#have some vague blobs instead ^^

[beelittle]

Tricking myself into drawing backgrounds by saying I can just put ctommy into the scene

[searchingforserendipity25]

thinking post conclave and someone (tedesco) trying to undermine innocent xiv's papacy (tedesco) and hitting his administration with a vast and exhausting number of accusations (as tedesco has done, and has bellini accused him of doing in such a way as to literally cause the old pope to die of stress).

now, whoever is doing that (tedesco) already has a very large folder of blackmail, accusation, drafts for anonymous sources to the press and little napkins scratched through with aldo bellini's name.

and a tiny drawn aldo bellini (a bald blob in a cassock with a cartoon bubble full of BLAH BLAH BLAH sono aldo e penso di essere così intelligente! BLAH above his head) being pieced by several arrows in an aggressive and vaguely st.sebastianesque fashion.

whatever. if it were tedesco doing it, he and bellini would be their own thing. some people wonder still why didn't the holy spirit's mysterious workings pick bellini, and what is he even doing these days, but that is irrelevant. that's old news to the opposition, they don't care about that.

they go after cardinal lawrence instead.

it is, unfortunately for the opposition, very hard to come after cardinal lawrence. mostly because cardinal lawrence is a very strange and very boring man who has the inconvenient habit of being largely decent.

he has loved and been loved by men and women, yes: in the most boring platonic way imaginable. you couldn't wring a sex scandal out of him if you tried.

he doesn't take bribes. he doesn't buy things, besides mystery books and sometimes tiny figurines of kitchy saints he gives cardinal bellini. if only they were sexy statues of saints! alas. that's a dead end. obviously whatever is going on between and bellini is weird as fuck, but again, probably not sex.

why does the leader of the malicious opposition know the decorations in cardinal bellini's private rooms? irrelevant.

lawrence did break the papal seal during the conclave! the thing with adeyemi could, kind of, be spun into blackmail or coercion to get him to step back as a candidate! he hid information on several cardinals taking bribes and indirectly influenced their votes!

unfortunately the only person who could reasonably punish him for any of it is pope innocent, who wouldn't, and it wouldn't even be hard to argue as the greatest living in the vatican at the time lawrence acted in accordance with his obligations.

and innocent clearly thinks lawrence is the sweetest most wonderful most capable funniest man in the vatican. and maybe on earth. presumably that's why he's raised him up to secretary of state, when the previous title holder was, anyone would admit, not wholly incompetent.

which is favoritism, obviously. besides being incorrect - aldo bellini may have retired from all current positions, but he was still a cardinal, and still, as far as tedesco's network of spies could tell, living in the apostolic palace.

even if he did not leave his apartments much - presumably, he was still there. lounging around in his slutty blue robe, probably. moping. reading spinoza and drinking too much red wine, the way he does when he's indulging in a spot of melancholia.

or maybe just working from home. who knows. who cares?

innocent's favoritism, however - he was not being very open at all to hearing the conservative wing of the vatican at all. even if can't prove it is sexual, partiality is a sin on a pope!

unfortunately spreading rumors about innocent's sinful and possibly-maybe sexual connection to his closest advisor doesn't get many people convinced. a subtle inquiry of the first round of whispers brings back unsatisfying results. general opinion in the vatican goes along the lines of:

'i don't think lawrence knows how to fuck'

'i don't think innocent knows how to fuck'

'isn't lawrence too old to fuck?'

'how would that even work, i mean, which name would he even use in bed, or is it all a your holiness kind of thing? is that kinky or just blasphemous? is it more blasphemous not to use his title?'

'do you think he ever, y'know, holds lawrence tenderly in his white vestments after an ardent round of confessional atonement?'

'no,' said the patriarch of venice to his monsignor minion. 'are you an idiot? we're not going with that. innocent is an old-man fucker who likes to cuddle after an ardent round of confessional sodomy, obviously, just look at him. but tommaso wouldn't get the vestments dirty. that's the secretary of state of the catholic church, have some fucking respect.'

his vape is held in a white-knuckled grip. people are so stupid about these things. it's like they've never met the man or had a weirdly charged not-friendship with him for thirty years, jesus.

well, whatever. goffredo tedesco has married plenty of couples and then bullied several of them out of the path of divorce.

he's set up his siblings and nephews and nieces with the least unobjectionable and most well-connected members of his congregation plenty of times, and if it never worked out that was because they were ungrateful idiots who got upset too easily and had ridiculous politics.

anyhow, at least benítez and lawrence were both men, he could hardly be accused of being misogynistic about this.

if he has to go to rome and match-make the pope and the secretary of state into a compromising situation, by God he'll do it. a truth everyone who isn't naive knows: if you can't find or invent a reasonable scandal, self-made is fine.

he passes the ugly tourist shop by the channel, the one with the vacuous-eyed st. sebastian in the window display. for no reason. irrelevant. it was better than whatever stupid gift lawrence might get bellini, anyway. might as well knock on his apartment's while he's in rome. maybe. not like tedesco cares.

his venetian idol is objectively superior to any ugly figurine of st. george slaying a dragon, by the way.

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

Hear me out

Batsis baking something for them just because shes bored but shes horrible at baking (or she would just sabotage it idk put some peppers on the cake)would they just eat it?

Yandere Batfamily x reader

The kitchen smelled like war. Not the type fought with fists and weapons but the kind fought with flour, sugar, and an oven’s unrelenting heat. You stood in the middle of the chaos, apron smeared with batter and the counter coated in the powdered remnants of your efforts. You weren’t a baker—hell, you barely knew how to fry an egg—but boredom had a cruel way of twisting your decisions.

So here you were, baking for the people who had stolen you away under the guise of "family."

Not that you called them that.

Still, the silence of the manor grated on your nerves, and after hours of sulking and dodging their hovering presence, you thought, Why not? Maybe the mess would annoy them. Maybe the smell would be enough to break through their obsession-induced fog and remind them you weren’t playing along with their delusions.

The cupcakes you pulled from the oven looked… edible. Kind of. Half were lopsided, and a few were slightly charred. You dumped a ridiculous amount of frosting on top in an attempt to salvage them, but the end result was a tray of pastel blobs with vaguely cake-like shapes.

“Perfect,” you muttered sarcastically, swiping frosting from the counter with a finger.

Before you could second-guess your plan, the sound of footsteps approached. Slow, calculated. Bruce. You didn’t need to see him to know it was him—the weight of his presence filled the room like a stormcloud.

“Baking?” His voice was calm, laced with a hint of curiosity that made your skin crawl.

“Yeah,” you replied shortly, not looking at him. You started stacking the cupcakes onto a plate, pretending you didn’t care that he was watching. “Got bored.”

Bruce stepped closer, the faint rustle of his coat as deliberate as everything else he did. You hated how easily he could unsettle you. “It’s nice to see you trying something new,” he said, his tone gentle—fatherly, even.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing the plate and shoving it toward him. “Here. You can have them.”

Bruce took the plate without hesitation, his gloved hands looking out of place against the childish swirls of frosting. “Thank you,” he said, as though you’d gifted him something precious. “The others will appreciate this.”

As if summoned, the rest of the Batfamily began to trickle in.

Dick was the first to arrive, his easy smile faltering only slightly when he saw the cupcakes. “Did you make these, [Name]?” he asked, grabbing one before you could answer.

“Yep,” you said flatly, crossing your arms. “Don’t expect much.”

He took a bite. For a moment, his face betrayed nothing, but then his expression twisted into something that could only be described as polite horror. “Wow,” he managed, forcing a swallow. “These are… unique.”

Jason snorted as he sauntered in, the smell having lured him from whatever dark corner he’d been brooding in. “What’s this?” he asked, swiping a cupcake from the plate Bruce held. “Looks like someone murdered a unicorn.”

“Eat it and find out,” you snapped.

Jason raised an eyebrow but took a bite anyway. His reaction was less subtle than Dick’s—he gagged dramatically, spitting the mouthful into a napkin. “What the hell, kid? Did you put salt instead of sugar?”

“I don’t know, maybe!” you shot back, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Tim appeared next, looking bleary-eyed and clutching a mug of coffee. He grabbed a cupcake without a word and took a bite. His eyes widened slightly, and he coughed. “Is this… is this cinnamon?”

“Possibly.”

“Cinnamon and… garlic?”

You frowned. “I didn’t put garlic in there.”

Damian was the last to enter, his nose wrinkling at the plate as though it offended him on a personal level. “What is this monstrosity?” he asked, glaring at the cupcakes.

“Dessert,” you said dryly. “Take it or leave it.”

To your surprise, he picked one up, inspecting it like it was a puzzle he intended to solve. He took a cautious bite, chewed, and swallowed. “Tolerable,” he declared, setting the half-eaten cupcake down with a disdainful sniff.

“See? Tolerable,” you said, pointing at Damian as though his judgment absolved you.

Jason groaned. “Tolerable isn’t exactly a ringing endorsement.”

Bruce, who hadn’t taken a bite yet, finally broke his silence. “It’s the effort that matters,” he said, his gaze settling on you with unnerving intensity.

You glared back at him, hating the way he spoke as though you’d done this out of love rather than sheer boredom. “Don’t read into it,” you said sharply. “It’s not like I had anything better to do.”

Bruce didn’t respond, but the faint smile tugging at his lips told you he didn’t believe you.

Despite the disaster your cupcakes turned out to be, they ate them—or tried to. Even Jason, after some grumbling, finished his. Maybe they thought it would please you. Maybe it was another way to force their twisted idea of “family” on you.

Or maybe, you realized with a pang of unease, they just couldn’t say no to you.

The thought was more unsettling than anything else.

[annievrse]

It Only Feels This Raw Right Now / Act II

Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader  Summary: When your captain, Luffy, tells you to run from Bartholomew Kuma on the Sabaody Archipelago instead of fighting, you end up on a submarine. Takes place during the time skip. W/C: 18.3k C/W: Fic structure: Sabaody Archipelago → Dressrosa spoilers, canon timeline but majority canon-divergent events, she/her pronouns, no use of y/n. Content: descriptions of injuries, blood, passing out, guns + getting shot.

Labyrinth Series Masterlist

— Scene 1 —

In the two months that followed, you learned to draw maps. It wasn’t that you were disappointed; working with Bepo was fun, but when Luffy said Law would be training you, you expected more. 

Luffy had gone through with the plan he vaguely mentioned to you, and seeing him in the newspaper with 3D2Y on his arm made you queasy—he neglected to tell you the part where he went back to Marineford—but you were so insanely proud of him. Since then, you’d heard nothing about him or your crew mates. However, you kept the newspaper folded in your room like your own personal treasure, along with a wanted poster of Law you found in the streets of Sabaody.

After Amazon Lily, the Heart Pirates returned to Sabaody for a few days to prepare for a journey to another island. You refrained from visiting the Sunny—Law warned you that there’d be heavy Marine presence around it, so you kept away from your beloved ship. It wasn’t until you were walking back to the Polar Tang that you saw Law’s poster and thought the photo they used for it was hilarious. It brought back some of the humour you’d been missing from Usopp and Luffy. 

You giggle to yourself. 

“What’s funny?” Bepo asks, his paw paused over the map he is currently working on. “Please don’t tell me you’re laughing at this.” 

“No! No, Bepo,” You laugh. “No, I’m just thinking about something else.” 

“You better be,” He says, dropping the brush on the table. “I’m done.” 

You peer over at the map. A large pawprint smudges the edge of the page, and the handwriting is a little scribbly, but his measurements are accurate, and you nod. “Perfect.” 

Nami’s face flashes through your mind, and instead of feeling upset, like you have been, you smile. “Add the cardinal points to the top corner.”

“Oh!” Bepo blushes, picking up the paintbrush. “Thanks.”

“You done?” 

You turn, seeing Law in the doorway of the boiler room. He raises an eyebrow when neither of you answer. 

“Yep,” Bepo holds up the still-drying map. “Look, captain.” 

“It’s a blob,” Law criticises, squinting at it. 

“It’s Amazon Lily.” 

Law shrugs. “I guess that’s as good as it’ll get, yes?” 

Bepo nods, glancing at you nervously.

“Considering you’re not allowed on the island, I think it's decent,” You say, smiling at Law. 

He doesn’t give you the same reaction. “I need you in the infirmary.” 

You shoot Bepo a glance, and he nods in encouragement. “I’ll be fine.”

Wiping your hands on your pants, you follow him out and up the stairs. The submarine is on its way to a new island in Paradise, and the engine muffles any voices on other floors. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Law doesn’t turn to talk to you. “I want to try something.” 

His words make your stomach drop. Try something? 

You’re almost jogging to keep up with his long strides. “Okay, well, can I know now?”

He sighs, giving you a sidelong glance. You smile widely at him, trying to persuade him, and Law knows he’ll give in. He always does. 

“I want to try your sewing technique on someone.” 

“Like an injury?”

Law nods. “Shachi slipped and split his eyebrow open on the kitchen counter, and I figured it was about time you showed me how you do it. I have yet to see your powers used for that instead of strangling me.”

Your hand brushes your side where your wound was. It took a while, but the gash Kuma gave you has healed nicely. All that’s left is a level scar. 

Scoffing, you bump his bicep with your shoulder. “Dick.”

Law exhales sharply, a humourless laugh that makes you grin with satisfaction. 

“At least I didn’t take your heart. That was fucked up.” 

Law shrugs lazily, taking a sharp left into the infirmary. “I said I was sorry.” 

“You said what?” Shachi exclaims, his eyes wide. There’s a white bandage wrapped around his head, protruding above his left eye where a thicker gauze sits. “I’ve never heard you say sorry, Cap.” 

“First time for everything, Shachi.” Law mumbles, pulling on white latex gloves. He approaches his crew member and removes the bandage. 

You stand to the side, watching with interest as the injury is revealed. It’s a nasty cut, and you cringe when Shachi merely blinks. 

“Not as bad as it looks,” He says when he sees you scrunch your face up. “Doesn’t hurt.” 

You nod, not believing him. 

“She’s going to stitch you up,” Law comments, gesturing to you. “That okay?” 

Shachi tries to raise his other eyebrow, but to no avail. “That’s fine. Just don’t stab my eye out.” 

“I won’t,” You say, walking up to him. Law stands back, eyeing how you position your hands over Shachi’s face. “Ready?”

He nods, wiping his palms on his boiler suit. “Go for it.” 

“Sew.” 

Concentrating, you aim for the first stitch at the end of the cut, your power taking over the rest of the way. It’s easy like this when you have a set path to follow. You glance at Law, who watches you work attentively. His dark eyebrows are furrowed, and you wonder what he’s thinking. 

“I have done this on someone before,” You say. “When Zoro went up against Mihawk, I had to stitch his torso back together.”

“Zoro…” Shachi eyes widen. “As in Roronoa Zoro?”

“Yes, dumbass. How’d that go?”

You shrug. “Procedure was fine.”

Law hums, and you know he knows you’re keeping the aftermath quiet. 

It takes no time for you to finish the stitches, and with a flick of your finger, the open cut has been reduced to a single line, small sutures tied every four millimetres. It’s clean, and you smile at your handiwork.  

“Done,” You exhale, your hands trembling with energy. “Are you okay?”

Shachi beams up at you. “That didn’t hurt one bit. Are you a witch or something?”

You laugh, balling your hands into fists at your sides. Law’s attention has moved to your hands, and you move to hide them. 

“Shachi, get out of here,” Law demands, his gaze focused on you. 

“Yes, captain.” 

You stand idly, anxiety brewing in your stomach as the door clicks shut. 

“You okay?”

You consider him for a moment. His timbre is far more concerned than you expected, and you nod.

He squints at you with suspicion. “You’re not. Your hands are still clenched.” 

You release them immediately, dried blood smeared on your palms. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” He says. “You need to release your power.” 

Shrugging, you sigh and bring your hands up. “I don’t know why it happens.”

Law swallows thickly, studying your palms. “Is that what happened with Zoro?”

You knew he was going to ask. “It was killing me.” 

He nods, mulling something over. “We’re docking at the next island.”

“What? Why?”

“You need to get rid of that energy. Otherwise, it’ll keep building up, and you’ll pass out like you did on Amazon Lily, or worse.” 

You think back—you did use your power to prevent the rocks from falling on both you and Luffy, and there was a copious amount of blood on your hands when you ran back. The blood. When you finished Zoro’s surgery, the blood on your hands was terrifying, yet you hadn’t touched Zoro at all. The blood. 

“You think the blood on my hands comes from me?”

“There’s a possibility,” Law nods. “We’d need to see your power in full force. But I think you’re power is so immense that when you use it in small doses, like stitching someone up, the built-up power that you don’t use has nowhere to go, so it pricks your skin so much that you bleed.”

The words come out of your mouth before you can stop them. “You’re brilliant.” 

Law clears his throat. “I just did more study on Paramica fruits. It’s nothing.” 

You feel your heart skip a beat. “But, you did more study because you noticed the blood on my hands. I would’ve never thought it’d be about the power I don’t use.” 

“It’s my job.”

“You’re stupidly smart, Law,” You laugh, stepping toward the door. “Just take the compliment.” 

Law sighs and turns his back to you. He busies himself with attempting to rearrange the shiny equipment trolley. There’s nothing on it. 

“See you at dinner?” You call from just outside the doorway, a smirk playing on your lips. It’s fun to embarrass him, though he’d never admit it as such. Trafalgar Law doesn’t get embarrassed. 

Law nods before he realises you can’t see him. God, you make him foolish. “Unfortunately.” 

— Scene 2 —

“We’re docking!” 

“Everybody off. This place reeks.” 

The first breath of fresh air after being in the submarine for five days is something you’ll never get used to. You took such a thing for granted on the Sunny, smelling the fresh salty air daily. Now, you treasure it. 

The Heart Pirates file off the sub, passing you as they do. 

“Where are we?” Penguin asks, coming up behind you to stand beside you. 

You shrug. “No idea. I’ve never been in this part of the Grand Line before.” 

As far as you can see, it's barren. There’s a cluster of trees in the distance, all tall and menacing, and you can’t help the sense of dread that creeps in. 

“I have to make a map.” You and Penguin turn to see Bepo holding a scroll of parchment and a pot of black paint. 

“Yeah, have fun with that,” Penguin mumbles, leaving the two of you. 

“You want to come with me?” Bepo asks. 

“She can’t.” 

Bepo visibly deflates. “Captain, you’re gonna make me go on my lonesome? With nobody? What if I fall down a ravine and break my leg?”

“You’ll be fine, Bepo. Now, go.”

“Yes, captain,” He says solemnly, trudging toward the plank. 

“I’m happy to go with him, you know.”

Law clicks his tongue. “You’re coming with me. We need to train.” 

“Train? Where?” You have a feeling you know the answer. 

“There.” He gestures with his chin to the forest. 

You sigh harshly and begin walking. “Come on, then. It’ll take a while to get there.”

Law quirks his eyebrow at you. 

“What?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“This’ll be tough, okay?” He says lowly. “I need to understand why your power makes your hands bleed. Then, we can work from there.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Law continues like he can sense your unease, “But—”

You grimace. “Okay.” 

“Okay?”

You nod and wave him over. “Yes, it’s fine. Now, let’s go, I’ve been waiting to kick your ass all week.” 

“I won’t go easy on you, sweetheart,” Law steps on the plank behind you. 

You hum, jumping onto the grass. “I don’t expect you to. Besides, my bounty isn’t high for no reason.”

Law pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Guess we’ll see, yeah?”

“Lead the way, Captain.”

—

“Is this necessary?” 

Law ignores you and continues using shambles to transport various logs and rocks into the clearing you found. The trees are taller than you thought, and you tilt your head to see the canopy. 

You understand why he’s doing it, moving obstacles into the area, but for your first time sparring with him, you figured it was a little overkill. 

It's silent, except for the leaves rustling in the breeze and insects humming. You've noticed that no birds inhabit the island, making the forest eerie and your hair stand on end. 

You turn, feeling like someone’s watching you, before Law reappears, making a beeline for you. 

He pulls the hat off his head and tosses it to the side. “Ready?” 

You blink, spinning to face him. “Now?” 

You ignored the layout of the obstacles. 

“Your opponent would’ve attacked you already,” Law deadpans, lifting his hand. “Room.” 

You squeak in surprise, leaping back when the blue dome approaches you. “Hey! I have fought before, you know. I know how it works.” 

Collecting your thoughts, you throw your hands up, almost tripping on a stray branch. You watch Law across the area; his gaze burns you, and you shiver. 

“Sew.” 

Threads materialise before you, and you aim for Law’s arms, deflating when he cuts them away easily with his katana. 

“You’re gonna need to do a lot better than that.”

You clench your jaw. Oh, so he’s cocky. “Sew.” 

“Shambles.”

And then he disappears, a branch hanging in the air and dropping to the ground where he once was. With your head on a swivel, you try to place him. Your threads vanish when they have nowhere to go, and you listen for him. 

“Too slow…”

You freeze at the feeling of cool metal across your throat. 

“That’s not fair,” You whisper, inhaling sharply and keeping your chest still. You didn’t even hear him.

“How would you get out of this?” He asks, breath hot on your ear. His forearm is firm around your stomach, and his chest is pressed against your back. 

You roll your eyes as you slowly weave threads around Law’s ankles. He doesn't make it easy for you, especially with his body flush on yours. Sighing, you lean your head back on his shoulder. You don’t realise just how close Law is until you feel his lips brush the shell of your ear. The sensation sends shivers down your spine. 

Law makes a sound of surprise. “What are you doing?”

You use his shock to your advantage, grabbing his right wrist with your left and pulling down. His katana falls forward, and you use needles to pierce his skin with minuscule pricks until he retracts the arm around your torso.

He lets out a grunt of discomfort as you lunge forward, pushing his stomach with your hand. You glance back to see Law fall backwards, the threads around his ankles doing their job. A large needle takes shape in your fist, and you lean over him, the tip against his jugular. Your legs are on either side of his hips, and your free hand is on his chest. 

Law smirks, his breathing ragged and eyes dark as he watches you. “Good.”

You lean back, the needle dissipating. “I—”

And then you’re on the ground, looking up at where you just sat, where Law sits on top of you. 

You feel your face heat up. 

“Never let your guard down,” He says, pinning your arms above your head. “Dead.” 

You wiggle your wrists to avert his attention from your bashful expression. “Get off.” 

His grip only tightens. “Fight.” 

You smirk, noticing his eyes widen when he feels a sharp point at his back. You hold a large needle, the tip scratching his spine. If this were a real-life situation, the needle as thick as a branch would be through his chest. So, you aim your threads at the trees behind Law, tying them to two thick trunks. 

“Well, sweetheart?” His voice is low. “What’re you gonna do besides threaten me with an oversized needle?” 

“Sew.” 

The threads fly toward him, wrap under his armpits and over his shoulders, and pull. Law flies back. Before he hits the tree, he appears next to it, a twig breaking to pieces against the trunk instead. 

“Shambles.” 

Trusting your instincts, you know he will swap you with the rock in front of him. Lifting your fist, your body is doused with tingles, and then you’re throwing your arm, your fist connecting with his jaw. His head snaps to the side. 

“Fuck,” Law spits blood onto the dirt. 

You bounce back on your toes. “Not so tough now, huh, big boy?” 

Law meets your glare with his own, and you feel the tendrils of your power purring against your skin. The sun pours through the canopy, the shadows dancing under your feet. You choose to use them to your advantage.

Threads snake along the forest floor, and you keep your eyes on Law to distract him. He pants, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, and you’re sure you look the same. You stand there, staring at each other, your threads slinking around him. Law’s tongue darts out to catch the blood on his lip before it drips onto his shirt, and he smiles, blood painting his teeth. The sight is unholy, and a shiver goes down your spine. 

“Well?” 

You continue to say nothing, your eyes trailing down his face to his lips and then further. Law stands there as you blatantly check him out. You never quite realised how tall he is; being in a cramped submarine makes everyone look tall, and maybe it's his terrible posture, too, because when you look at him now, he’s menacing. 

You want to climb him like a tree. 

You shake your head, remembering where you are. “Sew.” 

And then your threads wrap around his body, tightening. You approach him slowly, like a predator with its prey. 

“If you wanted to tie me up so bad, you should’ve just asked.” 

His comment has you gaping, and then he’s gone, swapping himself with another rock. You sigh and turn around, ducking before he can knock you over. 

Your palm shoots out, knocking him in the sternum. Law gasps and grabs your wrist, flipping your body so your chest is against a tree trunk. He stands flush against you. You pant with exhaustion, sweat dripping down the side of your face. 

“Go again,” Law growls, stepping back and letting you off the tree. “Room.” 

Your face hardens, and you run to put distance between you. “Needles.” 

Giant metal needles materialise before you, pointing directly at Law. You see his eyes widen slightly at their speed, but once your needles enter his room, he cuts them down like they’re cooked noodles. 

“Again.” 

“Fuck you.” 

Law’s eyebrow quirks up, a cocky smirk making your skin burn. “Again.” 

“Needles.” 

“Room.”

A familiar blue dome approaches, and you throw everything you can at him, but he’s quick. Law dodges and weaves through your attacks, slicing through all threads and slashing all needles you send him. 

You want to scream with frustration. Law retracts his room, opening his mouth to call out something. But blood slides down your forearms, and something snaps inside you. 

You know what’s happening, but you won’t stop it. You won’t use your full potential. Your grip on your ability slips, and your available power runs out, making the needles spin in the air and aim for Law. 

“No,” You whisper, trying to pull the needles away from him with the fumes of power you have left in your reserve, but it’s not enough. 

Law readies his katana, swiping at the needles as they race towards him like missiles. Usually, you’d see objects fly in different directions after being sliced by him. But, like he didn’t even brush them, the needles continue their path toward Law, and he pauses. “Shambles.” 

“Law!” You scream, watching him stumble to the forest floor in a different spot completely. 

Sprinting over to him, you put your hands on his chest. That’s when you notice the blood on your hands, and you run your hands over his torso to check for injuries. 

“Law?” You murmur, seeing his eyes squeezed shut. “Law.”

“You shouldn’t care for your opponent,” He groans and sits up, his hand rubbing his sternum. “But that was strong. Good.” 

Shaking your head, you ignore his stupid comment, your bloody palm over your mouth. “I hurt you.”

“I’m fine.”

“You fell.” 

“That was from shambles. Lost my balance.”

You stand on shaky legs. “What if I hit you?”

“You didn’t,” Law follows you up, noticing the blood on your hands. His breath catches in his throat, and he double-checks his body. He’s uninjured. 

Law is behind you when you turn, circling to stand before you. “Look at me.”

He speaks your name lowly. 

“Look at me,” He repeats, tone coaxing. 

You can’t, eyes focused on the blood dripping from your fingers. His hand brushes your cheek, and then his fingers are on your chin, tilting your face to his. 

“I’m fine, see,” Law pulls away from you, lifting his arms out to the sides. “You didn’t hurt me.” 

“But, the blood,” You say, bringing your hands closer to your face. “There’s so much of it.” 

Law closes his palms around your fingers, the blood smearing. “I’m okay, sweetheart, and so are you. We just need to work on using all of your available power, that’s all.”

You look into his eyes, the steel grey of them comforting. A shadow of a smile finds its way to his cheeks, and you exhale shakily. 

You won’t be using your full power in front of him. 

“You promise?” 

Law nods, squeezing your hands tighter. “Promise.” 

You breathe in and out, focusing on trying to stop the tears from collecting on your waterline.

Law lowers your hands, releasing them before he steps back and clears his throat, his usual hard exterior like a mask. “Do you want to go back to the sub?” 

You shake your head, trying to rub your palms on your pants. “I just want to stay here a bit longer. Don’t want anyone to see me like this.” 

“Like what?”

“Like I’m out of control.” 

Law sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. He’s thinking, you know that much. And the more you look at him, the more injuries you see. There’s a nasty bruise forming on the side of his jaw where you punched him, as well as dried blood on the corner of his lips, and there’s a little rope burn on the side of his neck. You don’t want to know what you look like. 

“C’mon,” Law says, turning and walking away from you. 

“Where’re we going?” 

“I think there’s a creek down here,” He nods in the direction he’s walking. “We’ll get the blood off you.”

You nod but don’t say anything. Law glances over his shoulder. 

“Is that okay?” 

“Oh,” You look up. “Yeah, that’s fine.” 

Law stops to wait for you to catch up. When you do, he leans his head down. “You were holding back.” 

Your shoulders tense. “Why do you say that?”

Law snorts. “Look at how much blood’s on your hands. It’s like a massacre.” 

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” You shrug. “Is that a problem?” 

“I can handle myself.”

You finally hear the creek he was talking about and ignore him. You haven’t heard the running water in a while despite being underwater. There’s something comforting about gurgling water flowing over rocks. 

“Next time we spar,” Law keeps his voice low. “I want to see why your bounty’s so high, okay? Because right now, you’re at 70 million berries.” 

You open your mouth to defend yourself, but he continues.

“There’s clearly more to your power than just throwing around needles and thread. I want to see it.” 

You let out a shaky breath. “My body will need to rest before I can do that.”

Law nods curtly. “And I respect that. Just don’t go easy on me next time.” 

You look at him to see a smirk playing on his lips. Scoffing, you bump him with your shoulder. 

The creek comes into view, and you rush to it, dipping your hands in the freezing water to clean your hands. As you scrub, Law sits beside you. 

The urge to tell him everything eats at you. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t tell him. He’s a rival pirate. But when you give him a sidelong glance and see the content glint in his eye, you break. You hope you don’t regret it. 

“I don’t use my true power,” You mumble, hoping he can’t hear you. 

Law blinks but leans toward you. You kick yourself when you realise he does. “Why?” 

“I’m scared of it.”

He doesn’t say anything, letting you continue. 

“My bounty’s so high and has been for years because of the few times I used it.”

“And you’d never use it again?” 

You ponder his question. “If the situation calls for it, then I would. But with Luffy, I never have to. We always find a way out of things.”

Law tilts his head, and you can tell there’s something he wants to ask. 

“Just say it,” You wave your hand. You’re sure you know what he’s going to ask anyway, so you may as well get it over with. 

“Can you use it on me?” 

You still. That was not what you were expecting.

“The Sew-Sew Fruit,” Law sits up straighter. “If what I’ve gathered from the abilities you’ve shown me and my research, I can guess that your true power is a mindscape where you can cut objects, people, from this world and sew them into your own. A sort of alternate reality.” 

You curse his brilliant mind. “Maybe you’re too smart for your own good.” 

“Am I right?” 

You keep washing your hands to busy yourself. “I don’t take entire people, only their souls. Why would you want me to use it on you?” 

“So I can help you.”

Something tugs on your subconscious, and you try your best to pinpoint it. “Are you crazy?” 

“Maybe.” Law puts his hands on your wrists, stopping your rough scrubbing—your hands are clean. 

His fingers are rough against yours, and you try your best to think of another topic because you sure as hell aren’t thinking about your power right now. 

“What do your tattoos mean?”

Law looks at you surprised. He’s silent momentarily, swallowing thickly before pulling his hands away from yours and running his fingers over his knuckles. You can tell he doesn’t talk about himself much because he mulls over the words he wants to say in his mouth before he does. 

“These remind me of what’s at stake when treating patients. Helps keep me calm.” 

You stare at the letters, reflecting on what Shakuyaku told you when you were on Sabaody. Trafalgar Law, the Surgeon of Death. 

When he doesn’t go on about the others, you don’t ask. 

“Cool,” You say, picking a loose thread on your pants. 

Law hums, watching your fingers fidget. 

You wipe your hands dry on your t-shirt. “Anyway, why do you want me to use Seam on you?” 

“Seam,” Law mutters. “Straw Hat said you need to become stronger. I told him I’d help, so I will with the only way I know how.” 

“Which is?”

“A hands-on approach.”

You scratch your hairline in an attempt to hide from him. It’s true what Luffy told him because he also told you and your crew. Get stronger.

You cough. “What do you get out of this?” 

“Now you’re thinking like a pirate,” Law teases before he shrugs. “Nothing but the satisfaction of helping a friend.” 

Friend. 

Your stomach churns with discomfort, and you’re unsure why the word burns you so much. It sounds foreign on Law’s tongue. But despite his joking manner, the words he spoke when you first met scolds you from the inside out. 

“But I’m just useful to you, right?” You poke your finger into his chest. “What did you call me? Leverage?” 

Law sighs, running his hand through his hair. “That was before. It’s different now.” 

“Before what?” You ask, standing from the bed of the creek. Law follows, and he towers over you. He swallows, and you can tell he’s deciding whether to tell you. His cheeks go ruddy, and you squint at him in confusion. 

“It’s not important.”

“Law.”

It’s hurting him to say it.

“Before—”

“Captain! Quick!” 

Law’s head snaps to the side, concern changing his features. You watch him, mind racing at what he could possibly mean about before. 

“Bepo?” Law yells. “What’s wrong?” 

“We gotta go!” The bear calls from the forest. “The island’s full of giant lizards, and they’re attacking us!” 

Law looks unamused but moves anyway, running in the direction of Bepo’s voice and leaving you next to the water. 

You stare at the place he just was, your chest tight. You wipe your nose and return to the sub, watching for the giant lizards Bepo warned you about.

—

It turns out that giant lizards were the codename for Ikkaku’s return. You haven’t bothered to ask why, but you're more anxious about meeting the woman responsible for the maintenance of the submarine. 

In the distance, Law stands beside the Polar Tang, his hand on his forehead to shade his eyes from the sun's harsh glare. Above him, a large seagull descends, and on the back of it, a woman. 

When you make it to the sub, the bird is gone, and all that remains is Ikkaku. Her dark curly hair is covered with a yellow and orange striped beanie, and she still dons the white Heart Pirates boiler suit. She speaks animately to Penguin as you look around for Law. He must’ve returned to the submarine when you put your head down to watch for sparse rocks. 

Penguin calls your name, and you smile. “Hi!” 

Ikkaku eyes you up and down, her expression sour. “A Straw Hat, huh? I don’t know what you’re still doing here, but Captain is more than capable of handling whatever it is alone.” 

You come up short, watching as she bumps Penguin’s shoulder and walks away. You purse your lips, emotion lodged in your throat. The moment is over before it even begins, and there’s a surge of awkward tension in the air. Penguin clears his throat.

“You didn’t do anything,” He reassures, his hat-shrouded eyes darkening. “Ikkaku doesn't trust you guys. A-And by you guys, I mean the Straw Hats. Her, Uni, and Clione have a thing... I’m sure they'll get over it.” 

You hum and pretend the words don’t hurt you the way they do. Shrugging, you fake a laugh. “It’s fine. I’m used to it. I wouldn't trust me either.” 

He calls your name as you leave, not sparing a glance in the direction of the group that whispers as you pass by.

Bepo stands idly on the deck, twisting the map in his paws. You raise an eyebrow when he gives you a pitiful look.

"I don't need sympathy, Bepo."

He squeaks and almost rips the paper. "No, no sympathy here."

You give him a tight-lipped smile and pat his arm.

"I'm sorry," He murmurs, hanging his head.

"Wanna go inside?"

Bepo nods and turns, shuffling his feet to the door. His movements make a laugh tumble from your lips, and when he hears, Bepo's eyes are full of hope.

You reluctantly smile and shove him, though it does nothing to sway the tall mink.

"At least you've got me," Bepo says. "I know I'm not much, but—"

"Quit the self-deprecating jokes, Bepo," Shachi coughs from behind you. Penguin stands beside him and laughs. You can tell they're trying to lighten your mood.

You won't admit it, but it works.

"Yeah, you're gonna make the Tang flood with your pathetic tears," Penguin quips, brushing past you and down the stairs to the common area.

Bepo's jaw goes slack, and he pauses mid-step. "I'm sorry."

Chatter from the rest of the crew fills the stairwell, and you grab Bepo's paw to drag him down.

"Don't listen to them," You say, side-eyeing Penguin and Shachi when you pass them on the way to the couch. "They're just jealous that I like you more than them."

"Woah! Rude!"

"That's too far and NOT true!"

Bepo sticks out his tongue, and his two best friends pout.

You shake your head at their antics and wonder how you got so lucky to end up with them as your friends—you'd never say it out loud, but they fill the Straw Hat crew-sized void inside you.

— Scene 3 —

He’s watching you. 

If it were anyone else, it’d be unsettling. But Law’s steely grey eyes, usually reserved and cold, turn different when they’re on you. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. 

It’s a night off that hasn’t happened while you’ve been aboard, but Penguin and Shachi tell you they're the best nights of the year, and who are you to be doubtful? 

So, you are sitting on a couch in the common area, half-focused on the poker game before you. You’re not playing; instead, you choose to observe Bepo struggling to keep the cards in his paws and Shachi sneaking peeks at the ones that slip. A glass of who knows what, courtesy of Penguin, sits between your fingers, but you don’t drink any more of it—he’s very heavy-handed. 

Across the room, Law sits on a stray dining chair, his legs spread. He also has a near-full glass, holding it between his open knees as he leans his forearms on his thighs. His hat is lopsided on his head, and his katana is propped against the wall beside him. Jean-Bart talks animately, but you know Law isn’t listening. He’s focused on you, after all. 

He asked if you could use Seam on him a week and a half ago, and since then, he’s kept to himself. It’s annoying you. 

Your eyes flicker to his, and he doesn’t react. You raise an eyebrow at him, to which he mirrors. Law’s expression remains cold, and you tilt your head in a silent question. You hope he understands you. 

Law looks away, and you deflate. 

“You want to take my place?” Shachi asks, throwing his cards on the table as his crewmates laugh. Uni, Clione, and Ikkaku remain silent, and you shake your head, disappointed. 

“I think I’ll go to bed.”

Penguin boos you from the other side of the table, and Bepo pouts. “You can’t!”

“Sorry, boys,” You force a laugh, setting your glass on the side table beside the couch. “Have fun.”

They all groan and make excuses why you can’t leave while you walk from the room. The stairwell is silent, and you take the stairs quickly. You risk a glance over your shoulder as you rush to your room.

The thought of finally having another woman on board used to make you excited; you were so keen to make another friend, but now it makes you bitter. It seems your reputation precedes you and not in the way you wish. From her comment last week, you guess Ikkaku thinks you’re using Law, but she could be further from the truth. You’ve grown fond of the man, and if you’re reading the signals right, he, you. 

An almost inaudible zip and boots clicking behind you make your heart skip; you’re certain Law used Shambles to follow you. 

“Yes?” 

Law doesn’t speak. Instead, there’s another zip right next to you and another, and then you stumble into his office. 

“Why,” You hunch over, panting, “would you do that?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.” 

You sigh. “Give me a minute.” 

Law makes a sound of indignation. “You were fine when we were sparring.”

“I hadn’t been drinking then,” You say, stretching back up. 

He looks at you unimpressed. “Are you done?”

You level him with a glare, and when you don’t respond, Law circles his desk. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Ikkaku doesn’t like me.” 

Law hums and runs his tongue over his teeth. “Yeah, she’s made her dislike known.” 

You put your hands out. “What do I do? I’m not staying here if I drive a wedge between you and your crew…” 

“You’re staying. I want you here. They can deal with it.” 

The underlying desperation in his tone catches you off guard, and you open your mouth to respond when he cuts you off with a different topic entirely. 

“When will you be ready to use Seam?”

“Huh?” You blink. 

“Will you be ready tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow?” You ask, still grasping the fact that he wants you here. “Where’re we going tomorrow?” 

“Bepo said there’s an island ahead,” He says. “I thought it’d be a good opportunity to start your training.” 

“We did start.”

“Not with Seam.” 

You regret telling him its name. “Fine, yeah, I’ll be ready tomorrow.” 

“Repeat it back to me.”

You furrow your brows. “What?”

Law sighs. “Repeat the plan, so I know we’re on the same page.”

“You’ve got issues.” 

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

You gape at him and scoff. You can’t believe him right now, especially after the momentary display of vulnerability. 

Rolling your eyes, you groan. “Fine.”

Law tilts his head. 

“We’ll train at the next island,” You rehash. “And there I’ll use Seam. Okay?”

“Great,” He smiles. 

You narrow your eyes when you see it’s fake. That son of a— “Great.”

“Perfect.”

“Perfect!” 

And then you leave, wanting nothing more than to wipe that pretty, cocky smirk off his face. 

— Scene 4 —

The Polar Tang docked at the island not twelve hours later. 

Your stomach flips with anxiety, your throat thick with nerves. You barely speak, choosing to keep your jaw set to prevent yourself from throwing up. 

You know you can pull out at any time, but the thought of holding yourself back any longer makes you seethe. If Luffy wants you to get stronger, then you will.

“You good?”

You let out a shaky breath, looking to your right. The coast of the island is calm, and the sun barely rocks where you stand on the deck. “Should be. Just gotta get the nerves out.”

Law looks over the uninhabited island. “You can say no.”

“I know.” 

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Law,” You sigh, turning toward him. His eyes are wide with apprehension, but he relaxes when you rest your fingers on his bicep. “I want to. This needs to happen if I’m to survive in the New World.”

Law raises an eyebrow, still unsure, but nods. “Okay.” 

And then he’s gone, appearing 30 feet away on the grass. “Room.”

You jump down from the deck onto the ground, walking into his Room. You’d discussed the entire plan earlier today, hunched over his desk with a pen and paper. You were to summon Seam inside Law’s Room in case the island decides to surprise you with giant lizards (you laughed when Law brought it up) or if something goes wrong. You’re not sure how it would work considering his consciousness inside your mindscape, but if it makes him feel safer, you’re happy to comply. 

Law stands there, waiting for you to approach. “Ready, sweetheart?”

You nod, resting your hand on his arm. You inhale sharply and deeply, closing your eyes and calming the nerves, reaping havoc within your stomach. 

Law watches you, and somehow, that slows your racing heart. You’re sure it’s something he can do inside Room, but you put that thought aside, focusing on honing your power. 

“Seam.”

Law makes a startled sound, and you know he sees the scene before you. Your eyes flicker open, and for the first time in years, you see fragments of the world mending together with your own—the one created by the Sew-Sew Fruit. You’re still in the real world, but you’ve taken Law’s soul in your hands. 

You feel him stiffen as his heart slows and his breathing weakens. You hate having someone’s life in your hands like this—maybe you should get Law’s death tattoos inked on your fingers, too. 

You transport yourself into Seam, seeing Law walking around aimlessly. His eyes widen as he curses silently, watching the ocean hang from the sky, the Polar Tang floating mid-air. 

Seam is a mixture of the current place and all the others you’ve seen. And since becoming a pirate, Seam has grown exponentially. To the right, you see the Going Merry docked in Skypeia, the clouds from the sky island hanging around it. Behind you, there’s a combination of the snowy mountains of Drum Island and the dunes of Alabasta, and to your left sits the Baratie. On the horizon before you, bats fly around, and the mansion on Thriller Bark sits ominously in the distance. 

With the ocean above you, it’s easy to see where things are. And beneath your feet is grass. It’s always been grass. 

It’s a collection of your memories, you realise. And you tear up at the sight of everything around you. It’s been a long time since you’ve been here. 

He whispers your name in disbelief. “This is incredible.”

You shrug one shoulder, not used to Law using such words. 

Law spins around and walks toward you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, are you?” 

“I feel weightless,” Law huffs a laugh. “What’s going on outside?”

“You’re dead.”

Law’s look of incredulity drops. “What?”

“Not really, but it seems like you are. When someone’s inside Seam, their soul transfers over, and their body doesn’t. So we’re still on the island, but your body is frozen in a dreamlike state.” 

“Can you use this to fight? Can you simply touch someone, and their soul comes here? How many souls can transfer?” 

“You’re full of questions today,” You joke, the feeling of being in Seam alleviating the heaviness on your chest. It surprises you. “But to put it simply, yes, yes, and as many as I want, but the more there are, the more it drains me.” 

“Wow,” Law breathes, his face to the sky as he studies his submarine. “You seal souls in here.” 

The initial relief of being here and nothing bad happening dissipates, and you nod solemnly. 

“Yes.”

“You’re incredible.”

You whip your head toward him, the movement quick. “What?”

Law laughs unguarded. It’s a sound you’ve never heard, and you want to bottle it up and keep it forever. “This—you are extraordinary. ”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Your cheeks are hot. 

Who is this man, and what has he done with Law? 

“And you don’t use it? Why?” 

It’s a loaded question, but Law doesn’t seem to notice your wary expression. 

“I—uh, there was an incident.”

Law gives you a quizzical look. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“No,” You nod. “I want to.”

He remains silent, giving you time to collect your thoughts.

“A girl from my island was killed when she was in Seam.” 

Law listens intently, pulling you to the floor. You sit across from him, your legs crossed and your knees touching his. The grass underneath you is plush and never itchy. Your fingertips play with the blades of green, but they never rip. 

“It was years ago, so don’t pity me, okay?” 

He says nothing.

“Pirates attacked my island while I was using Seam on my friend, and because I know what’s going on on the outside, I ran, thinking my friend was following me. I didn’t know that a person’s physical body was unresponsive while they were in there. But because she was basically dead on her feet, and her soul was still in Seam, when the pirate killed her, her soul had nowhere to return to.”

Law’s thinking, you can tell. His eyebrows triangulate, and then realisation overcomes his expression.

“She’s still here.”

You nod and turn, pointing to a small house in the distance. It looks ragged now, but it still fills your heart with grief. It is your old home. “She lives in there. It’s protected against the other souls I bring here, but she remains the age she died.” 

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

You shrug. “It is what it is. No use dwelling on the past.”

“Can I use my powers in here?”

“Your Devil Fruit soul is in here, isn’t it?” 

He nods. “So, if I use Room…”

“Its power and effectiveness will be depleted, but it will work.” 

“So you can fight people with Devil Fruits here. Their power is just weak.”

“Yeah…” You trail off. “But I can also move between worlds and kill them outside when their soul’s in here, trapping them forever. It’s the same here. If I kill the soul, the body dies. Either way, it’s like cutting down someone already dead.” 

Law exhales. You know the look in his eye, and your chest tightens.

“You want to use me.”

He sighs. “It’s not like that. I would never force you—I’d need your permission beforehand, of course.”

“What is it?”

Law scratches his forehead. “I’ve had this plan to become a Warlord.”

You freeze with your heart in your throat. A Warlord? “Why?”

“It’s complicated.”

You can tell he’s never told anyone this piece of information before by how he stutters it out—you’ve never seen Law stutter in the few months you’ve lived with his crew.

“If you’re going to use me to get there, I need to know why.”

Law takes your hand. “I’d only bring you with me if you wanted to, okay? There’s no ulterior motive. You’re powerful enough to kill me. This place is proof of that.” 

“Prove it to me,” You chew on your lip. “And then tell me your plan.”

He levels you with a wary look that cracks his face open. You’ve known Law to be emotionally constipated; it's a fact, but the face he wears now is one that makes him look younger, one that he’s never shown anyone in a long time. 

Law carefully brings his hands to his chest. He whispers something, scalpel. The technique is weak here, but you watch as his chest opens and his heart slides from a square slot. You stare at it in awe. 

“I’ve never done this before, given this willingly to someone else, okay?” His voice is wobbly. “Be careful with it.” 

And when he places the blue cube in your hands, your eyes fill with tears. His heart sits in your palms; it throbs softly and is warm. So warm. 

Then you realise your position: A pirate of a rival crew, holding the heart of a captain who’s powerful enough to become a Warlord. You could easily crush it between your hands, and being inside Seam, you could do it without him interfering. You could save yourself the trouble in the future when you’re back with the Straw Hats. It’s so easy. 

You peer up at Law, who remains still, his eyes on yours. You have control of his heart, and he’s staring at you. It’s then you know what this means. What he means to you. You’ve known him for two and a half months, but you would trust him with your life, and it’s obvious he would you, too. 

The throbbing of his heart increases, and you giggle in shock at the phenomenon. 

It's a monumental moment, you know this, though you feel nothing but anticipation in your chest. Anticipation for the sole reason that Law knows you're powerful enough to help him, and that makes him excited, which in turn, makes you excited. 

You love him. 

The realisation hits you all at once, and silent tears slide down your cheeks, and when your eyes focus back on him, everything you’ve ever wanted is sitting right before you. 

The moment is etching itself into your brain as you sit there, arms shaking with anxiety. 

You swallow and exhale deeply. “I trust you.” 

“I want to kill the four emperors.” 

—

So much for training, you think as you get back inside the Polar Tang. 

After you returned Law’s soul to his body, he asked endless questions. And who are you to turn down someone as eager to learn as he is? 

You’ve never seen Law so animated, and judging by the looks on Bepo’s face, neither has he. Law leads you down to his office, the door opposite your bedroom, and clicks it shut behind him. 

You sit on a chair facing his desk, fingernails picking the worn leather. “So, what's the plan?” 

Law pokes around the bookshelf on the room's far wall, picking out different books. He puts the stack on his desk and sits in his chair. Law grabs the first book on the pile. There’s an air about him that makes your heart swell tenfold—he has a child-like wonder etched into his expression and a giddy dance in his fingers as he flips to a predetermined page. 

“I’m going to give the World Government one hundred hearts.” 

You're taken aback, leaning forward in the armchair. The way he says it with such an innocent flicker to his tone makes you question if he really just said what he did. “Whose?” 

“Pirates,” He pours over the page, using his finger to find the line he’s looking for. 

“Isn’t that unethical?” 

Law snorts, glancing up at you. “I’m not killing them.”

You purse your lips with slight amusement. “Okay…” Like that makes it better. 

“The Marines can decide what to do with the hearts.”

“And how are you doing this?”

Law observes you for a second. “Ever heard of Poneglyphs?” 

“Robin told me.” 

“Nico Robin?”

You hum. “What about them?”

“I’ve got intel that there's one on an island called Hachinosu in the New World, and we’re going to infiltrate it.” 

“Okay, I get that, but why steal the hearts?”

“To get the government’s attention.” 

“There’s more to this you’re not telling me,” You say. 

Law nods. “Of course there is. But this is a stepping stone in the grand scheme.” 

“And what’s the grand scheme?”

“I need to kill someone,” Law mutters. That was easy. 

“You don’t mean…”

“Say it.”

“Another Warlord?”

You get your response when he doesn’t answer, and decide to take a different approach. 

“What’s this got to do with the Four Emperors of the Sea?” 

Law exhales deeply. “Kaido wants to monopolise on SMILE to create a pirate crew solely of Devil Fruit users. Donquioxte Doflamingo runs the factory that produces them on Dressrosa, another island in the New World.” 

“Wait,” You close your eyes, mind puzzled. “You’re gonna need to explain the whole thing to me.”

Law turns the book in front of him to show you the page. There’s an illustration of a giant building, in front of it stands a group of people in white coats. 

“Twenty years ago, there were scientists on this island, Punk Hazard, who artificially created ancient giants,” He points to an island on the map on the opposite page. “Kaido purchased these giants for his crew at the time.”

Law looks at you expectantly to make sure you’re following. When you nod, exhaling, he continues. 

“Two years ago, when the island was being used by Vegapunk, the island exploded when one of his scientists threw a fit with his Devil Fruit, rendering it uninhabitable.

“This year, the poison gas that was on the island as a result of that scientist’s rage dispersed. After Marineford, it was the site of Aokiji and Akainu’s battle. But, if I’ve heard correctly, there are plans to restore Vegapunk’s laboratory and start producing a substance called SAD, which can be used to make SMILE or man-made Devil Fruits. Kaido is the mastermind behind this since he took the original giants from the scientists before Vegapunk. Therefore, I need to become a Warlord to have unrestricted access to and destroy the site.” 

He’s got this all figured out. 

“So, who's the Warlord you want to kill?” 

“Donquixote Doflamingo.”

You ponder it. “Why?”

“Revenge.” 

“And what do I get out of this?”  

Law runs his eyes over you. “Think of it as helping a friend. We help each other reach our goals. Me, killing Doflamingo, and you, stronger than you’ve ever been.”

You consider his proposition, pursing your lips when he rehashes what he said on Lizard Island. 

Helping a friend. You wonder if it’s something he says to every pirate he makes an alliance with, but you doubt it. You’ve been on his submarine long enough to know that that word isn’t in this man’s vocabulary—you wonder what it means to him. 

It’s a huge plan, one that could fail at any time, and sure, there are things he’s not telling you—like how the Poneglyphs and Doflamingo are correlated, perhaps they’re not—but you know your answer. You’ve always been a sucker for revenge plans. 

Before you tell him, you ponder how your crew is going, if they’d be scared that you’re even considering helping someone become a Warlord. You think about the ones you’ve defeated or fought before: Crocodile, Blackbeard, Moria, Bartholomew Kuma. But there’s a few that helped you. Boa Hancock is the main woman on your mind, and you smile. You hope Luffy’s okay. 

So, your decision is an easy one. You smile. “When do we start?”  

— Scene 5 —

Bepo knows something’s going on. He sees the silent conversations between you and his captain and the meetings in Law’s office. At first, he thinks nothing of it since Law’s training you, But when he watches you and Law whisper in a crowded room, his poor little heart can’t take it any longer. 

“So, you and Law…”

You don’t look up from the map Bepo has you outlining. “What about me and Law?”

“Are you… you know…”

When you glance at him, the fur on his cheeks is tinted red. “What are you talking about?”

Bepo squeaks. “Is there something going on?” 

Your hand pauses on the page. “Like what?”

“Something… you know,” Bepo whines. “Don’t make me say it.”

“Bepo, I couldn’t make you say anything. I don’t even know what you’re referring to.” 

“Are you kissing?” He slaps his paw over his mouth. 

You gape at him, your face heating up. “What? No!”

“I’m sorry!” Bepo cries.

You sit awkwardly with your face in your hands, having dropped the pencil at his question. 

“Talk to Law if you’re so concerned about it,” You say, dropping your hands to your lap. “But never ask that again.”

Bepo stands from the table, his chair scraping. “I’m sorry!” 

And then he runs from the room. You stare at where he just sat, contemplating if you and Law looked like that from an outsider’s perspective. Surely, you have countless meetings about the mission and training at almost every possible island the submarine encounters, but that’s all business. Your body warms like it's trying to rid itself of a virus. 

You rest your forehead on the table. If the Heart Pirates think something like that is happening, the alliance between you and Law will never work. He can’t have his crew distrusting him. 

There’s a crackling through the speakers. 

“Meeting in the common area in 5. I won’t tell you again.”

When you get there, the crew is packed inside. You spot Bepo near the front of the room and push through pirates to get there; all of them are happy to let you through. You wonder if they think you’re only here for one reason. The thought disgusts you. 

“We have a new objective,” Law announces. “To kill Domflamingo, a Warlord status must be achieved.”

The Heart Pirates gasp and start murmuring. A few pirates, namely Uni, Ikkaku, and Clione, who you’ve yet to have a proper conversation with, eye you with disdain. They clearly have a problem with you, a Straw Hat, being here, but you give them a tight-lipped smile and look back to Law. 

He looks at you and says your name. “We’re forming an alliance. She has Devil Fruit powers that could make the process quicker. Therefore, we’ll be working together for the foreseeable future. We leave for the New World now.”

Your smile is still a thin line, but you know why he had to tell him—they’re his crew, after all. 

“So get your shit together,” He glares at the three pirates who regard you with contempt. “Back to work.” 

A collective yes, captain rumbles through the room before they go back to their tasks. 

“And Bepo,” Law says, his voice low. “Get your head out of the gutter.” 

Bepo whines and then sulks as he leaves, his head down. Penguin and Shachi bump his shoulders, snickering. You shadow them down to the boiler room, your steps light and calculated. 

It was a technique Law taught you, how to keep your steps silent. Your training has been more beneficial than you imagined—Zoro will be so proud of your stealth skills—and you still have much to learn. 

Seam has been easier each time you summon it, and the thought of doing so now brings little to no negative emotions. You’ve learnt to embrace the technique instead of fearing it—as you said, there’s no use dwelling on the past. 

Two weeks isn’t a lot of time, but you reiterate the plan in your mind every available moment Bepo has you watching him work instead of making you outline islands. It’s all you think about before you sleep and when you wake up. That and Law. 

You shake your head. There’s no time to think about him when the most important year of your life is about to begin. 

Your mother always told you that if you risk nothing, you’re risking everything. And if you and Law are to stop Doflamingo and whatever he has over Law’s head, it’s only a matter of time before you must decide what is worth risking for the sake of humanity. 

— Scene 6 —

“Docking!” 

The submarine surfaces at a random island in the New World. You’re the first to emerge from the entrance, and people stare at the submarine with suspicious glares. You pay no mind.

It’s been three months since Law told you his plan and three months since your hands last bled. The Heart Pirates are on their way to Hachinosu Pirate Island, where the Poneglyph is, and Law recommended a trial for the heart-stealing scheme. The victim is some lowly pirate named Seamus Wells. 

Since you’ve entered the New World, you’ve used Seam far more than you ever thought you would, no longer holding back your true power. The mere thought of showing your crew what you’ve become fills you with such anticipation that you can barely contain it nowadays. 

Bepo runs past you, the plank of wood in his paws. He slams it down on the concrete, causing a few civilians to flee in terror. “Oops.”

“Seamus Wells should be staying on the island's east side,” Law announces as his crew files onto the deck. “Keep away from there, understand?” 

Yes, captain. 

“We’ve got five hours to kill before we need to be there,” He says, adjusting the katana on his shoulder. “Do whatever you want.” 

You raise your eyebrows. “You’re not coming?”

“I’d rather stay here than be recognised and jeopardise our plan. Here,” He fishes a baby transponder snail from his coat. “Take this. I’ll let you know if the plan changes.” 

You take it from him, noticing the patterned hat on its head, which is similar to the one that sits on Law’s. “That’s so cute.”

“Shut it,” Law snaps, his cold exterior never wavering. “Bepo, accompany her.”

“Doubt she needs an escort, but okay,” Bepo jokes, pulling you with him off the sub. 

Law turns, pausing to scan the rear of the submarine with his sharp eyes before he goes inside.

Guess he’s all business today. 

“Come on, are you hungry?” 

You smile at the polar bear, dragging your gaze away from Law’s retreating figure. “I could eat.”

Penguin cuts in, his steps aligning with yours. “I’m starving.”

“Me, too,” Shachi groans. 

Bepo shakes his head. “Why’re you two here?”

“Captain told you to accompany her, and we’re accompanying you.” 

Bepo opens to mouth to reply, most likely a complaint, but you point to a restaurant in the distance and a line of people outside. “Let's go there.”

Penguin and Shachi’s steps increase, and then they are running toward the building. There are a few stray screams, but most people disappear when you join the end of the line. 

“What’s their problem?” Bepo stills beside you, and you look up at him. “What?”

“Look.”

Your face and Law’s hang on the wall of the restaurant entrance, and an obscene number of berries are listed below your names. Wanted posters. 

“They know you’re working together.”

“I got that,” You snap, the mere presence of the posters souring your mood. Cursing under your breath, you feel your chest tighten. “But the Straw Hats are meant to be dead.” 

“We should go back to the sub,” Penguin mumbles, his eyes darting in every direction. When you turn to see where he’s looking, you glare at the civilians approaching slowly with firearms. There aren’t many; you count fifteen minimum, but the fact that you’ve been here less than twenty minutes has irritation morphing your features. 

“They’re not meant to know I’m alive.” 

Bepo whines beside you. “We gotta go.”

“Okay, in a second.” You take a second to inspect yours. 400 million berries. 

You pout in confusion. When did that increase? 

And then you slide your eyes to Law’s. 450 million berries. 

You smirk before you notice the whispering occurring around you. Perhaps if you saw them in your own time and not in front of a large group of civilians, you’d taken them down and show Law. There is only a 50 million berry difference. 

The others are already down the road when you decide to leave the line, your nerves simmering. 

If the world knows a Straw Hat is alive, you may as well embrace it. 

“Hurry up!”

You twist your lips, stopping in the middle of the street to observe the civilians. 

“Get outta here, pirate!” “Yeah! Unless you want your head on a stick.” 

You feel a pang of regret in your chest at the fear on their faces but continue toward the Polar Tang. 

There are quick, heavy footfalls behind you. In the distance, you see Law standing on the deck, watching you. His face remains emotionless, but you see a familiar glint in his eye. 

When the person swings their weapon, you dodge swiftly, moving your head slightly to the left. You have yet to face them, but you can imagine the gobsmacked look on their face. 

You refuse to fight a civilian, instead choosing to break out into a sprint toward the submarine. 

“Took you a while,” Law teases. “I was starting to get worried.”

You stick your tongue out, crossing the wood plank to jump onto the deck. “Awww, you care about me?”

“Tsk,” Law turns around, cheeks warming. “We’re going to dock elsewhere.”

You hop down the stairs, preparing yourself for the jolt of the entrance closing. The sub immediately submerges, and Law touches your shoulder to keep you steady. 

“Guess what I saw,” You bite back your smile. 

“Enlighten me.” 

“My bounty’s gone up.”

Law smirks, glancing at the barely contained smile on your face. “Oh, yeah?”

“400 million.”

He whistles lowly. “Soon, you’ll be in the big league, sweetheart.”

You knock his bicep with your shoulder. “Okay, Mr 450 million.” 

“Captain! The east side of the island is approaching.” 

“Surface there,” Law replies without taking his eyes off you. 

His voice lowers. “We’re moving the mission forward. The island’s already aware of our presence. May as well get it over with now.” 

“Docking!”

“Let’s go.”

—

Seamus Wells works in a fish factory. The sun sets behind you as you step through discarded fish guts and bones, the floor slathered with sticky blood. You hold your hand over your nose and mouth, the smell enough to make you gag. 

Law strides ahead of you, the scabbard that holds his katana reflecting the deep gold of the sun. How he’s walking through here fine is unknown to you, but you try to catch up with him, the soles of your boots slipping slightly. 

“You’d think they’d have a better way of managing this,” You murmur. “Poor fish.” 

“Quiet.” 

You frown, mocking him. A crack from the floor above makes your face drop. 

Law stops ahead of you, his hand out, his index finger pointed. You know the gesture. Shut the fuck up, and don’t move. 

His head turns slowly until you see his sidelong glance on you. There are no further sounds, and you hold your breath. 

You realise the sun goes down fairly quickly on San Faldo, and the night air wafts over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. It’s suddenly dark, and the waves against the wharf outside have settled. 

Unease stews in your stomach, and you resist the urge to run. You don’t dare look behind you in fear of what you may see, focusing your eyes on the staircase in the corner. Across from you, Law senses your discomfort, and his steps are light and calculated as he makes his way over to you. 

You grasp his hand, chills going down your spine as the wind whistles through a crack in the broken window on the far wall. The scene reminds you of Thriller Bark, and you set your jaw in an attempt to stop shivering. 

Law’s hand is big and warm in yours, his skin calloused. His head is on a swivel, monitoring for any danger. You grip harder, moving your other hand to the crook of his elbow. 

And despite the terror coursing through your veins, you can’t help but take note of the hard muscle. It’s a good distraction but not important right now, and you almost laugh at your ridiculousness. Law looks down at you, a quizzical twinkle in his eye, but he doesn’t move an inch. 

You shake against him, the breeze finding its way under your clothes, and notice that you can see it when you breathe. When did the temperature drop so drastically? 

Law points upstairs, to which you do nothing. If he was expecting a response, he didn’t get one. Then, he raises his hand. 

“Shambles,” He whispers, and you almost lose your balance as you land at the foot of the stairs. 

“Don’t make any unnecessary noise,” Law leans to whisper in your ear, and you shiver. 

You silently salute, choosing to lighten the mood with a silly gesture that he blinks at. Law makes to go up the stairs, ignoring your gesture. Panic takes hold of your chest, and you tug him back into you. 

“What’re you doing?”

Law scrunches his face. “Me? What’re you doing?” 

You squeak when there’s a scuffle. Clearly, over it, Law sighs and takes the stairs two at a time. And since he knows you won’t stay downstairs alone, he isn’t surprised when you chase after him, your hand returning to his forearm. 

What you see is nothing short of disgusting. 

“What the fuck.”

The man, who you know is Seamus, sits on a wooden chair, fish blood soaking his clothes. 

“Keep away from me!” 

“Seriously?” Law utters, unimpressed. 

“Stay back!”

You scowl. “And to think I was scared shitless.” 

Law steps away from you. “Room.” 

A familiar blue dome covers you. Law draws his katana from its scabbard, its sleek design glinting in the moonlight. He slices the air, and Seamus is dismembered, his head floating a few feet above his body. 

Seamus screams, noticing his body sitting in the chair headless. “Don’t kill me!”

Law makes quick work of the fish blood, using his power to remove it from Seamus’ clothes. You watch in awe as the white of the t-shirt turns pristine.

You’ve told Law of your admiration for his Devil Fruit powers. He usually waves it off with pink-tinted cheeks and an unamused expression. But watching something like this in action, you want to know just how deep his power goes. 

“Please! I’ll do anything,” Seamus sobs, tears and snot coating his face. “Please don’t kill me.” 

“As you’ve said, asshole,” Law steps back and retracts room. “Your turn.”

You feel your icy cheeks defrost at the realisation of his actions. You give him a smile of appreciation and approach Seamus. 

But when he looks at you, his crying ceases. “What’re you gonna do, huh? Slap me with those little hands? You should let your boyfriend do the work.” 

Law grunts behind you, but you cock your head, pointedly ignoring the boyfriend call. 

Seamus chokes out a laugh between his hiccups. “You don’t scare me.” 

You shrug and place your hand on his greasy hair. “Seam.” 

He goes limp in the chair, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. 

“Can I have fun with him while you’re in there?”

“Go ahead,” You joke before transporting into Seam. 

Seamus’ wails echo through your mindscape when you get there. It’s changed, and you give the scene a look of disgust. Thanks to Seamus, the walls of Seam are painted red, fish blood dripping from the Sunny, coagulating on the sands of Alabasta, and staining the seas of the East Blue. You curse him for tainting your memories. 

He’s running toward the house, and you claw your hand. “Sew.”

He’s yanked back, a thick thread wrapped around his neck. He struggles against it as you pull him toward you, and when he gets a glimpse of you, he screams. 

Needles materialise in your hands, and you slam one of them down just in front of his crotch, to which his eyes bulge out of his head.

“You were talking such a tough game out there, Seamus. What happened?” You'd surely crack a few teeth if you clenched your jaw any harder. “You even said I wasn’t scary, yet you screamed when you saw me.”

He says nothing, but his throat is starting to become raw. 

“You’ve ruined Seam with your stupid, fishy blood tactic,” You complain, sinking the second needle into the grass beside his foot, just knicking the edge of his shoe. “Now, it's all I’m gonna see for the next few weeks.” 

Sighing, you consider him again, groaning when you see that the front of his pants is darker than the rest. 

“Ergh,” You scrunch your nose. “I’m gonna leave now. My job’s done.”

“Don’t kill me!”

When you transport out of Seam, you see Law position his hand for scalpel, and you immediately remove your fingers from the strands of hair.

“Oh,” You roll your lips between your teeth when you circle the chair. You told Law to make a masterpiece, and he did, albeit a little psychotically. 

Law has a callous smile playing on his lips, and the sight is utterly intoxicating. The first time you saw the expression and vacant silver gaze, you understood why they call him the Surgeon of Death—the man is simply brutal. When you first met him, you thought his blood ran cold, but you hadn’t met the man Shakky spoke of until he took the first heart of one hundred. Initially, he scared you, but now, you’re terribly and irrevocably fascinated by him. If only those people knew the side of him that you did. 

“Have fun in there?”

“Looks like your fun puts mine to shame.”

Seamus’s chest is raw, his skin in strips. That’s all you see before you look away. 

“Do it,” You say. “And make it painful.”

Law coughs a laugh. “Feeling a little sadistic, are we?”

You arch an eyebrow. “People like him deserve it.” 

He hums and turns his attention back to Seamus, and you watch as a cube emerges from his chest. It floats into Law’s palm, and he gives it a little squeeze. He observes the body before him writhe in pain, but no noise escapes—Seamus’ soul is still in Seam after all. 

Law hums. “Not as satisfying.”

Clicking your tongue, you remove Seamus from your mindscape, and the room fills with shrieks. You wince, your shoulders raising to your ears. 

“Okay, we’re done,” You say, spinning and making a beeline for the stairs. “C’mon, Hachinosu is waiting for us.” 

Law shoves the heart into his coat and pries his eyes from his victim. 

— Scene 7 —

Your eye twitches as you watch a pirate sock Bepo in the face. You’ve been put on rest before the mission in Hachinosu. Law told you to save energy for it, so you follow his professional instructions. 

On the way to the drop-off point, a ship started bombing the submarine, hence why you’re cringing as Bepo takes another hit.

You stand on the deck of the Polar Tang while the Heart Pirates fight. They looked to be rookies when they attacked the Polar Tang, but you know not to underestimate rookies, especially since you’re a Straw Hat, so when Penguin joked that it was going to be an easy battle, you arched an eyebrow and shook your head. Oh, how wrong he was. 

Now, Penguin lays on the ground holding his arm. You’re sure it's broken. 

“Get up, Penguin!” You yell. “Thought this was gonna be easy! We’re in the New World!”

He whines, rolling on the dirt. “Shut up!”

An explosion rocks the submarine, and you teeter, making a sound of surprise. Your feet slide on the salty deck, waves from the impact crashing over the left side. Another cannonball lands not 20 feet away, and you start to panic. “Guys!” 

Law gave you strict orders to not use your power—ever the responsible doctor. But with how things are going, you’ll be breaking his rules. 

“Fire!” The voice is muffled by the waves, but you hear it. 

“Sew.”

Threads weave together before you until they form a giant sheet, into which the airborne cannonball falls. Using one of Luffy’s offensive techniques, you fling the bomb back toward the ship it came from. Cries and screams echo before it turns the deck to splinters. 

“Hey!” Law calls, his voice gruff. “I thought I told you not to use that.”

You turn to see him on the ground beneath the sub. “Sorry, my life was in danger.” 

“You’re never in danger,” Law quips. “Not with me around. Now, go inside.”

“Inside?” Your heart skips a beat. Not with me around.  

“You’re less likely to use your power,” He dodges an attack, his katana in his hands as he swipes at them. “Please, go.” 

Sighing, you follow his orders—but only because he said please. 

It’s not long before the rest of the crew piles inside. But you see Law holding something white and mangled instead of his proud smirk. You tug your eyebrows together and draw closer to him. 

“What’s that?” You ask warily, having a feeling you know. Considering his head is bare, his black tendrils standing on end, your heart drops. “Oh, Law.”

He sniffs. “Nothing to worry about. Just a hat.” 

You know he’s lying, but nod anyway and leave him. 

Bepo’s solemn face haunts you. He follows you around, not knowing what to do when his captain is heartbroken. 

“How’s your jaw?” You ask, remembering the punch. 

“Oh, I'm fine. Nothing I can’t handle.” 

You look over at Ikkaku, who still holds a grudge against you, but her gaze is softer than usual this time. 

You give her a smile—an olive branch, despite not doing anything to offend her other than being on the submarine, and bearing the values of your crew. She gives you one back, and you take it as an appreciation for using your power to save the Polar Tang from the cannonballs. Uni and Clione sit beside her with the same reluctant gratitude. You take it as a win. 

The more you think about it, the more the whole ship seems on edge. The crew’s footsteps are light, and the common area is not nearly as rowdy as usual. One wrong move and Law will crack. 

So, you take it upon yourself to be the first one to disturb him in his office. He’s been locked in there for hours, and since your bedroom is directly opposite, it only makes sense—at least that’s what you're telling yourself. 

You rap your knuckles on the door three times, slowly opening it after. “Law.”

The room is dark, and you hold your tongue when a joke surfaces in your mind. 

“I don’t want to talk right now.”

You step further in. “Are you okay?”

Law makes no sound. 

“If this is about your hat—”

“Leave me alone.” His voice is so broken that it hurts your chest. 

“I could fix it.”

He says your name softly. “Please, leave.” 

You swallow and nod once. “Of course… sorry for bothering you.” 

On your way out, you spot the cause of his distress sitting on the table. You clench your fists to resist the urge to take it, but the voice in your mind wins, and you snatch it. 

You rush from the room, and if Law sees you, he says nothing. 

When you get to your room, you lock the door behind you. The fur hat in your hands is covered in dirt and specks of blood, and it's utterly ruined. You curse at the state of it. 

You lay the pieces on your bed, figuring out how to piece them back together. It takes a few tries, but once you’ve got a design that works, you put your hand over the material. 

Immediately, the sections come together, forming a brim at the front instead of around the bottom like the original hat. It’s different, but you work with what you’ve got. 

You hold it in your hands once it’s formed and smile. Deep in your stomach, there’s an inkling of doubt that Law won’t accept it, but you hope he can appreciate the effort. 

—

You keep the hat to yourself for the night, not wanting to impose Law anymore. When the first sounds of the crew rising from their slumber wakes you, you’re quick to dash to the infirmary. Law’s in here every morning, and when you open the door, you’re not shocked to see him. What is jarring is the lack of his signature hat in the room—the one you’ve got under your arm. 

“Morning,” You greet, hiding the garment from his view. Law grunts, not bothering to look up from the paper he scribbles on. “I’ve got something for you.”

“If it’s one of Shachi’s new breakfast foods, I don’t want it.” 

You roll your eyes. “I’d never subject you to that.”

Law exhales a laugh. 

“This is far more important than that, anyway,” You walk up behind him. “Turn around.” 

He shakes his head. “I’ve got a lot of work to do, sweetheart. Can it wait?”

“Nope,” Smiling, you put your hand on his shoulder. Law sighs and glances at you. 

The look on his face is one you’ll never forget. 

“Wha–”

You suppress a giggle and shove the hat in his face. “I fixed it for you.” 

Law turns, his eyes wide. He takes the hat from your hands, the soft material delicate in his grip. He’s speechless. 

“I took it from your office last night, and I know I shouldn’t have, but you were so upset.” 

He shakes his head in disbelief. 

This lack of speech makes you nervous. “I know it’s not the same as it was before. There was no way I could salvage enough of it to do that, so now you have a brim. I think it looks cute, but—”

“Shut up.” 

You come up short, immediately closing your mouth. The infirmary falls silent, with you no longer rambling and Law standing there in shock, hearts in his eyes. 

“Law—”

“Thank you.”

His words have an underlying connotation; you just know it, and how he looks at you confirms it. 

You make a sound of surprise, your body freezing. You swear he can hear your heartbeat from how loud it is in your ears. “What?”

His gaze of adoration quickly fades when he sees your shock. He drops the hat on the trolley and turns back to his desk. “Are you hungry? I’m sure breakfast is ready.” 

You don’t know what he’s saying. You’re not listening. I love you, I love you. 

The tension between you is suffocating, weighing heavily on your chest. “Law.”

He lets out an awkward laugh, unsure what to say. 

“Look at me, Law.”

“I can’t,” He whispers. 

You tilt your head. “Why?”

“Because you don’t need to see me like this.”

“Like what?” Your tone grows hard. “Like you have feelings?”

He glares you. 

“You have a heart, Law. I see it every day,” You say. “So don’t pretend like you’re some cold, heartless man because you’re not.” 

When he doesn’t answer, you go on. “Do you need proof? I used to think you only picked me up in Sabaody because I was useful to you—”

“—you were—”

“—you wanted to help me, and you did. Because you’re kind, Law. You want to help people; otherwise, you wouldn’t try to kill the four emperors.” 

“And if I said it was purely selfish?” 

“I’d say you’re lying. Because despite this revenge plan you have for Doflamingo, you don’t want him hurting anyone else. You care for people.”

“Of course, I care for people,” Law snaps. “I wouldn’t be a doctor if I didn’t want to help others.” 

You shrug. “Need I say anymore?” 

“I’ve work to do.” Law murmurs, his eyes downcast and tongue in his cheek. 

You know when you’re being dismissed, so you hum and turn to leave, but not without noticing the tight grip he has on the fur hat. 

— Scene 8 —

Hijacking a ship is out of your expertise, especially a smuggling vessel. 

When you and Bepo spot the ship in the distance from the deck of the Polar Tang, its lights bright in the darkness, you immediately notify Law. 

“Are you sure it's the one?”

“Yes,” You groan. “Who else is out this far? Besides, there are no other ships around.”

Then, Hakugan directs the submarine toward the ship. 

Law shambles you and Bepo onto the vessel, where the pair of you are to distract someone and take control. It takes a while for you to remember what Law said as you and Bepo wander the ship. Somehow, you find yourself in the same place you started. The deck is empty, though there are lights on inside. 

“Where and to whom are we meant to do this again?”

Bepo shrugs. “I was too scared to listen.”

“Oh my g—”

“This way, Sir.”

You jump behind a pillar, pulling Bepo with you, though you doubt he's hidden. 

Behind you, several more footsteps approach, but this time, it's Shachi and Penguin with Uni, Clione, and Hakugan. 

“Captain and Hakugan have seized the control room,” Penguin says. “No thanks to you two.”

You gape. “Not my fault his instructions were shit.”

“This way, we have to protect Captain.” 

This way. You look back in the direction of the man who passed you before. Why would you call someone Sir on a smuggling vessel?

You keep your mouth shut for the moment, following Penguin to the control room. When you get there, there’s an unconscious man on the floor, and when you look at Law, he’s pressing buttons, ignoring the looks from Hakugan, who steers the ship. 

“Are we on course?”

Law side-eyes you as Hakugan answers. “Yes.” 

“I, uh,” You start, averting your eyes. “Had a question.”

“Out with it,” Law mumbles. 

The pirates around you listen in, curious. 

“Are there meant to be this many people on a smuggling vessel? Especially noble-like people?” 

Law’s head spins around, his eyes dark. “What?”

“This guy was leading another guy somewhere, and he called him Sir,” You bite your lip. “I was just wondering if that’s normal for a —”

“Fuck,” Law curses loudly. “You imbeciles, this is a passenger ship.” 

Bepo gasps, looking faint. “Oh, we really messed up.” 

Your jaw falls open, and Bepo grabs you, wrapping his arms around you. “Take me to your dreamland. I can’t be here.” 

“Where did you see these people?” 

“Umm, back down on the main deck.”

Law grits his teeth. “You said this was the ship.”

“To be fair, it’s dark, and this ship was far—”

He pushes past you and out the door. The control room is quiet, save for Bepo’s whimpers. The familiar zip of shambles sounds outside before Law reenters. 

“We’re heading for Hachinosu already.” 

“That’s good, right?” 

“Yes, Bepo,” Law mumbles, leaning over the control panel. “We’ll be there much earlier than expected.” 

“Why don’t you sound happy about that?” You are hesitant to ask. 

“Because,” He turns to look at you directly. “The king and nobles of Hachinosu are on this ship.” 

Bepo almost drops to the ground, Penguin shoving himself under the mink’s arm. “You’re kidding me.” 

“We’ll have to lay low,” Law addresses his crew. “Draw no attention to yourself, and don’t tell anyone who you are. Understood?” 

Yes, captain. 

Law rubs his forehead, mumbling curse words to himself. 

He says your name. “I know this is a big favour to ask, but is there any way you could create casual clothes for the crew? I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t absolutely necessary, but knowing this crew…”

“How long until we reach the island?” 

“One day.” 

You purse your lips. “Give me two hours.”

—

Two hours is enough time for you but too much for the rest of the crew. As you finish the last garment, Penguin’s pants, there’s a sudden scream from below the main deck. 

Law inhales sharply, his jaw set. “If that’s—”

“Shachi, this is your fault,” You hear Penguin through the door of the control room. You glance at Law, whose eyes narrow. “Fuck, run.”  

Hakugan, Uni, and Clione burst through the door, Penguin, Jean-Bart, and Shachi close behind them. Law holds his tongue, anger simmering in his gaze. 

The door slams shut, and the rumbling of voices outside increases. 

“Don’t tell me you did what I told you not to do.”

Shachi grimaces. “We didn’t do it on purpose, Captain…”

“Morons, the lot of you,” Law snaps. “If the King of Hachinosu knows we’re here, he knows why we’re here, and he won’t stop until all of us are dead, got it?” 

Penguin gulps. “What do we do?” 

“Pirates!” 

Law groans with frustration. “Room and Shambles.” 

You hit the deck, literally. You’re outside, and the chaos of the passengers is on the other side of the ship. Bepo moans in pain beside you, and Law stands in the middle of his crew. 

“Stay here, and don’t make a sound.” He flicks his fingers again, and then he’s gone. 

Penguin sighs, rubbing his head. “He made that hurt on purpose.” 

Shachi hums in agreement, and you roll your eyes. 

“Maybe if you two weren’t so loud, we wouldn’t be in this mess,” Bepo mumbles, glaring at his best friends.

“Says you! We can’t go a day without hearing you whine,” Shachi quips.

Bepo makes a sound of indignation. “That really hurts me, you know that?” 

“Yeah, well—”

“Stop,” You whisper, noticing a presence nearby. The crew freezes, and Bepo turns to you, terror morphing his features. 

“Sew.” 

“Argh!”

You push yourself up, walking directly to where your threads caught someone. A man in his late 30s resists Sew's hold on him. 

“You dirty pirate! Get this off me!”

You stare at him. He’s dressed fairly well, with a white suit and gold accents. A noble. 

“Hey! I see you! Get away from me!” 

Pursing your lips, you decide what to do. In his hand, obscured by the long train of his jacket tail, is a handgun. 

“Hey—” You throw your hand up, wrapping threads around his mouth in case he draws attention. 

He screams against the cotton, his finger squeezing the trigger of his gun. You duck, and the bullet flies off the metal railing. Still, you remain silent. 

You hear Bepo call your name and wince. Now, this guy knows who you are. 

The man’s eyes widen, and he starts tugging his arms, his gun tumbling to the deck in his struggle. He cries out when he sees it close to your feet. 

You tilt your head, considering him and your plan of action. He did just try to shoot you. 

He knows your name, who you are, and what you’re doing on the ship (if he knows about the Poneglyph on Hachinosu). 

You toss up your options. On one hand, he is a civilian. On the other, he knows that it were you on the ship tonight, subduing him. Who knows what the newspaper will write about you if that gets out. You hurt innocent civilians? 

Nothing about this man is innocent, that’s a fact, but standing here, staring at him, you don’t know what to do. 

It isn’t until you hear Law ask where you are back with the crew that you release a breath. Law comes over, his eyebrows tugged together. 

“What’s up with this guy?” 

“I don’t know what to do with him.” 

The man cries, tears running down his cheeks and over the threads covering his mouth. Law frowns. 

“Why don’t I just take his heart and be done with it? He’s a pirate himself.” 

You give the man a once over, still processing what just happened. “He shot at me.” 

Law eyes go cold as he cocks his head, regarding the noble with indifference. “This will only hurt a little.” 

You watch as he uses Scalpel, the man’s heart sliding from his chest. He passes out. 

Law turns back to you, shoving the heart into his coat. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine,” You nod. “Just didn’t know what to do.” 

“That’s okay. You did good nonetheless.” And then he wraps his fingers around your hand to whisk you away. 

“Wait,” You exhale, looking back at the man’s unconscious body. “There.” 

A piece of paper sticks out of his pants pocket. It’s small, only half the size of a normal map, but you rush over to it. Unfolding it, you recognise the style. 

“Law.”

As he approaches, his boots click on the deck, peering over your shoulder. “What is that?”

“A map,” You whisper, turning it around to get a better angle of the island it represents. “If this is Hachinosu…” 

“It could be where the Poneglyph is,” Law mumbles, pointing to the skull in the middle of the paper. “But why would a noble have access to this?” 

You shrug. “Maybe it’s a part of their plan. I mean, he did come out here alone…” 

Law hums with consideration, his gaze flickering to yours. There’s a glimmer of something behind his usual icy front, and you’re lucky you’re close enough to see it.

“You’re right. We’ll take it anyway, but be careful tomorrow. Who knows what they’ve got planned for when we arrive.” 

— Scene 9 —

The crick in your back flares, as you hurry off the ship—sleeping upright in the control room is taking its toll on you. After Law took the noble’s heart, you and the crew were sent to the control room to sleep. Law said he took care of the remainder of the passengers… whatever that meant. 

Law isn’t far behind you, but the rest of the crew is already on the island, fighting off pirates. 

Now, you’re to find the site of the rumoured Poneglyph in the middle of the island. You take a different route to everyone else in case anyone is seized. With the map from the noble clutched in your fist, you run. 

“Go left! I’ll take the right.”

Nodding, you veer toward the large building on the port, hand out to summon threads to restrain the men running at you. Their swords slash at the strings, but you’re gone before they free themselves. 

An explosion makes you stumble as you enter a warehouse, men with guns pointed at you the moment you step inside. “Seam.”

The eyes of the gunmen immediately go dazed, and they lower their guns involuntarily—you can feel the addition of them to your mindscape. Fifteen. You gasp at the fact that it actually works. 

Seam has evolved. You’ve only used it once, summoned the ability without physically touching someone, and it was shoddy at best. What you did now was a shot in the dark. There’s no way you knew it would work. 

But you don’t dwell on it when you run through the building and out the other side into an alleyway. Someone screams at the sight of you before gunshots ring through the street. 

You duck, taking a sharp right into another warehouse, this one empty. The outside sounds: bombs ticking and exploding, cannonballs, yells and cries, and swords on swords are muffled inside here. You tiptoe through, checking behind doors and peering around corners before advancing. 

There’s no missing the giant pirate skull in the island's centre, your target when you emerge. The map in your hand becomes useless when you notice the behemoth landmark. Who needs a map when you can see the thing everywhere in the city? 

Stepping out of the warehouse, the area before you is full of Heart Pirates on resident pirates, fighting mercilessly with swords, fists, and guns. Swallowing your nervous pants, you aim a thread around a pirate sneaking up behind Clione, who’s already engaged in a fight. The man gags as you pull him backward, your face becoming a scowl when you look at him. 

“Going for a man’s back is cowardly,” You say, ignoring how the man spits at you. 

“You stupid bitch, get off me.” 

Clenching your jaw, you throw him against the wall and string him up. His knife clatters to the cobblestones, and you leave him there—Law’s crew is important to him, like hell you’re going to let someone hurt them. 

You turn, dodging a fist flying at your face. Making a sound of surprise, you sweep your leg out, catching the man off guard. He goes down, groaning in pain. 

“Marines!”

You feel your heart drop into your stomach. Whipping around, you don’t see the familiar white and blue uniform, and you’re not going to. You run away from the port, many resident pirates scattering into the side streets and yelling the same warning. 

Why are the Marines here? And how’d they get here so quickly?

You hear your name being called, the sound echoing. Bepo stands there, his arms full of beige woven bags—the stolen hearts. Your eyes widen at the number he carries already. 

“Go right! There’s a road that leads straight there.”

Smiling, you thank Bepo and follow his directions. Your eyebrows tug together when you recall the hearts. There had to be at least thirty, and who knows how many trips Bepo has already made to the passenger vessel. 

Shaking your head, you direct your brain to your target—the Poneglyph. You can’t read them; only one person can, and you miss her like crazy. She’d be able to understand it and relay the knowledge to you because there’s no way she’d tell Law about it at this point in time. 

You wish Robin could hear you now, wherever she is. 

Your path to the middle is easy after transporting twenty-eight more pirate souls into Seam. You manage to dodge all but one nasty punch to the cheek but get shot in the shoulder after purposefully instigating a pirate (not your best idea, but he was insulting the very existence of Luffy, something you’d never stand for). 

You know Law will give you an earful when he sees you next. 

The lead bullet is lodged in your muscle, and the bleeding is staunched thanks to the ripped hem of your t-shirt. You could have made a bandage using Sew, but your Devil Fruit powers dwindle with every passing second—if a pirate were to attack you now, you couldn’t fight them off.

The dizziness and ringing in your ears are almost unbearable, though you’re unsure if the ringing is from the punch or the way you hit your head when you fell from the impact of the bullet—you’re positive Law won’t care where it came from, just the fact that both of those things happened to you. 

You blink away the stars in your vision and cough. The wound is itchy, and you resist the urge to dig your fingers into the hole and rip the bullet out yourself. The injury, paired with the pirate souls in Seam, is taking a toll on you. 

“Fuck,” You pant, pausing to lean against a palm tree. Peering down at your shoulder, you almost faint at the amount of blood that has soaked through your makeshift bandage. When you inhale, your head gets lighter, so you choose to keep your breaths short. 

You can feel your head drooping, but push off the tree to continue. Gone are the cobblestones, and in their place is dirt. Pressing your palm on your wound, you wince and think against doing it again. You remember Law telling you to put pressure on injuries like this, but you don’t think you can—you’re going to pass out from the pain. 

Blood drips onto the sandy dirt beneath your feet, and the scorching sun strengthens the metallic scent. Your skin burns under the same heat, and you fear you won’t make it to the Poneglyph at this rate. 

Up ahead, you hear the clang of swords. You whine, knowing that you won’t be able to fight someone with a weapon in this condition. So, you hurry down a barren alleyway, the cool air of the shadows allowing you some relief. You stumble but catch yourself on the wall. 

Sure, you’ve had bullet wounds in the past, namely in Alabasta, but it felt nothing like this. With a few deep breaths, you feel no different. If only Chopper were here, with his panicked assessments and swift procedures, you would be scolded but fixed up quickly. Usopp’s chaotic, anxiety-ridden laughter echoes in your ears, and you shake your head to rid your mind of memories. 

Another person’s presence, one not far away, weighs heavily on you. 

“Law…” There’s no use calling for him. He’s on the other side of the island. You know this, yet do it again. You wish you had the baby transponder snail he gave you on that island, the one with the fur hat like Law’s. An involuntary giggle escapes your lips. 

You can die without telling him— The souls in Seam wage war inside your mind, and all the yelling and screaming causes a sharp pain to throb behind your eye. “Shut up.” 

Going into your mindscape now would be foolish. You’d waste your available energy and pass out right here without fulfilling Law’s request—check the giant skull for the Poneglyph. It would kill you to disappoint him. 

You stagger out of the street; the sound of metal clanging and scraping is gone. Panting, you walk up the main road, the denser trees making it difficult to locate the entrance of the skull. 

With bloody hands, you push back stray hairs that stick to your forehead with sweat. The world around you gets fuzzy, but Law’s averted eyes and fake smile force you to go on. You knew the plan going into this, and if you were to disappoint him—you’ve already thought about this. 

You rub your eyes with your knuckles, squeezing your cheeks after to feel something in your face. When did your face start getting numb?

Faces pop into your head: Luffy, Zoro, Usopp, Sanji, Nami, Chopper, Robin, Franky, Brook… and you cry at the thought that you could leave them wondering what happened to you. Your stomach churns at the mere inkling that, at a time like this, a time when death rears his ugly head inside you, you have failed your family. You failed to stay alive. 

“I’m sorry,” You slur, your face sticky with tears and blood. “I love you.”

An explosion rattles the ground, and your mind is back on the situation. Your tongue moves around your mouth hopelessly, trying to form the one name you need, the one that will help you without a second thought, the one you—

Slurring Law’s name, you no longer feel your feet beneath you, but instead the ground on your cheek. You didn’t feel the impact. Dirt clumps with sticky blood, and you feel your body relax. It’s nice to finally lie down. 

You’ll wait here for Law. He’ll come and find you. He has to. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, but you wear a smile. Law, Law, Law. 

— Scene 10 —

You wake, though you don’t open your eyes. 

Law knows you’re awake, and you know he knows this, yet neither of you says a word. 

There’s no pain in your shoulder when you shift, finding yourself on your back, and you could cry at the mere thought that he found you. 

It isn’t until a tear drips from the corner of your eye into your ear that Law speaks up. 

“What the fuck were you thinking?” His voice is soft, but you sense the malice in this timbre. 

One drips into your other ear. It’s a steady stream of salty water that soon turns into sobs, ones that rack your shoulders and burn your chest. A sensation you haven’t felt since you found Luffy in the forest on Amazon Lily. 

“I’m sorry,” You whisper, your voice breaking. Law makes no sound. “I’m sorry.”

“You have no sense of self-preservation.” 

He’s mad. 

“Do you have any idea what would’ve happened if I hadn’t found you? If I hadn’t returned to the ship and realised you were taking much longer than planned? Fuck, you were minutes away from death.”

You sniffle, hiccuping. “I’m sorry.”

Law sighs hashly. “I know you are. Stop saying it.” 

Opening your eyes, you’re met with the ceiling. The same ceiling you woke up to on your first time here, and the one that keeps seeing you fall apart. 

“Law…” You peer over at him, your tears increasing when you see him sitting so close to the bed. You’re so happy to see him. “I was so scared.” 

You can hear him swallow from where you lay, his jaw set and gaze averted. You smile when you see his expression—you called it. 

“I knew you’d look like this.” The laugh you let out is rough, your throat raw. “You were the last thing I thought of.”

Law shakes his head and stands, giving you his back. “Don’t say shit like that.”

“I kept thinking about how disappointed you’d be that I didn’t get to the skull, that I didn’t find the Poneglyph—”

“I don’t care about the Poneglyph!” He spins around so quickly you barely see it. “I care about you!” 

Your bottom lip quivers and more tears roll down your cheeks. You wait for him to continue, too shocked to speak. 

“Do you know how close I was to losing it when I had to take that bullet out of you?” He yells. “When I found out it was poisoned? When I had to extract the poison from your body?” 

“I didn’t know it was poisoned.”

“Of course you didn't,” He laughs bitterly. “You were too busy dying to know.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek. “I’m sorry.” 

“You’ve been in that bed, unconscious for eight days,” Law says your name with such pain that when your eyes focus on his face again, you see his glassy eyes. “You had ninety-four souls in Seam. How did you do that?”

Ninety-four… 

“What?” You ask before realising what he’s saying, not even comprehending the fact you were unconscious for eight days. “How can you see inside Seam?”

“That’s not important—”

“It is! Tell me.”

Law sighs. “I can move incorporeal things, like souls; it’s how I switch people between bodies,” He explains. You store that little morsel of information for later, but now, you’re more fascinated with the fact that he can see your mindscape. “You had a lot of souls inside you. I can’t see into Seam, just the presence of these souls. But are you crazy? Ninety-four? That wouldn’t have helped with your injury. I’m surprised you didn’t pass out before you got shot.”

Law’s rambling and you fear he may start to spiral if he hasn’t already. 

You let out a weak sound. “Law…”

“Fuck,” He curses. “I’ve never prayed to a god until I saw you on the ground, bleeding out. You terrified me.” 

You’re going to be sick. You forget about Seam and try to push yourself up but quickly collapse when you lean on the wrong arm because what does he mean by that?

He’s at war with himself as runs his hands through his hair. “Why would you not come back to the ship when you got shot?” 

“Because I had to get to the Poneglyph for you.” 

Law scoffs, though the sound is not nearly as daunting as it normally is; instead, it’s sad. “Don’t you dare put your life in danger for me.” 

It’s your turn to scoff, and you finally get the strength to sit up. “Don’t tell me what to do.” 

“When it’s for my sake, then yes, I can. I’m not worth your pain or your death.” 

You swing your legs out of the bed, standing on shaky knees. 

Law’s eyes widen slightly. “Lay back down; you’re going to fall.”

“No,” You say, pointing your finger into his chest. “Don’t tell me what to do. Listen to me.” 

Law purses his lips, his eyes flickering down to where you jab him with your index finger. 

“You’re my crew, okay?” You know it sounds pathetic, but Law makes no move to ridicule you. “And I’d do anything for the people I love, even if that requires me to put my life in danger. So don’t stand there and tell me you’re not worth it when you mean more to me than you can imagine.” 

“That’s foolish,” Law whispers. Your thumping heart stops, and when you look up at him, a single tear runs down his cheek. You reach up to wipe it away, your thumb soft on his skin. You keep your hand on his cheek. 

“I’d do it a hundred times if it would help you reach your goal.”

Law swallows thickly. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I hadn’t found you one time, let alone a hundred times.” 

“You would’ve gone on with your crew and defeated all four Emperors and Doflamingo. I’m just someone you picked up on a whim.”

You know it’s a lie. 

Law chokes on a laugh, though there’s no humour. 

“You know that’s not true,” He spits. “I can’t do this without you knowing I know what it feels like with you. I hope you know that.” 

“Law…”

“I care for you,” Law mumbles, his tone harsh while he presses your palm to his cheek. “I can’t lose you, too, which is why you can’t keep putting yourself in these positions.”

There’s far more to this than you know, and it breaks your heart to find out he’s been through this before. 

“You’ve made this hell worth it. Everything I’ve done until now has brought me to you, and I’ll be damned if I let you hurt yourself to keep me happy, okay?”

You curse yourself when you start crying again. You can’t pinpoint when the ringing in your ears started, but it makes the world tilt. Laughter spills out of you unwillingly.

Law scowls, his vulnerable expression turning cold. He’s about to push you away. “I’m not talking to you if you’re going to mock me. I know I’m a heartless bastard, but I’m not joking.” 

You pull him back to you with your good arm. “Why would I mock you? Come here, you idiot.”

He stares at you a little longer, his hand resting on your cheek. Law’s gorgeous; you’ve known this since you first laid eyes on him. But seeing him so vulnerable flips a switch inside you. It’s gentle, the kiss you press to his cheek, and it’s pink, the blush high on his cheekbones. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” You say. “I’ll remain with you until you want me gone.”

“I’ll never want you gone,” He whispers, and your heart breaks. You smile, tears rolling into your mouth.

“Kiss me,” You say, reaching for him. Law meets you halfway, his other hand on your cheek as he brings his lips to yours. 

The first peck is cautious, and Law runs his tongue along his bottom lip while you wrap your hands around his neck, pulling his chest flush against yours. Your shoulder is numb, and it’s probably for the best that Law forgets about your injury when, with red cheeks and a hell of a lot more confidence, he kisses you again. 

“You know what this means?” Law whispers against your mouth, your salty tears mixing together. 

You exhale through your nose, your fingers playing with the hair on the nape of his neck before they slide higher, your hands gripping larger chunks. “What?”

He leans in for another kiss, this one lasting longer than the previous, and when you pull away, he chases after you. Law looks at you, his eyes smiling and half-lidded with desire. 

He brings you closer to him, his fingers brushing stray hairs away from your face. You giggle, pressing your lips to his cheeks and chin as he admires you. 

“It means,” Another peck. “That you’re my crew, too.”

“Shut up.” You exhale a laugh and shake your head.

Your lips glide over his, and both of your lips slightly chapped. You smile with giddiness, your teeth lightly knocking Law’s. 

“Quit smiling so much,” He mumbles, kissing the corner of your mouth. 

You don’t apologise. “I’m so happy.” 

Law drops his head to lean his forehead against yours. “Yeah, me too.” 

“I’m sorry about what I did,” You say, pushing the hair on his forehead back. He shakes his head. “I’m sorry for making you worry.” 

“I’ll always worry about you,” Law presses his mouth to your forehead before moving his hands down to the sides of your neck. “No use telling me not to.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry.”

You catch yourself before you do it again. 

Law wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. You close your eyes, tightening your hold. His heart pounds underneath your ear, and he trembles softly. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

Taglist:

@fandomhoe101 / @valen-yamyam16 / @chibinasuu / @xsuvs / @curiositycoven64 / @chillerkiller / @loserbee14 / @theloserqueen / @meritxellao / @mirtiell / @dreamistsblog

I think this is everyone! If I missed you, and/or you want to be notified when Act III is posted, please comment below or send me an ask!!

[viccharine]

what a wonderful caricature of intimacy

(commentary + process under the cut, reblogs appreciated!!)

about the piece: was anyone else obsessed with the line “accessorizing with a rosary tucked inside her lingerie” ???? genuinely, “build god and then we’ll talk” was my FAVORITE song almost entirely because of that line, it’s SOO GOOD. maybe it’s because I’ve kinda made it my thing to illustrate songs, but I really appreciate when songs have really descriptive lyrics/ideas that translate really well into visual art.

also, more about my process: I’ve realized two things about myself and my art w/ this piece:

1. i don’t really like working with color at all!! it’s just not very fun for me, I’d much rather work in shades of black and white and use my beloved screen tones instead :)

2. i like a lot of angular shapes— curved lines make me mad and i would prefer not to mess w them (read: loser who won’t put in the effort to draw anything resembling a circle)

I really enjoyed almost “carving” out this figure—i usually start with a black canvas and add a blob of white that vaguely resembles the form and then slowly using black to carve out the figure. adding the screen tones and creating the back-lit effect was also super cool (the lighting probably isn’t that accurate, but i never said i was GOOD at it)

also, if you’ve been following me for a while, you probably recognize this concept from my earlier dance dance piece:

they are very similar concept wise, but around a year apart!! i think I definitely like the execution of the more recent one better, but it’s cool to see the evolution of my art despite me not making art that often anymore. I can’t say much to whether or not the anatomy in either of the pieces is accurate, but I would probably assume that the recent one is more accurate

usually I would end these types of posts with some commentary about the song, but I really don’t have much to say analysis-wise! build god and then we’ll talk is still one of my fav songs off afycso, and sonically it’s definitely one of the most interesting songs panic! has ever put out—very happy to have finally made a piece to show my appreciation for the song :)

anyway that’s it byeeeeeeeeeeee!

[prisma-palace]

Mind sharing your HMSW designs with the class?/nf

HELLO!!! apologizes for the late reply i forget to check my inbox ^^ i've actually been intending to make reference sheets for em... buuuut i havent gotten around to that yet. so. heres what i got as of now!

(i'll make a big post digging more into specific details and design choices and headcanons Eventually cause i do have a lot to say. but that'll probably be included in the ref sheets when i finally make them. Unless someone asks me about specific details. Wink Wink Nudge Nudge)

mind

spider motifs!!! he has little fangs and an extra set of arms (that i keep forgetting to draw him with Oopsies). the spiderness was Unintentional at first but then i decided to just go with it and lean into it more cause i liked that idea. ill probably eventually redesign him to make him look Even More spidery but that day is not today sorry

his lower set of arms can extend/retract as he chooses. he likes to annoy heart with this. he also installed said arms himself one loop. it confused the Fuck out of heart & soul

HMS are all the same height so he wears heels to be taller cause of his Ruler-Of-Everything complex. and also i just like drawing characters with cunty ass heels

the broken side of his face is a result of the juno incident! his teeth are exposed and the big ol light on that side is his broken eyelight. its supposed to vaguely resemble a sun

also his teeth are blue. yeah

OH YEAH he also has a plug tail. it was a more recent addition so it isnt in these drawings but he does have it

heart

last two are a little old. but they show off his design so it doesnt matter

face feathers!!!!!! makes him look more creaturey :-)

the way his hair parts is supposed to be shaped like a heart

he does have a teeny feather tail but its usually covered up by clothing

his wings are purposefully messy looking, he does NAWT take care of himself. sigh. he cant really fly with them because theyre not strong enough to carry him, but he can hover/glide for short periods of time

hes SOME kind of amalgamation creature. mooostly bird, but nobody really knows exactly what he is. not even himself!

he has claws and sharp teeths hehe

he can Technically see but its VERRYYY blurry, he can only rlly see vague blobs of color. hes also super light sensitive so he wears the blindfold more out convenience than anything else ^^

hes a trans guy cuz im a trans guy and i said so Thank You

soul

right. so the problem with my soul design is that i've been meaning to redesign him for, like, a long time. However i havent actually properly fully drawn my new design for him yet! so instead enjoy what i Could find, put in order of newest to most outdated :-)

devil motifs however theyre not really fully intentional it just kinda Happened. hes not really anything specific to me, just an Unidentified Thing

neck scar. No further comment!

he has two rings on his horns, blue for mind and purple for heart

his middle horn is broken off .. :-)

claws but only on the shadowy side

if he gets particularly stressed or angry his shadow side starts to lose form and get all static-y

star shaped rip on his jeans!

also he has a star patch on his sleeve, as to match with heart and mind, who have a moon and sun patch on their knee and coat pocket respectively!

^^^ the yellow background on his patch is intentional

the eye on his shadow side is always closed. if its open thats how you KNOW you Fucked Up

whole

my whole design also has a problem but its kinda different. and its that. i dont. really. draw him often? what i Do have of him is either Old or not colored. so like. have what i do have i guess ^^

hes literally Just Some Regular Guy

his hair is a combo of HMS's: length/half-circle shape from heart, bangs from mind, ponytail + side thingies from soul

they arent rlly shown in these but he has two bracelets! one is red, purple, n blue and the other is tally hall colors

i kinda gravitate towards his name being CJ. a while ago i saw someone somewhere call him first name "Cash" last name "Something-That-Starts-With-J-I-Cant-Remember" hence the nickname CJ and its stuck with me. but also i havent thought about it all that much so Who Knows

theres a difference between him and "whole". whole is more of a Concept while hes the actual Person

on the rare occasions he manifests in headspace, HMS only see him as a shadowy figure. the closer they get to concord, the more of him gets revealed!

also. you didnt ask for her. but i wanna show her off anyway

love interest

i need to draw her properly sometime soon......

i like to think that her name is stella. as a miracle musical reference. heheh

idk shes very subject to change ill probably fuck around with her color palette sometime soon

i dont have like anything to say about her sorry. i like her. shes fun to draw

[secondarysefikura]

Sephiroth wins but instead of just turning Cloud into his devoted puppet, he decides to simply wait it out and let time take away the memories of Cloud’s loved ones and his reasons to hate Sephiroth instead of Sephiroth taking them away himself. After all they have all of eternity together.

And it works.

Eons later and Cloud’s memories of his friends are fading and he’s even misremembering things about them. A woman who owned a restaurant, a man with a hook for a hand, a tiger that was missing an ear, a teen who at one point stole their weapons, a mouse who rode on some blob thing, a man who was found sleeping in an abandoned cemetery, a man wanted to explore the ocean, a woman who for some reason gave him a flower, and a man who called him something as he was dying.

And eventually memories of Nibelheim, and what Sephiroth did to it and his friends fade away, to the point where Cloud questions why he even hates Sephiroth. What was it that the only person he has left do to make him hate him for so long? It can’t be that big of a deal if he’s now forgotten it….right?

And after many eons Cloud finds himself happy in Sephiroth’s embrace, and soon forgets the many, many times when he used to hate being in the god’s loving arms.

Oh. My. God. YES. Anon, you are brilliant.

I think it would be so good too if, as Cloud started to realize that he was struggling to remember his friends, he took to writing down everything he could remember about them. Of course Sephiroth secretly gets rid of the notes in order to ensure that Cloud doesn't have anything to remind him of before, but he isn't able to find them all.

One day, long after Cloud has forgotten everything but Sephiroth's embrace, he finds a set of his notes. He reads them over several times, but none of it seems to make sense. These notes seem to suggest that these people didn't like Sephiroth--that he didn't like Sephiroth. He finds crude sketches of men and women he can't remember, of a village that he doesn't know anymore, and a version of Sephiroth that just looks...wrong. He stresses about the meaning for a while, but ultimately he takes the notes to Sephiroth and asks what they mean. Sephiroth is his god after all, so if anyone would know what all these weird messages and drawings are about, it would be him. If nothing else, Sephiroth's calm and collected manner should soothe the worry that is creeping into every part of him.

Sephiroth reassures him that the notes are nothing more than the ramblings of a madman, although Cloud can't deny the brief flash of rage that crossed Sephiroth's face when he saw the notes was scarily similar to the drawings of Sephiroth that he found. Maybe there was a reason he vaguely remembers hating Sephiroth once.....

[g00d--m0urning]

Unnamed (PT.5)

Daryl Dixon x ex-cop!reader

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4

WC: 3157

A/N: reader is pregnant guys, but otherwise gender neutral. The slow burn is finally starting to burn!!

TW: alcohol use, vague puking, needles

A bright light shines as the doors slide open with a loud hiss. Nobody wastes any time, barreling into the room. You feel a presence right behind you and you look over your shoulder, expecting to find Glenn, but instead Daryl; who immediately backs away when he notices you looking. 

An armed doctor comes into the room, waving an automatic weapon around and shouting something at Rick, who is trying to negotiate with him. They come to an agreement, which you miss, and everyone is led down a hallway, an elevator trip, and into a lower level.

The agreement was blood drawing, apparently. You end up second to last in line, sandwiched between your baby daddy and your actual baby daddy. Glenn talks your ear off until it’s his turn and by the sound of it, he’s doing the same to the doctor.

It doesn’t take long for Glenn to finish, so it’s your turn… yay. You enter the sterile room, sitting down on the metal table.

“Now, this’ll be easy. I’m just going to stick a needle in you, draw some blood, and you’ll be done,” Jenner tells you, prepping a new needle for you.

“Yeah, I know how it works,” you tell him, shifting uncomfortably in your seat.

“Perfect. Now, you’ll feel a little pinch.”

You grit your teeth as he sticks the needle in you, counting down the seconds until he’s done. Once he is, you stand up and leave the room, joining everyone in a dining room. Everybody seems happy: shelter, promise of food, even hopes of a cure or whatever Jenner is doing here.

Jenner comes out around thirty minutes later with food and a bottle of wine in tow. Everyone finds seats, piling food onto their plates, and filling their glasses with wine. It’s a nice time, people are laughing, people are fed, safe. 

And then Jenner says there’s warm water. Thankfully, there’s enough rooms and showers that nobody has to wait, you just have to keep it short. You take as much time in the shower as possible, drawing it out even after the water starts running cold- it’s just nice having running water again and being clean!

You’re just about to lay down when someone knocks on your door. You groan, but get up, expecting Rick or Glenn, but finding Daryl.

“Uhm.. Hey?”

He doesn’t respond, stumbling into the room instead. He spins in a circle before settling down and looking at you, coming back to pull you into the room and close the door. You realize by the flush of his skin and the muttering under his breath, he’s drunk. Lightweight.

“I was… I was wrong,” he pants, waggling a finger at you, “that baby, I wan’ it- her.”

“Daryl--”

“No, no, listen… I’m surry--sorry ‘bout before. I didn’t know what ta do when you showed up, and then the whole pregnacy, prenancy, preg-cy--baby thing. You broke mah heart, leaving, but I know I deserved it,” he rambles, tripping over to you, setting his hands on your shoulders to steady himself. 

Up close, you can see the tears in his eyes, and the way his hands tremble slightly. You’re close to crying too, this is the most he’s talked to you, and he’s drunk.

“You’re drunk, Daryl. You don’t mean it; go back to your room,” you say softly, trying to peel him off of you, pushing him towards the door. 

“I mean it, I wanna be there.. Fur you, ‘nd the baby, our baby girl.. Do you have one of those…” he trails off, narrowing his eyes as his drunken mind tries to remember the word.

“Yes… I do have an ultrasound picture. Stay right here.”

You prop him up against the wall, disappearing into the room for a quick moment, and returning with the sonogram. You hand it to him, watching as he stares at the black and white blob in awe, running his thumb over the image.

“Tha’s her?”

“Yeah, that’s her. She’s a little bit bigger by now, it’s been over two months since that was taken.”

“You should have Doc. Fancy-Pants take a new one.”

“That’s a good idea, but I don’t know if scientists do ultrasounds, but I’ll ask.”

Not for him, though. You doubt he’ll remember this come morning. You take his arm, leading him down the hall to the room he claimed. You lay him down in bed, in which he promptly conks out.

“I despise you, Daryl,” you murmur, brushing a hand through his damp hair.

You sit there for a moment, mulling over the entire interaction with him. He was the heartbroken one? He’s the one who ignored you. And there’s the whole ‘I want to be there for you and the baby’ thing. Does he mean it? Will he still mean it when he’s sober?

“Jesus…Goodnight, asshole,” you whisper, leaving the room.

For the first time in a while, you get to sleep on a bed, which does wonders for your back. The morning is nice, Glenn and Rick are hungover--Glenn swears off all alcohol for good--and breakfast is served. 

Jenner joins us a little later, and eventually we all make it into some fancy lab with a video of an infected person’s brain scan playing. It’s depressing and explains jackshit about what the virus actually is.

People are disappointed by Jenner’s explanation- or lack thereof, but their focus gets pulled by a timer on the wall and when asked, Jenner clams up and makes a brisk exit. VI explains that once the generators run out, ‘facility-wide decontamination will occur.’ Which doesn’t sound good at all. 

“I need a drink,” you announce, getting you odd looks because it’s well established by now that you're pregnant, “kidding, my god.”

You look over at Daryl, who’s very much avoiding your gaze. You roll your eyes, leaving the room to join Carol and Sophia in the rec room. It’s nice, books, games, the whole lot.

“Hey,” you greet, nodding at Carol, walking over to the bookshelf, “any parenting books?”

“Hi and no, I don’t think so, sorry.”

“Haha, don’t apologize, I was just hoping. I honestly have no clue what I’m going to do when she comes. I was barely prepared for a baby in normal life, let alone in the apocalypse,” you admit with a quiet laugh, frowning at the bookshelf.

“You’re gonna do great, sweetheart. The fact that you’re so concerned right now means you will,” she consoles, setting a hand on your shoulder.

“...Thanks.”

“Of course.”

With no books, you settle with playing a board game with Sophia for the time being. The AC blows, Carol flips a page in her book, Sophia moves her piece. The AC blows…No it doesn’t. Why’d it stop?

“Why’d the air stop?” Carol voices your inner question, standing up to check on the vent.

“Maybe it’s on a schedule?” you suggest, but don’t believe it yourself, “let’s go round up with everyone else.”

Sophia huddles by Carol’s legs as you leave the room, joining everybody else who are hounding Jenner already. Daryl peaks out of his room, half-empty bottle of liquor in hand; he looks at you for a very brief moment before focusing on Jenner. 

Jenner is refusing to give a clear answer, walking away towards the big room. Everybody is panicking now; Jenner is mumbling and drinking and that godforsaken timer is still ticking. It finally hits thirty minutes, VI oh-so-helpfully announces.

Ricks starts telling everyone to get out, but the door locks, keeping everyone trapped inside to explode. This cannot be how you die. Shane and Daryl start an assault on the door with axes, doing absolutely nothing in the process. They quickly realize that and Daryl takes a swing at Jenner’s head.

His ax privileges get revoked while the group either a.) cries or b.) continues to try and negotiate with Jenner to let us out.

“Would you quit pacing? It’s stressing me out,” you hiss at Daryl, who’s pacing like a caged tiger.

“I’m stressing you out? I’m so sorry,” he retorts, sneering at you, but you notice that he does stop, leaning against the computers.

“We’re getting out of here, ‘m not letting this bastard blow us up.”

You look up from your lap, looking around for who he’s talking to before you register that it’s you. He’s acknowledging you, kindly. Wow, you really are dying. He seems to hesitate for a moment before setting a hand on your shoulder. Nevermind, you’re actually already dead.

“Yeah,” you nod, setting your hand over his, closing your eyes for a moment. 

Said moment is over when Daryl removes his hand, picking up the unaccompanied ax aside to start batterning at the door again. Someone said something because Jenner finally gives in and walks over to the keypad and unlocks the door.

The group starts rushing out the door, minus Jacqui and Andrea, who seem to explode ‘peacefully’. You stop in your room to grab your bag, freaking out when you can’t find your sonogram- Daryl, you gave it to Daryl. He better still have it or you’re going to strangle him. 

The windows refuse to break: axes, chairs, shotguns, nada. A lightbulb appears over Carol’s head and she starts rummaging through her purse, pulling out a grenade. Rick’s grenade, the one who nicked from the dead soldier. That works!

Walkers are gathering in the center, so you have to deal with those as you all make a break for the cars. You dive into your front seat, fumbling for the keys. Dale and Andrea appear from the window, sprinting to get cover.

They make it, barely. The CDC blows up; it’s hot, super fucking hot and it probably just attracted every undead thing in a hundred mile radius.

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

Over the next two days, it’s boring. Glenn ended up in your passenger seat because he got tired of being stuck in the camper with a bajillion people. The cars come to stop in front of you, so you park the Impala and get out. The highway is blocked, big surprise. 

Apparently, a hose or something is broken on the RV, so now everybody is playing ‘pop the hood and search for car parts’. You end up looking through cars for anything helpful: meds, food, clothes, that stuff, y’know?

You slide open the door to a minivan, ignoring the twinge in your heart at the sight of the empty car seats. You find a backpack, searching through it for anything. There’s not much in it, but there is a parenting book. You stare at the dusty cover, brushing your fingers over the smiling baby picture.

“Might as well take it, right? I don’t think the original owner would mind.”

You jump, shocked out of the trance you were in, turning around to find Carol standing there with a soft smile. 

“Yeah, doubt they would.”

“Are you ok?” 

“Yeah, yeah; I’m fine. It’s just hitting me that I’m going to be raising a kid in the middle of the apocalypse,” you confess, tucking the book under your arm.

You’re going to be raising a cute, innocent little baby in a world where the dead walk and want to eat you. How are you supposed to do this? Kids are loud and messy and so much work in the normal world; you can’t do this.

Carol sets a hand on your arm, giving it a gentle squeeze before departing. You follow shortly behind her, heading to your car and sitting in the backseat, contemplating life and the life in you.

You don’t know how long you sat there, absentmindedly flipping between pages before someone comes barreling into you, forcing you into the car and slamming the door shut.

“Stay down ‘nd shut up.”

Daryl barks, wiggling his way onto the floor, between the seats. You stammer, taken entirely aback at what’s happening. It doesn’t take long for you to figure it out as walkers start bumping against the car, making it sway back and forth.

“Jesus Christ, where’d they come from?” you whisper, watching the undead pass by. The streets were just empty.

“Dunno,” he shrugs, chewing on a thumbnail, like he’s nervous or something, “What’s this?”

“Dunno,” you mock, resisting the urge to smack the baby book out of his hand when he grabs it from the seat, “I’ve got a kid coming in three months, figured I might as well try and understand what’s coming,” you explain, flinching when the car rattles.

He just grunts in response, setting a hand over your stomach protectively. You don’t know if he did it on purpose, or simply on instinct. The baby kicks against his hand, which clearly shocks the both of you. He yanks his hand back, cradling his palm to his chest.

“I..uhm..”

“She..”

“You--”

Both of you stammer, unable to figure out what to say to one another. Neither of you have to figure it out because someone screams. Both of you exit the car, sprinting over to the group, just in time to see Sophia run away from a walker. 

Rick and Daryl immediately go after her, so you focus on Carol, grabbing her before she can go with them. She’s a mess and you can’t blame her. Your training kicks in as you take her to sit down, speaking to her calmly and talking her through her panic attack.

“Rick was a cop and Daryl is the best tracker I know. They’ll find her, I promise,” you tell her, petting her head and letting her rest her lean against you. 

It’s after dark before Rick and Daryl return, with no Sophia in sight. It sends your heart to your stomach; that poor little girl is lost out there, hurt or worse. The night is rough; everybody is paranoid from the horde and worried about Sophia.

You can’t sleep, too wired from the day to even try and think about it, so after a couple hours of tossing and turning, you settled on flipping through the parenting book. It’s helpful-ish; it honestly doesn’t feel like you’re actually comprehending any of it.

At some point, you apparently fell asleep because the next time you’re up, the sun is shining and your book is dropped on the floorboards. You get up, going to look for everyone else. Almost nobody is around, Dale and T-Dog are the only one’s around, fixing up the RV.

“Where is everybody?” you ask, squinting through the sunlight.

“Out looking for Sophia,” Dale answers, looking up what he’s working on.

“Why didn’t anyone wake me up? I could’ve helped,” you scoff, looking around like it’ll make someone else magically appear.

“Well… You’re pregnant, we all decided to let you rest,” Dale says, hesitant like he’s waiting for you to have some hormonal outburst.

“I’m pregnant, not useless. I was a cop for christ’s sake, I can track,” you fumed, throwing your hands up. You could find Merle Dixon holed up in some crack shack with your eyes shut; you can help find Sophia!

“It wasn’t my idea. I was all for waking you up,” he agreed, raising his hands in surrender, “Dixon was the one that brought it up. Everyone else agreed.”

You’re going to kill that redneck, you swear, strangle him with your bare hands. You huff, going back to the car. Who does he think he is? Benching you like he has any damn say in what you do. 

The groups shows up a little later and you join them, ready to chew Mr. Dixon out, but then you hear them explain what’s going on. Carl is shot, there’s a farm, Lori’s there. Glenn gets tasked with taking T-Dog to the farm while everyone else is staying, just in case Sophia manages to find her way back.

“You’re going with ‘em,” you hear Daryl say, looking up to find him staring directly at you.

“No, I’m not, thank you,” you shake your head, smiling pointedly. 

“You’re preg--”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll knock you on your ass. You said you don’t want anything to do with my child, so you don’t get a say in what I do or do not do,” you snap, stuffing your hands into your pockets before you do something stupid.

“I’m staying.”

He shakes his head, looking like he’s going to argue again, but he makes the smart decision not to. You storm off, muttering under your breath. Andrea, Carol, Dale, and Daryl all shack up in the RV and you’ve never been happier that you have your own car. 

It may be shitty to sleep in, but at least you’re alone. It’s another sleepless night, stuck rereading chapters from the book. There’s a knock on your window and the door opens; Daryl leans into the car.

“I’m gonna look for the girl, you wanna come, copper?” you can hear the mocking tone in his voice, but you’d rather walk around the forest with him than be stuck in the car reading about how babies can get sick from even the slightest of things.

“I do, actually, douchebag,” you retort, grabbing your flashlight and knife, sliding out of the car, “let’s go.”

The two of you walk in silence; it’s familiar, almost nostalgic. You remember a time when the two of you would walk through the woods, hand in hand; sometimes Daryl was hunting, others you would head down to the creek.

“You were right.. Earlier, when ya said I couldn’t tell you what to do,” he grumbles, pushing back a tree branch for you guys to pass.

“Pardon, what was that?” you ask, trying not to smirk. Daryl Dixon just admitted he was wrong; hell has frozen over.

“‘M not repeating myself,” he snorted, looking over his shoulder to glare at you.

“Fine, fine,” you grin, looking away from him, so he can’t see your smile.

Silence falls back over you, but it feels much less tense than before. You guys stumble across a campsite, which appears empty until you hear a growl in the trees. Oof, poor dude.

“Do you think we should… I don’t know.. Put him down?” you ask, eyeing the hanging man with disgust.

“Nah, he made his choice, too bad he wasn’t smart enough to shoot himself,” Daryl shrugs, ducking into the tent to make sure there’s nothing of use in it.

“That’s cruel, even for you,” you grimace, gagging as it swings in the wind.

“Oh poor you, gonna puke?” he teases, stepping out of the tent empty handed. 

“Yeah! It’s rancid,” you nod, flipping him off.

He snorts, clearly enjoying your misery, but he lifts his crossbow and shoots the man, “Waste of an arrow.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, turning away to take a deep breath.

He hums in response and he starts heading back in the direction you came from. You follow behind him, catching up, so you’re walking side-by-side. Your hands brush together; neither of you pull away.

[brams-stupid-thoughts]

A pjo one shot I wrote because I love them💔

Tags/things to know: Implied Jercy, implied Percabeth, angst, percy centered, may be ooc?

Description: (May kind of spoil it a bit) Percy has another nightmare, a similar one he’s been having every night after learning of Jason’s death.

This is the first PJO fanfic I’ve written (AND FINISHED) so be nice💔

When Percy first blearily blinked open his eyes, he was met with a dark room. The only source of light he could see was the bright television—playing. . .something on the screen he couldn’t make out. He lazily lifted his head, rubbing his eyes.

Something—someone next to him shifted as he did so, speaking in a hushed voice.

“You’re finally awake.” He said with a smile, “I was afraid you were going to miss the best part.”

Percy whipped his head toward the sound. A shiver crawled down his back. He opened his mouth to respond, though no words came out.

“Come on.” Jason coaxed. Jason snuck his arm around Percy’s shoulders, pulling his head back down to his shoulder, and Percy let him. He felt like he was frozen in place.

A million thoughts ran through his head at once—yet he couldn’t focus on a single one. Percy had tried to focus his eyes on the show playing in front of them, though the dialogue was just quiet enough to be indistinguishable to his ears. He couldn’t make out what was actually going on the screen—everything just looked like blobs of color—but somehow, he got this vague feeling that it was a sitcom.

He decided to try to focus on Jason instead. His gaze was aimed straight ahead of him, clearly immersed in the show. Occasionally, he would let out a small laugh, glancing down towards Percy, as if checking to see if he thought it was funny as well, the scar on his lip twitching up with his smile. Percy couldn’t stand it.

“I don’t want to watch this anymore.” Percy murmured, wiping tears away from his face. When had he begun crying? He sat up, about to stand from the couch, before Jason’s voice stopped him

“Percy? What’s wrong?” He called, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. Percy gripped his hand into a fist.

“it’s—its you.” Percy spoke, trying to keep the shaking out of his voice,

“Me? But I—“

“Why are you doing this to me?” At those words, Jason stopped speaking, clamping his mouth shut.

“Leave me alone.” Percy demanded, placing his head in his hands. He was shaking badly, more than he’s remembered doing ever, and his heart beat like a drum in his ribs.

“Percy. .” Jason frowned, shifting closer to him, but Percy quickly turned his body away.

“Shut up!” Percy snapped, lifting his head from his hands to glare at the boy across from him, “You’re. . .you’re not the real Jason.”

Jason tilted his head at him, like he didn’t know what he was talking about. Like this hadn’t happened time and time again since Percy learned of his death.

Every night.

“You’re not real. You’re not real.” Percy repeated, over and over again, as if trying to convince him of the fact, “You’re not—“

****

Percy jumped awake, hugging his arms to his torso. He wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to grab his bearings.

“Percy?” Annabeth’s sleepy voice called from next to him, her hand brushing against his shoulder, though Percy flinched away.

Something in the back of Percy’s head was almost afraid that Annabeth would get mad at him for doing so—but she didn’t. She simply stared at him, her eyes forced to squint due to the darkness surrounding them.

“Do you. .want to talk about it?” She whispered after a long moment of silence. Percy hastily shook his head, forgetting for a moment he had his voice.

“No. No. I just want some fresh air.” He murmured, pushing himself off the bed.

[0v3rcast]

Tidal Waves (2)

[Swimming with sharks.]

(Warnings: canon-typical violence, gore(?), graphic descriptions of the above, a character you like might die, religious themes, I'll probably look for more warnings after I finish writing)

--

Awareness and senses return sluggishly to you in waves.

First: hearing. The gentle hiss of meat on a pan and the crackle of fire. Waves are crashing into the beach. The calls of gulls. Low talk, one voice lower, the other higher - the language is beyond you at this state of wakefulness.

Secondly: touch. Cold, ever so vaguely damp stone beneath your left hand. Coarse but warm fabric across your shoulders, legs, and torso. A cool hand in your right, the tops of the fingers scaly.

The third you regain: sight, if limited. The world is soft and blurry, vague definitions instead of clear understanding. Blobs of color sit near you, orange light shining into your eyes. You murmur in discontentment at this bright bullshit. It's too early for this. Or you're too tired. You don't know what time it is, and this shit sucks.

Number four: smell. You're assaulted by the pleasant aroma of cooking fish, some kind of baked gluten beast, and... soup? You think that's soup. Behind those scents, the scent of smoke and the scent of the beach. Your stomach piteously mewls with hunger.

Fifth: taste. Your mouth tastes like mouth. It's awful. Must have had it open overnight. There's fucking sand in it, too. You spit that out as you groggily pull yourself into a sitting position.

A large, warm hand comes to rest on your back as the gentleman from last night gives you a grateful smile, eyes bright and fond. "Hello again, my maker." Osial rumbles, voice deep and smooth. Somehow, just hearing it makes you feel safe.

"Did you rest well?" He asks, prompting a murmur of assent from you, and that makes him smile wider, revealing fangs. "Wonderful."

"You certainly looked comfy between us when I woke~" a soothing, regal female voice teases from near the fire, where the woman who was embracing you is seated, tending to slices of meat and several fish on sticks, a flat slab of stone over the flames the resting place of small flatbread discs. "All cuddled up to my lovely king."

"My moon! Show a little class," Osial says, cheeks reddening. "I'm very sorry about Beisht, my maker. She likes to tease people and get reactions."

The look on Beisht's face - a grin that's more than little lustful as she practically undresses her husband with hungry eyes at that comment - says that conversations aren't the only place that's she's a tease to get reactions.

You get the feeling Osial's imprisonment at the bottom of the sea was far less of a burden on his sanity than his wife's shenanigans, but the smitten look on both their faces heavily implies they wouldn't have it any other way.

---TIDAL---

Osial is holding your hands as he slowly steps out onto the surface of the ocean, the water solid beneath his feet as though it was ground.

"Come now, my maker. You can do it. Just imagine the water beneath your feet to be more like thick glass. This is very simple. And if it doesn't work, that's okay. It's your first time doing this, and everything takes practice," he says, giving you an encouraging smile, slowly stepping back once more.

You very nervously follow his lead, feet bare - lest you ruin your socks and shoes with saltwater - and flinch at first when your sole touches the ocean.

To your confusion, it holds. Your foot doesn't just sink straight into the sea. It doesn't feel like water, too, and much more like a waterbed, which gives you the most bizarre mental disconnect. It's so wobbly!

"Very good! Just a little more for now, and then we can go back in for lunch." He encourages.

...lunch does sound nice. Beisht is a deceptively good cook for someone who wholeheartedly admits her preference to eating things raw, and Osial is no slouch himself. The two of them usually take turns cooking, but they enjoy the domesticity of making it a team effort.

(You've even helped once or twice, and though you're not as experienced in the craft as the duo of literally immortal magic hydras, they compliment your efforts all the same.)

You take your next step. And another. Osial beams at you, slowly moving away, and lets you take more wobbly steps, arms out to stabilize yourself.

With each step, the waterbed feeling becomes fainter and fainter, water taking on the traits of ground as you acclimate.

"That's how you do it! You're doing wonderfully, just a little more!" He encourages further. "Try and run."

You trust him, but it takes a bit to gather your courage all the same. Hesitant steps become confident, and you break into a sprint. He cheers, arms up, and you think you can hear Beisht applauding your progress from the mouth of the seaside cave as you run in circles.

The sun shines brightly overhead, letting you look down into the sea, where you can see brilliantly colored fish swirl in a ring around you.

In a fit of childlike wonder, you drop to your knees and reach down into the waves, dipping one hand into the ocean, letting fish rub against your fingertips.

A shark's rough skin. The almost-sliminess of fish scales. The odd, blobby ponderousness of a jellyfish, and none of the sting. The firm, ever so faintly wet suction of an octopus' tentacles against your arm.

There's a genuine smile on your face as dangerous predatory fish accept being treated like dogs and cats, letting you run your hands over their backs and pet their fins.

(You don't notice Osial sneak back towards the mouth of the cave, where his beloved waits for him. They have lost time to make up for, and you're caught up with this moment of genuine enjoyment - he'd feel terribly guilty to interrupt it.)

---WAVES---

You return to the cave around sunset, having lost track of time petting and inspecting the various marine life, including a whale. How cool is that?! You got to pet a whale, and not in the fucked up SeaWorld-type way!

You even got a pet! There's a little water bubble floating over your shoulder with a teensy shark inside, though it doesn't quite match any you know of from Earth. You don't know how you did it, but you wanted to keep one of them with you at all times, and then bam. Mini-shark in a magical water orb.

Osial and Beisht are cuddling. His hair is down, and his entire everything is kind of messy, too. Her clothes are just the teensiest bit disheveled, but otherwise, she looks as timelessly gorgeous and well-maintained as ever.

You get the feeling you shouldn't bring the way you've just found them up, and thusly don't bring it up at all, opting instead to share some fish on sticks with the tiny shark while your hosts rest.

---TIDALWAVES---

With the ability to walk on water under your metaphorical belt, the friendly natural disasters that have been feeding you are now suggesting they move further away from the mainland, revealing to you that they've laid claim to an island chain in the vast space between Liyue and Inazuma, which they'd like you to come to as their guest.

You don't particularly have anywhere else to go, so you accept the offer graciously and let them lead the way.

The pair take on more aquatic forms, not quite hydras and more akin to a singular head-turned-eel.

You're given the chance to ride on Beisht's head as though she is some kind of very cool fantasy game mount as the two of them playfully race, and holy fuck are they fast, a current left in their wake that you think might have just launched several fish into the sky.

All you can do is hold on tight.

Behind you, sea life begins to move. Following you.

--TDL WVS--

In two hours, they've taken you possibly hundreds of miles from the mainland. You arrive at an island, which can see most of from the back of your hostess, who stops and raises up to allow you a better look.

Sparse puffs of grass, wonky palm trees, a few rocks, and a well-built but small home made from what must have been most of the island's resources.

It's nice, actually. Compared to the constant danger that could be lurking behind every corner in the world at large, this tiny place you can see most of at ground level is a breath of fresh air.

Beisht lowers her head, letting you hop down onto the surface of the sea and walk up the rather rocky beach.

Where you step, the beach becomes finer. Softer. Coarse grains and little pebbles become powdery sand, easy to walk on instead of gritty and pokey beneath your feet.

As you pass a large rock, it falls into more sand, and the seemingly random occurrence starts to spread like tendrils, devouring the beaches surrounding the island's soil and leaving behind much softer, more pleasant material.

As you come up from the beach to the more rich earth in the center, life blooms all around you in swirls. Lush grass springs up in a wave, short and somehow immaculate.

Gnarled tree stumps and lightning-warped remnants creak and groan as they're revived, sturdy trunks exploding upwards and branching out into dense shade-giving canopies, their roots biting deep into the dirt and spreading, linking into each other, fusing, anchoring the soil.

Stones tear free of the earth, making a dense pit that swiftly fills with pure, fresh water, a waterfall feeding it from somewhere within.

All around the island for miles, jagged fingers of rock tear out of the seabed, hiding just beneath the water, maliciously lying in wait to split the bellies of the ships unwanted visitors bring and cast the helpless souls into the waves.

Around the shipgutting rocks, the crueler sealife that followed you lurk. Predatory, venomous, poisonous. Sucker-studded tentacles with bonecracking grip. The low hum of voltage in Electro-charged monsters. Vicious beaks to punch through skin and scales. Maws of nightmarish fangs, unblinking eyes, and a taste for the flesh of man and beast alike.

Dark tunnels burrow down into undersea caves where forgotten monsters rest.

Coral erupts into bloom in the northwest, followed rapidly by sponges and a plethora of underwater plants, giving your new sanctuary a large area of color and vibrant sea life. It's as though someone took their paintbrush and swept it across the seafloor, leaving brilliant streaks of color. Many of the other aquatic beings who followed you here take this place as their home.

Tidepools yawn open at the eastern side, a microcosmic battleground where unfamiliar creatures grow strong in combat against their kin and other bizarre species, evolving, adapting, before braving the darkness around the rocks, hiding beneath the waves, a merciless tide of hungry eyes and ravenous mouths ready to protect you with everything they are and everything they will ever be.

You feel... cold. Tired. As though you've been sapped. The exhaustion mounts further as your powers continue to work subconsciously.

The island itself expands outwards in a paradoxical way, the inside becoming larger and the outside following suit without disturbing the wildlife whatsoever.

Dendro energy brings more trees up, grows grass, and makes bushes ripe with berries. Geo-influenced soil vanishes from other parts of the world, appearing here to add to the landmass.

Your exhaustion turns to pain as you're drawn from further, and you try to cry out. All that comes free of your throat is a small whimper.

Your vision blurs.

The world spins around you.

Before you collapse, you can see Osial sprinting towards you, a look of worry on his face and fear in his eyes.

He catches you in his arms as the world fades to black.

--IA AE--

The strain of your abilities forces you into magical dormancy.

For two weeks, you know nothing but faint flickers of hallucinatory dreams and the flow of energy in your body.

With you asleep, your powers - and the subconscious you - have far more energy to work with.

A simple hut becomes an expansive palace as an island becomes a continent of its own, the world's geography warping to make space for divine creation, new plants and animals borne to fill the ecosystem, all of them bent and built to serve you.

Teyvat uses this time to punish your betrayers in exquisite fashion.

As tectonic plates shift and rearrange, mass earthquakes rip across Liyue. Geovishaps who once slept beneath the earth are awoken in blind rages by the constant vibrations and noise.

Azhdaha himself goes free of his ancient prison to rampage.

Tidal waves tear into Inazuma, smashing ships to splinters and flattening homes. Thunderblight creeps across the land, beelining for nearby cities and rest stops for travelers, sickening and killing the unprepared.

An endless rain falls on Fontaine, causing floods and mudslides that carry hundreds to their deaths in unforgiving waters or crush the breath from their lungs.

Howling winds whip into tornadoes that bombard Mondstadt, tearing trees from the earth and hurling them into the walls as if to besiege the city.

Withering zones spread across Sumeru like a plague, devouring more and more plant life. Sandstorms scream across the desert regions at speed enough to peel skin from flesh if it goes uncovered for too long.

Natlan's heat becomes unbearable, the sun shining mercilessly down upon its inhabitants and trying to bake them in their own clothes. Attempts to beat the heat by going for a swim only ends in maulings by the wildlife.

Snezhnaya knows cold so bitingly bitter that people who go out in the snow without a Pyro or Cryo Vision can be found frozen solid in mere hours. It's literally safer to go outside after setting themselves ablaze.

Animals, even trained, become violent, drawing blood or seeking to break bones for even the slightest provocation.

Crops cease to grow entirely or start to rot on the vine.

Medicinal plants that once were safe to eat now carry potent emetic and diarrheal properties.

Stored salves dry to powder overnight, and poultices are found infested with bugs.

Water teems with bacteria and parasites that will not kill, but instead cause much suffering before safely passing out of the body.

Hilichurl camps explode with never-before-seen numbers, their swelling ranks stronger than ever before.

An ancient factory of Ruin Guards rumbles to life, conveniently empowered by a previously-defunct crystal containing massive amounts of energy. Constructs fresh from the assembly lines walk the lands, searching for foes.

For two weeks, Teyvat is hell for humanity, and it revels in their pain.

Some worlds want to watch men burn.

And oh, how they burn.

Teyvat plans to roast marshmallows amongst their remains.

(Guess they got their apocalypse out of you after all.)

---TIDLWAVS---

The one who wears your face is running ragged these days.

Teyvat decided to shit the bed and metaphorically blow apart half of the planet in what they must assume is a temper tantrum of literally apocalyptic proportions.

They curl their lip up in a snarl. Ever since you came back, everything's been going to the fucking dogs. Monsters everywhere, crop yields down, and now this horseshit.

Worst of all? Their favorite places seem to be under attack.

Coffee place they liked in Fontaine? Whoops, it looks like the foundations were too weak, and the entire building slid into the nearest body of water, destroying the place completely, the owner eaten by turtles.

Favorite restaurant? Went up in flames, thanks to a freak lightning bolt that also coincidentally blew the head off of the owner.

So much as professed a previous like to something as inconsequential as a fucking food cart? The bitch who owned it is dead with three-foot icicles in her back, now the world's most frozen pincushion.

Everyone keeps showing up and whining and pissing and shitting about needing their divine miracles, and they grant what they can with the powers they've stolen over the years, but there's always another mewling wretch who needs their boo-boos kissed.

Being a God was supposed to be a break from all the work. Was supposed to be a chance to sit back, relax, and be pampered by a bunch of brainless slugs who wouldn't know a real God from a fake one.

Or that's at least what Celestia promised.

Hopefully, this nonsense ends soon. If another parent cradling a dead child comes in wailing like a banshee, they might just smite the fucker and reunite them with their kid the opposite way.

---A E---

You wake again, warm and comfy, surrounded by thick, fluffy blankets, the sound of the sea distant but no less soothing. A cool, gentle breeze brushes past your face through the open window.

You slowly sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before letting out a jaw-popping yawn as you stretch out your arms.

Sunset, huh? You feel pretty good for someone who got a handful of hours as a nap.

This place is nice. Osial and Beisht must be fast builders to do all this in hours, not to mention crazy good at architecture.

A dresser full of changes of clothes stands next to the bed. You find quite a few of your favorite pieces of clothing, slipping them on with a little bit of a struggle (still being half-asleep does a number on your hand-eye coordination), and going out of your room to check it out.

The expansive hallways are odd to you. Stained glass windows depicting various legendary moments of Teyvat's past, including your creation of existence.

It's all sorts of fucked to think of yourself in such a way. Back home, religion was something people took comfort in, having hope in... or perhaps having an acceptable outlet for their grief through blame. Everyone was equally powerless compared to a god, and now?

Now you're that all-powerful being. Making the world change as you please. Adjusting the fabric of creation as though you were still playing a video game.

...can you still play Genshin here? You don't really have a phone. Or, well, any electronics for that matter.

You'll test that later. For now, the rest of this place needs exploring.

---a filthy world, unfit for your grace.---

Your exploration yields rewards! A fully stocked kitchen - complete with modern-age amenities - awaits you. An electric tea kettle beeps as you walk by, apparently having been ready to take from its heating element and put to use.

"Oh! My maker, good afternoon. Or, I suppose it is evening now, mm... did you have a good rest?" Beisht says, offering you a demure smile, her tail wagging twice in anticipation.

You agree. It was a good rest for the relatively few hours.

She grins(?). Or is it a baring of teeth? You can't tell either way. It's... mildly unsettling. Her entire expression screams 'I know things you don't and will lord that over you because it makes me happy'.

"Two weeks is really so little rest for you? I suppose that explains your absence from Teyvat, wǔ miàn shén." She teases.

Wait, what? Two weeks?!

She giggles at your flabbergasted expression. "Mhm. You slept through the changes you made to our home. Thank you for the renovations, by the way. I'd always wanted a palace, but neither I nor my star had any desire to put in the work for that. Guess good things do come to those who wait."

You sort of blink, confused. What is she talking about?

She blinks, smile dipping slightly as she realizes. "Oh. Right. You have no clue. Come on, I'll give you a tour."

You follow her out of the palace - which you still can't believe you made in your sleep, holy fuck - and out into the reforged island-country.

---wash it all away in a tidal wave.---

This place is gorgeous. Plants glow in the approaching night, bioluminescent and pleasantly scented. Animals eagerly allow your hands to run over their fur, scales, or skin, seeming to delight in your touch.

Speaking of the animals, all of them are so unique. There are little pangolin-dragons hunting squirrel-doves. Owls seemingly made from soul and circuitry swoop down and rip the electro crystals from geode-covered mice. Strange packs of fluffy, predatory mothcats wear down equally alien deer and slurp the blood from the cooling body of their prey with strawlike noodle-tongues they unroll from somewhere within their mouths.

The tidepools squirm and squelch with adorably ugly little freaks of nature locked in endless war, breeding and dying, consuming and being consumed, the choicest traits passed onto the victor. Centuries of bloody evolution are done in mere minutes with the aid of Darwinian slaughter, making an ever more deadly army of protectors for you.

Things you'd see in an analog horror depiction of Spore. Lovely pint-sized abominations straight out of science fiction books. Sweet, miniscule nightmares who trill and coo when you pet them - all vanish into the dark sea, lurking in lightless depths.

The coral reefs bloom with bright colors, bioluminescent neons crammed into pods attached to eerily motionless stalks of seaweed. Schools of fish swim by in glittering motion, their scales catching the dying light.

It's beautiful. You find yourself entranced, staring out at your creations with wonder. That you could make this in your sleep is fascinating and startling all at once - what could you do if you had mastery over these abilities in the waking world?

With renewed excitement, you continue the tour.

Ooh, is that flower your favorite color? How'd you manage to make the petals perfect triangles like that?

--- let the riptide tear them out of safe waters and drown them.---

The tour only ends up taking about three hours due to the teleport waypoints that have invited themselves to the expanded mass of land.

You've gotta give credit to yourself, you do good work when asleep! This place is great!

Osial joined the little expedition about an hour in and has since walked along with you two, his fingers laced with those of his better half as they adorably hold hands. You may fawn over them about it, making him blush and Beisht preen at the compliments.

On the distant horizon, several haphazard rafts with tattered sails drift towards your newfound place of rest.

--- let the seas boil! cast the traitors in and savor their pain!---

The arriving fleet of poorly constructed rafts is a cause for alarm at first, given their sudden appearance and number, but your fears are swiftly abandoned when you see the occupants.

A veritable armada of 'churls! Hilichurls, Lawachurls of all elemental variety, Mitachurls and Samachurls as well, all having crossed the sea well before any other humans could find this place.

You like them, given their kindness to you in the past, and are more than happy to welcome them to their new home and their place as your people.

Your presence seems to heal them or be changing them, you think. They look happier. Healthier. At the front of their congregation is the Unusual Hilichurl themselves, who decides to come up and excitedly shake your hand as they say something you can't quite parse.

Ah. Huh. Their rafts are made out of the huts you've seen them living in. They brought their own homes with them. That's handy.

Throughout the night, you spend time with the Hilichurls, watching and occasionally lending a hand with their construction.

You think this is what coming to Teyvat was supposed to be like - watching your creations flourish. Walking amongst them. Knowing them as they come to know you.

Being celebrated, not loathed. Loved. And loving in return.

Not being hunted and butchered like prey. Not being tormented, slaughtered, maimed. Not some plaything to break.

(The tiny bud of hate that grew in your chest as you were hunted has grown roots, now that you've seen what was supposed to be yours. It blooms, nourished with the awful realization of what you meant to the characters you'd grown to love so dearly.

You meant nothing to them if they could see someone with the face of their god and choose to draw a weapon. You were an object of convenience, just something useful to relieve stress by way of bloodshed.

No more.)

They had their chance and ruined it. You'll make your own happiness here instead.

And maybe, just maybe, one day, they'll come crawling back, dependent on your mercy.

Perhaps you'll show them some.

Perhaps you won't.

You don't care.

(Teyvat hears you. And it agrees with your judgement.)

<Burn. Drown. Strangle. Fry. Crush. Freeze. Shred. That is the fate all heretics deserve.>

[LET THEM BE LOST IN THE ENDLESS NIGHT. THE ABYSS HAS SUCH DELIGHTS TO SHOW THEM.]

---{let the light of the heavens burn all teyvat to cinders. the failure of a sustainer first of all.}---

The light of the sun sharpens over Mondstadt, over the first place that you died. Soil is replaced by unbreakable stone carved into perfect slabs.

A beam of pure energy screams down from above, slamming the Sustainer into the earth with such violent hatred that her bones snap and flesh is rent.

Shards of off-white skeleton pierce the flesh of her legs and arms like thorns on a stem, her blood bubbling from the gashes and punctures.

She gasps and gags around a broken jaw, coughing up blood as it floods into her lungs in the wake of broken ribs.

Her burned, split gut oozes intestines, ruptured stomach's acids already viciously attacking the surrounding tissue.

She can't remember the last time she ever felt so... powerless.

So... weak.

...so human.

Black creeps at the edges of her vision. She gazes up at the sun, one final time, and murmurs a question.

"Why?"

{failure. die. betrayer.} it hums back, beginning to sear holes into her vision.

Another beam of light comes down. A mistake is burned away, not even a soul left.

--- an endless kingdom comes tumbling down ---

Your imposter's body flickers as the glamour that once gave them your visage fades away, leaving them as they truly are. They can't quite tell that yet.

They do notice the totally deafening silence in the room. The looks of confusion on the faces of their minions. The dawning horror as dried crimson on ritual weapons specifically used to kill their impostor becomes flecks of brilliant gold.

"Did I tell you to stop?" They snap at the closest servant, who has dropped a bowl of fruit. The servant doesn't respond, eyes the size of dinner plates.

They realize the sudden strangeness of their voice.

They haven't heard that in... centuries, at the least. Whose voice is that? It wasn't theirs. They're still the Creator.

The doors slam open, and they look up to see several livid Allogenes, each carrying a blade flecked with the same gold.

"Well, fuck me." they hiss. It appears their vacation is over.

They stand, reaching for their powers, ready to empty the room of life... and find nothing.

Shock fades into dread.

The floor is quickly spattered with a very mortal, very human red.

--- may the waters recede and reveal truth in the wreckage. ---

You take a seat on the throne your Hilichurl followers have so lovingly crafted for you. Is it comfy? Not really.

Fancy? No.

But you think that would defeat the point of their efforts.

They've given you the choicest bits of what they brought with them - little trinkets, broken masks, bloodied arrowheads, rusted blades, and handfuls of old coins. Not the best the world has to offer, the best they can offer. That makes it so much more valuable.

The faith that feeds gods isn't in grand displays and luxury. It's in the quiet, simple, and unshaking belief that beats in their chests like a heart.

Perhaps, during your new reign, you will make mistakes. Things that shake their faith. People will become upset with you, as they do. But you can't help the feeling that, as long as you try your best and show your own faith in them, it will all work out in the end.

...But I suppose that's a story for another teller, mm?

[rudyking]

A rash:

You have a little problem in a sensitive area, forcing you to seek a doctor. You don't expect for the doctor to be so thorough... and handsome.

You shuffle nervously into the examining room, wincing with each step as a burning heat radiates from deep within your bottom. The rash you've developed has reached a fever pitch in both intensity and pain. Realizing you can no longer bear it, you made the difficult decision to come to the hospital, hoping for a gentle female doctor to assess and treat your delicate issue.

The door swings open and you look up, expecting to see a kind-faced woman in a white coat. Instead, a tall, handsome man with an unruly mop of blonde hair strides in, his bright blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he flashes a warm smile. "Hello there, I'm Dr. Rudy," he says in a friendly voice, extending his hand. "What brings you to see me today?"

You hesitate briefly, then shake his hand, flushing as you avert your eyes shyly. "Um, hi Doctor. It's…it's embarrassing. I think I have a pretty bad rash. Down there." You gesture vaguely in the direction of your behind. Dr. Rudy's expression remains neutral and professional. "I see. Well, let's take a look, shall we?"

You nod meekly and turn to face the bed, slowly unbuttoning your pants with trembling fingers. Dr. Rudy gently guides you to lie face-down on the crinkly paper covering the mattress. He snaps on a pair of latex gloves. "I'm going to apply some lubricant now, okay? Just relax."

A cool sensation spreads between your cheeks and you can't help but tense up. There's a probing pressure, then a sudden, intense sting as Dr. Rudy parts your buttocks and peers inside. "Oh my, yes, quite inflamed," he murmurs. "I'm going to need to do an internal examination to fully assess the extent of the rash."

Your face burns with humiliation as he carefully eases a gloved finger inside your tight back entrance. You've never been touched there before and the feeling of fullness and vulnerability is overwhelming. Dr. Rudy wiggles his finger, sliding it in deeper, his touch uncertainty sending jolts through your body. "Breathe through it," he soothes. "Almost done."

He slowly withdraws his digit, both lubricated and slick with your body's reluctant accommodation. "The rash is severe, but thankfully limited to the external area. I'll prescribe a cream to clear it right up." Dr. Rudy squirts a generous dollop of the thick ointment onto his palm. "I'll need to apply this for you though, since it's in such a hard to reach place."

You whimper softly as you feel him part your cheeks again, the chilly cream making you clench involuntarily. Dr. Rudy works the ointment in with firm rubbing motions, his fingers sliding easily through the lubricated tight ring of muscle. The sensation is exquisitely embarrassing, your body betrayed by the hint of pleasure sparking from his thorough treatment. He seems to sense your internal conflict.

"You're doing great," Dr. Rudy praises gently. "Try to relax your bottom. Think of it as just another part of your body that needs healing." His tender encouragement and soothing touch eventually allow you to release some of the tension.

Dr. Rudy, oblivious or expertly feigning oblivion to the internal turmoil he was causing, continued his ministrations. His fingers, now slick with the cold cream, felt… surprisingly dexterous. It wasn't just a blob of ointment being smeared; it was a deliberate, almost artistic application. You squeezed your eyes shut, wishing you could simply vanish into the sterile white examination table. Each circular motion of Dr. Rudy's fingertip sent fresh waves of mortification through her.

It wasn't painful, not really. The rash, which had been an itchy, angry red landscape, seemed to appreciate the soothing balm. But the place it was being applied, and the manner of application… that was the crux of the problem. Your backside, a region typically reserved for private moments and decidedly un-medical explorations, was currently the center stage of a doctor’s visit. And not just any doctor, but Dr. Rudy, the kindly, slightly grandfatherly figure she’d trusted with her general health for years. Now, he was intimately acquainted with her… posterior landscape, to a degree you’d never imagined, nor desired.

“Almost got it all covered,” Dr. Rudy announced, his voice still calm and professional, a stark contrast to the chaotic symphony of embarrassment echoing in Your head. You could feel the cool cream spreading, a slippery perimeter encroaching on areas that had never, ever, experienced such clinical attention. His finger, you realized with a fresh jolt of shame, wasn’t just on her bottom, it was in it. Not deeply, not like before, but nestled right at the entrance, ensuring the cream reached every nook and cranny of the inflamed zone.

The embarrassing part wasn't just the act itself; it was the sensations. Your body, traitorously, was responding. There was a whisper of warmth blooming in her core, a subtle tightening low in your abdomen that had absolutely no business being there during a medical procedure. It was the barest hint of… something… pleasant, mixed inextricably with the overwhelming shame. It was like finding a stray giggle bubbling up during a funeral – completely inappropriate and utterly mortifying.

“There we are,” Dr. Rudy finally said, withdrawing his hand. The sudden absence of pressure was almost as unsettling as its presence had been. He turned away to toss his gloves in the biohazard bin, giving you a moment to mentally regroup and attempt to reclaim some semblance of composure. But the damage, you felt, was done. The intimate dance of doctor and derriere had left an indelible mark on her psyche.

Dr. Rudy faced you again, a small, professional smile on his face. “That should provide some immediate relief. I’ll write you a prescription for this cream, use it twice a day for the next week. And try to keep the area clean and dry.” His advice was delivered with the same matter-of-fact tone he might use for a common cold, as if he hadn't just been finger-painting your backside with medicinal goo.

You, still lying prone on the examination table, managed a strangled, “Okay.” Your voice sounded weak and reedy, betraying your inner turmoil. You wanted to ask a million questions, none of which she could actually articulate. Was that normal? Was he judging you secretly? Did other people get rashes… there? This was definitely not in the brochure for adulting.

“Do you have any questions?” Dr. Rudy asked, his eyebrows raised slightly, a picture of professional attentiveness.

Questions? You had a volcano of questions bubbling inside, all related to the unprecedented intimacy she’d just experienced. But could you actually voice them? “No… I don’t think so,” you mumbled, the lie feeling thick and clumsy in your mouth.

“Alright then,” Dr. Rudy said, oblivious to the internal maelstrom raging within you. “You can get dressed now. The nurse will give you your prescription at the front desk.” He moved towards the door, his hand already on the handle. “And Yn,” he paused, turning back with a slightly more personal smile, “try not to scratch.”

And with that utterly banal piece of advice, he was gone, leaving You alone with your racing heart, her tingling backside, and the crushing weight of embarrassment. You lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, the fluorescent lights buzzing mockingly above you. Getting dressed felt like a monumental task. Pulling up your pants would mean acknowledging the lingering sensations, the faint coolness of the cream, the ghost of Dr. Rudy’s touch.

Slowly, stiffly, you sat up. The examination gown felt flimsy and inadequate, offering little protection from the lingering humiliation. As you swung your legs off the table, a fresh wave of warmth spread through your cheeks. You could practically feel the imaginary spotlight on your rear end, broadcasting her medical ordeal to the entire clinic.

Getting dressed was an exercise in awkwardness. Every movement seemed to highlight the recent… event. Pulling up your underwear felt like a betrayal of your own body, trapping the medicated area in fabric. Your jeans, normally a source of comfort, now felt constricting and judgmental. You shuffled out of the examination room, a hunched figure attempting to minimize your very existence.

The nurse at the front desk, a cheerful woman named Brenda, barely glanced up from her computer screen. “Just here for your prescription, Yn?” she asked, her tone brisk but friendly.

“Yes,” You managed, your voice still a pathetic whisper.

Brenda efficiently printed out the prescription and handed it to Yn with a generic smile. “Anything else I can help you with?”

You shook your head mutely, grabbed the slip of paper like a lifeline, and practically fled the clinic. The outside air, though crisp and autumn-tinged, felt like a welcome balm compared to the sterile, shame-filled atmosphere of the doctor’s office.

As you walked to your car, you couldn't help replaying the whole embarrassing episode in your mind. It was like a tiny, humiliating film loop on repeat. Dr. Rudy’s finger… there. The cold cream. Your body’s traitorous reaction. It was a comedic tragedy of epic proportions, playing out solely in her head.

You reached your car and practically dove inside, sinking into the driver’s seat as if hiding from the world. Starting the engine, she pulled out of the parking lot, heading towards the pharmacy with a mixture of dread and reluctant amusement. You needed that cream, no question. But the price you had paid for it… the sheer, unadulterated embarrassment… felt monumental.

The pharmacist, thankfully, was a young man who seemed completely unfazed by the prescription labeled “Rectal Rash Cream.” He simply filled it, bagged it, and handed it over with a polite, “Have a nice day.” You mumbled a thank you, grabbed the bag, and escaped once more.

Back home, alone in her apartment, you finally allowed herself a small, shaky laugh. It was ridiculous, really. The whole thing was absurdly, hilariously embarrassing. You, Yn, the reasonably competent adult, had been reduced to a blushing, whimpering mess by a rash and a doctor’s finger.

But as the initial shock and shame began to subside, a different kind of feeling started to emerge. It was still embarrassing, yes, but also… a little bit funny. The sheer absurdity of it all, the unexpected intimacy with your doctor, the traitorous flicker of… something… from your own body. It was all so wrong, and yet, in a bizarre way, also kind of… funny.

Maybe, just maybe, in a few days, or weeks, or months, you’d be able to tell this story at a party, embellishing the details for maximum comedic effect. Maybe you'd even laugh about it without wanting to crawl under a rock and die. Maybe, just maybe, this embarrassing medical mishap would become a badge of honor, a testament to your ability to survive even the most mortifying of situations.

For now, though, you just needed to apply the cream. And that, you realized with a sigh, was going to be a whole other episode of awkwardness, alone in your bathroom, trying to reach… you know… there. The saga of your butt rash, it seemed, was far from over. But at least, you thought with a wry smile, you had a good story to tell… eventually. And maybe, just maybe, a slightly less itchy bottom. That, in itself, felt like a small victory in the grand scheme of embarrassing medical adventures.

[yanderes-galore]

Can you do fluffy au ennard concept?

I had this idea written for a few days before my hiatus, so here it is finally!

Yandere! Fluffy AU! Ennard Concept

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Clingy behavior, Gore, Graphic descriptions, Unethical experimentation, Parasocial companionship, Disturbing dark themes, Forced companionship, Dubious ending, Primarily just horror if I'm being honest.

Ennard is the pinnacle of ambition in this AU.

He (They?) are the result of Afton being drunk on power.

Why should he stop at anthropomorphic mascots?

What's stopping him from making a human/animal hybrid!?

Ennard is the result of an unknown human's DNA mixed with the DNA of Funtime Foxy and Freddy.

In a twisted way that would make him related to the two (as brothers… hopefully… *shutter*).

Ennard may not have any personality issues… but there's a whole lot of physical issues.

The skin visible on him (just his face) is unnaturally pale.

It also has seams like Foxy and Freddy.

Everything else?

A mess of fleshy tendrils and the occasional extra eye.

Ennard, in this AU, is an abomination.

Something that should have never existed.

A reason to not play God.

In all honesty, Ennard should have been put down.

He can barely replicate human speech.

He has little to no protection from the elements.

Yet what happens instead?

He evolves.

Like some creature from Resident Evil, instead of dying Ennard adapts.

The stench of blood announces his presence and he grows.

Soon he grows a protective layer over the exposed muscle he was born with.

Then he grows a set of vocal cords to mimic voices and tones.

The mess of human and animal flesh becomes something new.

A monster that Afton decides to keep alive due to the progress.

Ennard appears to get along with Freddy and Foxy and looks at them fondly.

But there's one person he gets along with the most.

You, an unfortunate scientist, meant to watch the underground layer of the facility.

Your line of work deals with the failures.

Things like Mangle or Funtime Freddy are under your care.

This also includes Ennard, who is kept locked away from all the rest.

He is different, he's highly adaptable and a potential danger.

He probably has a similar ability to Mangle that allows him to form with flesh.

(Which opens up the possibility of Molten Freddy and The Blob later on.)

He is dangerous and unstable.

So the job is to watch and appease him.

There's cameras in the cell, he's fed food, then there's time to socialize with him through a glass window and speaker.

Ennard acts similarly to a child as he develops.

The brain and mind adapt and grow like the rest of his body.

He repeats sign language you teach and when he has vocal cords he repeats words.

It's all very unnerving to you.

Ennard acts very human despite the appearance he takes.

Even then you catch him growling like an animal in frustration at times.

You have to remind yourself he isn't a human, he's a mess of DNA born into flesh.

Ennard listens to your words when you speak to him.

It's as though he has imprinted on you… seeing you as some sort of role model.

He often presses his pale and twitching face to the glass to get a good look at you.

You try to hold back your nausea when it happens.

You wonder how he lives like this.

You are quite thankful you're not allowed in his cell.

This is due to the growth and unknown abilities of Ennard.

Luckily you just have to sit and interact.

Much to Ennard's dismay… the creature really wishes he could be closer to you.

The glass is dumb to him… sadly, you have no idea how much of a bad idea teaching him is.

Your little lessons and interactions make him smarter.

Smart enough to the point he plots escape….

He can't get very far until Golden Freddy breaks out, but when that does happen?

Ennard is free… free to adapt, survive, and find freedom.

Their appearance by this point is vaguely human.

More skin has grown on… yet thick tendrils of muscle still twitch like tentacles around his body.

It's as though if he continues to grow… you may not be able to tell the difference between him and a human.

Except for the height and patches of what looks like white fur, at least.

Ennard's new goal is obviously to look for you.

He knows about the nice scientist in the glass box.

He wants to find you! He wants to finally be close to you!

While you try to evacuate the facility you hear warnings of all sorts of beasts in the underground level breaking out.

You do your best to gather research and prepare to escape.

Only to hear oddly heavy footsteps near you.

You turn… only to be met with the abomination you had tended to.

He's different, he's certainly grown more.

The many eyes he has stares into you with a look of adoration.

In a garbled tone he tries to express his feelings towards you.

You simply shake your head and cry… you scream… you want to leave.

Unfortunately, such a thing is not your fate…

You begin to realize that as the abomination closes in on you.

He can finally be closer to you… as close as he can be.

[hinge]

Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co

[joysmercer]

Today should be the happiest day of Gina's life.

That's what her mom said when she woke her up this morning (bright and early, for the dress fitting); Quinn and Miss Jenn had repeated some version of the phrase over the course of the day. Even just now, Maddox pulled her away from the dressing room with an air of excitement Gina has yet to feel herself.

This moment should be the happiest of Gina's life. She knows she should be soaking it all in, paying attention to every step, every swish of this designer gown around her ankles, committing the scene to memory.

The world is your oyster, now.

So why does she feel like her world is ending, instead?

The hallway fades into a dizzying blur around Gina. She vaguely recognizes the presence of two other PAs on either side of her, like guards (though, right now, they feel more warden-like than protective). Maddie's hand slips from hers, moments away from grasping the handle of the stage entrance, and—

"Wait," Gina rasps. It's just one word, but she has to force it out like she's trying to cough up peanut butter.

It's not like there's much of a choice, when you're choking.

"Porter, you're already late. The reporters are getting—"

"No, just—" she spots a blob of white in the periphery. Her vision swimming, she turns to it, pleading, "Mommy, please, just a minute?"

The blob says something, but her hearing's gone, now, too, and all Gina can do is lean against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut.

The blobs disappear, the ringing in hear ears fades, and she tries desperately to catch her breath. Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know, her mind starts to sing, out of nowhere. An absurd song for an equally absurd moment.

Put on a show!

But then again, she was never much of an Elsa, was she.

Make one wrong move and everyone will know.

And, suddenly, someone's touching, then gripping, her shoulders. Gina stiffens, not trusting herself to open her eyes just yet.

If this is how it ends, getting kidnapped by someone because she insisted on a moment alone, then—

"Gi, Gi, can you hear me?"

Ricky.

Gina opens her eyes.

"Sorry, did I startle you? I called your name, like, three times, and you were just—"

His brows are furrowed, those brown eyes staring right into the depths of her soul. She takes one look at him and knows.

Knows she loves him.

Knows, with every fiber of her being, that he loves her.

And she can't bear the thought of leaving here without him knowing.

"I love you," she whispers.

But the voice she hears is stronger, deeper, and…decidedly not hers.

"Wait, what?" she splutters.

"I love you." Ricky smirks. "I love you," he says again, cupping her cheek. "I love you." He brushes their lips together, soft and sweet. "I—"

"I love you too, Ricky Bowen," Gina interrupts, wanting to make sure he hears her properly. "God, I love you too." She kisses him once more.

"Ok, now that that's established," Ricky says, when they finally break apart. "What do you say we head inside? The whole world awaits!"

Oh, yeah. That. Gina's knees start to wobble again, Ricky's arms draped over her shoulders being the only thing steadying her. "I, um. I can't?"

Ricky frowns. "What do you mean?"

"I can't," Gina repeats. "I don't want to." The minute the words leave her mouth, a weight lifts off her shoulders, and an angel gains their wings. Or whatever the phrase is. "Yeah, I don't want to."

"But—"

"Ricky," Gina says, slowly. "I haven't signed a contract yet."

It takes a moment for the implication of her words to dawn on him. "Wait, you're—"

"Let's get out of here, please?" she asks, extra sweetly.

He doesn't need to be asked a second time. He grabs her hand and runs, their giggles intermingling as they sprint halfway down the hallway, together.

"Wait!" a voice calls. They turn to find Maddox jogging up to them. "I'm coming too."

"Maddie—"

"A job is a job. You're my friend," she shrugs. "Besides, I don't wanna be the one to have to clean up that mess."

Ricky loops his free arm through hers. "The more the merrier!"

Gina laughs and they take off once again. Just as they turn the corner, they find…

…the rest of the Drama Club. "Where are you guys going?" Miss Jenn asks.

Before Gina can come up with an explanation, Ricky jumps in, saving the day for the umpteenth time. "I dunno, where do theater kids go after opening night?" he asks cheekily.

Their friends immediately start cheering. They leave Jenn to explain to a bemused Mazzara and run out the door.

A man in a tuxedo and a gold-plated nametag gets out of the limousine waiting for them out front. "Gina Porter?" the chauffeur asks, hurrying to open the passenger door.

Gina turns to her friends and shrugs. It's not technically stealing if the guy offers.

"Hell yeah!" Ash squeals. Gina takes that as her cue and climbs in, everyone else clambering after.

[therosebunpost]

Monster Mash

Werewolf! Steve Harrington x Fem! Blind! Reader

CW: Some small sexual themes (MDI)

For @lesservillain ‘s Strange and Spooky Stories prompts! This finally gave me a chance to write my Werewolf! Steve idea, so thank you so much!

—————

You came to Hawkins for one reason, and one reason alone. You heard about the spooky shit that’s been happening, and as one amateur Paranormal Investigator, you wanted to see what all the hype was about. People didn’t like that idea. Your parents nearly passed out when you told them. “I’ll have Bernard with me!” You’d say, kneeling down and hugging the large Goldie, who barked proudly. Licking your face and tapping his feet against the ground.

Bernard was your trusty partner in crime. Trained from a young puppy, you two had a bond that was unshaken. He was more than just your eyes, he was for all purposes, your best friend. “He’s excited too, aren’t you? You ready to hunt some ghosts? Maybe get into a run-in with some monsters?” You’d gush, your trusty pup woofing in excitement.

Obviously, you were going to be careful. Sure, you joked about battling monsters, but like hell would you actually put yourself or Bernard in danger. It sucked that people didn’t expect that from you, but that’s how it was when you were blind.

You loved proving them wrong, though.

Hawkins was a nice enough town. It was small, from what your research told you. Even smaller than it used to be, after the quakes.

Bernard stayed by your side, dutifully ignoring the coos and pets of strangers as he led you away from the bus station. Guess Hawkins didn’t have a large Blind population, as you had to gently tell people not to distract your faithful companion. It was almost second nature to you, even if it got irritating.

At some point, you managed to stumble into a building for some salvation from the heat. Taking in the vague shapes and colors, it was some kind of store.

“Welcome to Family Video, if you need anything-“

“Oh! You have such a cute dog, oh my god-“

Two voices rung out from in front of you. One masculine and one feminine. You see two human shaped blobs, and one of them was already coming around the counter at record speed.

“Thank you!” You stop her, tucking Bernard behind your legs and keeping your cane in front of you. “He’s working now, though, so please don’t pet him-“

The woman stops, a sharp breath leaving her. “Oh! Oh, I’m sorry. I won’t. He’s really pretty, sorry about that-“

“It’s alright, thank you.” You relax, eased up by the sincerity in her tone. “Could you help me, actually? Do you know where the local Inn is? I’m staying for a few days and the sun is taking a toll on me. I really don’t want to wander around in it.” You giggle and the woman chuckles in sympathy.

“Yeah! Here, let me find a map. We have some water, if you’re thirsty?” You follow after her retreating form, now stationed in front of the solid mass that you assumed was a counter. The other blob, this one taller and wider in the shoulders, offered a wave before quickly thinking better of it. “Hi! Hey, uh, I’m Steve.”

Steve had a really nice voice. Smooth, and just a touch of an accent you can’t quite place. “Hi Steve.” You return, hoping you were smiling at him and not at the wall. That, and you hoped the heat in your cheeks would die down. You were a sucker for nice voices.

“So, the Inn? What brings you to Hawkins?”

“Well, I’m actually here on a mission!” You tease, giggling and leaning on the counter. “Bernard and I are going monster hunting!” Bernard woofs, but he wasn’t right next to you like you were expecting. Instead he was a little off to the side, and it’s then that you hear the tell tale sounds of sniffing.

“Oh, uh, hey big guy-“

“Bernard!” You rush around the counter without thinking, gently leading Bernard away from the confused man. “I’m so sorry, usually he’s really good at staying by my side.” Even in the midst of a distraction, but maybe Bernard was a sucker for a nice voice too. Plus, he could actually see what the man looked like.

“Oh, it’s fine, I just had some food so maybe he just smelled it on me.” He waves off the apologies, chuckling. Bernard woofs again and Steve’s laugh becomes a little wheezy.

“Dingus! Where’s the map??”

“I don't know Robin! Here, let me check, you just grab the water.”

Then, without so much as a goodbye, he was gone.

The woman, Robin, takes his place. “Here you go! I found a bowl, in case you’re both thirsty? Did I hear right, that his name is Bernard?” She chattered away, pressing the cold bottle into your hands along with a paper bowl.

“Thank you, and Mmhmm! Hey, you can pet him for a moment, if you want.” It wasn’t something you usually did, but she seemed sweet and was respectful of your No. Robin let’s out a small squeal of excitement before you hear her baby talking to the wiggling goldie. “Oh, you're so cute, oh my god. Such a good boy, working so hard, yeah??”

Bernard woofs, whining happily and Robin's giggles were just too infectious not to join in on. "Here, do you mind helping me with the water?" You ask, kneeling beside her and offering the bottle.

After the bowl was filled and Bernard was eagerly lapping at it, you take a grateful sip yourself.

"So, Monster Hunting?" Robin prompts after a moment, and you nod.

"Yeah, I heard a lot of stuff happened here. I was due for a vacation and I figured it'd be fun to look into it!" You explain, standing again. Robin snorts, and she's a blur as she shakes her head. "That's one way to spend a vacation."

"Fuck, I think I left it in my car." Steve’s footsteps come back out of the room.

"I can cover out here if you guys wanna go grab it." Robin offers, and you debate the offer. Follow a stranger to his car for a map to your Inn. Not that the map would do much, but it would at least give you something.

"Sure, come on Bern." You direct him with your leash and he falls back into Work Mode with ease. That, or he was eager to follow Steve out of the building. His lead tugged with his urgency.

"Here, uh, I think it's in the glove compartment?" Steve mutters, and you wait as he rustles around in the car. Though, suddenly he swears and there's a thump inside the car. "Whoa there bud-" He ducks out and you realize that Bernard had been inching closer.

"Bernard! Bad Dog!" You guide him away from Steve with a horrified gasp. "I am so, so sorry, he's never done that to someone before-" Bernard was a very friendly dog, but you trained him out of the sniffing thing early on. At least you thought you had.

"Its uh, it's fine! Dogs do that to me. He's just sayin' hello, yeah?" Bernard whines with apology and you try not to wilt at the sound. You rarely had to scold him, but it seems the new environment was a lot. "Still, I am so sorry."

Steve hands you the map and he tries to guide you to the Inn, but the mess of lines and colors was proving difficult.

"Its okay, I can ask for directions along the way." You offer, handing him the map. You've already taken enough of his time and you weren't excited for the next time Bernard decided to get friendly again.

"Are you sure? I mean, I could uh..drive you? It's not that far from the store and you aren't wrong about the heat."

You hesitate. You did need to check in soon and Bernard seemed to like him a lot. If there was anyone's opinion you trusted the most, it was your sweet puppy.

"Sure, yeah, thank you. I hope there's a way I can pay you back?" You asked, hearing the click of the door. You reached out a hand instinctively and he filled that space. The warm skin of his palm was soothing against yours and damn, his hands were big-

You slip into the car, placing your tingling hand in your lap in an effort to ignore it. The back door opened with a click and Bernard jumped into the backseat with a pleased bark. The sounds of him sniffing around were instant.

"You know," you admit with a giggle, "he's a friendly dog but he hasn't warmed up this quickly to someone before."

Steve let out that wheeze laugh again, hand tapping on the wheel. "He's a sweet dog, cares a lot about you." You hum in agreement, leaning your head back against the headrest and letting yourself rest for a moment.

"So…you said you were…monster hunting?"

“Yeah! I just think it’s really interesting. Really, it’s less hunting and just..seeing that they’re real, Y’know?”

“But isn’t that…dangerous?”

“I mean, sure, but I got Bern and…can I be a little honest?” You rub your palms along the fabric of your bottoms. “I don’t really expect to find anything. Part of this was just an excuse to get…away for a while. Work’s been…stressful lately and I dunno, I just wanted to do something different for a while.”

“Can I be honest?” Steve asks, and you nod. “Hawkins is kinda a weird place to run away to. Most people are hoping to get out.” You giggle, and Steve joins you.

“Do you? Want to leave?”

��…Not really? I mean, sure, I don’t want to be here everyday but…it’s my home.”

“So, you wanna stay but most people wanna leave?”

“It’s stupid, I know.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s not stupid. It’s nice. Sounds like you really like it here.”

Steve hums and you want to ask more, but soon the car comes to a stop. You slip out, running your hands along the glossy interior, and locate the handle and let out your rambunctious pup. He jumps out, pressing his body against your leg with a happy bark. You pet the top of his head, grounding yourself in the familiar softness of his fur.

“Here we go! Hey, maybe.. I’ll see you around? Sometimes? Wait, shit, I mean-“

You giggle, shaking your head and turning towards the smooth voice. “I’ll see you around, Steve.” With a smile, you settle your backpack onto your shoulders, grab your cane and Bernard’s leash. “Thanks again, is there anything I can do? I have some cash?”

“Oh- No, hey, it’s fine, honestly this was a nice break for me. Getting to sit down and uh, drive you and this guy around was a highlight. Trust me.” Bernard barks and his tail wags against your leg before leaving your side and woofing even louder. The golden blob suddenly elongates, meshing with Steve and you have to let out another gasp. “Bernard, oh my god-“

But Steve was laughing, and damn, wasn’t that a nice sound? “Yeah, I liked meeting you too, Buddy.” He giggles and it’s not long before he ushers him back over to you. “Stay with your girl though, okay? Gotta protect her from monsters.” He chuckles, and your cheeks heat up again. “But seriously, stay safe, okay?”

With one final goodbye, you walk into the lobby with a sense of relief and maybe a small bit of longing. “Bern, what the fuck?” You mumble, giggling under your breath as you pet him again. “Was he really that handsome?” You tease and Bernard just lets out one of his happy whines, nudging your hand and licking your fingers. “I’d call you a smitten kitten, but I think you’d be offended.” He lets out an indignant woof and you laugh as you head up to the front desk.

-

Hawkins was nice, for the most part. The people were friendly and helped you get around if you got lost. Bernard was definitely popular, with many people eagerly greeting the two of you as you walked around. Beyond that, things unfortunately weren’t as action packed as you hoped. After all, you couldn’t just waltz up to the nearest resident and interview them about all the things they’ve seen. Not that many were that forthcoming in the first place.

So, you resorted to the library. The place didn’t have a lot of braille in the first place, figures, so the papers certainly didn’t. So you had to blow up the text to nearly three times its size, and even then you had to call the librarian over to tell you any words that weren’t clicking. At some point she ended up sitting with you and reading over the entire article, along with adding her own tidbits.

“Oh, that Munson boy. You know, when he was acquitted, I was relieved. He was always a sweet kid, even if he got a little too into his ‘metal music’ that I had to sush him.” She giggles and you tap the mugshot with your finger with interest. “You said he got hurt? From the quakes?”

“That or an animal got him, dear. Poor boy, he was in the hospital for months. The picket line outside the hospital certainly didn’t help either. His uncle had to be let back in through the back door, I heard. Or smuggled in when visiting hours were over.”

“Holy shit- Oh, wait, I’m sorry-“

“No, you’re absolutely right. Holy shit indeed, my dear.”

Looking back at the formless blob on the page, wonder if that’s all this was. Not a monster as in the bogey man, but the worse. A tangible monster, going around and murdering high schoolers and pinning the blame on some guy who sounded like the town was after him.

“You know dear,” The librarian mentions softly, “things haven’t really gotten better after the quakes, why, there’s been some sightings. That’s what you’re after, aren’t you?”

You perk up at this. “Sightings? Wait, like, monster sightings?”

“Mmhmm, but I’d be careful if I were you, pumpkin. This thing…well, it’s not one to be trifled with.”

-

It was one time, during one of these little study sessions, that a familiar voice rang out in the quiet library.

“Fifteen library books, Dustin? Fifteen late library books?”

“Are you really going to scold me for learning? For following where ever my journey of curiosity leads? My thirst for knowledge-“

“Henderson, Herrington, what a surprise! What brings you two here, not the fifty dollar fine, I hope?”

“Fifty Dollars? Oh, you little shit, I’m going to-“

You weren’t fast enough to catch Bernard’s leash. The Goldie barked, and you scrambled after the blonde mass of fur as he came barreling over to Steve and another person, a boy you guess given his voice.

“Bernard!”

“Fuck!”

The books come crashing down, heavy thumps pounding the ground. Steve’s increasingly familiar blob joined them, covered by a wiggling, excited Bernard.

“Steve! Dude, you dropped them-“ The boy cries, and Steve just groans.

Mortified, you firmly grip at Bernard’s lead. “Are you okay? Steve, I am so sorry-“ You reach out for him, gripping his hand and tugging the dazed man to his feet. “Fuck- Yeah, yeah, just startled, hey buddy-“

“Since when were you a dog magnet, oh, hi!” The boy, now placing the stack of books on the counter, greeted you with barely contained amusement. “Is that your dog? I didn’t know they let pets in here, that’s so cool-“

“Oh, no, he’s a service dog.” You were quick to interject, feeling for Bernard’s leash to make sure it was firmly in your hand. “He’s usually very well behaved, I’m so sorry. Are your books okay?” You reach out, wincing as you felt dents in the spines. “Here, let me just pay the fine, you said fifty?”

That caught Steve’s attention, the man quickly coming to your side. “No, no, you do not have to do that-“

“I mean, the books are pretty dented, Steve-“

“Dustin, I swear to god-“

“It’s fine!” You interject, pulling out your card and handing it over to the librarian. God, you were glad you couldn’t see her expression right now. “Fifty, then?” You press and the librarian finally lets out a laugh. “Yes. Usually I’d charge for the dents, but I’m fairly certain that was Mr. Henderson’s doing.”

“Wait, hey, I-“ There was a thump and Dustin let out an annoyed grunt. You pay the fine, silently mourning what could have been. Maybe a nice dinner at that Enzo’s place, or that cute top you felt at the store, or put into another training course for Bernard because apparently he needed a refresher.

With the freshly used card back in your bag, you turn towards the two with a heavy sigh. “God, I’m so sorry Steve, I swear Bernard isn’t like this-“ His warm hand lays heavy on your shoulder, and he squeezes gently. “It’s fine. Trust me, I’ve had worse.” He chuckles and you relax just a bit. Still mortified, but at least you made amends.

“You seriously didn’t need to pay his fine though, that’s his own doing-“

The exasperation makes you giggle. “Trying to teach your brother financial responsibility?” You guess and Dustin lets out a laugh loud enough to be shushed.

“Might I remind you three that this is a library, not a social circle?”

With renewed embarrassment, you run a hand over your face. “I’m so sorry Silvia. I’m done for today. I think I’ll just grab my cane and head out.”

“Here, do you..want some help?” Steve offers, and even though you could get back to your seat on your own, you decide to nod. Offering a hand, you tell him the section you were in and let him lead you back over there.

“He’s not my uh…brother, for the record.” Steve explains as the two of you walk. He smells nice up close, like the woods and a hint of hair spray. “Could have fooled me.” You tease and he chuckles. “He’s lucky he’s not, I’d be more annoyed about that fine if I was.”

“Fifteen late books is a bit excessive.”

“Exactly! Plus, those dents were not from the ground, they weren’t your fault I promise.”

You bite your lip and shake your head, hand reaching out for where you left your cane. “I didn’t…pay it for him. I uh…did it for you.” Was the AC broken all of a sudden or were you just perpetually warm around Steve and his nice voice and warm hands, and pretty laugh?

He clears his throat and let’s out a little laugh himself. “For…me?”

“I mean, I think my dog has basically fallen in love with you, so I think it’s only fair.” You admit, realizing he hasn’t let go of your hand even when you had your cane. You kind of didn’t want him to, either. “Seriously, he does that to no one. Not even me, so I mean, I think fifty dollars is a fair enough apology. Fifty dollars and a firm promise that he’s going back into training as soon as I get back home.”

Bernard whines at that and you roll your eyes. “I know, I’m breaking the biggest code about revealing your crush, but you literally ran over the man-“ You gently scold him and Steve giggles.

“I'm flattered, but it’s fine. Though…do you think you might want to go out sometime? Bernard’s handsome, but I’d like to just be friends.” He teases and you flush under the boldness.

“You sure? He has to come with me everywhere, I’d hate to make him a third wheel.” You joke and Bernard surprises you with his enthusiastic bark. Nudging your legs and inadvertently pressing you closer to the warm man next to you. “Seems like he doesn’t mind..” Steve’s low answer tickles your ears and you fold so quickly, it’s almost embarrassing.

“…Yeah, I’d like to hang out.” You admit and Steve hums, gently patting the small of your back with a hand as he leads you out of the library. “How about Enzo’s? I can pick you up tomorrow night?”

“Sure.”

—-

The date was going really well. Steve was sweet, attentive, but also mindful of your space and autonomy, which was the bare minimum but damn did some people not reach that. He was funny too, and you really liked making him laugh. Honestly, you loved listening to him talk, even if his topics tended to connect in ways you weren’t expecting, sometimes. You learn a few things about him. How he like sports, how he’s basically become the babysitter for Dustin and his group of friends, how he’s lived here his whole life.

“Wait, so were you here…?”

“During the uh..quakes? Yeah. It kinda divided the town, literally. Crazy.” He admits, tapping a spoon against his plate. “Still looking for monsters?” He asks and you chuckle.

“Yeah, but I haven’t seen any. Just a bunch of newspapers and stuff. You guys have been through a lot.”

“Tell me about it.” Steve groans and you let the conversation shift to something else. You really liked Steve, and you figured you could ask him for more information later, if he wanted.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t tell you much during your hang outs after that. Just bits and pieces. The fire at Starcourt, the missing kid, the Lab getting exposed for government corruption. “Things have gotten better now though.” He insists before distracting you with a warm kiss on the temple, or the cheek, or even the mouth.

Yes, you were at that stage now. Honestly, it was easy kissing Steve in between conversations over diner milkshakes or watching a movie on his couch. It was easy to let your little mission go when his lips felt so good on your neck, sharp teeth gently scraping the flesh there to make you gasp.

After all, Steve was far more interesting. He basically lived alone, his parents often away on business. He loved dogs, or rather dogs loved him, which is apparently a new thing. He was dependable, loyal, and sweet. He got excited when you came around, often getting close to you and always keeping a hand on you at all times. He loved his friends, and thrived in social settings. He used to be on the swim team, but often just lets you use his pool whenever you want to swim. He just sort of sits by the edge, almost guarding over you like Bernard used to do as a puppy.

He had a small temper, but was good at controlling it. He was cheesy, and romantic, and maybe just a bit clingy which you honestly didn’t mind.

It was still so early in whatever this was, but it didn’t feel that way with Steve. It was like he just meshed into your life overnight. You didn’t want to think about what would happen when you traveled back home, so you just decided not to for now. After all, everybody deserved a summer fling if they wanted one, right?

So, yeah, Steve was someone to you now. His kisses were becoming familiar, his hands finding a home on your hips. You hadn’t gone that far yet, other than letting him feel along your breasts which pulled the hottest groan out of him. You would have let him take you right then and there on his couch after that, but the phone rang and Bernard whined for dinner. It ended up being a cuddle and make fun of B-horror movies night, which was just as nice.

He was protective too, and maybe it’d be overbearing if it wasn’t him. He keeps you close in new places, often leading you and Bernard around if you let him. Bernard follows him around all the time, barking and whining, and letting out all manner of sounds. Steve responded with interest, carrying the one sided conversation with ease. It was adorable, he was adorable.

——

You got set back onto your mission about a month into your stay at Hawkins. One night, you were awoken by a screech outside your Inn window. You were alone, except for Bernard who was sulking the whole day without Steve.

Steve had canceled your date earlier. His apology was so strained, and quick that you couldn’t even answer him before he hang up.

“I’m sorry Honey, came down with something. I’ll call you tomorrow though, okay? Stay safe.”

It sucked, but at least you were going to talk to him later. Plus, it meant you could research at the library and make some progress on learning about the horrors of Hawkins.

A different noise comes, a howling one. There was something off about it, like a mimic of a howl instead of a real one. Bernard doesn’t care though. He lifts his head, howling along with it and you’re quick to sush him. You were not looking forward to getting kicked out of the only Inn in Hawkins.

Bernard whines and you sigh. “Do you really need to pee right now?” He whines again and you slowly slip out of bed. You pull on some better clothes, gather Bernard’s leash and your cane, before leading him out of the tiny complex.

It’s a chilly evening in Hawkins. The end of summer is whispering on the horizon. You were going to have to go home soon. Away from Steve, away from the mysteries that you hadn’t solved.

There's rustling in the trees ahead of you. A heavy crunch of branches and a sudden screech that has you pulling Bernard close to your body. The forest was the only place you could bring him to pee, the receptionist having made that very clear when he saw your dog.

“Someone let their pet shit in the hallway, ma’m.” He explained and you sighed and went with it.

Bernard whines, and tugs at the leash, but it’s not away from the scary sounds. No, he wants to go towards them. “Bern, no. Look, I know we joked about monster hunting, but-“ He whines again and keeps tugging at the leash. There’s another whine out in the forest, and it’s painful. Like the creature is crying out for someone, anyone.

Bern tugs at the leash again and this time you follow at his side.

The forest was scary for a number of reasons. You tripped on leaves and twigs, branches whacked you in the face. Fuck, you stepped into a puddle and now your shoe was wet. Still, you both persisted. You trudged along the path, Bernard gently whining and barking until an answering whine greeted him.

“What the fuck is that, Bernard?” You gasp, following your puppy until the shadowy world seems to lighten around you. A clearing in the forest. There’s a shape in the middle of it. Chestnut brown against the emerald green and dull mud of the ground beneath your feet. You get closer and Bernard whines again.

The creature whines back, and you're struck with the fact that this was a dog. A very big dog. You approach slowly. “Oh my god.”

You kneel down in front of it, and the creature whines again. It shifts closer to you, soft fur caressing your palms as the big dog all but shifts his body into your arms, hands caressing the thick, brown fur.

“What the fuck-“ You mutter, and the creature tenses. It makes a move to lean away, but you're quick to gather it close again with a soft, “No, no, no, it’s okay. It’s alright-“

You rub your fingers along the top ofl his head. “Where’s your owner, buddy?” You coo and the dog just sighs. Pressing his large head into your chest with a tiny whine. You carefully run a hand along his body, tensing when you reach a leg and he flinches. Something wet and sticky glazes your fingers and you’re suddenly very grateful Bernard brought you out here.

“What happened to you, baby? Oh, you poor boy-“

A snap to your right freezes you. The dog in your arms tenses, and the dog at your side whines fearfully.

Suddenly the dog is on his feet, persistently nudging you to yours. He growls at you, and the rumbling should scare you, but it doesn’t. “Wait, I’m not leaving you here-“

The dog barks again and Bernard barks back. There’s a barking match, and you try to get a word in but they aren’t listening. There’s another crunch of branches, and another howl similar to the one that woke you up.

Suddenly the bigger dog stamps a foot on the ground with a heavy sigh, growling at Bernard before letting out a put upon whine. Bernard yips back, licks your hand amd then takes off down the pathway.

Without you.

What the hell.

“Bernard! Wait-!” You turn to run after your dog, but you aren’t sure where he’s even going.

Chestnut, the name you decided to give the injured dog because this was getting confusing, is quick to run into your hands. Nudging your stomach and pressing his fur into your fingers.

Let me help. You can almost hear him say as he rumbles. His fur bristles as the creature gets closer and closer to your spot. Let me get you out of here.

“Okay.” You grip into his thick fur, and Chestnut nudges you with his cold nose before tugging you along into the dense forest. You try to keep up with him, but your cane isn’t really doing much to help you right now. Chestnut seems to agree because he takes the cane between his teeth and whines apologetically when he takes it out of your hands. He then ducks down, swooping between your legs and lifting you onto his back in a motion so smooth, he must have done it before.

“Chestnut, dude!” You yelp, leaning forward and holding onto him for dear life. The dog tilts his head, whines in confusion, before racing away from the spot when the creature behind you cries out again.

Even with his injured leg, Chestnut is fast. The wind whips against your skin and deafens your ears. You close your eyes to protect them, burying your face in his fur which was a woodsy scent.

Breaking out from the woods, voices suddenly cut through the rushing air.

“Over here!”

“Shit! What happened?!”

“Where is it, is it after you?”

The voices meld into one and you try to answer, but that horrifying screech cuts you off. You bury your face into Chestnut’s fur while the others scream in surprise.

“Jesus H. Christ, I thought you killed all of them?!”

“Doesn’t matter, get out of the way!”

Gun shots rang out over your head and you bury yourself deeper into Chestnut’s fur. He’s quick to run away from the fire, coming to stop a ways away before depositing you against a wall and handing over your cane. Not wanting to be alone, you reach for him but he barks. Ducking away and whining apologetically.

Before you could panic, a new bark sounds beside you. Bernard whines, pressing into your leg and you all but collapse into him. “Bern!” You sob, pulling him close to you while he licks your face and whines apologetically.

War rages just a ways away from you two. Guns shot through the night, growls and screeches made your ears ache. You held Bernard close to your chest, face buried in his matted fur as the battle raged on.

"El, now!"

There was a cry, a human one this time. A grotesque ripping and shredding followed along with a ghastly cry of pain until all grew quiet.

You slowly lift your head from your dog's fur, tears pooling in your eyes while you try not to whimper. Whatever that was, you were grateful you couldn't see it.

Soft, thudding footsteps came closer to you and Bernard. The irony scent of blood hit your nose and you sighed in relief as Chestnut gently woofed. Nuzzling your cheek with a whine, you lean into him.

"Thanks Chestnut, thanks for saving us." You murmur, scratching under his chin. He makes a rumble in his throat, nose brushing your cheek.

"Chestnut? But that's s-" The voice was cut off with a grunt as more footsteps came closer.

“Are you okay?” Another voice asked, this one actually pretty familiar.

“Robin?!”

The woman chuckles nervously as she crouches down beside you. “Hey. Bernard came to my door and led me here, thank god we made it in time.”

“Bernard- Wait, what? Bernard went to come find you?” You sat up, immensely confused as more voices overlapped. In the time between running from the monster and getting out of the forest, your boy had rounded up a collection of Pre-teens, Robin, and…the chief of police?!

“That’s one smart dog of yours.” Hopper’s gruff voice broke out amongst the gaggle of teens. “Wouldn’t stop barking till I got my ass out of bed.”

Bernard barks proudly, tail thumping with glee as he’s flooded with praise. You rub at his back, also just as proud but…confused. Very confused. How did he know? Your dog was smart, but even so, how?

Chestnut nuzzles into your chest and whines, breaking you out of your thoughts. “Oh my god, your leg- We need to get him to a vet!” You shift, but Chestnut makes a discontented noise. Somehow you knew it was a protest as he shook his head against your stomach. “You’re bleeding, you aren’t fine.” You insist, nudging at him despite how big and heavy he was.

There’s a snickering until another voice cuts through. This one is unfamiliar. “She’s right *Chestnut*, that’s one fucked up bite you got there.” He teases and the younger party breaks out in a few giggles, mainly between the boys. Chestnut barks at them and you run your hands along his soft fur.

“I’m sorry! It’s just his hair looks like chestnuts and I didn’t want to keep calling him ‘The dog’ and-“

“Well yeah, that’s a wolf in your hands, Sweetheart.” The voice coos, stepping closer. The figure was wearing a ton of black, and the jingle of chains registers in your ears. Chestnut gives a warning growl at the man, and he chuckles. “Sorry, sorry. Name’s Eddie, and he’s gonna be okay. He’s already starting to heal, see? Touch the wound.”

You brush a hand over the once bitten flesh, gasping as all you felt was a scab forming. “Wait, how, what-“

“You gonna tell her, or do I?” Eddie asks, but his voice is directed to the comfortable dog, no, wolf in your lap. Chestnut sighs, letting out a small huff of an answer before slowly rising from your body. He walks away, and you sit there for a second. “Tell me what, where’s he going?”

“Just give him a minute, he kinda needs to get decent. You almost done over there man?”

“You try putting on pants over a wound, Munson!”

…..

“Steve?!”

————

—

-

[popppyfur]

...Im having thoughts and i need a 2nd opinion.

How long ago do we reckon trolls were caught/eaten/found by bergens? (relative to the great escape for simplicity)

lemme walk you through my thoughts...

we dont know how the tunnels got there, did the trolls dig them? or something else? or were they always there?

When did Peppy decide to use the tunnels? when were they discovered?

How many trolls did the bergens eat. surely at first they must have bean eating HEAPS of trolls daily before realised that they would run out. how long was it until then?

It had to have been long enough that they would have then decided to make trollstice (help cant spell) a yearly tradtion. could it at first have been monthly?

We dont know how many pop trolls there were at first. have their number gone down? by how much? since more being eaten means less babies.

How many queens/kings were at the troll tree? Just peppy? his parents? But that raises the question of wether or not any of the escaped trolls remember a time before the bergens.

-- A brand new, different anon.

GOD you reminded me of when i eventually realized how massively fucked the pop trolls were pre 1st movie. i remember trying to read everything i could that talked about it and staying up til 4 am to do it because holy hell they were being eaten on a yearly basis. IM HOLDING UR HAND AND SHAKING IT REALLY HARD. and im gonna answer this as jumbled as i can bc. its me. the professional yapper.

on that note ! all under read more to spare everyones dashboards

also, i havent really gone through actual specific numbers, my brains just settled on some vague decision that the pop trolls dont pass the hundreds, or five hundreds. that is to say, poppy would probably still try to know everyone by name just bc she would lol. so i hope you guys can just make up imaginary numbers of years too !!

we dont know how the tunnels got there, did the trolls dig them? or something else? or were they always there? When did Peppy decide to use the tunnels? when were they discovered?

ive always kinda assumed that the pop trolls dug it themselves! they knew about it long enough that they bothered to leave behind decoys of themselves after all. im assuming its a part of a long, long long list of attempts to escape, and they finished digging just a bit before the last trollstice. peppy wasnt gonna risk losing any more, especially since poppy herself was gonna be given to gristle

How many trolls did the bergens eat. surely at first they must have bean eating HEAPS of trolls daily before realised that they would run out. how long was it until then? It had to have been long enough that they would have then decided to make trollstice (help cant spell) a yearly tradtion. could it at first have been monthly? We dont know how many pop trolls there were at first. have their number gone down? by how much? since more being eaten means less babies.

i lost the damn reddit post so im gonna make my own screenshot instead LOL

from left to right, classical, techno, pop, funk, country, and the red blob under them; rock with a mix of other trolls

so like. THIS FUCKING DEVASTATED MEEEEEEEEEEEE. assuming theres more classical trolls just off screen, the visible sheer difference in numbers from the pop trolls in comparison to the other tribes (FUNK IS AN OUTLIER HUMOR ME) just. genuinely left me a bit speechless.

and if you go back to the first movie and remember that the entirety of their village fit in branch's bunker not to mention the DAMN POT? it just. really puts itself into perspective. bc that stage was still relatively big, but the pot. the fucking pot. the entirety of pop village

ALL of them. in THERE? isnt that crazy? we can say that some escaped, sure. but just the fact that they couldve gotten wiped out just like that is so. messed up to me man ToT

i dont remember which fic i read it from anymore, but there was a line going how the pops initially outnumbered the other tribes and thats how they were ever able to threaten actually overtaking everyone. and like. YEAH SURE. fuck me up even more like that why dont ya!!!!!

so suffice to say, pop troll population not doing so hot! and all your thoughts is just one domino falling after another. you piece together the pieces and ultimately just ending up with one undeniable answer. they got eaten. simple as that.

How many queens/kings were at the troll tree? Just peppy? his parents? But that raises the question of wether or not any of the escaped trolls remember a time before the bergens.

and ur first question, putting them together for one last godawfully long ramble :]

How long ago do we reckon trolls were caught/eaten/found by bergens? (relative to the great escape for simplicity)

the fact that world tour makes it a point to say that only peppy ever knew of the other tribes makes me lean more onto the assumption that its been... a while? but also like. no one's ever mentioned viva? no one remembers the princess who was old enough to fight bergens and mention that to poppy??? whos to say these guys arent just repressing everything as they always do????????? [ITS HARD TO ARGUE SPECULATIONS HERE BC they had to make plot for the movies to make sense!!! its why it feels so mean to me to just blame everything on peppy LMAO. even if that is the easiest way to make sense of it. I WANT NUANCE DAMMIT]

so for the sake of it. i like to think that theyve been under the bergens' capture long enough that everyone outside of the royal family forgot about the time that they were even free from the bergens. long enough that the royal family could rewrite the scrapbooks to make it seem like it wasnt their fault. that it never was. whether to spare themselves the blame, selfish deniability, or just. give up the hope that there was a single minuscule possibility to have help from the outside.

i said before that i headcanonned peppy holding resentment for them in the belief that no one could ever bother to just check. and thats part of the reason why he doesnt even want to attempt getting to know them, since it probably felt like no one EVER cared except for themselves.

again. im sorry that i dont have a specific number for you though ToT the most i can say is that: its long enough that they forgot.

POST ANSWER ASK RAMBLEEEE

heres a fic that made me ugly cry about this! i think it gives really good answers to your questions!!!!!!! and though it doesnt completely fit with whats 'canon' (when has anything ever) its such a horrifying and deliciously good outlook on how the bergens affected the pop trolls as a whole! cant recommend it enough!! please leave the author kudos and love especially if this is your type of jam!!!

more than anything. the realization of how hard the pop trolls' lives mustve even been prior to the first movie made me have so much fucking love for them even more?? T_T even if it is unhealthy to an outside perspective, they tried to stay positive, and they got through all those yearly eatings thanks to it, no wonder they try to stay within that mindset even after everything. sometimes i wonder if they felt like its all they had

[heartbreakincident]

28 or 40 for the whump prompt?

(prompt from here)

28. “I won’t leave.” / 40. “You have shit timing, you know that?”

(cw for vague references to a past attempted suicide)

ocs: keres, rene (original). 707 words.

Some days are better than others. The thing about trying and then failing is that all the feelings that made him try in the first place didn't exactly go away. They just... got more complicated.

In certain ways, it's easier now. Rene can take a backseat and let Keres pilot their body around, let them get a hand on the wheel and do the menial work of stretching, showering, feeding them. The self-maintenance tasks that Rene couldn't bring himself to do for them when he was feeling like this.

Keres has long since forgotten how to be chatty out loud, so their little basement apartment is eerily quiet. They've spent too much time dead and then too much time locked in the back of Rene's head, before the two of them learned how to be an us instead of a you and me, so they forget that they can talk whenever they want. With a mouth and lips and tongue and teeth. Instead, they nudge the little blob inside their head that is Rene right now, and feed him sensations to try to coax him out of the empty, disembodied void he's trying to lose himself in.

They don't get it. When they had their own body, before they'd died, they'd had a brain that functioned the way brains are supposed to. They'd only struggled with tasks that were actually difficult, and they'd worried about things more or less the right amount. Even still, now that they shared a body, they didn't get the full force of Rene's moods. Didn't understand why just the thought of existing was so overwhelming.

They definitely didn't understand how Rene could remember the way the water had felt in his lungs and wish he'd never been pulled out.

"You have shit timing, you know that?" Rene says, in that strange way that they talk to each other in their head. It was like forming a really clear thought, enunciating syllables in his brain without ever opening his mouth. It had to be on purpose, more intentional than physically speaking, or the words just came out jumbled in their shared space. "I was so close."

Keres froze, fingers loosely clutching the spoon they'd been using to stir their lunch with. "I don't regret it," they reply, words slow. They had a little lisp when they spoke with their mouth, a slight slurring to their speech. The remnants of some sort of physical thing that they used to have but didn't anymore. "We'd be dead otherwise."

"If I could give you my body I would. You'd make better use of it." And then Rene could sleep. Let the sentinels devour his soul and disappear into that nothingness that he thinks he might have spotted somewhere at the bottom of the river.

"Our body," they correct reflexively. "It wouldn't be the same if it was mine."

"You'd be able to do whatever you wanted with it," Rene offers. "If I left, you could quit my job and disappear. Start over as whoever you want to be." He doesn't know how realistic it is for him to actually leave them with it—Keres was stuck fast, and the two of them were so woven together at this point that it was hard to remember the time before. But it was sort of nice to imagine the possibility that he could just... drift off, and leave Keres with the parting gift of the life they'd desperately wanted.

"True. But it'd be lonely. And it wouldn't be ours." They adjust the heat on the stove and resume their stirring, drawing a few idle circles in the bottom of the saucepan. "I prefer it this way."

It was hard for Rene to argue with them when they said stuff like that. Because underneath the words, he could hear what Keres really meant: that he'd be missed. That Keres wouldn't be the same person if Rene wasn't around. That he'd be killing more than just himself, even if he was leaving a healthy body behind.

"I won't leave," Rene promises. "As long as you don't."

Keres laughed, a soft thing under their breath, hesitant because they're still out of practice. "You make it very easy to say yes, sometimes."