery in his forest safe haven, of sorts. Just a thought!

[thelibrarbian]

Rating: T

Chapter word count: 3249

Read on Ao3

or below the cut:

Papyrus was well aware that his lessons with Captain Undyne did not include every aspect of the training a future Royal Guardsman should receive. There was, as far as Papyrus was aware, usually more emphasis on fighting humans and less on cooking pasta, for instance. But the chapter on first aid was a section that she had taken him through in detail, and he was very grateful for that right now.

To be quite honest, he was somewhat surprised by his own knowledge of skeletal anatomy and medicine; he was reasonably sure that not all of it came from Undyne's lessons, but he couldn't remember where else he had learned it. He didn't dwell on it, though - he had probably just read a book at some point and then forgotten about it, or it was simply instinct from being a skeleton monster himself - it only meant that he was even better equipped to take care of the unconscious monster on his living room floor, even if he hadn't realized the extent of his own greatness before.

He couldn't say he felt particularly Great, though.

Fell might have been no longer in danger of dusting, but actually healing his wounds proved much more difficult than it should have been. Not only did attacks deal more damage the more harming intent went into them, it also made them harder to heal - and what Papyrus could feel lingering where Fell had been hit was outright murderous. Healing it wasn't impossible, most certainly not impossible for the Great Papyrus, but if he had hoped to fully mend any of the broken bones right there and then, that was very clearly not happening. The most he could do was to ease some of the pain and encourage Fell's natural healing to do its job perhaps a little faster.

Well! That was a minor setback, but no matter! They could still patch Fell up the regular way, and everything would be fine. And while Sans couldn't assist with healing magic, Papyrus was very glad for the extra hands.

It took longer than he would have liked to admit, but eventually they had cleaned all the wounds, set and splinted the breaks, and wrapped what felt like the majority of Fell's body in bandages. Fell never stirred throughout it all, and Papyrus decided to be glad that he was sleeping through what could not be a pleasant experience from his end if he was conscious. The alternative train of thought that his unresponsiveness prompted was not one that Papyrus wanted to follow.

If Papyrus was perfectly honest, it surprised him a little just how eager his brother was to help. Not that he thought Sans would refuse to assist a monster in need, of course not, but... For reasons that Papyrus didn't entirely understand, Sans and Fell… did not usually get along particularly well, to put it lightly. Yet now it was only on Papyrus' insistence that yes, he really was able to handle everything else on his own that Sans eventually left the injured monster's side, taking Red upstairs with him to let him sleep on a proper (albeit ketchup-stained) mattress.

Papyrus would have preferred to move Fell to a bed as well so he could rest better, but the thought of carrying him up the stairs in this state seemed daunting. Of course, it wasn't that he didn't trust his ability to maneuver a badly injured skeleton through the house, who was probably going to dust if Papyrus accidentally dropped him, or knocked his head against a doorframe, or jostled him just a little bit too much… But there was also now an unoccupied, reasonably comfortable couch only two steps away, and lifting Fell onto that did not come with nearly the same potential for highly unlikely fatal accidents.

He was exceedingly careful as he looped his arms under Fell's shoulders and legs and lifted him up, using a bit of blue magic to make the move go more smoothly for his alternate and avoid aggravating his injuries. Once he had double checked and triple checked and quadruple checked that Fell's HP really was stable now and would remain that way even if Papyrus left his side for a moment, he darted around the house, picked up any additional pillows from the other rooms (excluding Sans' room because he was not going to subject Fell to the ketchup stains he would inevitably find on his brother's pillows - and besides, Red was probably using those), and rushed back to the couch. He carefully arranged Fell a little more comfortably, supporting his upper body with pillows, making sure there was no pressure on his injured ribs, and draping a blanket over him. And then another, because Fell's state called for more than one blanket.

Finally, he brought a chair from the kitchen and sat down next to the couch, reaching over to lightly rest his hand on Fell's broken leg and continue to channel a slow, but steady stream of healing magic into him. It may not have been helping much, but Papyrus had enough magic at his disposal to keep this up for the rest of the night. And probably the next morning as well.

It was more disturbing than he wanted to admit, seeing his alternate so still in the pile of pillows and blankets. A few months had passed since their universes had crossed paths for the first time, but they had remained in somewhat regular contact since then - mostly due to Papyrus' own insistence to invite their rougher counterparts to a biweekly cross-universal skeleton game and movie night. And as much as Fell kept grumbling about those meetings and adamantly refused to host one in his own world, neither he nor Red had missed a single one so far.

Still, as much as Papyrus would like to, he didn't think he was allowed to call his alternate a friend yet. Red and Sans got along well, exchanging puns and knock-knock jokes and generally bonding over their terrible sense of humor, much to Papyrus' chagrin.

Fell was a different matter.

His grumbling may have noticeably decreased since their first meeting, but Papyrus suspected that he thought of the get-togethers more as strategic missions for potential cross-universal allyships rather than socializing. While Red, just like Sans, easily kept up a friendly (and pun-filled) conversation without sharing anything consequential, Fell made no pretense of always keeping the two of them at a metaphorical arm's length, always politely, but firmly turning down any of Papyrus’ suggestions to stay for longer than initially agreed. (Which, in turn, had led Sans to certain comments about sticks and pelvic cavities.) The few times Papyrus had seen his counterpart soften, for lack of a better word, was when the topic of conversation turned to either cooking or his cat, and those moments never lasted long before his carefully kept mask slid back into place.

Papyrus didn't take it personally, of course! Their rougher counterparts just weren't the kind of monsters to make friends easily, and with what Papyrus knew about the 'kill or be killed' universe they came from, he couldn’t expect them to be. It was simply going to be a challenge to earn their trust and friendship, and the Great Papyrus wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.

The Great Papyrus also wasn’t one to doubt his chances of success with that particular challenge. He wasn’t one to linger on how long his friend quantity had remained stagnant despite his best efforts, or on the fact that, while he himself had just barely obtained a semi-official job as a sentry, Fell had climbed up through the ranks of his own Royal Guard in record time…

Fell, who was now not only a full member of the Royal Guard, but the second-in-command, outranked only by Captain Undyne and the King himself. Who, if Red was to be believed, was single-handedly responsible for turning the previously lawless town of Snowdin into one of the safest places in his version of the Underground. Whose name was feared and respected from Snowdin all the way to the capital.

Fell… was not supposed to look this small.

He had still shown no sign of movement other than his shallow breathing. His face, the only part of him not covered in blankets, was pale, even for a skull, devoid of the faint glow of magic that was usually the sign of a healthy skeleton monster.

Papyrus swallowed dryly and increased the flow of his healing magic.

He very decisively did not think about what could have happened if Red had been held up, or if Fell had taken any more hits, or if Papyrus' magic hadn't been strong enough to stop the bleeding in time. Worrying too much wasn't helping anything right now. Besides, Red was going to do enough worrying for all of them combined once he woke up, whether he would show it or not, and apparently, there was a good chance that Sans would be joining him. So all the worrying in this house was already more than taken care of, and Papyrus didn't also need to think about things that hadn't happened, or question whether Fell remaining unconscious was to be expected with the severity of his injuries or whether it was a sign that he was- Yes, no, that was exactly what Papyrus was not thinking about.

In the same line of not-thinking, he really hoped that Red was alright.

With a sigh, Papyrus let his healing magic fade out. He needed to refocus. He sat up straight, stretching his arms and back until his spine popped; bending over his alternate like this wasn't the most comfortable position to keep for long periods of time, he realized. Not that it mattered - he would gladly take some minor discomfort if it helped Fell recover.

As quietly as possible, he scooted the chair over so he could better reach his alternate’s ribcage. But before he could even touch him, a faint noise, softer than what he would have expected, came from the end of the couch, and Papyrus' gaze darted over immediately.

Fell's head was turned towards him, his eye sockets were open, and he was staring at Papyrus with an unreadable expression.

Papyrus' shoulders sagged with relief. "Oh, thank the stars you're awake! You had me worried there for a moment - not that I thought that someone as Great and Terrible as yourself could be kept down by anything at all, of course, what a ridiculous idea!" He gave a small and very much not nervous laugh. "But, I am rambling when I should instead be asking: How are you feeling? Do you need anything? Are you comfortable, or should I get more pillows?"

Fell gave no response, which, Papyrus could somewhat understand. That had probably been at least two questions too many for someone who didn't look like he was entirely awake yet.

"How are you feeling?" he repeated, fidgeting slightly with his hands and successfully stopping himself from continuing to ramble this time.

Fell still gave no response, although he stopped staring at Papyrus, his eye lights dim and unfocused as they scanned the room. Then, with a grunt of effort, he pushed himself up onto his elbows, looking as if he was fully intending to get up.

Papyrus gave a noise of alarm and quickly reached out to stop him. "Oh, no, I believe that is not a good idea at this moment! You might hurt yourself - I mean, worse than you already - well…"

Fell let himself be guided back into the cushions without any resistance, and that was somehow more alarming than his attempt to get up in the first place. Papyrus was certain that, in any other instance, his alternate would have snapped at him for the mere suggestion that he should lie back down, and if Papyrus hadn't been concerned before, he certainly was now.

Trying his best not to let his worry show, he lightly patted Fell's shoulder and carefully tugged the blankets back up. "There you go, that's better! You just try to rest, and let us take care of everything else! I can even read you a book to help you relax, that usually works for me - although I do not know if you would enjoy Fluffy Bunny. Maybe 'A History of Puzzles'? Or maybe not, if it's too interesting to fall asleep to, that won't do, either!"

He paused his chatter to give his counterpart a closer look. Despite leaning back into the pillows again, Fell still looked tense, dim eye lights darting back and forth as if looking for something. Or searching the room for possible threats. Or both.

"Sans?" His voice was rougher and quieter than Papyrus remembered, closer to a whisper than anything else, but he supposed that was to be expected given the circumstances. Right now, Papyrus was glad to hear him speak at all.

"Your brother? He's upstairs, sleeping. He was exhausted when he came here, but Sa- Comic said he would be fine, he just needed some rest." Papyrus gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "He brought you here, to mine and Comic's house, in case you were wondering how you got here. Or, er, where you were." He probably should have mentioned that right away, but, well, it couldn't be changed now.

Fell stared at him intensely, and Papyrus couldn't tell whether he was trying to judge the truthfulness of those statements, or if he just needed a while to process the words. Then he blinked a few times, looked over the room again, and something seemed to click in his mind. Some of the tension left his face as he exhaled, sinking back into the pillows.

For a moment, Papyrus considered asking what had happened to leave him in such a state, and he had already opened his mouth to do so when he paused. Fell didn't exactly seem like he was up for any sort of extended conversation at this point, and Papyrus decided to let him rest a bit more before he started needling him with more questions.

There were a few moments of awkward silence before Papyrus cleared his non-existent throat. "Well! I was just going to heal you a bit more before you woke up, so if that's alright with you, I'll just get back to that?" When there were no objections, Papyrus brought his hand over his alternate's blanket-covered ribcage, fingers starting to glow green.

Faster than Papyrus thought his alternate could move, Fell's hand closed around his wrist before he made contact.

Papyrus stopped moving immediately. He wasn't afraid of his alternate, although he knew better than to underestimate him even in this state, if Papyrus' approach had somehow registered as a threat to him. Still, he really didn't want to startle him.

But Fell only stared at Papyrus' hand with a somewhat puzzled expression, slightly tilting his head. "Whadda ya..." He paused, frowning at his own slurred speech. When he continued after a moment, it sounded like it was taking him quite a bit of concentration to enunciate the words clearly. "What. Are you… doing?"

Oh. Right. Healing magic was… not much of a thing in Fell's universe. Not that Fell or Red had ever explicitly spoken about the topic - they very rarely spoke about anything regarding their universe, Red's occasional gushing about his brother's accomplishments notwithstanding - but Papyrus had come to his own conclusions. (Although he had wondered, with him and Fell being essentially the same monster… but that was neither here nor there.)

Papyrus straightened up slightly, as much as he could with his wrist still in Fell's grip. "Like I said, healing you! If you will allow me, that is. Which I very much hope you will, because despite my best efforts I'm afraid that you're still… not quite back to full health yet." And if that wasn't one of the biggest understatements to ever come out of his mouth, Papyrus didn't know what was.

Fell still looked confused, but he slowly released him.

"Thank you!" Papyrus gave a bright smile, which came a bit more easily than before. "Now, I'm just going to reach over there and place my hand on the blanket, alright? It shouldn't hurt, but please do let me know if it becomes uncomfortable at any-"

Another noise interrupted him, but he couldn't make out what Fell was trying to say this time.

"Pardon?"

Fell blinked furiously as if he was fighting hard to stay awake. Papyrus knew better than to tell him to go back to sleep; instead, he waited patiently for him to sort his words. "Why're ya… you… on th' chair?"

Papyrus blinked back. "Because I am planning to stay here for a while longer, and while I could stand the entire time, there wasn't really any need to, so I brought a chair from the kitchen?"

Fell huffed softly, his eye sockets starting to close before he forced them back open. "Not… what I mean… why'ren't ya on th' couch?"

"Because. You are on the couch??"

Fell stared at him - he had been doing a lot of that since he woke up -, then slowly raised his arm and patted the space behind his head. Which was mostly occupied by pillows at the moment.

"You… want me to sit on the couch with you?" Papyrus had to confirm. While they had, of course, shared the couch on movie nights before, Fell wasn't lying down on those occasions… and he didn't exactly strike Papyrus as the cuddly type.

Fell scoffed. "Obv'sly. If you're gonna keep… doin' this…" He vaguely gestured towards Papyrus, the chair he was sitting on, and the hand that Papyrus was still holding awkwardly over his ribs without touching him. "Don' need ta… need ta..." Then he let out a tired huff, clearly frustrated with his apparent struggle to finish the sentence. "Couch. Sit," he commanded, closing his eyes without waiting for a response.

Well. Alright. That was unexpected, but if Fell was this adamant about it, Papyrus couldn't really object, could he? It took a bit of shuffling, but in the end, he managed to arrange himself on the end of the couch next to Fell's head, with his legs under the pillows, and Fell seemed to have no objections to essentially lying in Papyrus' lap - or rather, lying in the pile of pillows that Papyrus had on his lap. In any case, the lack of protest was probably more of a testament to Fell's not-fully-conscious state than anything else, but it was certainly a more comfortable position for Papyrus than sitting on the chair and leaning over his alternate.

"Can I continue healing you now?" Papyrus asked again after a few moments.

He received a vague hum that sounded half like confirmation and half like Fell was falling asleep.

Papyrus took it as a 'yes'. He positioned his hand over the blankets around Fell's ribs, careful not to press on the injury, and focused on keeping his intent warm and soothing, pushing his worries to the back of his mind. Now, with one arm over his alternate, the position felt almost like a hug - another thing that Fell certainly would not have tolerated if he was fully conscious. As things were, though, there was another, even fainter hum as Fell shifted minutely in the pillows, and Papyrus got the strange impression that he was trying to curl closer.

[razorblade180]

Rumble

It was just another day in Vacou. Hot temperatures, clear skies, and Carmine getting into trouble. Ruby paced around her home on the phone with the girl’s teacher. The fifteen year old wasn’t where she was supposed to be. “What do you mean she hasn’t showed up for class again? Is she in the school at all?” Ruby tapped her foot like a rabbit. She loved her daughter but the amount of anxiety caused whenever Carmine went off somewhere alone was a thing Ruby would never shake. She didn’t need another Dustin. Nobody needed another Dustin. Though at this point, Carmine wouldn’t have the luxury that child was given. She would no doubt be dead. The thought made Ruby hang up the phone and dial Sun’s number.

“Yellow?” The cheeky man answered. “Carmine wouldn’t be with you by any chance? She’s not at school. I’m about to start looking around town.” She heard a bit of rummaging over the phone. The man was climbing a tree to get a vantage point of his surroundings. “Haven’t seen her, but you know Carmine. She’s probably sticking her nose into some crime to stop it. The police authorizing her to do citizens arrest and intervene with organized crime was probably the most chaotic decision.”

Ruby walked up stairs to peek in on Jaune putting Garnet down for a nap. “I’m heading out.” Jaune gave a thumbs up. “Godspeed.” Ruby gave him a kiss then dashed out the house. “Do you mind helping me out Sun? Vacou has too many nooks and crannies.”

“I think I have a better idea. Aero could speed things along.” Ruby’s face went through varying emotions. “Why isn’t he in school?” She asked. “He kept complaining about it. This gives me an excuse to put him to work though. The two of you together can cover Vacou in now time.” That was true. Vacou didn’t feel so big with help like his. “Can you put him on the phone?”

Sun looked around for his son. It was no surprise to see him on the roof. He was fortunately dressed already. The typical black combat boots with khaki cargo pants that had purplish sash around the waist that matched his shirt. His short brown hair was slicked back and he put on his black windbreaker. He turned his head to see Sun trying to get his attention.

“Yo! Ruby wants to talk to you, bird brain” Sun blinked and Aero was already hovering over him. His massive black and white condor wings spread out. Aero took the phone. “Let me guess,Carmine?” This wasn’t the first time he had to find the girl. Ruby sighed, “you guessed right. Do you know why she isn’t at school?” He had to think about it for a moment, then he had a pretty good idea why. “I could be wrong but there’s been talk about this back alley gang that’s been harassing students. Money, catcalling, forcing people to join, making those people get more people; the typical shtick. Carmine would definitely know about it.”

Great, Carmine was definitely doing something about that. Ruby picked up the pace. Gangs aren’t the worst thing to be dealing with. Vacou spawns Them constantly, but there are a few that are way too big and will take more than her. Carmine was good, but not untouchable. “Aero can you help me look for her and let me know what you find? I know you two are pretty fickle with each other but…”

“I’ll keep you posted. Not like I could refuse anyways.” He grunted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thank you. I’ll be sure to make you all the pasta you can eat.” Ruby said as she hung up. Aero gave Sun back his phone. “I’m going to borrow your arm bracers. Back alley brawl, you know those go.” Sun gave him a nod and gave him the ones he already had on.They weren’t what he used to but these bracers were the best quality. “Your mother is going to kill you if you lose.” Aero chuckled nervously. Truer words had never been spoken. He gave his wings a good flap and shot off towards the rest of town. The wind from his take off nearly knocked Sun over. “I hope he finds her in high spirits.”

xxxx

“FOR THE LOVE OF GODS! SHE’S ONE GIRL!” Shouted a man with a greasy mullet, aviators, and a cobras tattoo on his arm. He had just watched another one of his men get their face punched into a brick wall by Carmine. “WHY IS SHE STILL STANDING!?”

A man grabbed Carmine from behind to restrain her while another ran at her from the front with a knife. Carmine kicked out with both legs to hit his chin, then flung her weight forward to flip her captor forward; landing on top of him. “Fight me yourself if you think I’m easy to beat, you rock band reject.” She looked around at the dozen upon dozens of brutes that laid on the ground, writhing in pain. “Clearly your men need help. More came rushing in from back alley doors and fire escapes. The quality of the people weren’t too bad. It was the quantity that was a pain in the ass. Carmine had to admit she came here unprepared and unexpectedly; on uniform day no less. Her clothes were soiled with dirt and blood. Some of it being her own.

A slow stream of it ran down her face and over her left eye while her left forearm was an unhealthy mix of red and purple from blocking pipes. Even her face was a bit bruised and bloodied by scratches. Carmine was confident she looked like a complete badass right now. It was the only pro in this situation that kept the pain in check. That and adrenaline. A schoolmate cowarded behind a city dumpster where Carmine ordered the boy to stay. He had been targeted by the gang and came to school scared out of his mind. He also was a little beat up. “You okay back there?”

“No!” He shouted. He poked out from his hiding spot. “Why’d I let you talk me into taking you here!? We’re gonna die!” Carmine could understand that mentality, but why her classmate had it after all the bodies she’s knocked to the ground was beyond her. Her appearance had to be the reason why. Carmine kept up the assault, roundhouse kicking two more guys and uppercutting some chick with green hair. Another girl came running at her with a knife aimed for her face. Carmine back stepped then grabbed the wrist of the opponent, flinging her into three more people. Carmine ran at the leader but was hit in the back with a bat and stumbled into another brute that gave her a meaty left hook she couldn’t see coming. Her body hit a brick wall. Having her weapons would be nice right now was all she could think about.

The one with the bat went in for another swing to the head. Carmine grit her teeth and blocked it with her already broken arm. “This will do.” She yanked him forward and head butted the weapon out of his hand. The bat was lighter than what she used to. Carmine kicked off the wall and swung it across the other brutes face, knocking him out cold. More came rushing in to dog pile her but Carmine was too quick. She weaved in between the bodies and had their ribs become acquainted with her new weapon. “I have to be honest with y’all, getting really close to just beating you within an inch of your life.” The threat was all too real and they could tell.

Some of them started approaching slower and with far more caution. They’d be damn if some kid was about to win. Their boss wouldn’t allow running away anyways. Carmine growled, getting annoyed by the herd mentality of weaklings. “If you know what’s best then stop hanging around schools and dealing to children if you know what’s good for you.” She vanished from their line of sight before appearing several feet closer with six more gang members face down on the ground. “Or we can keep roughing it? Either way works for me.” Carmine was really hoping to catch her breath. Her limbs felt heavy.

They kept advancing, step by step. The hard way it is. She felt bad for them really. From the moment Carmine entered the alleyway, they forfeited their right to leave quietly. She only gave them an out so they couldn’t say she didn’t. A twinge of excitement and anger crept onto her face in the form of a smile. Her red eyes shimmered eagerly. “Bring it on, fools.”

“Well look at that, a face of a predator in her element. You’re a real freak show, you know that?” Called Aero from above. Everyone looked up to the man with his phone out. He zoomed in on Carmine and took a picture for Ruby. “Your mom is searching for you. She’ll flip seeing you like this.” He already got a message from Ruby saying she was five minutes away. “Who the hell are you!” Cried the leader.

Carmine grimaced. “Aero…” she looked to her right to see the boy next to her while the others took a minute to notice he wasn’t in the sky anymore, gasping when they finally did. “I don’t need you here. I got this covered.” Aero looked Carmine up and down. “You look like shit. That’s not new though, but I’m here as a favor l. You may not need my help but that kid over there is the reason this is happening right? He looks like he’ll take all the help he can get.”

“I would!” He shouted. Carmine rolled her eyes and approached the group of gang members, her bat twirling in her hand. “Handle the small fry while I teach their leader a thing or two. If you think you can handle it.” A grunt ran at Carmine but was met with a wing slap across the face that sent them to the ground. Aero smiled and dashed towards another grunt, striking their face hard enough to break their nose and push a few more back. The leader got a good look at the young man. His heart sank when he realized both of these troublesome kids had a colored sash. The girl’s scarf and the fabric on the boy’s waist. To make it worse, the gray eyes and majestic wings. Started looking familiar. “You...live on the outskirts, to the north, right?”

Aero cracked his knuckles. “Oh, so you know who I am? Then you know today is the day your gang gets run into the ground. Don’t feel too bad though. Losing to a rival group is the natural order of things. Carmine, we have four minutes before your mom steals the show.” Carmine did nothing but rush past him with her bat at the ready. Words waste time after all. It was time for a beat down.

xxxx

Ruby darted around the tight corners of shabby buildings that hid all kinds of secrets. That photo really sent her into a panic. Being battered and bruised was nothing new to see. That was the sad part. Why couldn’t she go school for a full day for once! Ruby didn’t even care that Carmine was a C student. Yes her grade in math needed to go up next quarter and literature class may need work. But Ruby wasn’t going to hassle her about it! She just wanted her safe. “Carmine! Where are you!?” The area was dead quiet to the point it was unnerving. Ruby turned one more corner. “CARMINE?!”

“Hmm?” The girl heard her mother and turned around. There she stood, teary eyed and out of breath. All while Carmine sat on a pile knocked out goons. Her scarf pressed against her head to stop the bleeding. She bit her lip, feeling a little guilty now that she sees the worried look on her mom. “It’s not as bad as it looks. Just don’t hug me tight. My ribs took a beating, also my arm. Good chance I’m also concussed-” Ruby gently wrapped her arms around her.

“I’ll yell at you later. Just do me a favor and tell me the crazy shit you’ll do?” Carmine turned flushed and hugged her mother back. “You’re lucky everyone is knocked out. It would be embarrassing for common thugs to see this. Would you believe me if I said I had full intention on going to school. Then that guy over by the dump walked by all frazzled, hassling people out of fear. Protecting peers is part of being a good student, right?”

Ruby looked at the boy. Aero was helping him up. She didn’t know how many people he had to fight. There wasn’t a scratch on him but the bracers were riddled with fresh blood. He didn’t even look tired. Typical Aero, he’s a wild one. Forget silver eyes. That silver tongue and calm attitude was all the weapons he needed. It was still sweet of him to lend a helping hand. Ruby didn’t even have to pay him this time! Perhaps his parents got on him about such a thing. “I’m going to drop this guy off at school. I’d stick around but you know, fuck that noise. You can deal with paperwork work and authorities. I want that pasta with meat sauce by the way. Later Mrs Rose, Little Flower” He said to Carmine. He spread his wings and took off.

Carmine scowled at that nickname. “I can’t believe you sent him after me. Of all the people.” Ruby chuckled lightly, he’s the only one in all of Remnant who might completely enjoy your chaos.” Ruby had a point. For all the years they’ve known each other, Aero seemed to invite controversy. It was incredibly irritating. Why couldn’t he thrive off a peace like a normal person? “Wait, you promised him pasta?”

“Yep, your punishment is helping me cook for him.” Carmine looked at her arm. “Uh...one handed? Even with dad’s help I am going to need a cast.” Ruby shook her head. “Extreme choices require extreme punishments! Do your best!” The enthusiasm didn’t match just how cruel that statement was. Carmine held her head down and sighed, “Fine…he better like it, or I’ll stab him.” Ruby frowned. “This is why your friend bubble is as tiny as a soap sud.” Carmine’s jaw dropped. “Hey!”

xxxx

Carmine sat on the couch covered in bandages while Jaune wrapped her broken arm for the second time. Aero sat at their table comfortably eating pasta and tried to stop himself from choking out of laughter. “Amazing on the battlefield, stumbles in the kitchen. Oh the pitfalls of Carmine Arc-Rose never stop being entertaining.

“I will beat you with my ca-aaah!” Carmine winced. Jaune wasn’t pleased. “You’re pulling your stitches!” The three of them kept going back and forth while Ruby fed Garnet along with Sun and Ilia. “Why are they like this?” They all said silently as they ate. At least they had a reason to eat together. All in all, a pretty good day.

[takerfoxx]

Blood Island, Chapter 5

A gift given freely is not free. Only pay the price you know in advance.

Nuriel left the basket where it lay on the steps. Morning had brought both hunger and thirst in great quantities, but she was not so desperate as to trust the red-eyed monster’s benevolence.

She wasn’t exactly sure what she was expecting from the deck of the ship, but she was surprised by how little she found. At a cursory glance one might be forgiven for not realizing that a war had taken place at all. Here and there she found a dark feather stuck in the timbers or a dark stain of blood, but there were no mangled corpses, no shattered bones or shredded organs. Nuriel made her way to the rail and peeked over. Even the sand looked like it had been cleaned and swept.

Interesting.

Holding her aching stomach with one hand, Nuriel then turned her attention to the place that had started the whole mess. The captain’s quarters were no longer shut tight like she had left them. Rather, one door was lying ajar.

Nuriel considered leaving it like that. The last time she had poked around that place had proven to be a very bad idea. For all she knew a straggler of that flesh-hungry flock had taken up shelter in there.

But then, just leaving it there could be just as dangerous. Besides, given what a thorough job those snarling creatures had done chasing them off, she truly doubted any were left.

With a sigh, she limped her way over.

The musky scent of the bird’s nest hit her before she even reached the door. Nuriel wrinkled her nose and frowned. Yes, the stench was still there, but not nearly as bad as it had been the other day. In fact, it smelled much weaker. Huh.

Nuriel edged the loose door open with her foot and peeked inside. A moment later she opened it all the way.

The nest was gone. She hadn’t really gotten much of a good look at it the day before due to having all of her attention taken up by a face full of awful, but she did remember a disgusting mess of twigs, bones, and broken furniture, all of it streaked with droppings.

But now it was all gone. The mess had been cleared out, the destroyed furniture removed, and even the droppings had been cleared away, leaving a wide open space. It wasn’t exactly homey, but it wasn’t a nightmare either.

So, during what fitful moments of sleep she had managed to capture, her supposed “friend” had not only snuck a breakfast into the hold for her to find, but also thoroughly cleaned the place up, removing all trace that the birds had ever been there at all.

That scared her even more than the thought of sharing the island with a host of monsters.

All of the other monsters she had encountered were just monsters of the normal kind. They were dangerous and pitiless and hungry and spiteful, but in the end they were just animals, and if she managed to learn their habits then she could probably coexist quite peacefully with them, assuming that she didn’t upset anything like those birds again. But the red-eyed monster was completely different. It was intelligent. It had thoughts and feelings like a person. It had somehow wiped out an entire flock of flesh-eaters in a matter of minutes and cleaned up the evidence. It was leaving her notes. It was leaving her gifts. There was someone else on the island, and they knew that she was there. They had fixated on her.

There was nothing in the world more dangerous than the attention of another person.

Indifference was safe. To be ignored was to be given a chance. But to have a being of power pay attention to her was the worst possible scenario, especially when it was someone that she didn’t know anything about. Were they even a person at all? It was clear that they were probably something more than human.

Nuriel had never had much to do with the unseen world beyond her own. Oh, she was certain that it existed in one form or another, but so long as it was content to ignore her then she was going to extend the same courtesy. And if God was how the priests and reverends described him, then she was quite certain that he was more occupied with the comings and goings of kings, popes, and heroes to pay much attention to a lonesome girl scraping a living at the bottom of the barrel.

But that strategy was predicated on mutual disinterest. If there were gods, devils, ghosts, angels, fairies, and the rest of their otherworldly kin out there, then she was going to respect their privacy and stay out of their way.

But now she had attracted the attention of this one.

This wasn’t good.

…

Nuriel threw the whole basket of fruit over the side of the ship.

It was a rash decision, but she wasn’t going to accept the gift of some unknown devil. After all, wasn’t that what all the stories warned of, about not taking gifts of food from fairies, spirits, and other principalities? Just taking a single bite could cost Nuriel her soul!

However, as she stood panting at the port staring down at where all the fruit lay in the sand below, Nuriel came to realize two unfortunate drawbacks from her hastiness.

First, the monster would likely return, and it would see how its gift had been rejected.

Second, she was still famished. She had eaten nothing other than a few coconuts and those fruits taken from the monkeys, and in that time she had done a great deal of walking, running, and being terrified for her life. If she didn’t get something to eat soon, then it wouldn’t matter if she angered the red-eyed monster or not.

Nuriel closed her eyes and mentally counted down from ten. Then she did it again. She couldn’t afford to panic. Now was her most dangerous hour, and what she did next could save or damn her. She needed a plan.

Nuriel looked over to the captain’s quarters again. She hadn’t taken more than a cursory glance before, just enough to confirm that it had been cleaned out. Maybe something had been left behind, something she could use.

Keeping the doors wide open, Nuriel went back inside. The furniture was all gone, though given the sort of condition it had been in, that was probably for the best. The bunk was still set in the wall, sans mattress. And the windows were all smashed in, no doubt by the birds themselves to allow for access, which pretty much eliminated the room as a viable place for her to live unless she managed to find a way to board them up.

Regardless, there didn’t seem to be anything of value left. Seeing how she had yet to see any corpses, the surviving members of the crew had probably already taken everything that would be of use and abandoned the ship, probably only to meet some other fate deeper inland.

Or maybe they were still out there. Maybe she wasn’t alone on the island after all.

Nuriel wasn’t sure how she felt about that. After all, having actual grown men about would increase her chances of survival, sure, but that was presuming that they took her in no questions asked. Plus, a bunch of sailors marooned on a deadly island would no doubt be quick to find use for a young girl that had suddenly shown up in their midst, use that wasn’t all that preferable to what the monsters would do to her.

As the thought sent shivers down her spine, Nuriel found herself hoping that they were dead.

Of course, it was still possible that this was the red-eyed monster’s ship. Maybe after it had been run aground, it had found no further use for the crew and ate them. Now that was a cheery thought.

Sighing, Nuriel turned toward the door.

Then she paused. There was something there, something she had missed during her cursory scan.

It was a small wayfarer’s chest, only a foot in length and a third of that in height. It was old, its edges cracked and faded and metal bolts black with corrosion. But it was on one piece.

Nuriel swallowed. Another “gift,” one that required her to manually open it to see what was inside. Anything could pop out at her, like a serpent or some kind of explosive. She carefully cracked the lid open and looked inside.

Then the breath caught in her throat.

It was a sailor’s chest, filled with any number of useful tools. There was a small bronze spyglass, a compass, a large hunting knife, a small mallet, several spools of flax thread, a ticking pocket watch, and a small glass flask filled with something orange.

This was a far greater gift than the fruit had been. In here was just about everything she needed to survive.

But should she take it? She wasn’t sure. The fruit was one thing. Everyone agreed that food offered by otherworldly beings was not to be touched. This, however, was clearly of all human make, and had probably been left in the ship by the crew. More than likely her red-eyed friend had simply left it for her to find when it had cleared out the captain’s quarters. That ought to be all right, wouldn’t it?

Nuriel bit her lip. Her hands were shaking. Yes. Yes, this at least she should make use of. She would be foolish not to. After all, they were merely tools. And her soul would do her no good if she were dead.

That decided, Nuriel pillaged the chest.

…

The lagoon was unoccupied, save for the local herons wading around in the shallows. They stared at Nuriel as she stumbled over but didn’t retreat. That was fine. So long as they didn’t follow their nastier cousins’ example and start stabbing at her with those big, long beaks of theirs, then they were going to get along just fine.

As Nuriel stepped into the water, she noticed several quick movements beneath the surface. Fish. There was fish in the lagoon. That was what drew the herons. Now, there was a useful bit of information. Man did not live on fruit alone, or however the phrase went.

But that was something to be left for later. Nuriel headed for the falls, cupped her hands, thrust them beneath the curtain, and drank.

She was so thirsty that she expected to just drink and drink until her stomach burst at the seams, but the moment her throat was wetted, nausea twisted up from within her, doubling her over as she heaved.

There was little in her stomach to hurl back out, but by God it was going to try anyway, so Nuriel could do little more than remain bent over, her head partially in the waterfall’s spray, heaving nothing into the lagoon. She kept going and going until something spicy and disgusting came up. She spat it out and finally managed to straighten up.

The waterfall was splashing over her shoulder, splattering her face and soaking her hair. That was good. It hid the mess her face was. She sniffled, stepped out from the falls, and wiped away her blotchy eyes and stuffy nose.

Then she noticed the herons standing around, staring at her. Nuriel scowled at them. The hell were they looking at?

At least the sick feeling had left her. Sighing, Nuriel held her hands out and tried again.

Once her thirst had been quenched, she waded out from the lagoon and sat down on a rock in the shade of the willow trees.

Well, she had fresh water at least, and she had cleaned up a little. But she still needed food, oh she needed food. Hunger gnawed at her stomach, an ever-growing hole that demanded to be filled.

She…she could still go back and gather the fruits she had thrown out. They probably were safe, and it would do her no good to let them go to waste just to make a point.

No! That was how they got you! She had to remain strong! Besides, the island was probably full of food. She just needed to go find it.

As Nuriel sat there musing, she heard something chirp.

It sounded like a bird…and yet it didn’t. There was a bit of a growl to it, like the squeak of a rat. And it was near.

Nuriel leapt to her feet, only to instantly regret it when the cuts in her stomach flared up. Wincing, she pushed the pain away and looked.

There was a…thing nearby. It was about the size of a turkey but it looked more like a lizard, standing on two long, skinny legs in the sand, with a stiff tail that stuck of its back and two tiny arms clutched tight to its chest. Its neck was long and curving, and its head small and elongated, with tiny sharp teeth protruding from its grey snout. That being said, its body wasn’t scaly like most of the monsters she had seen, but was covered with a thin coat of fuzzy down of grey striped with black, with a red crest around the head.

The chirper seemed to be part lizard and part bird, combining aspects of both the lizardlike animals she had seen and the vicious birds that had attacked her. And Nuriel, who now deeply mistrusted anything with feathers, didn’t care for it at all.

The chirper gazed up at her, its large, yellow eyes wide and curious. It chirped again and hopped forward, its tiny claws kicking up sand.

Nuriel picked up a rock and threw it.

The chirper immediately scampered away, but stopped once it was out of throwing range. It turned to stare at her again.

What’s it thinking? Nuriel wondered. Was it simply curious about this strange, fleshy new animal? Or was it wondering if she was good to eat?

Nuriel didn’t feel like waiting to find out.

She charged, yelling and waving her hands about like a madwoman.

This finally seemed to convince the bird/lizard that the odd pink stranger wasn’t worth investigating, and it ran off.

Nuriel warily eyed it as it fled across the beach. She wouldn’t feel comfortable until it had left completely, and even then she didn’t trust it to not start shadowing her steps, waiting for the opportunity to dart it and see how she tasted.

Then, to her horror, she heard another chirp, one that hadn’t come from the chirper. This was followed by another, and then another, and then another.

A whole flock of the things came running across the beach to greet their comrade. Nuriel hastily bolted behind a large tree, silently praying that the one she had driven off wouldn’t inform the others that something soft and potentially tasty was mucking about.

Trembling, she peeked out. There had to be at least twenty of the little squeaking things. Maybe even thirty. Forty? It was hard to tell, more kept running out of the shadows. They were all gathered in a loose circle, chittering and squeaking at one another, some of them bouncing up and down while others frantically bobbed their heads. They were clearly communicating…something.

And that something was probably news of an easy meal, a strange, hairless monkey with soft pink skin.

Nuriel slid St. George from his sheath.

However, the chirpers didn’t look toward her. Rather, they were moving away from Nuriel’s hiding spot, back toward the Carmilla’s Fancy. Well, good! Let them! If they wanted the boat, they were more than welcome to it! Let them deal with the red-eyed monster!

Run. Now. While they’re distracted.

It would be the smart thing. Nothing was ever gained by following potential danger, only from moving away from it. She had gotten a lucky break. She would be a fool to waste it.

Forget it, girl, Father’s husky voice growled. Let it be.

Nodding, Nuriel stood up and started to move away from the boat. She could find some other means of shelter.

Then she stopped. She stopped and looked back over her shoulder, to where the chirpers were excitedly rushing after…something.

Something that she kind of wanted to know about.

Damn your curiosity, girl! It’ll get you killed!

True, true. But still…

Don’t do it, Nuriel. Just go.

Nuriel did not go. In fact she found herself turning back around. From she started moving the opposite direction that she ought to be going, back towards the boat, back to see what the chirpers were up to.

Suit yourself, girl. But don’t come crying to me when you show up here in Hell.

Nuriel followed the tiny, birdlike tracks in the sand and the sound of the chirps. It didn’t take long to catch up to the flock. The chirpers had all gathered beneath the Carmilla’s Fancy and were fast at work.

However, as she drew near Nuriel came to realize that they had no interest in the ship itself. Rather, the reason for their excitement was what lay below, in the sand.

The basket of fruit Nuriel had hurled over the side was still there, and the chirpers were busy dislodging all the fruit from the depressions they had made in the sand. Once they had gotten all the pieces loose, they pushed against them with their long hands, rolling them across the beach. Each piece of fruit had anywhere from three to six chirpers working together to move them along.

Well now. That was…strange.

Nuriel started to relax a little. Maybe the chirpers were fruit eaters? If so, then she had nothing to worry about.

Maybe.

Still, why were they pushing the fruit along instead of cutting them open and eating them where they found them? Maybe they had a nest nearby, with little baby chirpers to feed?

Now even more curious, Nuriel continued to follow the flock, maintaining a healthy distance while keeping them in sight. They led on a winding path of sand, one that wound between several hills that looked to be a high tide away from becoming islands, until they were moving around the cliffs.

As they rounded a corner, Nuriel came into another bit of good luck. The cliffs opened into a large grassy alcove, one that contained several gnarled trees that bore the same lumpy red fruit that the red-eyed monster had included in her fruit basket.

Nuriel almost wept with joy. A reliable food source, one that wasn’t guarded by territorial monkeys! All right, maybe she wasn’t doomed after all.

Unfortunately, there were other creatures about. She saw several other chirpers emerge from the grass, all of them pushing more of the red fruits along.

Hmmm, that could be a problem. If they fed on fruit, then they might object to her taking a few pieces for herself. Still, seeing how they weren’t sticking around to feast, it could be that they just visited the grove to grab a few choice pieces and bring them back to their nest. Maybe she could snatch a few bits when they were done.

The new fruit-pushing chirpers joined the ones she had been following, and they continue on, a bizarre procession of bird/lizard creatures, just rolling large pieces of fruit across a beach. If her life wasn’t still in mortal danger Nuriel might have found the sight hilarious.

The fruit grove was a lucky find, but Nuriel continued to shadow the flock. Maybe if she found out where the nest was, she could make sure to avoid it.

The flock rounded another corner of the cliff, and suddenly Nuriel found herself looking at a slope, one that led all the way back to the top.

And the chirpers continued on, now pushing the fruit up the slope.

Well. Damn. The cliff wasn’t nearly as high around here, and the slope wasn’t exactly all that steep, but the chirpers were still very small, and some of the fruits were larger than they were. Still they endeavored on, taking it slow and working together to get all the pieces up the slope. It was the damnedest thing Nuriel had ever seen, and there were now a lot of competition for that title.

As the chirpers finally neared the top, Nuriel caught sight of a tree with many low-hanging branches at the top of the cliffs, near the edge that overlooked the sea. She hurried over to the rough wall on the side of the slope and climbed up.

Here, the top of the cliff was covered with what looked like a divided field, one made up of two kinds of grass. One was shorter and greener, while the other was tall, dry, and yellow. The shorter green grass took up about two thirds of the field, while the tall yellow grass held the rest, pressing up against the jungle about half a mile off.

Nuriel hurried over to the tree and climbed up about a third of the length. Pulling out her new spyglass, she took a gander at her surroundings.

There was a herd of animals in the green part of the field, great, humped beasts with greenish-yellow skin and long faces with humped noses. They were big, easily over three times the size of a fully grown horse. Yet they didn’t seem to be aggressive. They were lowing about, lazily grazing. A pair of calves bounded around the adults, hoarsely crying out and chasing each other around. Each one was large enough to Nuriel to ride on.

As for the chirpers, they were almost swallowed up even by the shorter grass, though Nuriel could still track their movements by where the fruit rustled as they were pushed forward. Nuriel watched as the chirpers continued to move their bounty forward, heading toward the tall grass.

And then, right at the edge where the two grasses met, they just…stopped.

The fruit was all pushed together into a pile, one that rose up over the top of the grass. It looked almost like an offering.

The chirpers swarmed over the fruit, and for a moment Nuriel thought that they were finally going to feast. But no, none of them actually bit into the fruit. Instead they scratched at them with the tiny claws on their hands and feet, making them bleed. Red, yellow, green, and clear juice dribbled down the sides of the pile.

And then the chirpers simply vanished, darting away from the pile of wounded fruit to disappear into the grass.

Nuriel still had no idea what was going on, but now she was fascinated. Something was definitely up, and she had to know what it was.

Keeping absolutely still, Nuriel remained sitting in the crux of the tree’s branches, keeping an eye on the pile of fruit. It was then that she noticed that the herd of grazing animals were keeping a healthy distance between themselves and the tall yellow grass.

Except two.

The two calves were heading over to the pile of fruit, no doubt following the smell of the juice. The adults hadn’t noticed that their young had wandered off, and continued their contented grazing.

Nuriel felt a chill sweep down her spine. She was starting to put things together in her head. The pile of fruit wasn’t intended to feed the chirpers’ young, nor was it an offering.

It was bait.

The calves had reached the pile. They nudged the fruit with their snouts, their fat, red tongues coming out to lick the juice. One of them took an investigative bite. Finding it good, they began to eat.

Nuriel climbed a little higher to get a better look. Something was happening. She couldn’t see anything in the tall yellow grass, but she was certain that there was something in it.

Then she saw it. Movement. The tall yellow grass was swaying back and forth. Could it be the wind? No. There was only a gentle breeze, and it was blowing in from the coast, and the tall yellow grass wasn’t bending with it.

Heedless of their peril, the two calves continued to feast.

Suddenly one of the adult beasts lowed loudly in alarm. One of the calves raised its head to blink stupidly at its herd.

Another one of the beasts bellowed, and three of them broke off from the rest of the herd, rushing over to the calves, who continued to just stare at them. But Nuriel wasn’t focused on them. She was watching the tall yellow grass.

Despite this, when the attack came, it came so suddenly that Nuriel almost dropped out of the tree in surprise.

A high-pitched shriek filled the air. The calves leapt in response, but it was too late. Something hit them, something that was the same dry yellow as the tall grass.

Nuriel watched in morbid fascination as the predators swarmed over the two poor calves. It was hard to figure out how many of them there were, or what they even looked like, but they weren’t chirpers, that much was for certain. They darted in and out, striking again and again, until the calves’ greenish-yellow skin became streaked with red, their hides bleeding as readily as the fruit had.

The charging adults came to a stop. The calves screamed for help, but their parents didn’t answer. They could already tell that it was too late.

One of the calves tried to push itself out of the attack only to succumb to its wounds. With one final scream it collapsed. As it did, one of the predators climbed onto its back, and Nuriel was finally able to get a good look.

It was yet another bird monster, though this one had more in common with the chirpers than it did with the actual birds that had attacked her the previous night: same bullet-shaped body, same stiff tail, same S-curved neck, same nimble claws instead of wings, and same long head ending in a toothy alligator snout rather than a beak. However, it was much, much bigger, standing nearly the same height as a fully grown man, and longer than two horses from snout to the tip of its tail. And proportion-wise, it was much thicker than the chirpers: more heavily muscled legs, longer claws, bigger neck, and bigger head. Its body was covered in a short coat of pale yellow feathers with black stripes, and though she couldn’t really make out its eyes even with the spyglass, they seemed to have a distinctly golden hue.

But there was something else special about it, something she could just barely make out. Nuriel focused the spyglass on the creature’s feet, which were digging into the fallen calf’s back. They also bent forward like a chicken’s, though obvious were much more densely muscled. But while the tips of the toes ended in sharp, dragonlike claws as expected, each foot had a special claw on the middle toe, one that was much larger than the others, curving up like a scythe.

As Nuriel watched, the creature leaned forward to grip with its hands, and it began scraping its feet across the calf’s back, its scythe-claws slicing through the hide like a butcher’s knife.

Nuriel swallowed. Butchers. Yes, that was a good name for it.

Both of the calves had mercifully expired, and the butchers set to work, methodically slicing off chunks of meat and gulping them down. Now that the killing had ended and the feeding began, Nuriel was able to get a better count of the things. There seemed to be around six…no, eight. There was eight. Five of them were about the same size as the one she had seen perched on the calf’s back, but three others were much smaller, probably young juveniles.

Despite the savagery of the kill, there did seem to be an odd orderliness about how they fed. The adults went first, slicing off great bloody chunks and gulping them down. But before the carcasses were even done, they moved back, allowing the juveniles to move in. They weren’t as precise as the adults with their slicing, but they made up for it with enthusiasm. Somehow two of them ended up with their jaws clamped down on either side of the same strip of meat, and rather than let go, they began to fight over it, tugging back fiercely while trying to jerk it free. Irritated, one of the adults walked over and swatted one of the fighting juveniles, making it release its end.

Further down the field, the adult grass-eaters looked on as their young were devoured. Then they slowly turned to walk back to the herd, writing the two calves off for their foolishness.

The butchers fed well but fed quickly, filling their bellies. When it seemed as if they had all eaten their fill, three of the adults moved forward. It was then that Nuriel noted that these three were different from the others, in that each of their snouts had a bright red dot on the end, and the pattern of black stripes was more wavy. They each cut off several slices of meat and lifted them with their mouths, but they didn’t eat them. Their prizes now carefully held, the whole pack left, disappearing quickly into the tall yellow grass, leaving the bloody carcasses behind.

When they were gone, the chirpers reappeared.

They seemed to come out of nowhere, swarming over the bloody bones, feasting on what bits of flesh that the butchers had left behind. As they did, Nuriel came to understand the full significance of what she had just seen.

Even with their numbers, the chirpers were obviously too small and weak to take down one of the larger animals. But somewhere and somehow, they had learned to get around that, to use the fruit to lure dumber animals away from the herd and nearer to the butchers’ hunting grounds, and in return the butchers would leave them the scraps. How such a relationship had formed, and how the chirpers had even learned to do such a thing, Nuriel couldn’t begin to guess, but she applauded the tiny creatures for their ingenuity.

As for herself, Nuriel’s own curiosity had taught her two very important things. First, the location of a fruit grove, one where she could harvest food on her own.

The second was even more important: stay well away from long grass.

At any rate, Nuriel had seen enough, and with the chirpers busy with their own feast, the grove was unattended. She quietly slipped down from the branches of the tree and headed back down the slope. As she ran, an idea was starting to form in her head, an idea given to her by the chirpers. They were tiny, defenseless creatures in a world of monsters several times their height, and yet they had learned to use what they had available to gain an advantage with no risk to themselves.

Maybe she could do the same.

…

The sun was finally setting. Nuriel had survived another day.

And not only had she survived, she now had a mission. She was going to catch her “friend” in the act.

She was positioned on top of a small, sheer-sided hill that sat upon one of the many tiny islands that dotted the main island’s outskirts. The top of the hill was covered with thick grass, and she was lying on her side, watching the Carmilla’s Fancy through her new spyglass.

It wasn’t exactly comfortable. Her belly was still healing, and lying flat upon it hurt too much, hence why she was on her side instead, which still ached whenever she shifted her weight. Thankfully the night was warm and the sky clear. If it were to start raining again then she might as well just throw herself into the possession of the red-eyed monster.

The Carmilla’s Fancy sat empty and abandoned. Nuriel had no idea how long it would take for the red-eyed monster to return, but she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it would be back. She just had to remain alert and be ready when it arrived.

Nuriel checked the clifftops. She caught sight of a couple of those dome-headed assholes knocking their heads together like territorial mountain goats, but not much else. Presumably most of the monsters lived further in.

The night insects had already started to sing. Good. If they stopped, it was a sure indicator that her visitor had arrived.

Then, somewhere far off but not far off enough for her comfort, the Dragon roared.

Nuriel winced. Of all of the island’s mysteries, that was one that she hoped to never uncover. Let it reign over its realm however it saw fit. She was content to stay on the outskirts, well away from its jaws.

It was getting darker, but the sun had not fully set. Nuriel shifted her weight, carefully scratched her stomach in between the cuts, and settled herself down.

Time passed. The sun dipped lower.

Nuriel yawned. Damn it. Her sleep the previous night had been anything but complete, and now that she was lying still on soft grass, it was really catching up to her.

She shook her head. No, she couldn’t afford to doze off. She needed to stay awake and aware.

But the night was so warm, and the grass so soft…

Blinking, she reached up and gave her ravaged ear a squeeze.

The sharp pain surged through her, chasing away any thought of sleep. She winced, but hey, it had done the trick.

Then the insects stopped singing.

Nuriel held her breath. She looked this way and that, and then hurriedly snapped her spyglass back into focus.

The deck of the Carmilla’s Fancy was still empty.

Nuriel licked her dry lips. Come on, where was it? It was near. She could practically feel it. Every hair on her body was on edge, her skin prickled with goosebumps despite the warmth of the night.

She checked the cliffs in hopes of seeing it climb down. No, nothing. The only thing moving were the leaves of whatever plants were tough enough to take root in the crevices along the stone wall.

The beaches were also empty. There was…wait! Something was moving, something big was striding across the sands near the lagoon and…no, wait, damn it. It was just a heron.

Nuriel’s face twisted up with frustration. Where the hell was it? It had to be close. It was the right place, the right time of night, the right everything! Wasn’t it at least curious to see if she had left a note in return?

Then, as she swept her gaze over the brig’s deck for what felt like the hundredth time, she heard a feminine sigh of exasperation, coming from directly behind her.

Nuriel gasped and spun around. This proved to be a poor decision, as the sudden movement sent lances of pain across her stomach, causing her to double over. She pushed it from her mind and forced herself to look.

There was nothing there.

The sound of Nuriel’s heartbeat pounded away loudly in her ears. She had heard it, hadn’t she? She was sure of it! It had been right behind her?

But now there was nothing there at all.

As Nuriel surveyed the beach, she then heard what sounded very much like a young girl’s giggle, coming from somewhere close by.

Nuriel came very close to pissing her own trousers.

Where was it? It was near, It had to be! It was near, and…

…it knew where she was.

Nuriel suddenly felt very exposed. Not that the Santa Camarilla would have provided much in the way of shelter should the red-eyed monster decide to come for her, but it had to be better than where she was!

Nuriel slowly sat up straight and listened. The insects still weren’t singing, nor were there any animals calling out. It was still there.

Somewhere.

Lifting her spyglass back to her eye, she frantically searched the shadows, looking for any glint of red.

Then her spyglass slipped through her fingers as she clapped both hands over her mouth to keep from crying out.

There was someone standing on the deck of the ship.

It was again too dark for her to make out any features, but there was undoubtedly a woman there, over by the remains of the mast. Nuriel snatched up her spyglass, but her fingers were shaking so badly that it fumbled in her grasp and fell back into the grass. Mentally cursing, she grabbed it with both hands and brought it up to her eye.

The deck was empty again. There was no one there.

Nuriel let out a moan of despair. No, no, no, no! It had been right there! She had been looking right at it! Where did it go?

It knew you were there. You only saw it because it let you.

As Nuriel frantically searched every square foot of her surroundings, she felt her gut twist and sour. Despite all of her careful preparations, she had been found out, and easily at that.

She ought to run. She ought to run…where? She was exposed, out in the open, and if it wanted to run her down it could do so effortlessly. Hell, it probably had been standing right behind her! That was that sigh and laugh were all about. It had found her quite easily and thought that her attempts to expose it were amusing! And it somehow then crossed the distance between the hill and the ship in mere seconds just so she could see it!

Even if she did run, where would she go? If she went too far, she risked running into the various night predators that roamed the island. The birds could find her again. Maybe even ghosts. After everything that had happened, she would not be surprised to find that the island truly was haunted! Hell, the red-eyed monster probably was some kind of dead, maybe the soul of one of the long-dead natives, or perhaps someone from the Santa Camarilla. That would explain why it was hanging around the ship!

Tears welled up in her eyes. Sniffing, she wiped them away with the back of her wrist. She hated feeling trapped. Being all alone on an island of monsters was one thing, but being trapped was so much worse. She would have rather that she had drowned.

You’re alive, reprimanded the memory of Papa’s voice.

Yes, but-

So stop your whimpering. You’re in trouble, but you’re alive. Every problem has a solution. Figure this one out.

Nodding, she let out a long, shaky breath. Papa was right. Nothing good would come from sitting around crying. Even if she couldn’t flee, she still had to act. She had to do something!

Unfortunately, the only real something was to return to the ship.

But she couldn’t! The red-eyed monster might still be there! It could be waiting for her!

Then, as Nuriel sat torn between possibly walking right into the devil’s lair and complete inaction, the night came back to life.

The insects began to sing again, filling the silence with their song. One of the domeheads showed up on the top of the cliff and started chuffing and grunting as it clawed at the ground for some reason. Night birds called to each other from across the jungle.

Nuriel slowly breathed out. That was as good an indication as any that the red-eyed monster was gone. Not a perfect one, true, but it was as good as she was going to get.

One hand holding onto her spyglass and the other clutching Saint George, Nuriel stood up.

…

If sitting alone on the top of that grassy hill had left Nuriel feeling exposed, then climbing back onto the deck of the Carmilla’s Fancy left her feeling outright naked. Already she had been attacked by that fucking bird, besieged by its friends, and had been visited by ghostly apparition that could apparently cross great distances within the blink of an eye and silence the night with its mere presence.

She pulled herself up from the branch onto the ship, only to wince in regret when it sent a flash of pain across the cuts in her stomach. She shook her head to clear it and tried again, this time more carefully.

The deck just seemed so much unsettling at night. The sky was clear, so there was plenty of moonlight shining down, but that just made the shadows from the masts reach longer. It reminded her of monoliths in a cemetery, monuments to the dead.

Nuriel glanced around. Well, nothing was jumping out at her, which was a welcome change. Still, she kept her steps light as she crossed the deck to inspect the place.

She didn’t have to look long.

Another basket of fruit was waiting for her; the same basket in fact, recovered from where she had thrown it. And from the look of things it had been filled with the same kind of fruit as before, and in the same quantities.

What was more, there was a note lying on top of it.

Nuriel was shaking as she picked it up and held it to the moonlight.

Nice try! it read in the same elegant hand as before. Next to it was a drawing of a girl’s face, one with long dark hair. One eye was winking and her tongue was playfully sticking out of one side of her mouth.

Below it in one corner of the paper was a rough sketch of a boat sitting in a bunch of tree limbs. Across from it in the other corner was a hump, on which a figure was lying on its side, pointing a spyglass at the boat.

The sketches were rough and obviously done quickly, but the fact remained that they had been done, while she had been watching the ship and entirely without her knowledge! The red-eyed monster had taken note of her spying, written out an amusing response complete with illustrations, retrieved the basket where it lay, filled it with fruit, and put both the basket and the note in place, all with her only catching the quickest of glances of it, and that had probably been intentional!

She had no chance of winning against such a foe. This wasn’t like the monkeys or the monsters that inhabited the island, which when all was said and done they were still only animals. This was a demon. Monsters she could handle, but what could one do against a demon?

Sweet Christ, what was she going to do?

[writing-mermaid]

Siren, part 3 : Roundtable Rival

Summary : Y/N is a mutant, a Siren, the last of her kind, with deadly dangerous powers and a hidden past. If most of the Avengers likes and get along with her, Steve doesn’t, and it’s getting worse when Y/N and Bucky become close. After all what can bring two broken souls together if it’s not a dark past.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings : Language, mention of injuries, Steve is an asshole.

Word Count : 2 455 

Square Filled : @star-spangled-bingo : "He’s my friend”

@buckybarnesbingo : B5 - Language

Author’s note : I have this story on my WIPs for a little time. I hope that you’ll like it. This story is also my entry for @sourpatchkidsandacokecan ‘s Little Darlin’s Mystery AU Challenge, the prompt I chose is Siren AU. Don’t forget that feedback is appreciated and really important.

Song of the title : Roundtable Rival - Lindsey Stirling

Masterlist

Star Spangled Bingo masterlist

Bucky Barnes Bingo masterlist

Siren masterlist

Buy me a ☕

Half-way to the compound, Bucky is still sleeping. I just hope that I didn’t poison him. Steve already hates me, he’s going to be mad when he’ll Bucky asleep on the ramp.

  “FRIDAY”, I ask the AI who is also connected the Quintets.

“Yes, Miss Y/L/N ?”, she questions.

“Can you please let Tony know that we will need Doctor Cho when I land back at the compound ?”

“Of course, Miss Y/L/N. Who is in need of medical assistance, you or Sergeant Barnes ?”

“Both of us”, I respond, looking at my bleeding left palm, despite the bandage I put around to stop the blood. I will definitely need stitches. My right wrist hurt too, and I probably have some scratches on my face. I hope it’s not broken.

  I feel tired and I’m relieved when I finally catch sight of the compound. It takes me a few more minutes to finally land in the basement. The Quinjet ramp opens to Doctor Cho, the medic team, the rest of the Avengers and of course, Fury.

  “What happened ?”, Steve asks angrily when he sees Bucky laying on the floor. “He better be still alive”, he adds, glaring at me, while checking for his best friend’s pulse.

“Of course, he’s alive”, I bite back. “I just had to put him to sleep.”

  The medic team rushes in the Quinjet, with a stretcher for Bucky. They lift him on it to take him to the med quarters, Steve on their heels.

  “What about you, Y/N ?”, Helen Cho asks me. “Are you alright ?”

“Maybe a few bruises, but I will need some stitches on my left hand, and I twisted my right wrist. I’m sore and tired, after all, I had to drag him from HYDRA’s warehouse to the jet”, I point to the direction where the rest of the med team took Bucky.

“I’ll check your wrist after I stitch you hand”, she says, looking at my left palm, “It’s a little dirty”, she adds, “you might have some debris in it too. Let’s go.”

“Wait a minute”, Steve states, putting himself between me and the pathway to the infirmary. “I want to know what happened first.”

“Let go of her Rogers, you can see she needs medical care”, Tony steps in. “She will tell you everything you want to know tomorrow morning.”

“No, I want to know what happened and I want to know it right now”, he nearly shout.

“With all my respect Captain, my patient here needs treatments. You can ask her what happened when she’s patch-up and had some rest, not before”, Helen glares at him. “Come on Y/N”, she says to me, before taking me to the med quarters.

“You saved me from his wrath”, I murmur to her, when we’re past Steve and the rest of the Avengers.

  After Helen stitched my hand and checked my wrist, which is not broken and put in a splint, she settles me on a bed next to Bucky, who’s still sleeping.

  “How is he ?”, I ask her.

“Fine”, she answers. “I don’t know what happened there, but you did what you had to do”, she adds, looking at me in the eyes.

“I hope so”, I say.

“I’ll let you rest now, you need it. There is a glass of water and paracetamol on the night table in case it hurts too much”, she explains before turning off the lights and going out of the room.

  I might have fallen asleep because my eyes shoot themselves open sometimes later, when I hear a growl in the bed next to mine.

  “Hey there, Sleeping Beauty, happy to see you awake and alive”, I say, raising from my own bed and approaching him.

“How are you doing ?”, he asks me, trying to sit up.

“I’m the one who should ask this to you”, I answer handing him a glass of water, “I sort off had to knock you off.”

“What happened ?”, he questions, drinking a mouthful of the plastic glass, “because to be honest, I absolutely have no clue about why I’m here and why I have been unconscious.”

“You really want to know ?”

“Please Y/N, I need to know if I’ve done something wrong or not.”

“Ok then. When we entered HYDRA’s facility, there were a lot of casks with a sort of gas inside of it, two HYDRA’S handymen came in with one and apparently, the plug was unplugged, diffusing some gas. I think that, because of the way you behaved with me, saying I was intoxicating and starting to touch and kiss me the way you did, and as I didn’t smell anything, I think that this could be something made out of Siren blood. It did exactly the same thing that my powers do when I don’t take my pills. You acted as if I haven’t taken my medicine. And just by breathing a very tiny quantity of that gas. I had to use one of my powers on you, and I kissed you to put you to sleep and I didn’t have the choice because, if I didn’t only god knows what would have happen.”

“You kissed me ?”, he looks at me, eyes wide open.

“Just to save my skin, Barnes, not for pleasure”, I say, trying not to blush, thinking about what Nat told me just before I left for the mission. “Anyway, Steve was pretty mad when I walked out of the Quinjet, he might have thought I killed you. That man really hates me…”, I add sighing.

  At the same moment, Doctor Cho enters the room, alongside Steve, who looks at me with a furious gaze.

  “Y/N”, she says, looking at me. “Glad to see you’re awake, and seem better, you can leave and sleep in your room”, she smiles at me.

“Thanks Helen”, I say to her, “just on time for my pill. Have a nice night.”

“You too”, she replies. “And you Sergeant Barnes…”, she starts.

“Y/N”, Bucky cuts her.

“Yes ?”, I turn toward him.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, James”, I tell him. “Goodnight”, I add, crossing the threshold.

“Goodnight”, he whispers, and I can barely ear him, his voice almost covered by Steve’s who’s asking him how he is.

  When I finally reach my bedroom, I collapse on my bed, empty of all my energy, and fall asleep again.

  “Miss Y/L/N. Miss Y/L/N”, FRIDAY wakes me up.

“Hum”, I groan, “not now, let me sleep more.”

“Miss Y/L/N, your presence is required by Captain Rogers. He organized a debriefing about the mission you and Sergeant Barnes fulfilled yesterday. The meeting starts in 45 minutes.”

“What ?! 45 minutes”, I exclaim, raising from the bed, still dressed in my battle gear, in need of a hot shower and my stomach growling.

  I grab my pill box on my nightstand and take one before heading to the bathroom. The hot water relaxes my tense muscles and all the dirt from the mission goes in the siphon. Once clean, I take a pair of jeans and a simple t-shirt in my wardrobe and put a pair of Vans on my feet, put back the splint on my wrist. My hair still wet, I go the kitchen, hoping to find something to eat before facing Steve Rogers’ wrath. I can’t help but think that Steve will hold me responsible for what happened in HYDRA’s facility.

  “Hi Y/N”, Wanda greets me when I enter the kitchen.

“Hi”, I answer back, opening the fridge, finding a bottle of watermelon juice.

“Rumor has it that you kissed Barnes”, Natasha says, also entering the kitchen, grabbing a banana in the fruit ball, and peeling it. “I knew you wanted to do it at some point”, she adds, biting in her yellow fruit.

“Haha, really funny Nat”, I tell her. “You know that I would never use my powers, and especially that one on anyone, and certainly not on one of my teammates.”

“I’m just kidding Y/N”, she puts her hand on my shoulder. “You obviously had a good reason to put Bucky to sleep, and we all know it.”

“All, except Steve”, I point. “He hates me. He might think I did that on purpose.”

“Avengers, assemble”, Tony says, passing his head through the door. “Captain’s orders, and he doesn’t seem very pleased, so you better be on time”, he adds, before walking away.

  I sigh, putting down the empty glass, but keeping the bottle of watermelon juice in my hand, going to the door.

  “What ?”, I ask Natasha, who rises one of her perfect eyebrows at me.

“Nothing, I think he’s already really pissed at you, he’ll be more to see you with juice.”

  I shrug my shoulder and walk to the briefing room. Steve is near the overhead projector, arms crossed on his chest, speaking with Tony. Clint and Scott are laughing at I don’t know what and I can spot Bucky, on his chair, a half smile on his lips. He pats the chair next to his. As I don’t move, Natasha pushes me from behind, whispering a “go” into my ear.

  “Hey”, I say, sitting down next to the long-haired soldier, putting my bottle of juice on the table in front of me. “How are you doing ?”

“Fine, thanks”, he answers. “You ?”

“I’m okay, a little tired but I think that with a few days off, I’ll feel better.”

“Good”, he says.

“Good”, I repeat awkwardly.

  A few minutes later, Nick Fury enters the room, looking at all of us with his unique eye. Silence falls at the second he walks to the front of the room, next to Steve. Tony moves at the other side, taking place next to Bruce.

  “So, I heard about what happened to Y/L/N and Barnes yesterday and I need some explanations.”

“I’d like to have some too”, Steve adds, looking at me aggressively. “I’d like to know what really happened there, as someone prevented me to question the Bucky and Y/N”, he says, and I know that he’s talking about Helen.

“So, who starts ?”, Tony asks.

“You probably remember more than I do”, Bucky looks at me.

“Ok”, I sigh. “When we land, we knocked out the first HYDRA henchmen we saw, we managed to go inside the warehouse. There were a lot of barrels some with colored gas, other with liquid. We heard a bang, so we hide, and two men were carrying a transparent keg containing the colored gas we saw before, one of them dropped it, and some of the gas escaped.”

  I stop, in order to breathe and drink some of my juice.

  “And then what happened ?”, Steve asks, impatient.

“Give the girl a minute”, Tony says, and I mouth a silent thank you to him.

“We were ready to leave our hiding place and stepped back into the warehouse when I felt Barnes’ lips on my nape and he tried to… to seduce me. Thinking quickly, I realized that that gas worked as one of my powers, my attraction one. As I couldn’t get rid of him, I kissed him to put him to sleep. I had no choice because only God knows what would have happen. When I was sure he was asleep, I just put the dynamite all around the warehouse and I pulled Bucky outside, before heading back to the Quinjet with his sleeping body and the dynamite exploded before I reached the jet, and I must have put a too big charge. I got injured and for the rest you know what happened.”

“So, you’re saying that you used your powers on one of your teammates”, Steve says, angrily.

“I had to”, I respond, getting up on my feet. “What you have happen if I didn’t ? We would have been captured or maybe worse, killed.”

“Don’t tell me what could have happen Y/N, you don’t know what would have happen.”

“I was there Rogers, you weren’t.”

“Please you two, stop”, Natasha rises from her chair. “You perfectly know it Steve that if Y/N used her powers, there was a good reason, she would never put in danger any members of the team. Plus, Barnes is a big guy, and you’re not his mother, so stop acting like a freaking mother hen around him.”

“He’s my friend”, Steve roars, turning back to me, “and you’re just…”

“I’m just what ?”, I bite back. “Another Avenger ? You’re just a fucking twat Steve, do you know that ?”

“You’re a fucking danger Y/N.”

“Language please”, Tony sighs from his spot.

“Enough”, Fury states, and I realize that I’ve never seen that man getting angry at anyone. “For now, I’m suspending Y/L/N and Barnes from missions for a few times, until I read their rapports and decide what to do. We’re finished here.”

“Tony, may I take the rest of my day if I’m not needed here, I have something to do”, I ask him, “and borrow one of the cars.”

“Yes, of course sweetheart, you can.”

“Thank you.”

“What ?”, Steve ask, eyes wide open as I defy his authority. “Tony’s not the one you should ask.”

“I ask who I want to and as Fury said, we’re finished here. You’ll have my rapport tomorrow morning”, I grab my bottle of juice and pass the doorstep.

“Well done Steve”, I can hear Bucky’s sigh when I lean against the nearest wall trying not to cry. “The poor girl is already feeling guilty of using her powers on me and you add to her guilt.”

  I can’t hear Steve’s answer as I rather leave before Steve tells Bucky what he really thinks about me. I go back to my room to change into a simple blue dress and a pair of black ballet flat, before going to the garage and take one of Tony’s cars, a simple black city car one of the less flashy. After half an hour of driving, I finally reach New York and the Queens, not far from Rockaway Beach, where I spent a lot of time during my childhood. I park in front of a white building.

  “Hello, miss Y/L/N”, the hostess greets me when I pass the door.

“Hello”, I smile at her. “How is he today ?”

“Fine, pretty calm”, she says. “Seems that you had a rough time”, she add, pointing at one of the bruises on my face.

“Yes, but don’t worry, nothing I can’t handle. May I go ?”

“Of course”, she smiles.

  I climb the steps to the room, to find a familiar figure, back to the door, looking through the window.

  “Hi, dad”, I quietly say, kissing his scrubby cheek.

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