#the only special thing is they are overly feathered

[katfreaks-hidyhole]

[tonycries]

Corpse Groom - G.S.

Synopsis. Till déath do you part…or does it when a déathly error leads your newly-wedded husband to be from beyond the gráve?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, CÓRPSE BRIDE!AU, arranged marriages, period-typical mísogyny, Naoya is awful, accidental marriage, ángst, major character(s) déath, HAPPY ENDING, talks of déath, kníves, poíson, reíncarnation, Gojo YEARNS, he loves you sm I cried, hándjobs, fíngering, spítting, cúmplay, BRÉEDING, creampíes, mentions of having kids, pússydrúnk Gojo, overstím, oraI (fem rec.), pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 12.7k (ohoho)

A/N. K!nktober isn’t over until I had to make a rewrite of my favorite Halloween movie mhm <3

“Mother, I refuse-”

“Nonsense, child!”

That sharp snap! of your mother’s feathered fan is loud enough that the whole carriage rattles on its hinges, creaking you noisily to what seemed like your very doom. 

You gulp when she’s tilting her head down as far as her best, high-collared gown would allow, eyes narrowing. “The Zenin’s are the only nobles left in this wretched town, and I will not have my daughter marrying some commoner.”

The unsteady cobblestone pathway jostles you in your cushioned seat ever-so-slightly, a pertinent little reminder of that fact.

In the deafening silence, your father pipes up - ever-the-pacifist, “Now now, why don’t we all calm down, especially before such a glorious wedding.” But his words wither out into nothing but a whisper in the simmering tension. “Like your mother said, dear, the Zenin’s are a good family, with a uh-” Coughing nervously, “-good son. We just want you to be taken care of.”

As if that was the only thing.

But there was no use arguing. 

Facing back to the gray window with a sigh, and you can only whisper. “I’d rather die than marry Naoya Zenin.”

---

“With this hand-”

“Louder.”

“With this-”

“More passionate.”

“With this damn hand-”

“Not a threat.” The older woman in front of you wrings her satin gloves, turning towards your fuming parents with a tone that matches their expression. “Honestly, I know that you new money people find it hard to adjust but this is our special tradition! My poor baby Naoya is going to be heartbroken tomorrow.”

Dutchess Zenin had a cruel sort of beauty to her, high cheekbones, and cutting eyes that picked apart every fray at your dress - the spitting image of her son.

And her “poor baby Naoya” was currently finding it impossible to hide his smirk. Swiping away invisible dust from the velvety-clad shoulder of his overpriced suit, he sets down his wine bottle from the vows.

“Don’t be too harsh, mother.” Naoya’s smooth voice comes out in a dangerous purr, and you jolt when one of his strong arms slither around your waist. Possessive. “After all, it’s this one’s face that’s what’s important.” 

God, if it weren’t for your parents’ pointed looks you would have shoved this overly-perfumed bastard away from you and bolted through those high doors faster than you could say “I do.” 

The Naoya Estate was as beautiful as its occupants could never be, brutal, looming architecture intended to make you feel smaller than you were. All those high cemented pillars, plush furniture, and gleaming chandeliers spoke of exactly what your parents wanted - power. 

It wasn’t the sort of home you’d like to call your own, but then again, you didn’t have any choice in the matter. 

“My deepest apologies on behalf of my daughter, madam-” your mother’s gritting out the words, painted lips curling ever-so-slightly towards the end with a bitter taste. “-or should I say, co-mother-in-law? Ah, come now, we might as well be family already, right?”

“Sure.” Dutchess Naoya turns, arching a needle brow. “Might as well, thanks to your family assets- if your daughter doesn’t make a joke of the vows, that is.”

The wisened officiary standing at the altar nods solemnly towards you. “Do you even want to get married tomorrow, young lady?” No, you want to answer, but bite back. “Zenin house traditions dictate that the mark of a good wife is one to follow the vows to its every syllable.”

You wince - and your features sting where they’d been perfectly stretched into a plastic smile. Your next words come out small, strangled in a way that makes your future husband smile. “I apologize, I know how important these vows are, and I’ll- I’ll do better next time.”

“Good.”

With a click of Dutchess Zenin’s fingers, a hushed, swirling piano melody fills the hall once more. 

Your wedding ballad. 

Something that Naoya had prattled on and on about being an esteemed tradition in the Zenin household, a tender tune to accompany their sacred vows. Modeled after the long-lost royalty of this kingdom, and this was the closest you’d get to a taste of it. 

It was your one initiation into power - saying those sweet, special promises - and the one thing you found impossible to get right.

“-for I will be your wine.”

Shit.

You didn’t even realize that Naoya had polished off his own vows, before you jolt at the hefty weight of wine being poured into your cup. 

And you could practically feel the burning stare of every eye in the room. Watching. Waiting. 

You’re fighting against your intricate corset to gulp in a deep inhale of the stale, thickening air. Clearing your throat ever-so-slightly, you raise the hand holding onto his wedding ring. “With this hand, I will lift your sorrows. Y-your cup will never empty-” Fingers tightening around the silver goblet in your other, your breath hitches at the bile rising to your throat already. “-for I will be your- your uh- wine.” 

In the corner of your vision, you could spot Naoya’s smug smirk already. You could hear his tiny “As if you have any other choice.”

You knew what he was thinking.

That whisper is enough to make your jaw grind, your hand clench in a way you’d been taught by your mother not to - in a way that she’d unfortunately forgotten to tell you was for the cup’s sake, rather than your own.

Because it only takes one harsh squeeze before it just bursts.

Red, red wine trickling all down your wrist, splattering onto the gauzy curve of your gown - but more importantly, onto Naoya’s crisp suit. 

It bleeds through the velvet in thick smears, seeping into the fabric as if catching on fire. Only staining further and further with each second he’s flailing frantically to wipe it off. 

“Shit- My apologies- oh, shit-” you’re gasping, but there’s no one paying enough attention to tell you off for your unlady-like profanity right now. Body moving before your mind, you snatch some of the officiary’s papers from him, “Wait, it will only get worse- let me-”

Only to forget what was in your hands.

Honestly, if this was any other time you would have laughed watching the rest of the wine nestled safely in your cup come gushing down onto whatever was left of his unmarred suit - every single inch. 

It’s chaos.

Then it’s silence. 

Every single breathing being in the room can only watch as the last few crimson droplets drip! drip! drip! onto Naoya Zenin’s lapels.

Wordlessly, you look to the aghast officiary, your stony-faced parents, and finally, your gaping fiancé. You’re the first to speak - to hold back your chuckles, more like. “I- I cannot apologize enough…”

“You- you witch! This was on purpose, wasn’t it? Do you know how much this custom suit cost? How it was worn by the late highness himself.” Naoya’s screeching, voice shrill. Pointing a finger accusingly at you, it would be menacing if it wasn’t for the big, fat droplets of red dripping from his angry features. More of a drenched cat than the gentleman he pretends to be. “Remember that I’m doing you a favor by marrying you-”

You cross your arms, struggling to keep composure. “I shall reimburse-”

“-and acting all haughty as if you were from the royal family itself.” he’s frantic, mouth running a mile a minute. Tugging at his wet strands, “And my hair, oh my beautiful beautiful hair-”

“I shall reimburse the emotional damages, too!”

Dutchess Zenin tackles her son into a soothing embrace you find almost comical, granting you with a venomous glare that you were sure if looks could kill, she’d be lowering you into your grave and waltzing over it with Naoya already.

Simpering, “It’s quite alright my poor boy, this wedding cannot take place! We can find another-”

“No no no- no, I still want to marry her-” His greedy eyes sweep your trembling figure up and down, “Doesn’t matter if she’s an unfit wife, I’ll fix her up-” You’re quirking a brow, “Swear I’ll marry her and fix her up into-”

THUD!

You’re throwing the cup remaining in your hand as hard as you can, hitting Naoya right in the bullseye of his chest. And as soon as the air leaves his lungs, they leave yours too - in a stubborn, infuriated hiss, “Well, I’d never marry a spoiled, pompous brat like you.”

And with a flick of the stray beads of wine on your fingers at his face for good measure, you lift your heavy skirts as scandalously far as they’d travel to dart out of the door.

Out of the winding corridors. 

Out of the Zenin Estate. 

Ignoring every call of your name, every arm reaching out for you - urgently following your feet wherever they took you. Honestly, you’re so busy gasping in deep lungfuls of the cool, fall air embracing you that you’re half-surprised you only crash into a few people on the streets. 

Again. And again. And again and again, yet never stopping. Afraid of being followed by Naoya. Or even worse - your parents.

You barely even slow down until your tailored shoes crunch against gray snow, eyes taking in lines upon lines of towering trees in front of you. Tall, towering. Weaving their branches with the sky - ominous, almost, against the steadily darkening night creeping its way in.

The forest, you’re realizing with a gasp. Have you really come this far? 

Taking a glimpse over your shoulder at the twinkling lights of the town in the distance, you think of the vows that were waiting for you, and the town rumors you’d definitely sparked. Well, a walk to cool off wouldn’t hurt…

And despite wanting to relax, your thoughts only churn with each step. Replaying the scenes from earlier over and over and-

“And your cup will always- fuck- they probably think I’m such a fool.” you’re spitting, kicking at a pile of snow. “Fuck Naoya and his vows, fuck that stupid wine, should’ve shoved it up his-” 

Just then, a sudden gust of fall air puffs up against your ear, sending goosebumps careening down every bit of your exposed skin. You shudder sharply, hands shovelling for warmth inside your gown’s pockets, “Ugh, today’s such a horrible-” Only to cut yourself off with a gasp- “This is…”

You feel for that metallic cold again, hastily pulling out that solid, silvery ring. Meant for Naoya Zenin.

Admittedly gorgeous, an intricate band with a delicate sapphire embedded in its middle. Your mother had spent months tracking down the best jeweler in the country to forge a ring that even the Zenin’s would be impressed with. 

Fit for a king.

You scoff, “An unfit wife, my ass. It’s not even that difficult.”

Still feeling highly insulted, and only slightly embarrassed for it, you clear your throat. Speaking clearly into the stiff air, “With this hand, I will lift your sorrows.” Determinedly you stride your way into the middle of a slight clearing, “Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine.”

Grasping a stray branch, you mock lighting the altar candles. “With this candle, I will light your way in the darkness.”

Before setting down on one knee - customary for the groom, yet feeling so right when you gaze down at a tree root sticking up from the blanket of snow. Poised like the prettiest of fingers at the foot of a towering oak.

“With this ring,” You’re sliding it down easily as you would have to onto the man you hated the most. “I ask you to be mine.”

.

.

.

You don’t expect the sudden shift. 

You don’t expect the wind to pick up, you don’t expect for a murder of crows to materialize from the midnight darkness and crowd on a tree right behind you. Letting the tree root slip from your fingers, you whirl around - what- a storm?

But before you can think of any answers, that withered branch shoots further out of the ground. Barely giving you a split-second to jump backwards before cupping your cheek, gently. 

And you could’ve sworn that one twig glides across your cheek - just the way one’s thumb would have. Like the softest of lovers. 

Gasping in fear, you fall backwards, splaying out into the uncomfortably bone-chilling snow below.

You can only watch as the tree root twitches once. Twice. And your ears thunder with the high-pitched howls of the wind, and a sudden, booming bang! bang! bang!

Shit. 

Your eyes widen, it was coming from under the ground. 

The ground that was splitting open before your very eyes. 

Wider. And wider. Like something was baring itself before you. Something was clawing all the way from hell, that tree root only surging up, up, upwards in a long, limb-like fashion. Branching out into five fingers that dig their way into the ground. Hard. 

And if you didn’t think you were about to faint from just this - you were definitely on the verge of it when the fingers lead their way into a forearm, a shoulder. Miles upon miles of skin - a person, towering above you, silhouetted by moonlight.

He looks at you with sapphire eyes. Close. 

A man.

Beautiful. 

Whispering, “I do.” Nose to cold nose, thick white lashes fluttering shut. “You may now kiss the groom.”

---

You’re barely half-awake when you realize that that was probably the strangest dream you’ve had in your life. 

Groaning, you rub blearily at your eyes - yet, through the bursts of stars and pounding flashes of headaches, all you can think about is him and his chilling lips on yours.

Soft, like a leaving lover.  

Even in your most feverish of dreams, you’d never conjured up anyone so ethereal. Tall, powerful despite the almost-sickly air about him, and the deep circles underneath his gleaming eyes. 

But so gorgeous - sorrowfully so. 

The image burned permanently into your mind, like your most favorite of memories. Every tiny detail down from the almost-blinding reflection of the moon against his cloudy hair, to how that illuminated his soft smile - that tiny dimple at the corner of his pert, pretty mouth. 

You remember how he wore a wedding suit, the kind that nobles these days wouldn’t dare touch with a six foot sword with how it looked centuries out of fashion. Stark white, with fine silver detailing down the velvety fabric for you to admire.

How ironic, somehow, the thought made you sad.

But most of all, you especially remember the way he looked at you.

Just like he was right now.

“Ah!”

“Now that’s not usually the reaction I- fuck!”

He was real. So painfully real.

And clutching his face where you’d claimed a swat at one of high cheekbones.

“Ouch, my wife has a real good arm on her, huh?” Blinking back the haziness in your eyes, you catch sight of that same summer blue gaze, eyes crinkled slightly at the ends. Tender, despite being attacked by you less than a minute after gaining consciousness. “Though, I love a strong woman.”

“New arrival! Looks like we got ourselves a breather-”

“Looks like she fainted, is she alright? You know we can’t keep her long-”

“Can I touch her? Looks so soft~”

White - white fills your vision, too-late are you realizing that you’re being pressed into the soft coat of his chest. Inching you away from a hulking, four-armed creature, he mutters, “She’s my wife, you curse.”

“What-” It takes you a few more seconds to finally find your voice. In those moments you look up to take in his boyishly pretty features - about your age. Human, had it not been for that otherworldly faint blue pallor. “Is this a joke? Where am-”

Choking on your words as you take a sweeping look around the - tavern? Realm? It looked like the very same one in your own town, except bright. Musical. Everything that your home wasn’t. Finding faces you could never imagine looking at you - some beautiful, some mere skeletons, all taken out of your wildest dreams. 

And all dead, it hits you with a jolt. 

Yet, somehow, you’ve never felt safer in his arms. 

“Something wrong, my love?”

You pinch yourself, “I need questions- now.”

“You mean answers.” One from the pub crowd scoffs - a towering man, handsome. He’d look ever-so-ordinary if it wasn’t for the completely skeletal arm on his left side. And of course, that same death-like serenity. “Honestly, Gojo, you picked an airhead or what?”

The man that still held you - Gojo, you assume - whines in protest, “Shut up, Toji. I’d always love her regardless- and she said her vows so perfectly.”

“I did…” you breathe.

Shit. 

Shit shit shit- you did.

Cocking your head, you ask. “Who are you?” 

He’s rolling his eyes, gifting you a crooked grin of pearly whites. “Your husband, obviously?”

And before you can pinch yourself again to make sure you weren’t dreaming, and that last time was a fluke - or perhaps smack him again - Gojo shows off one slender hand. Naoya Zenin’s ring adorned proudly across his ring finger. Your ring. With your vows. 

“So…” you let out a giggle of still disbelief. “You’re the tree-”

“Not quite but-”

“Oh! I love this story- could make a skeleton cry.”

“Heh, yeah yeah sing it, king of curses.”

“Please don’t.”

“You see, welcome to the Land of the Dead, doll.” A man with pink hair sets down his drink to throw one of his four arms around your shoulder, much to Gojo’s chagrin. Words dripping with taunt,  “N’ lemme tell you the story of our lovely corpse groom.”

You’re dragged along through the crowded, eerily lit tavern, everyone jostling each other to better get a look at you. Poking and prodding, some even gasping at the feeling of your thundering pulse. 

He hums, “Here we have a pompous prince known miles around-” And you could tell him and Gojo had already known each other long, with how he was toying with the other man. “-fell hard and fast for a cute lil’ peasant girl much like yourself-”

“Sukuna, stop it.” Gojo grits, jaw clenched. 

“-but, alas. When dear ol’ dad the king said ‘no’, he jus’ couldn’t cope. So our dear lovers came up with a plan to elope-”

You’re thrust into the arms of an attractive blond man, almost half of his entire face held together with stitches and bone. Heaving out a sigh in a way you could very much feel akin to, “Meeting up late at night is always a stupid plan, even with all the wine and riches for the road. You might not need much when you have love, but you never know what’s lurking. And, well, on that dark night, our prince here paid the price.” When you look back at the white-haired man his eyes seemed significantly softer, if that was even possible. 

Toji’s the one by your side this time, “Poof! Dropped dead as dust waiting for his dear girl, no evidence, no body, no bride. What a crybaby he was when he arrived. Didn’t even want to stay here-”

“-because then he made a promise to wait upstairs.” Another man - with such gorgeous, long hair makes himself known this time. Forehead littered in strange stitches, as if it’d been opened and fixed many, many times. “And waited and waited asleep for one hundred years to this day until out of the blue, you came along, sweetness. The lovely bride, to our corpse groom.”

You. 

And Gojo looks at you like he can’t look away.

Lone, standing there with his arms open as the story tapers out. Waiting. 

Until you came along.

---

“HERE YE, HERE YE…FUTURE BRIDE OF ZENIN HOUSE SEEN LURKING IN THE FOREST WITH A MYSTERY MAN– now for the weather…” 

“What?” your mother hisses at the bellows of the local newsman, well, rumor-spreader, more like. But he’s never been more useful than now. Sneaking an urgent glance at the stunned Dutchess Zenin by her side, she elbows your father, “We come outside to search for our daughter only to hear this? How could we let this-”

“Maybe it’s a ah- slow news day?”

They’re interrupted by a sudden, sharp clearing of one’s throat - dripping with the distinct tone of condescension that only a member of the Zenin family could possess. “We are one bride short for the wedding tomorrow. What a scandal!” 

“Ah!” she’s gasping. Waving her hands frantically, “W-we promise we’ll find her before the wedding-”

“You better.”

“No.” Naoya Zenin’s voice was brimming with something dangerous, an eerie, steady lilt of determination to it. But he’s not even looking at anyone in the group, eyes trained firmly on the woody entrance to the forest in the distance. “I’ll be the one to find her.”

Finally, something that seems to appease the huffing matriarch.

Only leaving her sullen son with a nod of approval, “And Naoya…” She makes sure the other two bothers were out of earshot, greedily scurrying back to the warmth of the Zenin household. “Remember, the ah- family funds are drying up. Hurry.”

---

Gojo Satoru, you learn, was as nervous about this marriage as you were.

“This is where I always visited after first dying.” he muses, ice-cold fingers wrapped snugly with yours as he guides you gently through various crooked stairs and skeletons of town. “The view takes my breath away- well, if I could breathe, that is.”

You’re startling out a laugh that has both of you surprised, and he turns to you with such breathless awe. 

“Beautiful.”

“What-” your eyes widen - and you don’t know whether it’s from his sudden little compliment, or from where you two had finally stopped walking. 

A steep cliff, overlooking the entire, vast town of multi-color lights. The rigid structure from where you came could never compare. Complete chaos. But as pretty as those paintings you read about in books, views you never thought you’d see. 

You rest your hands atop the spindly barrier surrounding the very edge, marveling. “It is beautiful…”

“It is.” Gojo’s tone is rich, and his eyes never stray from you despite all else there is to drink in. It takes you a few moments of counting all the bustling figures in the distance before you finally mount up the courage to meet his hypnotic gaze. 

Gojo jolts when you look his way, as if he wasn’t expecting it. Hastily, he flusters to pat down the sides of his suit - tattered at places, patchy as if once-pristine but ruined with age. He’s smiling once he ruffles through his breast pocket, pulling out something glinting.

You’re letting out a tiny gasp when he shows off a silver, heart-shaped locket. Intricate, obviously custom-tailored - you’d never quite seen anything like it. Positively beaming with all the shine that the rest of him had lost. 

Treasured. 

“It’s for you.”

“What?” Your jaw falls slack in shock, pushing away Gojo’s held-out hands. But he was ever-persistent. “Please- I can’t, that- that looks like it should be for someone precious.” 

“And it is.” 

This was the firmest you’d heard his sing-song voice, and at your slightest split-second of faltering, he snatches the opportunity to circle his hands around your neck. Deftly clasping it from behind, Gojo only smiles, soft pads of his fingers lingering at your nape. “I’ve had it for years.” You wanted to know exactly how many years that meant. “Consider it a wedding gift~”

Your own dust over the cool metal pendant, heart lurching. “If only you let me know about our wedding in advance, I would’ve gifted you something, too.”

“Heh, you don’t have to.”

“Do too”

“Do not.”

“Do too.” You cross your arms, boring your eyes into his. “I’m not going to be an unfit wife.”

There’s a second of silence. 

One.

Two.

And at this point, you half-expected your parents and Naoya’s to just burst from behind the nearby stairway to tell you this was all some elaborate test - before Gojo just explodes in peels of cackles. 

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry I- hah!” he’s barely able to wheeze out, wiping away stray tears of joy. “You never change, huh-” 

It takes the embarrassed tapping of your feet for Gojo to finally straighten back up to his tall figure, muttering out a few more indiscernible phrases underneath his breath. Clearing his throat, “Now who said you’d ever be an ‘unfit wife’, sweetheart- Y’know I really didn’t believe Toji’s airhead comment but- oh-”

You land a half-hearted punch solidly in his stomach - and usually, you’d think twice, thrice before acting this familiar with anyone. Even then, you wouldn’t follow through underneath your mother’s watchful eye. 

Ah, but you’ve never smiled harder when you claim. “I think I won our first argument as a married couple.”

“Oh, can you do this f’me when I have an argument with Sukuna, next?” Gojo chuckles, wiggling his brows. 

He has to dodge your playful hand a few more times - well, he would have had to. But he’s taking them all gladly, pulling you by the wrist to press you flush against his chest. “But fine, you win. Maybe as a wedding gift we can consumm- I’m kidding I’m kidding- follow me, I have the perfect idea.”

And you couldn’t not come with him, with the way that Gojo was eagerly dragging you through the town plaza and back into the now-empty tavern, where you’d remembered had a grand piano nestled away.

Gojo’s pulling out the seat for you, before promptly taking his own flush beside you. Nudging you with one of his shoulders, he starts up a beautifully haunting few lower notes. Delicate. “You don’t have to play, you can listen if you’d like-”

“Hey, I know this one.” you’re gasping, eyes lighting up with the recognition of that familiar somber from the Zenin house. But something about it this time felt so right. 

Before you know it, your hands are moving faster than you can hold them back, joining Gojo in his sweeping melody on the higher notes. It rings in the air around you two, jostling your body up against his. 

“You know it.” he breathes, such a brilliant grin making way onto his pretty features when you two continue your little duet. And you swear you could hear him suck in a sharp inhale before playing even harder on the keys - a challenge.

And you were never one to back down. 

“Heh, you’re not half bad-” But his own little boast gets cut off by Gojo’s half-skeletal wrist snapping off, twiddling up, up, up the grand piano and on its merry way around your shoulder. “Pardon my enthusiasm, my love.”

You help him reattach it back, an interesting quirk of being half-dead, you suppose. “I like your enthusiasm.”

There’s a slow, stuttering silence that echoes afterwards, and you’re shivering from the slightly cold bite of the underground. Gojo wraps his full arm around your shoulder this time, and you don’t have the heart to tell him that he was still bone-cold. 

“How…” he gulps, barely meeting your eyes. “How did you know that song?”

But you couldn’t tear yours away from him, “Oh? That song? Well- before I uh- married you, I was actually engaged-”

His pretty lips fall slack, “Oh…”

You’re not sure why you hasten to explain yourself, “B-but he was a prick- and I threw a wine cup at him just before coming here.”

“That’s my girl.” Gojo winks, and you’re feeling your skin heat up.

“Anyway, this song was to be played at the wedding. So my mother made me memorize every single note- she failed to tell me it was a duet, however.”

“It was.”

Something about those two words comes out breathless, barely hanging on. And you’re biting your bottom lip ragged before the question escapes you, “You were engaged, as well? Before- as a prince- I mean- oh, forget-”

To your surprise, Gojo only chuckles - deep voice breaking ever-so-slightly at the very end. His fingers glide across the piano with a familiar sadness that you can’t quite pinpoint. Chest rumbling, “Well, it’s just as the others said. We were meant to run away together, but your dear ol’ husband here died just before we could.” 

You’re swallowing the lead that’d seemed to piled up heavily in your throat, still afraid to push too far. “And the- the bride? What happened to her?”

“I…don’t know…she probably saw I wasn’t there and went back, had a happier life with a more deserving husband- children, even.” He looks towards the perpetual night sky, Adam’s apple bobbing heftily. “It’s funny- today’s a hundred years since that day.”

Something hurt. And your chest churned at the thought of him waiting and waiting in the darkness for years. For someone.

“You loved her?”

He looks at you - really looks at you - and then down at the gleaming locket. “I love her. And I made a promise, I wait for her - in life and death.”

Something really hurt - and it wasn’t just that hollow, aching burn in your chest. No, your head was now throbbing with such a splitting pain that you can’t help but grab your temple with a yelp. Eyes scrunching shut with tears, trying to down out that drilling thrum. 

“Shit-” you’re hearing, foggy, like it was in the distance. “Shit shit shit-” Big arms wrap around you, “Are you alright? Shit-”

The swinging pub doors slam-

“What happened?”

“The bride from upstairs-”

“She’s still here?! She already dead or what?”

More and more voices are joining in - and you’re not sure if you’re thankful that they drown out that harrowing thunder of blood in your ears or angry that they’re making it ache more deafeningly in response. 

“Please- space.” Gojo’s stern command rings across the plaza, for a moment of clarity you’re thinking that he’d make the perfect leader of sorts. The perfect prince. “My wife needs space, and you all will leave-”

Nanami’s strict tremor was distinguishable anywhere. “What she needs is to go back upstairs, Gojo.” Another pair of rough hands grasp your shoulders, and you hear a growl from above you. “With fresh air, with her kind. I don’t know what fantasy you’re playing out but she needs to be back with the breathers, down here isn’t good for her.”

“But-”

Just at that unfortunate moment, your head wracks with another painful burst, making you cry out. Clinging onto Gojo’s soft jacket for dear life. 

“But she’s my wife.”

Everyone goes quiet. 

You were sure he was crying now, and oh how badly you wanted to reach out and comfort him. But, instead, Gojo’s the one soothing a hand down your back, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. He breathes in deep, grounding gasps by the chain of your locket, “N-nanamin’s right- we- I have to get you back.”

Your eyes shoot open, “What- no-”

“It’s for your own good.” Pressing a slow kiss to your forehead, “Trust me.”

“But-”

“Please?”

---

Gojo Satoru had spent so long in the darkness, that he’d almost forgotten how beautiful the moonlight is.

Even more so when you were by his side. 

“Oh…” And despite not having a beating heart, he swears he could feel it racing at the crisp scrunch! of freshly fallen snow underneath his polished shoes. Arms immediately wrapping around your waist, twirling you to him, “How I missed the beautiful upstairs.”

You’re giggling, batting your lashes up at him. “Well, you’re not doing much sightseeing right now, are you, Gojo?”

“Please.” He rests his icy forehead against yours, waltzing you slowly around the clearing. Your first dance. “Call me Satoru, I would like to part ways having heard my name on your tongue once, than not at all.” 

And ah, it hurt him more than that dull, spreading pain of death to simply see your expression crumble. Lower lip wobbling when you whisper, “Do we have to?”

It’s as if that tiny tremble in your voice jolts him back to his senses, and he’s letting go of you as if you burned. Turning his back so that you won’t see him swipe underneath his dampening eyes, “We do.” he nods solemnly. Still gazing out through the barren trees, the snow breaking in. “But I would…if you’d like- I would really like you to say my name just once.”

Nothing - not one of your quipping insults, not even one of your sweet, sweet giggles. Gojo could barely even hear that shallow breathing of yours. 

“My love?”

Nothing.

Gojo whirls around, “My love?”

Nothing. 

---

“Let me go let me- go-” you spit, voice dripping with a deadly growl that should decidedly not be used in front of your future in-laws. But you didn’t give a fuck right now. “I will never- ah-”

Unceremoniously, you’re thrown like a mere debris in front of Dutchess Zenin’s gold-tipped boots, hands splaying out against the cool marble to dredge up some ounce of balance. You look up into her burning glare, hissing, “I will never marry your son.” 

But it’s like you’d never spoken at all.

She’s turning to Naoya, stood proudly behind you, holding back his snickers. “Ah, my son-” Reaching her arms around to brush off the soft pattering of snow down his coat. “-I see you’ve brought your wife back.”

“Of course, mother.” he’s humming. “Had to walk all throughout that crummy forest until I saw her-” At this, he’s turning towards your parents, who could only watch from the sidelines. “-with another man no less- well, can’t quite call him that if he didn’t even see his woman being dragged off into the dark.”

Dutchess Zenin cackles,and the sound makes you grit your teeth. “That other man is my husband-”

“What?” 

It’s your own mother speaking this time - eyes widened. Fuming. She comes up to you in a few urgent, sharp strides, grabbing at the now-torn and frayed edges of your gown. “What nonsense are you speaking-” Sneaking a glance at your father, “Our daughter seems to have lost her mind, dear.”

He’s just a bit more gentle - cautious, almost. As if confronting a cornered wildcat when he ruffles through your pockets for the ring. Finding none. 

You’re wrenching yourself away, “I’m fine- but father, listen- I was practicing my vows in the forest-” Every eye was on you know, and oh you’ve never felt more of a spectacle. “-and I put that wedding ring on a tree root- and it- it came alive and oh- he was a groom. A beautiful corpse groom-”

“That trip to the forest must have bogged up her mind- yes yes, she must be imagining things.”

“Of course, but the wedding…poor dear-”

“The only thing she’s good for is the money.” Dutchess Zenin gruffs, tired of hiding her disdain. “And maybe a free trip to the hospi-”

“The wedding will take place.” Naoya cuts in gruffly, snapping his fingers at a nearby attendant and pointing at you. “Call the officiary, and as for my future bride, I don’t care if you must force her into that wedding dress, I don’t care if you have to drag her here - she will marry me one way or the other. Now.”

It’s like you’re a puppet - their puppet. Being rapidly walked and bathed about, dolled-up in a white, silken wedding dress that you could never see yourself standing in next to him. 

It fits you like a glove, attuned to your body as if it was made for you - and you almost hated how beautiful it was, adorned with tiny silver inklings and the most delicate of lace. Made with too much love to be borne out of this dreary household, but when you turned to ask your jittery handmaiden about it, she’d only cryptically answered about “the dress being with this family for a long, long time.”

No one here seems to give you answers.

Or grace.

Or anything but locked windows that you crack a nail or two attempting to open and flee and a long, decorated aisle to walk down to your future husband. Naoya. 

Your throat tightens when you’re stepping back into that hallway - now flourishing with bouquets of blue, blue baby’s breath, and twinkling candles. It was almost colorful, for this town, at least.

You shudder out a teary sigh when the tender piano starts up again - the exact same tune you’d played with Gojo. But cold. And suddenly, you’re realizing that you never asked him how he knew the song.

“Pssst! Walk!” Your mother’s high-pitched hiss is enough to snap you out of your little reverie, glassy eyes snapping up to look at her urgent signal to hurry up.

And so you walk, but not to the one man you wanted to.

Naoya’s smirk lies as smugly as ever when you take your place beside him at the altar, poised, and perfect in his pressed suit, his glinting sword. Whispering snidely from the corner of his mouth. “Smile a little, it’s a wedding after all.”

You keep your gaze trained firmly on the officiary starting his speech, “Perhaps in disappointment, we are perfectly matched.”

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this bride in holy matrimony-” Gesturing a wrinkled hand at Naoya, “You may begin first.”

He raises his hand in a solemn oath, razor eyes boring relentlessly into yours. Voice dangerous, humming. “With this hand, I will lift your sorrows.” This time, he was pointedly the one to pick up that cup on the altar table - a steady, unbreakable metal this time. “Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine.” 

Your trembly fingers wrap around the bottle of wine, starting to slowly pour. “With this hand, I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never be empty for I- I will be…”

Shit.

Shit, you can’t do it. 

Your words struggle to come out, and you could burn in the sheer anger already wafting from Naoya. 

“I will- I will be-”

“How scandalous to marry an already-married woman~!”

The gasp that echoes throughout the hall is almost as deafening as the booming crash! of those towering, mahogany doors being swung open. Clattering against the walls so hard that your teeth chatter with vibration - but you didn’t care. Didn’t even feel it because you’re too awe-struck by what was standing in front of you.

Or more accurately, who. 

“Satoru!” The tears are falling hotly down your cheeks, you barely have the patience to lift up your layers upon layers of gauzy skirts before stumbling your way into his arms at the very end of the aisle. Ready. Ever-loving. Catching you easily like he’d been waiting a hundred years for this very moment. 

“I thought you left me waiting.” he breathes.

“I would never- and- and you’re here.” 

“Mhm–”

You can’t help but let out a laugh, “How did you even know where to find me?”

“Our duet- there would be no other but this house that would know it-” He wraps his arms even more snugly around your waist, white locks tickling your nose. “And you did promise to lift my sorrows, what type of husband would I be if I didn’t do the same?”

“You. You- What- what is the meaning of this?” Dutchess Zenin’s squawk tears through your little moment, she’s whirling into a furious stand, fists clenched. “Married woman- husband? You’re dead!”

Gojo remains calm, sapphire eyes narrowing, “I am.”

But the ever-composed woman you’d feared for so long was now running her mouth a mile a minute, half-ripping out chunks of hair in frustration as the officiary held her back from storming her way towards the two of you. 

“You’re dead you’re dead you’re dead-” she screeches, and even Naoya could only watch with his mouth fallen. “You’re dead- my family made sure of that-”

She stops short, mouth opening and closing in a gasp until you breathe, “M-made sure?”

“Yes-” She’s fighting against the hold, still muttering to herself maniacally. “Shit- we made sure to- oh god why- do we have to kill you all over again! Your wretched Gojo royal family is wiped out- I still- I still have the power, the riches- All because we left you-”

“For dead.” he whispers. You’re too shocked to gasp - to do anything but look up at his reaction. “But she came back to me.”

“Her? This one- Once more you found that insignificant little-”

And at this very moment, Naoya just bellows in a guttural scream, everything his mother was restrained from doing with how he’d closed the gap between you two in a few urgent seconds. One hand wrapped roughly around yours, “I don’t care- You forget she was engaged to me first.”

“She’s still my wife.” Gojo spits. 

“Not if you’re-” Naoya’s unsheathing his sword haphazardly. Swinging. “Dead!”

Schwing–!

It would have been sure to hit you. 

Would have been sure to gravely injure your side - if Gojo hadn’t deftly moved himself squarely in front of you, that is. The sharp blade slicing right through his ribs - yet, he still smiles. “You forget I already am.” In one, fluid motion tackling the sword to holt at its bejeweled hilt - pointed right at Naoya’s chest. “Let go of me and my wife, before you join me.”

It’s silence.

Silence and the smell of fear. Sour, and saturated when Naoya’s stepping away, one unsteady foot after the other-

“I will ruin you as my ancestors have, Gojo brat-”

Dutchess Zenin.

Your body moves before your mind - before any form of thinking, as if on instinct. Yet, you already knew what was coming. 

And soon enough, you’re standing in front of a stunned Gojo, face splattered with the red, red wine in her silvery cup. Drip! drip! dripping down your stained lips and onto the marbled floors. 

But something about it tasted bitter. 

Different.

.

.

.

And all of a sudden - you see dark.

“Poison! By gods, the wine was poisoned!”

“How will the wedding go on?”

“No- no no no I just wanted to her sick- to get her will–shit-”

“My love---listen----hear--me?” 

In the foggy distance, you could hear girlish, high-pitched screams that sounded strangely like Naoya’s, and the familiarly dark chuckle of- Sukuna? Sounding ready to pounce on fresh meat. “Heheh, new arrival - and some unfinished business, huh?”

“S’Toru–” you’re whispering, eyes blearily. Heart cold. Suddenly, everything about you was cold. And the only thing you could register right now is the fact that you were still in his arms - always was. “Toru- am I- where am I?”

“You’re here, sweetheart.” he gasps, big fat tears splattering onto your face. The only sense of warmth that you could feel, other than the one in your no-longer-beating heart. And you can’t help but wonder - can a heart be broken even when it stops beating? Because he was living two deaths now - his own - laying there poisoned with wine so long ago on the forest floor, with only the Zenin’s to watch, and you to wait for him much later - and most importantly, yours. “You’re- you’re here, with me.” He places a sweet, sweet kiss onto your lips. “Rest now, I’ll wait for you. I promise- I promise.” 

And through your hazy vision, the only thing that you could quite see was that silver locket you’d never thought to look through, out of fear - sprung open. Baring two grainy, clouded portraits - as good as a photo. 

Of him 

And…you. 

“I’ll always wait for you, in life and death.”

---

“Hey- Toru–” your voice rings out in Gojo’s favorite song, peering curiously at the boyishly grinning prince. “Do you think I’ll be an unfit wife?”

He throws his head back with a cackle, peering through his long lashes from where he was resting his head in your lap. “What- no? Whatever makes you think that, silly girl?”

You’re settling yourself further down the young oak - your favorite little hiding spot ever since you’d introduced your secret lover to it. Grumbling half-jokingly, you thread your fingers through his soft, snow-white hair. “Well perhaps because someone refuses to help me do anything in preparation for tonight-”

“Shhh!” Gojo’s bringing a finger to his lips, glancing around over-dramatically. “You never know when my father will be jumping from behind the bushes.” At your amused laughter, “N’ besides, doesn’t matter if we’re going to elope, I’m not letting my wife pick up a thing.”

“What- no-”

“I’ll snag my wedding suit- and that specially-made dress for you heh- and get the attendants to sneak out some leftovers from the banquet. The Zenin family has just gifted some wine I know you’ll love.” 

Craning his head to press a slow kiss to your forehead, “We’ll drink, we’ll say our vows- you better have memorized them this time-” And another on your nose, “Then I’ll have you drunk in another way~ ow! Okay okay- don’t hit royalty–! And run away to our happily ever after.” Then, finally, lingeringly on your mouth,“Trust me.”

“But-”

“Please?”

You’re fiddling with the chain around your hefty, heart-shaped locket with a huff, finally caving in. “Fine- but then-” Deftly unclasping it, “-you have the responsibility of keeping this safe, too, I have to teach piano to the little ones in town again today, and if anyone catches me with a piece like this I’ll be hanged for thievery before ever getting married.”

“Our duet?”

“Our duet.”

He twirls that delicate pendant around his fingers, brows scrunching in half-seriousness. “I’ll protect it with my life-” Almost flinging it towards the end of the clearing in his haste to salute you, “Ah- pardon my enthusiasm, my love.”

“I like your enthusiasm, dummy.” you’re rolling your eyes at his antics. “But what if I’m late? The music lessons always take so long…”

“Just meet me here at our place - promise I’ll wait for you, of course. In life and death.”

You never did find out if Gojo Satoru waited for you.

You never found him that night - running late to the clearing, only to be met with no sign of him. Not that night. Not the night after. Night after night, you waited for him - watched as the Gojo royal family fell and the Zenin’s raided their palace, as the town started to grow and you stayed the very same.

With stray hope, even in your final ages, waiting for him and the marriage that won’t take place.

Not for a hundred years.

---

You’re waking up remembering the feeling of those cold, cold lips on yours. 

Finally, remembering.

“Sa-Toru-” you’re gasping, gulping in heavy lungfuls of air before you realize - you don’t need it anymore. Eyes startling open, you wince at the even the dim, heady lighting overhead. “I’m…”

“Dead.”

His words are gentle - just above a whisper, as if anything else will scare you off. But his words have the complete opposite reaction, in fact, you’re reeling him in so close by the silvery lapels of his weathered jacket. Wedding suit meeting your wedding dress.

You feel over his broad chest, and then over yours. Breathing out in awe, “I- I really am dead.”

Gojo’s wincing, running the soft pads of his fingers down your scalp. Massaging, “How- how do you feel, my love?”

Too-late you’re realizing that you’re splayed out on what seems like a plush, engulfing bed. Blankets upon blankets of velvety fabrics covering the surface, like someone had tried their very best to replicate warmth. 

“I think I feel…” you’re muttering, the very corners of your painted lips turning upwards at the way that Gojo was hanging onto your every word. Pretty mouth dropped into a soft oh! eyes wide and true. You just can’t help but drag him into the tightest embrace your joints could possibly handle. “-that I haven’t spent enough alone-time with my husband.”

He laughs - he laughs and laughs like he hasn’t before, like it’d been bubbling up in his throat for years and finally set free. 

“Oh, my love.” Gojo reveres, pressing a trail of hot kisses down the side of your face. Lingering in a languid lick where big, salty tears of yours were welling up. “We have all the time in the world- I just- just- do you remember?”

You’re pretending to think, leaving him careening at all your minute expressions. Finally cracking, “Of course, I remember- all of it, dummy-” Swatting his chest, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He’s gulping heavily, “I always knew that- that it was you the moment I saw your face- you look exactly as you did. Exactly as beautiful as the day I lost you, after all.” Cupping your cheek, “And oh, sweetheart, what a blessing it would be to marry you. But how could I ever tell you when you didn’t even remember me? How could I so selfishly ask you to throw away something so dear as life for me? Even for a promise?”

“I would have done it.” you’re pouting, brows scrunching. 

“Exactly.” 

“I waited for you, y’know. For years, until my death. No ‘deserving husband’, and no children.”

He gasps a tiny, meaningful gasp. And for all how Gojo loved to run his mouth, right now he only presses a sultry kiss to your forehead, “But in this life, or the last, or whatever comes next-” On your nose now, “-I’ll wait for you. Always have, always will.” Finally - yearningly - on your mouth, “In life and in death.”

Gojo kisses you like he’s been waiting a hundred years for it - and would wait a hundred more before he can again. 

Pressing one, two. Three steamingly hot, open-mouthed on your spit-glossed lips before moving to trail them down the underside of your jaw. Dragging his raw lips in a messy glide, he’s tittering when all it takes is one sudden bite at the soft spot on your neck to get you to jump. 

“Heh- you never change-” he murmurs into your heated skin, licking down the sting with a slow spread of his tongue. 

“T-Toru–” you’re managing to gasp out despite his relentless attack on your mouth. Making him wrench out such a pained grunt when you pull his face back ever-so-slightly to look into Gojo’s eyes. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Gojo can only cock his head in confusion, gaze still half-lidded and locked on your lips. 

“You’re forgetting your promise from all those years ago–” you’re dragging out in a honeyed-tone, giggling at the way his hulking body squirms impatiently. “-to consummate our marriage.”

And oh.

Oh, Gojo Satoru feels he’s dying six times over already. 

He feels like his bleary head is about to go into overdrive - as was the sudden tightening in his pants. 

“W-well then…” he’s rasping out, voice so ragged, dipping into a husky baritone that for a second you almost don’t recognize it. Two of his long fingers cup your face once more - rougher this time, making your lips squeeze together into an almost-embarrassing oh! “Open that mouth f’me, my love.”

You barely even realize it when you do - not until Gojo’s spitting a thick, translucent wad of his syrupy saliva right onto your lolling tongue. 

Nodding smugly when you’re taking him all, he’s swiping the curve of his thick thumb down that purposeful splatter on the corner of your lips. Because you knew the prince of a nation should have perfect aim, you knew he just liked seeing your dewy eyes flutter. 

Whispering hoarsely against your lips, “I ask you to be mine.”

“Yes-” you’re whining, your hands scrambling down the decadent fabrics of his suit. “Yes yes yes- please- n-need more, Toru-”

And the sound of that cute lil’ nickname you’d made for him in that sweetened tone makes Gojo’s entire body wrack with a violent shudder. Head throwing back, white lashes flickering shut- “O-oh, shit- shit you’re gonna be the death of me-”

But whatever little joke playing on your tongue just dissipates when Gojo’s shedding his outer coat off slowly. Bloodied, silken jacket hitting the ground- bloodied? You’ll have to ask about that later.

And then his mouth is on yours again - teeth clashing, tasting metal, his pretty lips wrapping around your hot tongue to just suck. Lazily, like his favorite candy. 

“So beautiful-” his words puff out in a feverish pant. Chest huffing - no, heaving - you can only keen when you feel something so hard and massive nudge up in a gentle kiss against your high. “So perfect–” The sodden curve of his achy tip dragging in a wet smear down your leg. “So mine.”

As soon as you’re blinking your dazed eyes back open, you’re hit with what looked like miles upon miles of Gojo Satoru. Curving muscles sitting prettily and casting shadow in the low lighting - it made you just drool. 

Shit, when did he even take his shirt off?

“Heh, already so needy, sweetheart?” He kisses up the glossy trickle, groaning into your mouth, “So cute–”

But, of course, you weren’t exactly one to be pushed around, either.

With a low purr, you cup that bulging tent right in-between his muscled thighs. Fingers skimming over inches upon inches of his girthy, solid shaft - he just gasps. “O-oh, you little minx- do you enjoy p-playing with my hngh- sanity?”

With a snicker, it doesn’t take you long to smudge the pads of your digits at that thickly spreading pool of precum. Glossing a thin sheen all the way down to your wrists with how fucking greedily he was throbbing at your touch. 

“F-fuck-” he’s hastily clearing his throat as soon as it breaks off into a pathetic whine. Hips bucking forwards in mindless, staggering gyrations into your hand like Gojo didn’t even realize what he was doing right now. “Fuck fuck fuck- honey, I-”

The neediest little grunts spill from his puffed-up lips, and he’s moving urgently - hastily, when sitting upright to all but rip that bejeweled belt off of his slender waist. Tugging his white pants down, down, down and-

Oh. 

“Fuck, Toru.”

Gojo was so unfairly pretty - all of him.

Even every single inch of his long, thick shaft, smeared with glistening precum sobbing out from his fat, round head. Blushed darker than the rest of him - matching his innocent cheeks right now. So hard it looked painful. 

Twitching over and over in saturated gushes coating his prominently throbbing veins, his tight balls. Your fingers. 

Wrapping tight around his flushed base, he was so incredibly big that you’re worried your fingers wouldn’t even close. Scratching up against those drenched tufts of cloudy white at his toned pelvis, the sight is enough to make you gulp. 

“Yes-” Gojo’s rasping, head thrown back because shit did it feel good to have your pretty lil’ fingers all wrapped around him. Hips stuttering up, up, up- “Yes yes yes- c’mon- c-c’mon my wife-”

Shit, those words spilling from his lips are enough to steer into such a loud moan, and he’s letting his jaw fall unhinged. Jaw-droppingly powerful back muscles flexing when he falls into a hunch, kissing wetly at your lips. 

“Tighter- squeeze ah, squeeze me at my tip-” Gojo’s babbling, drunken eyes so thoroughly locked on where you were pumping your fist back and forth. “Y-yeah hngh- and glide your thumb over just—”

You’re swiping the very tip of your thumb underneath that sensitive slit of his, the slightest touch enough to make him bawl out in a dripping sheen of precum. Reddening even more, his hefty girth in your hand jolts sensitively. 

“S-s’this–” you stagger out, wrist aching when you’re moving it faster. And faster. Ears ringing with the sloppy fap! fap! fap! of your fingers clenching around his thick, circular girth, the splatters of precum it’s forcing from him. Kissing gently down his burning shoulder, “S’this good, Toru?”

And god, how dare you even ask that?

With a sudden groan, he crashes his lips into yours again. Addicted. Growling against your whiny mouth, you’re flinching at the nip of his sharp canines. 

“Oh, yer perfect-” he’s blinking back big, fat tears from behind those glassy eyes. And the soft plane of his palms dance ravenously down your body - all your curves, your dips where your wedding dress was hiking up. But most importantly at your sopping wet cunt. “-so so- p-perfect- any harder n’ m’gonna make ya a pretty momma right now, right here.”

His words come out a burst - a beg. 

In that very heady moment he’s just bullying his thick digits past your soaked pussy - absolutely useless with how fucking translucent it was. Sticking to your sopping wet folds like a second skin that he wanted to rip off. 

“S-so oh!” Sucking in a sharp gasp at the sight of that tiny lace wrapped around his fingers, “Such a pretty cunt, wearin’ such a dirty lil’ thing, naughty girl- who was this for?”

And you couldn’t dare bear to wrench your lips open, to meet that dark glint in Gojo’s gaze. Hooded, such a slow, leering grin growing all over his face when the seconds tumble by. When your softened fingers falter around his length.

“Who was this for?” he’s echoing. “N’ no lying to your h-husband.”

“Toru-”

“Tell me, my pretty wife.”

“It was-” you’re mewling out, choking on your tiny confession when he slides his index solidly down the drippingly wet purse of your swollen pussy lips. Puffed-up and sensitive against where he was rubbing that cool metal ring against them. “-w-was for ngh- N-Naoya- but it was Dutchess Zenin that made me-”

Oh, but fuck - it didn’t matter who made you wear those sinful panties. 

Because it’s only taking Gojo Satoru a split-second to crane his hot mouth downwards and bite down on the very hem of your saturated panties. Biting the edge of your skin only slightly - before just tearing the fabric off with his very teeth. 

He takes a few seconds with his greedy gaze boring into yours, crazed. Canines bared glintingly around that tender lace, he just groans. 

Eyes rolling to the back of his head before spitting it out - and kissing you like you’ve never been kissed before. 

“H-hngh, Toru–” you’re moaning, your fingers half-cramping up with the way they were turning around his swollen cock. Swiveling around the heated bumps of his sensitive spots, the drag of your nails gently down his veins make him shiver. “Feels so- ah!”

And ah, for how much Gojo loved those saccharine sweet moans in your ear, how much he loved teasing you - he was hungry. 

Shoveling all the way into your gummy channel, until your puffy pussy lips were kissing his very knuckles, gushing out in spurts of wet slick down his wrist. Twirling those cold digits, so stark against how toasty you were inside. 

It made Gojo’s thickened tip twitch in your fingers, huffing out a humorless laugh when he was easily knocking against that bulbous bullseye of your g-spot. Pressing down. Hard. 

“Mhm—” he’s purring, nosing down the tender crook of your neck. “Tell me how it feels- hngh- gotta tell me- fuck oh fuck don’ squeeze me like that- ah-”

He’s just wrenching out the most dripping squelches with each rummaging pump into your melty cunt, your walls were just molding around his digits. Sucking him back in like you’re trying to milk out something delicious- fuck, how he wished this was his achy cock right now, instead.

Gojo’s biting down hard at that magical spot on your neck, sending shocks of electricity down your sluttily arched spine. “Can’t- hah- can’t take it anymore- shit- needa be inside you soon. Needa fill ya up soon.”

And he didn’t even have to tell you - you could feel it. 

Building up and up with every relentless such of his glistening fingers. Glossy. 

“Need to make you mine-” he’s gasping, heatedly. Tone cracking on almost a bawl, his hips are fucking into your hand like his little cocksleeve, up all the way from weepy head down to thwack into his pulsing base. Fingers bumping messily into his taut, twitchy balls - making Gojo’s mouth water. “Need to- hngh- need to make you cum! Please-”

Tears crinkling at the very ends of his doe eyes, after every single crash along your sweet spot. Thorough wet glides. “Please please please-”

And it’s whispered over and over like a mantra when you’re cumming - again and again, so hard that you didn’t even realize you’re reaching your high before your tight pussy clamps around his fingers. 

“Yeah- yeah yeah, cum all over my fingers.” He’s thrusting his fingers in and out so rabidly, hitting all your forbidden spots. Free hand pushing apart your quivering thighs even further, “Spread wide- heheh, yeahhh–”

Those sudden slurps sounded so thunderous in your ears, and your maw sags open deliriously in a higher-pitched ah! ah! ah! Grinding your hips down over and over in needy swivels, using him. Music to his ears, making his staggering erection just weep so dangerously- but he can’t cum. 

Won’t cum just yet. 

Not until he’s fucked you through each and every one of your peaks, not until your convulses are tapering out into nothing but tiny tingles. 

And then he’s dragging out his ruined fingers from your sodden cunt - out, out, out. Snapping delicate strings of the mess he’s made of your poor pussy, before pushing them through his lips rawly. 

“M-mmm-” he’s rumbling from the very depths of his broad chest, pecs heaving. And through your half-lucid gaze, you’re spying a silvery dribble of drool down the side of his lips. Moaning at the sweet, sweet taste. “Shit- shit, sweetheart-”

You can’t even react before he’s then spitting a steady stream of wispy saliva down to your sloppy hole, swirling it around with one of his thumbs. 

“Better let her know m’coming back for seconds later.”

You whine all brattily, your hips arching into the perfect buck upwards - which only makes him grin. “Heh- my greedy girl, if I waited one hundred years ya can wait a few seconds.”

It’s so admonishing - and Gojo has never told a bigger lie. 

Because he’s the one that’s so painfully impatient right now, angry cock spewing out a few more velvety waves of precum down your gleaming palm. A low string of profanity rips from his throat, and he’s just diving his hands around every inch of your body he could reach.

Deftly untangling those tedious ties at the back, “Damn these little- forgot how many ribbons I fuckin’- ordered-”

In split-seconds, you’re being flipped over with one fluid push of Gojo’s biceps, sinking your front into the royally soft mattress. You felt like you were in heaven.

“Toru–” you’re whirling your head over your shoulder to admire just how much his biceps flex. Twitching with each eager rip down your bodice. Shaky fingers tightening on the silken sheets, “H-hurry up-”

“Easy there, my love.”

It’s ragged, breathed hotly against your ear, and suddenly Gojo’s resting every bit of his body weight on top of yours to pin you down helplessly onto the bed. Holding your squirming hips captive onto one rough hand attached to them, “Arch jus’ a bite more- please- fuuuck like that yeah-”

He’s taking the opportunity to fling your wedding dress down easily, bunching it somewhere towards the corner of the bedroom - right alongside your bra and inner layers. 

You’re gasping - stunned. 

“Don’t l-look at me like that, I’ve had one hundred hah- years to practice this exact moment with my hand n’ imagination-” 

And then Gojo’s gasping, he’s snapping his eyes open, he’s heaving out the most whiny call of your name when you push your hips back in a wet slide against his painfully hard cock. 

Your folds smacking wetly against his shaft, dragging in a dripping trail along his veins - and shit, Gojo really underestimated how fucking hot you’d feel against his cock. How readily awaiting when his slender hips rut down in a furious push and pull. “This is long overdue.”

“Hey!” you jut your spit-sheen lower lip out when he’s rudely smacking away your hand from the clasp of your locket. “Wha’s that for?”

“Keep it on.” Gojo nips at your earlobe.

And then he’s spitting you open - he’s pushing in. 

Inch by fucking inch of his swelteringly hot cock being shovelled into your gooey cunt, stretching out your snug walls to their limits. Pulled taut. Barely giving an apologetic kiss to the side of your head before Gojo’s circling one big beefy arm around your hips, easily tilting your entire body upwards for him to surge his hips even deeper. 

He gasps, he shudders at the faintest of your wet clenches. “C’mon-c’mon c’mon c’mon- a-ah- you can take it please- please take it f’me.” 

How could you not?

Because every one of his tiny, shallow grinds just to fit in have your mouth dropping further and further open cockdrunkenly. 

“Please-” your hands fist at the plushy pillows, the headboards, craning behind at Gojo’s neck. “Fuck me h-harder, Toru- I can-”

“Ohhh- you play a hah- dangerous game.” He swipes away the stray hairs on your forehead, kissing at your sweat-slicked forehead. “My beautiful bride- my beautiful, beautiful bride - ah- almost makes me wanna m-make you more.”

Just that split-second of sultry shock is enough for Gojo to push in fully - all the way until your thighs sting with the sudden thwack! of his hefty, cum-filled balls, your folds kissing up against his thickened base.

He’s hissing when his achy, rounded tip recoils ever-so-slightly against the spongy mess of your cervix, hitting it relentlessly in harsh jackhammer. Spearheading his fat cock to massage up against all your sensitive spots in a more dizzying way than even his fingers could. 

“Wh-what do you m-mean-” They’re falling from your mouth as hastily as Gojo can pump you stuffed full of his cock. Not even easing into it, starting up a sloppy cadence. “-b-by–”

“Awww, don’ hngh- p-push yourself, my love–” he’s simpering out. But oh his hips were speaking a completely different language from how soothing your husband’s tone was, one hand curling deftly around your throat to reel you in even harsher in sudden swats against his ever-pushing hips. Twirling around the chain of your locket, “What I mean is…”

Both of your half-lidded gazes are downturned to where he feels for that tiny nudge at about halfway down your stomach. Drawing an imaginary line about halfway through, before splaying down all five digits. Hard. “-that m’gonna make ya a pretty momma as well as my pretty wife.”

This little confession is followed by a particularly hard slam! from Gojo’s end, and you dart your hand out to grasp desperately onto the wooden headboard. 

Crying out, “Is- is that even possible, Toru?”

But the only actual response that Gojo can give - that he thinks himself capable of giving right now, with how mind-numbingly your pretty pussy was milking any rationality out of him - is a breathless chuckle. His head throwing back with a whimper, brows knitting together. “I don’t know hah! Haven’t got a fuckin’ clue- but that doesn’t mean m’not gonna fucking try–”

And he was fucking you into the mattress just like it, well and fully intent on breeding your tight cunt. Jostling the locket at your chest with rough, reckless abandon. Every sodden drag down your slobbery walls having those dreams from a lifetime ago about your happily every after playing through his mind.

You, with your drooling pussy painted all white with his potent cum, making such a mess of him that he just has to do it all over again, of course. 

You, all round and glowing - full of him, his heir. 

You, looking up at him with those gorgeous eyes - another, tinier set held delicately in your hands. His hair, and your smile. Everything that he’s ever wanted in life and death. 

Stupidly. Pussydrunkenly. 

“Oh oh-” Gojo’s groaning, the sudden bump of your fingers against the sensitive curve of his balls making him jolt back into his reality. His heavenly, heavenly reality. “Aww, have I b-been neglecting you, my love?”

No, you want to scream - but you can’t. 

Because he’s only hiking up a powerful thigh to pressurize his harrowing rams with even more power, and you could feel every flex and ripple of his washboard abs. The spatter of pearlescent beads of sweat setting in with fatigue. 

But Gojo wouldn’t listen in the first place, couldn’t even think of anything that didn’t stem from his achy cock pummeling into you. 

Messily, he’s swiping at those fingers of yours that were currently reaching for your angrily puffy clit, aching for more more more- 

Giving a mean little smack onto where your sensitive nub was drenched in all your sweetened juices, it sends bolts of electricity all over your body. Clinging your gummy walls around his girth so tight. 

“This what y-you wanted?” he rasps by your ear, drawing slow, determined circles on the very peak of your clit. And when that doesn’t have you crying out all prettily for him the way he wanted - Gojo just tugs. Unapologetically. “Tell me- ngh- tell me how it feels, fuck- can feel this cunt gettin’ so soaked-”

“Yes-” you’re sobbing out. Hips now aching with the burn of pushing back into his unrelenting hips - it hurts almost. The sting of his skin against you, the hard collision of his fat head against your cervix. But you want more. “Y-yes feels so good, Toru- need more hngh- need you t-to…”

“What?” he’s spitting. Wild. “Tell me, sweetheart- please- please-”

And, hell, Gojo Satoru wanted to hear so badly that he’s just slowing his hips down every so slightly to let you catch your breath. To answer. 

But what he was actually blessed with was another one of your long, drawn-out whines. Grumbling ever-so-slightly as you jolt your hips back with every one of the thorough swivels of his fingers on your clit. Toying. 

Fucking back harder than ever into his rock-hard dick, the locket just slams it’s cool branding onto the heated skin of your chest-

“Need you to f-fill me up-” you mutter wetly, nothing more than a few gurgles wrenched out when his clashing head French-kisses your g-spot. Drawing wet glides of his steamy precum down it. “-make me a hngh- m-momma, Toru-”

Oh, this might just be his third death ever. 

Because the bed creaks riotously with every one of his ragged rams, in a way that made you glad for the ever-present music of this town. 

Over and over.

“Yeah- shit, gonna make you a p-pretty momma-” he’s babbling away, a mile a minute. So sloppy that you’re barely able to understand what Gojo was saying. “Fill you- up- ngh- so they’ll look at you and see me. All me- all pretty and r-round- me me me- oh—”

Right now, Gojo didn’t give a fuck if his little dream was even possible. He didn’t give a fuck if his moans were turning into whimper, staggering thrusts trudging into the sloppiest of grinds. The neediest. 

Because right now you were cumming. 

That rapid throb of your clit increasing twofold when you’re finally plummeting into your high, wave after wave of pleasure that he fucks you through with heavy pound after pound. 

Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, toes curling, flashes of white flitting behind your firmly shut eyes. Fuck, it felt so good. 

And your fingers clench hard around where they were still firmly stationed on the headboard to keep at least an ounce of your sanity. Intertwining with- Gojo’s when he slams his hand down hard enough that the entire bed shudders. 

Or maybe that was just him - because so was he. 

“F-finally-” Gojo’s hiccuping, angling his head just right to be able to catch your pretty lips in what could barely be considered a kiss. Just a sloppy suck of your tongue while he pumps you snugly full of sloshing loads of his cum. “Wan’ed this for- so long- finally hngh- consummate- you- most beautiful ah momma-”

His whines were nonsensical at this point, only growing more and more so with each velvety ribbon of cum being poured around into your tight pussy. You could feel it swashing about your soft walls with every one of your hard, convulsing clenches, painting your insides over and over again in a second, sticky skin of his seed. 

“Yeah- fuck fuck fuck, yeah Toru- hah- m-more-”

And just when Gojo thought the almost-painful clenches of his heavy balls were coming to a close, just when he thought his thick streams of voluminous cum were stretching out into thinner wisps - you have to go and say those syrupy sweet words. 

Fuck. 

He’s gasping, locking his finger with yours even harder on the headboard, “Gonna- ngh- gonna be the death of me I s-swear–”

Oh, and then you looked at him with that fucked-out smile of yours. A sight he’s gifted to see. Humming, “In life and in death, r-remember?”

Bang! 

The headboard crashes down onto the floor. Your back is hitting the now utterly drenched sheet below you before the realization hits you. 

In nothing but a split-second, Gojo pulls out his dangerously twitching cock to manhandle you flatly onto your back. Swiftly, he throws your legs over the curvaceous deltoids of his sculpted shoulder, easily bending you down, down, down into half.

Into the meanest mating press possible.

Dredges of thick, hot cum just ooze down your sopping slit, spreading in a milky circle underneath you. And slobbering down Gojo’s swollen hilt as soon as he plugs himself back in - immediately.

The very divot at the end of his cock quivering - for only a split-second before bursting out in streams of more and more cum. Overflowing. Overspilling out of you.

And he can’t help but glide an open palm over that tiny inflation beginning to form where he’d drawn a line just earlier. One hand pressing down on it hard, the other tweaking at your clit to make your walls clench. 

“Oh f-fuck yeah–” Gojo stutters at the glossy coating of his own seed all around him. Reveling in the toasty feeling again and again until his poor, overworked cock can only sputter out wispy strings of nothing. Shooting blanks. “Gonna breed ya- make ya all round and and- ngh full until you c-can’t take anymore. Until we hahh- have that happy ending y-you wanted.”

You mewl when he’s licking away those glistening tears rolling down your cheeks, “-happy ending w-we wanted hngh- Toru–”

“Yeah-” he chuckles. Pecking at your lips with that salty sweet taste on his tongue, “We wanted. It’s why I didn’t reincarnate like you, my love, unfinished hngh- business here s’to spend a long, long and happy marriage with you, y’know?”

You bat your lashes in sweet disbelief, “That’s- that’s mine, too.”

Ah, he reels you in even closer into his arms. Snug. Ever-loving. Seemingly like he’d never let you go ever again - couldn’t bear to. 

He nuzzles against that now-open locket, eyes peering down at those bleary paintings of you two, as loving as if they were taken just today. And in the back of his fried mind, he makes a note to take newer photos for later. Fingers tracing their familiar pathway to press down on the outer edges of the metal - in only the way he knew how, in the way that you should have been taught all those years ago, but was never able to. 

“Then-” His eyes light up as they always did whenever it came to you, when the tiny mechanisms on the locket open up to reveal a delicate, gorgeous ring. Strangely matching his own. Gojo doesn’t think he’s done anything easier in his life when he slides that ring onto your finger, fitting so perfectly. Not even when he was waiting for you, not even when he’d taken care of Naoya in a way that left his coat spattered and stained with red. “-we’re both lucky.”

It’s only after a few soft, lingering kisses that Gojo finally pulls away - like it hurt to.

And it did, sensitive shockwaves erupting down his overwhelmed length. But none of that shows above his drunken grin when Gojo’s shuffling down the bed, all the way until his hot breath was puffing up feverishly against your sloppy cunt. 

Messy. Drooling.

Making such an utter mess on his tongue when he lets it loll out, swiping up the gushing creamy dredges with a long lick. It was so filthy, dribbling down the sides of his mouth, onto his pinkish tongue-

Just a tease for more. 

“Because I keep my promises, my wife.” his murmur wraps all around your thrumming clit. Tongue swirling a milky gloss all over his pert, raw lips. Only wanting more. Waiting. “In life and in death.”

A/N. THIS- THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE N’ GOT ME IN MY FEELSSSS. Hope y’all have a lovely lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[kiame-sama]

In reference to this ask

Oh gosh yeah LMAO

He is Unwell when he learns about a male harpy that can sing with his wings and likely will be adding a whole new regimen for himself specifically to gain this skill after dealing with them (perhaps inducing specialized feathers etc)

Does make me wonder if others have a similar on-sight rivalry if there are specific aspects in a rival. Horn size in unicorns? Fang and coat vibrancy for driders? Flower vibrancy and quantity in dryads? Key aspects that are more likely to set them off (besides just y'know, breathing too close to their human). I know Vil gets fussed by feather vibrancy, flight ability and singing ability because those are prized by harpies (and sirens i imagine) but that makes wonder if the other guys have similar triggers. I can imagine horn size comparison spark jealousy amongst horned species and mane size amongst the lions but idk cause it's your au so now I'm curious about it. Horn size comparison in unicorns sparking fights (Riddle getting insecure about others with more horn than him??), do kelpies have something similar (manes and scales or swimming ability?? Would trey get irked by someone being a bit too flashy in the water??), dryads getting fussed about foliage and flower production and quality? Water nymphs??? (Cater fussing about his aquatic clarity and plants??)

Ignore if not your thing, just started thinking about it after cause i got curious lol

Warnings: Yanderes, yanderes got ON SIGHT issues with others, monster folk immediate opponents, beastly behavior, competing behavior, by selecting "View More" you consent to view content and are of age to view content

This first one may come as a surprise to others, but Silver takes big issues with Stags and other male reindeer. Silver doesn't often get heated over much and tends to be rather accepting of others, but he gets heated in the spring and will clash with other males who have antlers. Silver isn't particularly embarrassed that he only has a three point rack, but he does get territorial. If the opposing male has a bigger rack than him or gets too close to his 'herd' (Malleus' Hoard) in the spring, he will begin snorting and stomping his hooves. Silver is more skilled in combat and efficient battle than the others, so he will be able to beat larger males using that skill. Spring is when he is awake most and when he experiences his mating season, so he is usually only confrontational in spring.

Horn size is a big thing to Alicorns and Unicorns. Riddle has big issues with others- especially after his Overblot- because his horn is smaller than normal due to being cracked. He takes big issue with how large Alistair's horn is and has intense jealousy because of it. Male Unicorns/Alicorns often compare horn sizes, as the females prefer a mate with a larger horn (proof they are strong and their horn has not been broken in the past). If Alistair or Riddle encounter an unrelated Unicorn/Alicorn centaur with a larger horn, it is on sight.

Harpies often get feather and color envy. The more colorful the male, the bigger a hit he is with females. Vil is just a jealous and envious Harpy in general, quite proud and regal given the immaculate care he puts into his feathers and the typical array of colors Peacock Harpies tend of have. Vil has a well manicured and well-maintained train of tail feathers, so he gets extra mad when another flashy male appears. Though Neige is not overly colorful, he is actually less confrontational than most Harpies, likely due to being an orphan and not being raised with the competing Harpy mindset. His colors are dull compared to others and he is not as intimidating of a male. Crowley LOVES that his feathers- despite being a rather uniform blue-black- has a iridescent shine to them and is very proud about this fact. He is more concerned with his face feathers and his tail feathers, but if he sees another male Crow Harpy, it is on sight. Eric is more laid back for a Peacock Harpy, this is primarily due to his status and his need to keep an even temper in the movie industry. Though he is laid back, he will get heated if he sees another adult Male Harpy that is trying to show off. Instinctually, he will raise his crest and tail feathers to assert dominance, especially if it is a younger male trying to show off (other than Vil).

Yeti and Sasquatch males often compete against one another. Size, coloration, and age play a big role in the hierarchy of troupe society and life. The larger and older the male, the more likely he is leader of his troupe. Depending on the species of male, coloration can come into play as well. Clay is a Silverback Yeti, so that silver coloration on his body is a point of pride and status among other males. The more silvered a male, the older and more powerful he is likely to be. Clay is already a big name even outside of Yeti and Sasquatch troupes due to his experience as a bounty-hunter and his reputation among all law-abiding folk. He doesn't often need to beat his chest or stand off with a male, but young males trying to prove themselves will challenge him and he doesn't back down when challenged. He has not lost a single challenge by a rival male.

Web spinning skills are a big deal to most Driders. Even Driders who do not use webs to hunt have skill in spinning webs. The stronger the webbing and the more uniform the build web, the more appealing the male is to females. Most Drider males are smaller than the females, so they need to use this web spinning skill to impress females and show they are a good mate who can support them. Webbing is also used when it comes to actually mating, as most Female Driders have the tendency to lean towards violent and need to be bound in webbing for safe mating. The females are willing participants in being tied up for mating, but they look down on a male whose webbing cannot hold them. The females will often test the strength of the webbing holding them and- if they can break out of the webbing- will attack the male for being weaker. Rook prides himself on his web spinning skills, so when another male appears and tries to build a better web than him, he will become aggressive. He will be murderous if that rival male tries to show off to Vil, Neige, or the Human.

Dragons are territorial at best and cataclysmically hostile at worst. Most Dragons take any encroaching on their Hoards or territory as a direct insult and will be hostile off the bat. Doesn't matter the species, if they aren't family or Hoard members, they are enemies. Malleus was- mostly- not as aggressive in Night Raven College because it wasn't his territory to begin with, but he was absolutely territorial over his Hoard members and Diasomnia once he became Housewarden. If Leona or any of the other Housewardens entered Diasomnia without asking Malleus first, he would become hostile. Where he allows his Hoard members to have friends outside of the Hoard, he does get extra pouty when- specifically Lilia- gets too chummy with others. He sees Lilia as a father and close friend, so seeing others say Lilia is their best-friend makes Malleus furious. Malleus- and ALL Dragons- are flat out territorial and murderous over their 'Crown Jewel' Hoard members. The Human is Malleus' Crown Jewel Hoard member, he gets flat out vicious over where the Human is and who they are with.

[zosan-secondchances]

The Pirate King of the North: The Levely (Part 23)

Warning: Long post ahead and some One Piece spoilers. Contains strong language and explicit content.

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 (Special) | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29

In the middle of a lavishly decorated ensuite located in the Domain of the Gods, Sanji sat in front of a vanity, applying the last touches of his makeup in preparation for the Levely. He had been waiting for a chance to sit in one of the royal gatherings for a long time but, according to the World Government, his “reckless and idealistic ways of thinking” were not welcome to participate. He didn't want to wait another four years for the next one, and knowing very well what the World Government is like, he will never get an invitation so he decided to seek aid from one of his greatest allies.

Satisfied with the result of his art, he moves on to fix the curls of his wavy hair sitting on his shoulders, making sure that each and every one of the overly extravagant bedazzling gems on his earrings and layers of necklaces are exposed the best way possible. He brushes his locks carefully to keep the style in shape.

He hesitates for a moment and feels over the scarred slave mark on his neck, tracing a finger over the burn. With a deep breath, he decides to part his hair to expose it.

He needs to look good. He needs to look so good that they will allow Doflamingo's unnamed slave to sit in the most heavily secured room where kings and queens across the world may gawk at him and enjoy the sight during their long and strenuous talks. It is vital that he's in there rather than waiting outside like all the companions that other rulers bring along. He needs to ensure that the rulers will practically beg for his presence and insist he come with. Unfortunately this meant shaving off the spiral part of his beautiful curly brows and his hard-earned facial hair so no one can truly identify him nor his origins.

As a last touch, Sanji retrieves a thin but well crafted veil from one of the vanity's drawers and places it carefully over his nose, subtly covering the lower part of his face under its pink shade. As he secures it to make sure that they go well with his earrings, he hears one of the bedroom doors open. There is a hesitant pause, then it closes and is followed by the sound of footsteps. It stops just behind him. His eyes glance at the reflection in the mirror and sees Doflamingo looking mighty fine wearing his kingdom's royal suit and jewels of his own. His outfit is topped with his usual pink feather coat.

Doflamingo

You look good, mi rey.

Sanji

As do you, mon amour.

Doflamingo

Ah–your eyebrows?

Sanji

They’ll grow back. I’m afraid it’s rather a distinct Vinsmoke trait, isn’t it?

Doflamingo

You didn't have to get rid of your goatee though…. It was nice.

Sanji

I know, but today has to be perfect.

There is a moment of silence, then the blonde feels large fingers gently trail from his neck, spine, then down to his lower hips.

Doflamingo

You look… exquisite regardless. Pretty hot, actually.

Sanji

Aren't you full of sweet talk today? So out of character! I thought I was the weird one between us.

Doflamingo

Your tailors did well….

Sanji

Your tailors actually. I thought the disguise should match your royal suit. That way, it’s a genuine Dressrosa cut and they can't question it.

Doflamingo

Mhmm…

Sanji

It also gives the impression that my master dolls me up only in the finest of things. You should get a nice boost in reputation. Hey, are you even listening?

Doflamingo kneels behind Sanji to bury his face in his hair, getting a whiff of his scent.

Doflamingo

You know…I can do that if you wish…if you move in with me….

Sanji

Don’t change the terms to suit yourself. I seem to recall that our arrangement is a partnership, a joint venture–strictly contractual and not through marriage.

Doflamingo

Mhmm…

His large hands wrap around Sanji’s waist to tease the skin just under the fabric of his harem pants. The blonde could feel that the man is resisting every sexual impulse he has, judging by the hitching breaths on his neck. It was hard not to get just as excited. He feels a small nip on his ear.

Sanji

Easy…. Don't work yourself up. Remember, no fooling around until after the Levely. You’ll ruin the getup.

Doflamingo

But you’re acting as my slave, no? I have to contribute to this…disguise of yours.

Sanji’s eyes widen when he feels sudden sharp pain as Doflamingo bites the muscle between his neck and shoulder, breaking his skin immediately.

Sanji

OUCH! Doffy, for fuck’s sake–!

The Warlord growls an animalistic noise at the back of his throat as he sinks his teeth deeper and uses his mouth to force Sanji forwards against the vanity, slamming him hard against the counter and its mirror. The blonde's partly secured veil falls. He yelps and feels the man’s erect cock grind over fabrics of clothing between his legs.

Sanji

Nngh! What the hell are you doing?! You barely gave me any warning! You’ll–AH–you’ll leave a mark and mess everything up!

Doflamingo finally releases him, heavily panting with blood oozing down from the corner of his lips and down to his chin.

Doflamingo

Precisely. You need to look like I can’t keep my hands off you, and that I’m using you.

Of course Sanji gets excited. He arches his back and moves his hips in time with Doflamingo's rhythm. He starts feeling breathless and forgets all about the disguise that he’s worked so hard on. He wants to be fucked until he can’t think straight right there and then.

There’s another sting on the other side of his neck when Doflamingo bites him. This time, Sanji doesn't fight it. He moans to a point that he’s screaming whenever the Warlord sinks his teeth deeper. Doflamingo repeats the same treatment all over the exposed skin on his back, biting and sucking to make sure that the world knows that he’s claimed this man for himself.

Doflamingo carefully eyes the crazed state of the other blonde through the vanity’s reflection. Satisfied with his work, he spins and lifts him to sit on the counter. He continues his assault over his chest and all the way down to his lower hips. Sanji is in too much bliss to resist, leaning one hand against the mirror and the other tangled in Doflamingo’s hair.

Sanji

D–Doffy…. We–ah–need to go soon….

Doflamingo

Then let's get right down to it.

The tall Warlord trails his tongue down Sanji's front. Hurriedly, he pulls down his pants and undergarments but before he can work his mouth around his length, Sanji finds his inner strength to push his bare feet against the man's broad shoulders.

Sanji

No! Doffy, enough! You've already marked me, ruffled up my poor hair and my clothes are all crinkled. I've gone along with you but we've got plenty of time for this part later!

Doflamingo hesitates. He removes his sunglasses and places them on the far side of the vanity. He locks gaze with the fuming blonde in front of him and pleads softly, gently stroking his legs up and down to soothe him.

Doflamingo

Sanji, mi amor… luz de mi vida, mi hermoso rey... te lo suplico de rodillas.

Sanji

You… you bastard!! You can't just say shit like that!

Doflamingo

Fuck me.

Losing every semblance of self-control, Sanji gives in. He pulls Doflamingo by the hair to thrust himself into his mouth. The Warlord is more than happy to receive it. He frees his desperate leaking cock and strokes himself with his hand for relief. Neither holds back until Sanji cries out. Legs twitching and body shaking with an arched back, he comes hard and empties his load into his partner's throat. After a quick moment to recover, Doflamingo pulls away to a half stand and licks his lips clean, gasping for air.

Doflamingo

Ngh… please, Sanji… your mouth.

Still riding the high, Sanji immediately lowers himself to return the gesture. He drags his tongue from the base of Doflamingo's length to the very tip before wrapping his lips around him. The Warlord's breath hitches. Sanji grabs hold of his large hand and places it on his head, as if trying to say something but couldn't. Reading his mind, Doflamingo obliges by gripping his long blonde locks tightly with both hands and ruthlessly uses him for pleasure.

Sanji's eyes get teary from the size as the Warlord thrusts inside him intensely. He gags and coughs but couldn't get himself to move away. Instead, he grabs hold of his wrists to urge the other man on, fully wanting to get messed up.

There is a knock on the door.

Voice

My Liege, it's time.

Doflamingo swallows, trying to compose himself so he can respond properly. He slows his pace and tries to pull himself away but Sanji protests, shaking his head, and yanks him back deeper into his throat to keep him in place by his upper thighs.

Doflamingo

HNNGGH!

Voice

Your Highness? Is everything alright?

Doflamingo

Y–yes! Yes!! FUCK–!

Voice

Err…I'm supposed to escort you down to the palace.

Doflamingo

Just…wait–!

Sanji continues devouring him deeply and hungrily at the expense of breathing properly. He spanks the Warlord's ass to tell him to hurry up, making him groan in surprise. Doflamingo hisses from the sting and whispers.

Doflamingo

H–hold on…slow down–too much–just…I said WAIT–!

AHH!

Unable to keep his shaking legs up, he collapses forwards, knocking the vanity backwards against the wall to which the mirror cracks loudly from the impact. Sanji pushes a hand against Doflamingo's hip to support him. He keeps his mouth sucking and other hand pumping, never stopping the onslaught on the Warlord’s dick.

Voice

Are you unwell, Sir? Should I get a doctor?

Doflamingo

No–! Hah! Hnngh–!

Voice

Will you still be able to attend the council or…?

Doflamingo

I'm… coming…!

Doflamingo muffles out a cry as he spills inside. He takes in the delicious sight of Sanji's defined Adam's apple moving up and down as he consumes every last drop. He thrusts himself inside him slower, giving the smaller blonde some relief. Delicately, he runs his hands over Sanji's locks in appreciation before pulling himself out with a groan.

Gasping for air with overflowing cum dripping down his lips, Sanji gets hoisted up in the Warlord’s arms and kissed intimately. He moans softly and quietly into it, careful not to get heard by the worker just outside their door. Doflamingo licks his drool and the last of his own spillage from the blonde's chin.

Voice

As you wish, Sir. We will wait for you at the foyer.

Doflamingo

Oh… you're still here?

We will be down shortly. Leave or I'll cut your throat.

Voice

I–y–yes! I apologise, my Lord!

At that, they hear footsteps scrambling around in panic then it fades away. Doflamingo shakes his head disapprovingly as he kneels down to rest his still trembling legs. Sanji stands on his feet without removing himself from the Warlord’s embrace. He runs his fingers over his forehead then attempts to fix his dishevelled hair.

Doflamingo

The gall of some of these assholes.

Sanji grins at his reaction, cups his face and plants a gentle kiss in the corner of his lips. Doflamingo sighs into it and leans his forehead against his.

Doflamingo

Me vuelves loco…. 

The Warlord shows his gratitude by trailing light kisses from Sanji's nose then down to his neck, panting to catch his breath. The smaller blonde giggles quietly from the affectionate treatment and wraps his arms around Doflamingo's head, encasing him in.

Sanji

Mon amour chéri, nous devons y aller maintenant. Are you good?

Doflamingo

Yes. And you?

Sanji

Never better.

Doflamingo

Good.

Satisfied, they both fix each other's outfits in a hurry and give the cracked vanity mirror a quick visit to somewhat tidy themselves however they can before heading out the door. Doflamingo grabs and wears his sunglasses on the way.

Doflamingo

Oh and uh…you have to play mute.

Sanji

What?!

Doflamingo

Too much trash talk from your mouth, mi alma. Trust me, it's better this way.

—

The main reason Sanji had asked Doflamingo to take him to the Levely is because the slave disguise isn't hard to pull off with him. In fact, due to the true nature of his relationship with the Warlord, it’s proving quite easy and actually a lot of fun. They're always joint at the hip whenever they're together anyway, Doflamingo has a surprisingly gentle side, Sanji likes feeding and servicing his partner, and best of all, it's almost like they read each other's minds.

Their tactics to run their own kingdoms, wreak havoc on others and the way they present themselves may have some differences but the end goals are mostly one in the same. If one falters, the other will pick up the slack. They never failed joint missions because of this. Their differences in approach actually work to their advantage, opening up more opportunities for success to get whatever their hearts desire.

But today, they learn that this may be the first time that they're not completely in sync.

Sanji and Doflamingo sit inside the discreet protection of an especially large palanquin, made specifically to carry royalties of large stature like the Warlord himself. Like every other carriage in the parade, multiple slaves carry them through the open road that leads to Pangaea Castle as the crowd of wealthy citizens cheers for the kings and queens’ arrival for the Levely.

Instead of exposing themselves to the public, they kept their curtains shut for privacy. They whisper to each other with a hiss, a heated argument forming between them.

Doflamingo

That's not the agreement! Just stick to the plan! You don't know this place as well as I do–you’ll get caught!

Sanji

It was a last second discovery. It's too good to pass!

Doflamingo

We're here for the entire week. Do it later! The timeframe is too short!

Sanji

No! Everyone's out and about right now. It's now or never! I promise that I'll pop back in just in time!

Doflamingo

Don't you dare!

Sanji shuffles through his pockets concealed in the puffiness of his harem pants. He retrieves a small item that Doflamingo can't see, pulls back the curtain on his side and throws it through the small gap of the palanquin frames. It lands and rolls into a small alley that they pass. Doflamingo realises that it looks like one of Caesar Clown’s harmless gas bombs.

A second later it puffs out colourful purple smoke that spreads widely through the crowd then over the road in front of them. The parade comes to an abrupt halt as commotion ensues. Royal guards run towards the troubled area while the residents are running frightfully away from it. Some thought it part of the parade and cheered on.

Sanji quickly wraps himself in an elegant white cloak and covers his head with its hood.

Sanji

That's my cue. Love you!

Doflamingo

Wait, Sanji!

Sanji pecks the Warlord's cheek and quickly jumps off the window on Doflamingo's side. He joins a stream of panicked citizens within the purple cloud and vanishes among them.

Doflamingo groans in pain, falls backwards and slouches against the pillows behind him in defeat. He massages the bridge of his nose, lifting his sunglasses slightly to ease a developing headache. He hears the guards call off Sanji's colour bomb tactic as a prank and nothing more, then they proceed to shoo off the residents to clear the way for the parade.

—

In the middle of the road, a certain mermaid prince is afloat on his coral-made bubble near the entrance of Pangaea Palace. In his hand is a stack of papers and a pen secured on a clipboard.

This end of the parade is crowded but the cheering isn't as lively as the kings and queens have yet to reach it. The prince takes advantage of this to approach the residents and sound his pleas. The citizens throw disgusted and disapproving looks at him, distancing themselves when he nears them.

Fukaboshi

Citizens of Mary Geoise! I am Prince Fukaboshi of Fish-Man Island. We ask for your sympathy so the merfolk may have a voice in the council. We just need a few more signatures for our petition!

The crowd cringes at the thought of a lesser creature wanting to take part in the Levely. They whisper among themselves suspiciously, wondering how a fishman like him has managed to find his way on their precious land. They make an effort to keep away further lest they inhale the dirtied air that he exhumes.

Nearby, Sanji emerges from an open window and jumps stealthily on the rooftop of a nobleman's mansion. He squats and victoriously tosses a small bag of stolen condensed seastones in his hands before hiding it away in his harem pants. He smiles heartily in satisfaction, patting it.

The next part of his plan is to create another diversion so he can sneak his way back to Doflamingo. But it seems like the job's already been done for him.

He eyes the royal guards as they run towards the palace entrance which, for some unknown reason, has a bigger commotion than the colour bomb tactic that he pulled earlier. He isn't one to complain. This gives him plenty of opportunity to scale down the walls and blend back into the crowd without causing the mischief himself for once.

Before he can act, he hears booing and a man's cries for help. Curious, he takes a running leap off the edge of the rooftop and hops onto another mansion to get a better angle. When he looks down on the road, his vision focuses on a particularly large fishman. His heart-shaped eyes bulge out of his eye sockets and his tongue sticks out lecherously.

Sanji

Ooooh, he's huge!! 

Scared but determined, the mermaid prince bravely steels himself to continue sounding his pleas to the now angry locals.

Fukaboshi

Please, your small contribution would change the lives of many! All we ask is a few seconds of your time and–

A piece of fruit hurls over the crowd and hits him square on his face, splattering its juices all over his front. The residents cheer on then continue their bombardment and booing. The mermaid prince protects his face with his wide forearms. He tries to back away fearfully but finds that the furious locals have him surrounded.

Sanji’s expression turns into fury, immediately feeling his blood boil from the sight.

Royal Guard

Alright, that's enough fun, everyone! You there, clear off! The rulers are coming through shortly!

Fukaboshi

But I am a–

Royal Guard

The rulers who matter, fish scum. Leave before I have you arrested!

Fukaboshi

N–no! Our people are living beings too! Just like you, your friends and your families!

Royal Guard

How dare you compare me with the likes of you! Men, seize the–

The mermaid prince hears a light clatter on the ground underneath him. Before he can properly look, he is suddenly engulfed in thick purple smoke, along with the residents and the royal guard around him. They cough from the gas and blindly run away from the source, some trip and fall onto the ground clumsily. When the smoke clears, the fishman prince has vanished.

—

Sanji holds onto Fukaboshi as he leads them away from the crowded grounds of the main entrance and through the isolated road parallel along the palace walls. The mermaid prince, still coughing, rubs his eyes to clear his vision then gasps when he sees that he is holding hands with a human who had apparently rescued him from the wrath of the locals and getting arrested.

Fukaboshi

Wh–who are you?

Sanji doesn't reply to play the silent slave that Doflamingo wants him to be. If he's being honest with himself, he is unsure on what to do next but he knows that he doesn't have time to escort the prince all the way out of the country.

As they run, Sanji's hood falls off, enabling Fukaboshi to get a glimpse of the famous Hoof of the Soaring Dragon burnt on the back of his neck. The mermaid prince also can't help but stare at the fresh bite marks and bruises all over his otherwise smooth skin.

Fukaboshi

You're a slave, huh? It's very brave of you to do this but won't you get in trouble?

Again, Sanji doesn't reply. He simply keeps his eyes forward and his haki focused to ensure the prince’s safe escape.

Fukaboshi

Hey, why don't you come with me?

At that, Sanji's eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the sudden offer.

Fukaboshi

A number of our citizens are liberated slaves. We can offer you sanctuary! I'm sure my father will be more than happy to shelter you. In my opinion, we need more humans at home.

Though… not everyone shares the same views…. There are some outdated laws but I'm trying to purge all the obsolete ones…. Unfortunately there's been a lot of resistance from our own people….

Sanji feels the presence of royal guards on patrol ahead. He pulls Fukaboshi down a narrow alley between a couple of extravagantly decorated shops then takes another turn to lead them away.

Fukaboshi

Can't talk, huh? Are you not allowed to?

Sanji takes pity on the prince’s nervously rambling state. He finally gives in and nods in response.

Fukaboshi

I see…. I uh…owe you my thanks. I didn't realise it's this bad up here. I was hoping for an audience with any of the World Nobles and to get signatures for a petition…. And maybe even an opportunity to sit in the Levely.

Sanji slows his pace to walk alongside the fishman and get a good look at him, intrigued with his story.

Fukaboshi

I know, it's silly to do this head on. My father and siblings think this whole venture is dangerous and all for naught but if I can just listen in on one of the talks, I might get more ideas on how we can better appeal to have a seat in the council. This whole campaign is really–

The blonde stops in his tracks and pushes him forcefully against the alley’s stone wall.

Fukaboshi

Oww! What are you doing?!

Sanji places a finger on his own lips to tell him to be quiet. He leans himself against the same surface and watches the far end of the alley.

Not long after, they see a group of residents run past, no doubt to join the parade. He guesses that the rulers are probably nearing the palace entrance any moment now which means he is running out of time though he couldn't help but be interested in the intentions of the noble prince. He pushes himself off the wall and faces Fukaboshi.

Fukaboshi

You're really good at this. Do you usually sneak around?

Sanji gives him a cheeky smile and makes a gesture with his hand, trying to say “maybe”. Then he shuffles through his pocket to offer him a clean cloth.

Fukaboshi

Erm…what’s that for? Do you need me to wear a mask?

The blonde rolls his eyes, resisting every urge to sarcastically remark, “What would that do, hide your fishman identity?!” but Doflamingo's voice, “Too much trash talk from your mouth, mi alma,” echoes in his head. To make himself clear, he reaches out instead. 

Seeing that he’s trying to get to his head and thinking that he will somehow hide his features in it, Fukaboshi lowers himself and gasps when Sanji cups his jaw and begins wiping his face clean from the dirt that the residents had created for him. The mermaid prince is too stunned and speechless from the man’s gentle and caring touch. Having made his point clear, Sanji offers the cloth to him again to tell him to clean the rest himself. Fukaboshi understands and follows through, taking the fabric from his hand.

Fukaboshi

Tha…thank you, friend.

As he continues to wipe himself clean, Sanji points at the clipboard tucked under his arm.

Fukaboshi

What? You… want to sign it?

The blonde eagerly nods, smiling brightly at him.

Fukaboshi 

O–oh, wow. Yes, yes of course! Every single one helps!

He passes the clipboard and a pen which Sanji takes and quickly scribbles his name onto it.

Fukaboshi

As far as I know, you're the first human to ever volunteer. I appreciate it, friend.

Imagine if one of the kings or queens signed it! It'll be worth a hundred signatures, maybe more! If only….

Sanji grins at him, trying to say that he's happy to help. He returns the signed petition to him.

Before Fukaboshi can read his name, Sanji grabs his hand once more and leads them away. This time, he changes direction.

—

Back in the slow-moving palanquin, Doflamingo is reading a book to entertain himself and distract his mind. He then feels the pillowy seat next to him sink.

Doflamingo

Did you get what you needed?

Sanji

Yes~

The Warlord sighs in relief as he shuts his book close and tosses it on the side. He is unsure how Sanji managed to sneak inside but given that there are no disturbances from the parade, he doesn't question it. He simply wraps an arm over the other blonde’s side of the seat. Feeling particularly cuddly, Sanji leans against him and rubs his cheek on his chest affectionately.

Doflamingo

You are well aware that they will inspect you, right? And this carriage, before you can even step foot in there.

Sanji

Yes.

Doflamingo

That means you can't hold onto more of Caesar's colour bombs and your newly acquired seastones.

Sanji

What do you take me for? It's all sorted out. Don't worry your pretty blonde head about it!

Doflamingo smiles warmly. He lowers down and plants a soft kiss on his forehead before resting his chin on the top of his head. He finally allows himself to relax, having his favourite person return safely in his arms.

Doflamingo

I never doubted you for a second.

—

Fukaboshi was snuck into the palace and straight into the vast empty room where the council will be held. He had been cramped into one of the large cabinets that originally had numerous plates and other kitchen utensils stored in it for the staff's easy access. Sanji had speedily relocated them somehow, along with the inner shelves to make room for him. The cabinet is huge in size but because of his stature, it's still a tight fit so they had to get rid of his bubble.

He's been waiting in the same spot for an hour now with nothing happening. He begins to wonder if this is a trap which makes him extremely anxious. He knew he had an immediate crush on this handsome slave and was too shy to say no to being led here. He's okay with the fact that this just makes him look an even bigger fool though he may have some regrets later if he gets discovered.

His tail is starting to feel sore, and his fins itchy and dry. He considers stepping out momentarily to stretch out and investigate but then there is a sound of the massive entrance doors opening and closing. Nervously, he peeks through the keyhole.

Suddenly, the cabinet doors swing open and he is face to face with a tall man wearing a pink feathery coat and red pointed sunglasses. He has a nasty snarl on his face. Fukaboshi recognises him immediately as one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea. He gulps nervously.

Fukaboshi

Uh…

The mermaid prince sees a familiar figure pop up from under the Warlord's coat. Sanji grins and waves at him cheerfully.

Fukaboshi

H–hi…? I uh…got your condensed seastones and these uh… bombs. Do you need them?

Sanji shakes his head but squeezes himself to get past Doflamingo's looming figure to retrieve the clipboard from Fukaboshi’s hand. He passes it over to the Warlord.

Doflamingo

What?

The other blonde gestures for him to sign it so Doflamingo takes the clipboard, quickly skims his eyes over the texts of the front page then peruses through the stacks of papers.

Doflamingo

This is a petition for the Neptune family to take part in the Levely and all future political gatherings.

Fukaboshi

Y…yes, Sir.

Doflamingo

This deserves to be burnt.

Fukaboshi

No, please!

Sanji lightly tugs Doflamingo's sleeve and curls a finger, gesturing for the Warlord to come closer, batting his long attractive eyelids to him seductively.

Doflamingo

Well…if I get a kiss from you first, I'll sign.

As the Warlord bends down, Sanji snatches the clipboard off his hands and whacks the top of his head with it. Then he shoves it and the pen into his chest impatiently.

Doflamingo

Ouch! Fine, FINE!

Just…easy. Since you asked me to do it, of course I will.

This is a very odd but victorious sight for Fukaboshi. He never imagined that one of the rulers would actually sign the petition, just as he wished. In his mind, this risky trip to Mary Geoise has already paid off. Having the king of Dressrosa on side would greatly benefit his people and already guarantees an audience with one of the World Leaders at the very least. He knew that this man had great influence as a Warlord and as a former Celestial Dragon. He watches him take the opportunity to properly read the front page this time, hovering the pen over the lines side to side.

Fukaboshi

You're not what I expected, Your Highness.

Doflamingo

Hmm?

Fukaboshi

I see some good in you.

Doflamingo raises an irritated brow at him while Sanji grins teasingly, jabbing his side with his elbow.

Fukaboshi

P–please don’t take it the wrong way! I meant no offense! But the things I hear and read in the news… well….

I just didn't expect you to be like… this. Your friend here is the very first slave I met who looks genuinely happy to be one.

Doflamingo

Keep talking and I'll throw this into the fire.

Fukaboshi's lips thin into a line. He gulps nervously.

Doflamingo

And don't call him that. He's a free man.

Fukaboshi blinks at that. When Doflamingo finally scribbles his name, Sanji pulls the Warlord by the collar and gives his cheek a quick peck in gratitude.

Doflamingo offers the signed petition back to the mermaid prince but before he can get his hands on it, the Warlord pulls it back.

Doflamingo

Listen here and listen closely. We're in the middle of a mission and, unfortunately, you're in for the ride. I don’t know why my little pet here decided to drag you into this mess and insisted that we help you, so don’t get any wrong ideas.

No matter what happens, you will stay in here quietly for the full duration of the council for the day. Do you understand?

Fukaboshi

Y–yes, I understand.

Doflamingo

Now, when I close these doors, I will secure it so no one can open it. Do not attempt to leave or make a single noise until we come back for you. Are we clear?

Fukaboshi swallows nervously.

Fukaboshi

Clear as day, Your Highness.

Doflamingo

If you so much as wag your little tail, I'm going to keep you in here and starve you to death.

Sanji impatiently takes the clipboard off the Warlord, whacks his arm loudly with it and finally returns it to the mermaid prince.

Doflamingo

Ow! Calm down already. I just need to make sure he knows what he's in for.

Fukaboshi gratefully takes the signed petition and studies it. His eyes widened in astonishment to find not one but two signatures of infamous ruling kings on the front page. He looks up to Sanji who winks at him but before he can say anything, the Warlord shuts the cabinet doors closed and seals them with his invisible strings.

—

Sanji and Doflamingo later re-enter the room. This time, they are part of the line of kings and queens who take their seats to represent their countries. And so marks the beginning of the Levely.

Fukaboshi peeks through the small open keyhole. With a very limited line of sight, he doesn't really see much but he identifies a few long standing participants such as Ham Burger and Nefertari Cobra. Much to his relief, his Warlord ally has claimed the seat closest to the cabinet where he hid. The apparent ruler of Germa Kingdom sat comfortably on his lap, in disguise, playing the part of an eye candy. Many of the rulers’ stare at them with bulging eyes and mouths agape through the first couple of hours of the council.

Voice

I must say, this is highly unusual of you, Doflamingo.

Fukaboshi can't really see or recognise the voice who speaks out but the room falls silent.

Voice

You never bring anyone along to the Levely. Yet here you are with one and…a very pretty little thing at that too.

For the very first time, Fukaboshi hears the Warlord's menacing chuckle. He feels the scales through his body tremble at the deep sound.

Doflamingo

Do you have a problem with it, King Wapol?

Wapol

Not at all! I'm just wondering if he's for sale? Would you be up for a trade?

Doflamingo

No.

Wapol

Come on! If not him, does he have any relatives? Siblings?

Doflamingo

Actually, y–

Sanji discreetly rams a bruising heel of his foot onto Doflamingo's calf bone under the tablecloth. The Warlord takes a sharp breath in, fights through the urge to scream out in pain and replies as calmly as he can.

Doflamingo

If you want your own, you are free to attend my auction at Sabaody Archipelago. Other than that, keep your grubby hands to yourself, worm.

Cobra

I'd like to remind the council that this is a discussion of worldly concerns so we may better the lives of our loyal subjects. And not despicable human trading.

Wapol

Come now, Nefertari! I'm not the only one thinking about it!

Doflamingo, I'm certain that you didn't bring him here for no reason. This is clearly an advertisement for your stock! And a beautiful one too. Surely you would do us the honour of… sharing… this fine specimen?

There is a murmur throughout the room. It scares Fukaboshi how many of them are agreeing along with King Wapol. They fall silent once more when Doflamingo finally replies.

Doflamingo

You're right.

The rulers stare at him, surprised that for once he voices an agreeing answer.

Doflamingo

He is here for a reason. I brought him along so he can crawl over you in your sleep to rip that big mouth off yours and slit your throat.

There is a sound of scrambling chairs, and the crashing of various plates and glasses as Wapol yells out death threats and curses at Doflamingo. Some of the other rulers begin arguing among each other about the concerns of slave trading and the Celestial Dragons’ contribution to the matter. Chaos unfolds and fights ensue.

Fukaboshi can no longer understand what's happening to the scene before him. Left and right, he sees furniture being tossed around. Some had tea or wine spill over their garments while some were rolling over the table, beating each other messily.

Some of the panicked rulers scramble to hide themselves from the fight. In two instances, someone tried to open the cabinet where he hid but to no avail, thanks to Doflamingo's efforts in securing it.

When Fukaboshi glances towards his friends, he sees various items hurled towards the tall Warlord. The man simply flicks his fingers to send the incoming projectiles back to where they came from with his invisible strings. During the chaos, the mermaid prince sees Sanji whisper something in Doflamingo's ear before kissing him on the cheek and slipping away.

The royal guards eventually interfere and the rulers settle back onto their seats, albeit looking a lot filthier and less presentable than when the Levely started. Fukaboshi sees Sanji return to Doflamingo's lap but no one else is all the wiser.

—

When the first of many talks finally concludes for the day, kings and queens retire back to their chambers for mealtime. Fukaboshi waited patiently inside the cabinet as instructed, but it's getting extremely strenuous as he hasn't stretched out nor visited the toilet for the entire day. Thankfully, Sanji and Doflamingo return to free him as they promised and sneak him into their newly assigned ensuite inside the palace.

Sanji and Fukaboshi sat quietly at the dining table, listening to Doflamingo's conversation with the palace worker by the door. He kept it just slightly ajar, enough to communicate through so he could conceal the rest of the living space behind his large figure.

Palace Worker

Just the usual portion for yourself with a plus one, my King?

Doflamingo

Triple it.

Palace Worker

I…wh–what? Are you sure, my Lord? …That's quite a lot. Enough for a family of ten, my Liege.

Doflamingo

…Yes. I've been eating a lot. Trying to uh…work out.

Palace Worker

I–I see!

Sanji covers his mouth to stop himself from giggling out loud but his shoulders shake violently. Fukaboshi enjoyed the sight of him and couldn't help but smile along.

They see Doflamingo wave his hand towards them, desperately gesturing for the blonde to shut up. This just worsens it and Sanji practically falls onto the floor, rolling side to side with both hands covering his reddened face. The mermaid prince grins at his clumsiness and snickers as quietly as he can.

Doflamingo

I'm just…you know, quite famished.

Palace Worker

R–right.

Doflamingo

Just…trying this uh…new diet.

Palace Worker

It's really no trouble, Your Highness! We will have your food ready within an hour. Unfortunately there will be a bit of a wait due to the large order.

Will you be eating in the main dining hall with everyone or would you prefer to dine in private?

Doflamingo

Just in here.

Quietly, Doflamingo shuts and locks the door. He snaps an annoyed look at the now laughing blonde on the floor.

Doflamingo

What?! What's so funny?!

Sanji

You–you realise that we're here for the entire week, right?! Prince Fukaboshi will be leaving later tonight but they're going to be serving us the same amount of food three times a day for the full duration of our stay!

Doflamingo

Oh…shit.

Sanji

And you used yourself as an excuse?! A fucking–HAHAH–“diet”?! Now you can't take it back because they'll be suspicious! You have to eat most of it!

I know you eat a lot but…ten, Doffy! A serving for ten!!

Doflamingo buries his face into his hands and painfully groans.

Doflamingo

Wait, why can't you help me? It's partly for you!

Sanji

No, I can't! I'm acting as your slave so I have to maintain my form to look malnourished and somewhat mistreated. You have to finish most of it!

Doffy!!! You're going to come out of the Levely looking like a balloon boy!

Doflamingo

Fuck. I really did not think this one through. Ugh….

Sanji continues laughing out loud.

Doflamingo is genuinely hungry after the long day but he suddenly feels sick thinking about how much food he has to force feed himself for the rest of the week, knowing full well how the other blonde feels about wasting a single scrap. He walks to the dining table, pulls up a chair next to Sanji's and sinks into it in defeat.

Fukaboshi feels guilty about his involvement in all this. He observes the Warlord brooding over his fate as Sanji continues to tease him for it.

Fukaboshi

I owe you my thanks, friend. You’ve done quite a lot for me and my people already. You really don't have to feed and shelter me. I'm happy to go on my way.

Doflamingo

Don't be a reckless idiot. The whole city is celebrating right now so sneaking out an unwanted large fishman like you is downright impossible. From the palace, no less.

If you get caught, so do we.

Sanji

He's right, dear.

Sanji finally pulls himself up from the floor to sit on his own chair.

Sanji

There's no point right now. You'll just get arrested and god knows what they do to fishmen up here in captivity…regardless of status.

In the meantime, what better way to hide yourself than under their own noses? I'll personally help you leave the city tonight, don't worry. So relax, make yourself at home, and eat as much as you can when the food arrives…or else Doffy here won't be able to fit through that door before the Levely is through.

Doflamingo scoffs at that and opens the book he'd been reading from the palanquin. Sanji hops off his chair and starts making hot drinks at a nearby station.

Fukaboshi

Your Highness…

Sanji

Call me Sanji. You've seen my name on that petition already.

Fukaboshi

Err… Sanji. I hope you don't mind if I ask but…what do you hope to accomplish from this Levely? My family wishes to have a place on the council for the survival and bettering the quality of lives of our species. And thanks to your signatures, we have a guaranteed place in it now, but after seeing all that…I'm not so sure anymore. Why does the king of Germa want to join these? It doesn't seem…effective for what it's meant to be.

Sanji hums to himself, thinking of a good response while Doflamingo simply keeps his nose to his book and flips a page over.

Doflamingo

They're not always like that. We purposely riled up Wapol to start a fight.

Fukaboshi

You did? Why?

Sanji

Did you learn much today, Prince Fukaboshi?

Fukaboshi

Truthfully? I learned that a lot of humans are not to be trusted…. No offense….

Sanji

None taken! Because you're right. It’s an invaluable insight.

Fukaboshi stares at him, intrigued at his reaction. Sanji sets down a tray with a pot of tea, and milk and sugar on the side. 

Sanji

Germa is in desperate need of allies. My late father's old friends don't want anything to do with me, and I certainly don't want to involve myself with them. So…here we are.

Sanji distributes teacups among them before finally circling around the table to reclaim his seat on the opposite side of Fukaboshi, next to Doflamingo. The Warlord sets down his book to pour drinks.

Sanji 

I came here so I can see for myself who I can trust and who to fuck over. I need to read people with my own eyes. Sending over retainers or spies would just complicate matters. Hence…

Sanji gestures both of his hands over his outfit.

Fukaboshi

You're… pretending to be a slave?

Sanji

Yes.

Fukaboshi

I…I'm not sure that I understand what that would do.

Sanji

You can get a sense of a person's true nature by how they treat people who they consider “lower” than them. I could have pretended to be a palace worker, a cleaner or maybe even a beggar, but since owning slaves is a fad here, it's the best choice.

I need to know what they’re like–their morals, their personal values, who’s most likely to stab me in the back, who is most likely to sacrifice themselves to save their people–that sort of thing. These make up the fine lines between winning a war and losing it, between building prosperity and falling into poverty.

Fukaboshi remembers King Wapol, and how the rulers fell into a fight among each other when the topic of slave trading was brought up. The tactic suddenly makes sense. His mother believed that unity between humans and merfolk can be achieved through understanding and trust but he knew very well that that takes time. It sounds like Sanji's requirements for the survival of his people are in need of a more immediate action and forcing a controversial topic into the talks creates a reliable shortlist of potential allies to start off with. Already on the first day, they have effectively collected vital information that not only benefits the king of Germa but also the Warlord and himself as well. He can only imagine what more they can achieve from the remaining days of the Levely during their stay.

Doflamingo sips his tea while reading his book, flipping to the next page with his index finger.

Doflamingo

Fucker looks good hanging off my arm too.

Sanji

Oh, and yes, that too! It’s the first time I've seen you in your formals–sexy as fuck, I say. How hot did we look together?!

Doflamingo

We still do, mi alma.

Sanji

Too bad it won't last long since you have to eat so much. Oh, how I will miss your pretty body….

Doflamingo

Ugh…

Fukaboshi begins to feel a small pang of jealousy but he shakes his head at the thought. He looks down and twiddles his thumbs, thinking deeply. Secured with the garment around his waist, he sees the cloth that Sanji had given him earlier. He admires it for a moment before the smaller blonde finally speaks out.

Sanji

Don’t hurt yourself. Spill it, your Highness.

The mermaid prince shyly looks up as the smaller blonde takes a sip of his own drink. He stammers the next question.

Fukaboshi

I couldn’t help but wonder…. How long have you two been together?

Doflamingo’s expression remains impassive as he keeps his gaze on his book while Sanji simply leans on his arm and chuckles lightly. It looks as though they’re both used to getting asked this question.

Sanji

Oh, my prince. We’re allies but we’re not exclusive lovers, if that’s what you’re really asking.

Fukaboshi

O–oh…. Sorry, I just thought… because you seem inseparable, even in private….

Sanji

You’re very cute, aren’t you?

Fukaboshi

I–you think that I’m–what?

Sanji

Hey, Doffy~

Doflamingo

I am not having a threesome with a fish.

Sanji

Oh, come on! How do you know that you don’t like it if you don’t try it?

Doflamingo

I’ve tried it plenty, thank you. It’s just too slippery for my taste. Gets really hard to find your footing, you know?

Sanji

Ooh! I kind of like the sound of that! Tell me more~

Fukaboshi

This…this conversation is not where I thought it was going to go.

Doflamingo

If you want to ask him out, just spit it out, man.

Fukaboshi didn’t realise that his scales could go vividly red. He feels his fins hackle up involuntarily. When he makes the mistake of glancing at Sanji, the blonde is leaning on both palms of his hands on the table, smiling brightly at him and waiting eagerly to hear his next words.

With a shaky hand, he reaches into his pockets and quickly brings up his bubbly coral, nearly dropping it clumsily in the process, to inflate a clear donut around his waist. Sanji blinks at him in surprise. As soon as the float is formed, the mermaid prince flees quickly into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. The two hear him practically hyperventilating on the other side.

Sanji

Doffy! Look what you’ve done!

The corner of Doflamingo’s lips twitch slightly as he tries to conceal a smile. He sips his tea casually and flicks over the next page of his book.

—

Far beneath the White Sea, Doflamingo gasps for air as he drags himself out of the blue oceanic water on all fours, pulling the figure of the blonde look-alike onto the safe sandy shores of Jaya. His arms tremble madly as he coughs seawater out of his lungs, barely able to keep himself up.

A powerful wave suddenly engulfs him and lifts him up, forcing him to release the stranger. The body of water shifts and swirls around in a vortex, squeezing his figure tightly above ground. He immediately feels weak and powerless inside it. With gritted teeth, he looks through the partly broken lenses of his sunglasses and freezes at the sight of a pointed trident on his cheek. Weidling it is a familiar mermaid of large stature, afloat on his usual donut bubble.

Fukaboshi

Doflamingo.

The Warlord practically spits at him.

Doflamingo

Prince Fukaboshi.

Fukaboshi moves closer to him until he's inches away from his face.

Fukaboshi

It's “King” now, actually.

Doflamingo

Well then…congratulations are in order, Your Liege.

Would it by chance have anything to do with you waging war on my kingdom?

Fukaboshi 

Maybe.

Doflamingo chuckles softly until Fukaboshi pushes the trident against his face, piercing his skin. The Warlord drops his smile.

Fukaboshi

Doffy…where’s Sanji?

----------

Bonus: Full Artwork

I changed up the design of Sanji's Germa throne in this story. The shape of the skull's eyes and added rings around the horns resemble Doffy's sunglasses and earrings respectively. The altered design symbolises their long standing relationship, which goes way back before Zoro came into the picture.

[adobe-outdesign]

Could i ask for a review of the snow paintbrush? Its like the less popular cousin of the christmas brush lol

Snow, as a colour, is a pretty fun concept—making Neopets into snowmen as kind of a non-demoninational wintery Christmas counterpart. However, I do think the colour suffers a little bit from sometimes being bland. There's only so much you can do with a Neopet made of snow; most of them are just white pets with coal eyes and, if you're lucky, some small additions like leaves, twigs, carrots, scarves, etc. I do like the snow texturing and colored lineart, and it's not bad or overly bland compared to a lot of early colours, but it rarely stands out that much, either.

When it comes to customization, snow fared okay. Most snow pets did not have unique poses or body types, so the conversion didn't affect things too much. However, the biggest issue is that a lot of older snow pets were "lumpy" in nature, actually looking a bit like they were sculpted out of snow—see the Pteri above, which suddenly gained things like feathers and claws after conversion. Nostalgic pet styles were released recently for some species at least, so there's a good variety of options if the customizable version doesn't look quite right.

Favorite Colours:

Korbat: The snow Korbat manages to have everything a snow pet could want: good color balancing, nice integration of additional objects, excellent snow texturing, and lots going on so it doesn't feel plain or empty. The holly leaves are integrated perfectly into the ears and tail, and form a nice four-point palette with the white snow, brown sticks and red holly berries. My only nitpick is that I wish the holly was a wearable, just because it leans more towards Christmas than most snow pets and it would be nice if that aspect was optional seeing as we already have a Christmas colour.

Yurble: Similar to the snow Korbat, the snow Yurble has really good color balancing and nice integration of natural elements like the leaf mane. The coal eyes, nose, and claws help to add contrast and balance with the oranges and browns of the leaves. Both versions are good; I think I like the overall look of the customizable version a bit more, but the styled version gets points for being just a little cuter.

Buzz: This one's not anything too crazy, but I really like how the sticks are used in place of wings and even the cerci at the end of the tail, and how the leaves on the sticks are then used for the spines. It's a little dull in terms of colors, but the concept makes up for it. Only issue is that the coal eyes could be slightly more lumpy, as they mostly just look black here.

BONUS: The snow Kiko isn't anything special—the hair looks out of place and it's weird to have the regular bandage slapped on there instead of having it be sculpted in. However, the styled version is super cute for some reason, not only having a twig hair but super tiny arms, large coal pupils, and a little smile that make it much more appealing than it has a right to be. It was also one of the few pre-customization snow pets with a unique pose.

Least Favorite Species:

Jubjub: The worst a snow pet can be is bland, and that's the snow Jubjub—it's not terrible, it's just boring. However, it takes this spot above all the other boring snow pets because there was an obvious missed opportunity to have it just straight-up be a snowball. Plus the fur on the converted version is way too detailed and the styled version has a really weird expression that makes it look like it's about to start crying snowflakes.

[landfilloftrash]

Ikanaide (part 2)

***

The way back to the kitchen was made just as silently. It could hear the laughing tones of both Pepper and Alidoro in the kitchen, quiet, but its ears caught the occasional word of melancholy and the warm reminiscence within the stream of silent noise that it did its best not to eavesdrop on. 

There was a cry of active dismissal— and then she was pretty sure Pepper responded in fond mischief; the syllables of her nickname within the muffled sounds. Ah. She slowed down her walk; maybe they needed more time.

It walked slower. She reached into her coat sleeves and clutched at her arms — clawing through her feathers and rubbing the flesh beneath as her instinct to seek its bed and sleep bit at the ever present anxiety. It was tired, but it was not going to just leave Pepper and Alidoro alone without a proper goodnight, at the very least.

Though, by the slightly.. not offended but definitely surprised turn in the older man’s tone, something in the conversation had shifted, and it finally listened instead of thinking loud enough to drown out the conversation.

“Well…” was the trailing off chime of Pepper leaning back in their chair, if the quiet creak was anything to go by, “I beg to differ!”

“Then beg.”

Oh yeah, it stopped its ascent at the opening of the stairs, instead opting to lean against the nearer wall, closer to the two so it wouldn’t be spotted as easily. Definitely shifted.

A laugh, bright and high. “Take me on a date first!”

“What?”

“I don’t beg to just anyone~!” Came the purred reply; teasing as much as flirting with the ghost.

“We are on a ship,” the quiet clinking of metal and fabric sounding off at his presumed gesticulating, “in the middle of the ocean.”

“Yeah?”

There was a small moment of silence as Alidoro seemed to fall quiet. Debating on what to say or staring at Pepper in quiet judgement, she wasn’t sure, but she stayed quiet as well to continue its listening.

“Is sharing homemade tea not enough of an outing for you?”

It raised an eye‘brow’; was he flirting back at them? That would certainly make Pepper’s night. And also possibly add another to the list of their lovers; it could only think in the fondest of lights that the mothkin was going to have a polycule ranging the entirety of the world at this rate— good for them.

There was a chuff of sultry laughter. “Well– if you want to call this a date, then we can~”

“That is not what I said,” the Saint corrected, with one of the blankest tones she’d ever heard.

Sure sounded that way, Alidoro.

“It seems like you’re implying it.” See, even Pepper was on the same page, which meant it was overly obvious.

“I was doing no such thing,” he stated without inflection and as painfully plainly as he could, “I was– insulting your standards.”

“Uh huh— my standards, alright alright.”

“Yes– far too fancy.”

A gentle wheeze, and then a delighted ring of laughter circled in the air. The cleric felt herself lean more against the wall as she settled for the conversation; it was a beautiful sound.

“You demand you are taken out on a special day?” The Saint continued, playing up his faux-exasperation with their demand, “A restaurant, a play? Beh!”

“Under the stars?” Pepper added, an amused lilt to their sing-songing tone.

“You can see the stars from up-deck,” Alidoro countered dryly, “just fine.”

“My standards are–” they paused, and she could almost see the antennae twitch as they realized something, “–actually not that high, now that I’m thinking about it.”

“Are you sure?” Came the deadpan response.

“Well, looking at everyone on this ship,” came the expected reply, “pretty low.”

It refrained valiantly from snickering at the practically expected callout. But damn, Pepper, calling them all out like that with their tastes? Rude.

“Have you fucked the demon?”

It doubled over to contain any sound that even tried to escape her beak. It was not going to give away that she was listening due to giggling at the most deadpan question of Alidoro asking Pepper if they’d fucked Kallstrom yet. Though it was also curious!

Pepper clearly was holding back laughter too as there was a measured and fast exhale. “Boy do I think about it!”

“Really?” Came the partially appalled question, “That one??”

“What did I say?!?” Pepper replied, wheezing quietly.

“He looks like a wet blanket,” the Saint complained, “on the best of days!”

“That's what— ohhh— that’s what makes him so appealing!”

“What?”

She could hear Pepper gripping the table as they leaned closer to the ghost. “He’s a wet dog!”

“Listen,” Alidoro began, clearly not having it, “as someone who is literally in love with a man who wears an animal mask, and is the most– golden retriever personified man I’ve ever met–! That is not a dog! That is a rat!”

Pepper wheezed again as Alidoro continued his tirade. “A rat you pick up from the side of the road, infesting your garbage cans! He is soggy–! Look at ‘im!”

“Oh,” came the laughing and high pitched reply, “and my boyfriend is also soggy! He reminds me of him!”

Also, Pepper; you simply have a type, and it’s tieflings who flirt by fighting.

“You have a boyfriend?” Came the quiet, but mostly squeaky question.

The bloodhunter sighed longingly at the now linked comment of their beloveds. “They’re both so very cute,” Pepper began, the softness and love in their voice unable to be missed, “and they’re soo.. ugh.”

“I was not aware you had a boyfriend, too.”

There was a soft and fond giggle. “He’s not on the ship, but… he waits for me back on the island.”

“I see,” Alidoro said, and by the shifting of sounds, nodding gently in thought. 

“I can,” they said, pausing with a pop of their lips, “show you to him! When we get there.”

“Perhaps,” he pondered. “I doubt he will see me.”

“I don’t think he will,” Pepper agreed, laughing. “But you can at least meet him.”

“Not a man of God?”

“Oh no.”

It hid its mouth behind a hand again. Most people on this ship weren’t— at least, not exclusively. Though, considering recent events, it had no clue as to how the building of the church on Nassau was going. Quite possibly finished, if her father had gotten too excited with the task at hand and ignored sleeping. 

Oh— it hummed nigh silently. Rollo or Xiomara might be able to see him. That’ll be funny to explain, if she even had to with how strange her life had become.

“I don’t think so,” Pepper pondered out loud, seemingly on the same path of thinking she was, “hm. Things could’ve changed. I don’t remember, quite at the moment. It’s fine!”

The only word that came their way was dipped deep in sarcasm. “Sure.” 

“Regardless,” they continued, “I don’t think you’ll find the island so bad.”

“More than likely I will not,” he agreed. “Hopefully..”

“If it makes you feel better, Eno’s father is also there.”

Yep, it seemed they were on the same wavelength. Honestly, she was hazarding that her father was either going to see the ghost, blink a few times or startle slightly, and greet the ghost perfectly normally as she had done, or turn to her and ask something about picking up more people every time he saw her. Possibly even both. Maybe even a secret fourth option.

33% for each of the three options, by her estimates. 

“Ah,” was the pleasantly surprised breath, “the Saint, yes?”

Pepper hummed an affirmative; no doubt leaning on the table with their face resting on a hand. “Mhm!”

“Good,” he huffed. “Good.”

The silence began once again, and Eno rubbed at its arms as a tingling feeling set her feathers on edge. There was tension in the air, a static building rather fast, and it wasn’t sure as to why but it was probably going to find out, if she stayed hidden.

“Okay,” Alidoro whispered a few moments later, and then began louder, “Question, because– I might be stupid.”

“Mm?” Came the inquisitive acknowledgment.

“Are you flirting with me?”

It raised its eyes again. Only catching on now? To be fair, he had prefaced it with him possibly sounding foolish, but it was rather funny to hear the point blank question. Then again, seeing things from the outside was a lot easier than when you were a part of it.

Pepper sidestepped the question with another question. “Do you want me to be flirting with you?”

“That’s not what I asked,” he deadpanned dryly. 

“It’s what I’m asking.”

“Was that your intention this entire time?”

There was a quiet click of a tongue. “Yyes?” was the pitched reply, “but if it makes you uncomfortable then nno.”

“It does not make me uncomfortable,” he grumbled, “it’s merely something I have to ask.”

“Then– yes,” Pepper replied pleasantly, “I am flirting with you.”

“You realize,” he began, voice tinged with sarcasm as well as earnest questioning, “I am a ghost trapped in a sacred relic belonging to a church, that has been trapped in said churchly sword for the last 500 years– you have just met me– I have regaled you with stories of past loved ones like one would recall a fine holiday.”

None of that was going to deter anyone if they had even the slightest bit of determination. Aka Pepper.

“And need I remind you how low my standards are?”

It snickered into its hand. Damn, they didn’t need to call him a low standard date as well. Though it was fair considering Pepper was quick to gain an interest in the sassier of the lot, and the more they teased, the more they were interested.

“Ay,” was the singular groaned reply. It could hear the eye roll in the single syllable and see the grin that Pepper would inevitably give; “I am in the company of jesters.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“Oh, much worse,” she called, and finally moved from her placement at the entryway emerging into view.

“Ah,” Pepper smiled at her, the prophesized grin tilting softer at the edges, “my dear snowflake.”

“Oh–” was the startled reply, a small blink blink tilted in her direction, “hello, Enososin. Welcome back.”

It was about to give a greeting in return, when instead, it blinked instinctively as she actually entered the deck in its entirety and a smell hit her full force. Tilting her head slightly it tasted the air. “Pepper, have you checked the bread at all?”

The moth’s eyes widened. “Ah!”

Without further prompting, they scrambled from leaning on the table to their feet with an undignified execution and slid to check the oven with an ever so slightly adrenaline filled warble. “Thank you, my dear!” 

Alidoro looked from Pepper’s mad dash to the oven, back over to the owlin herself. “They are a mess.”

It couldn’t help the crinkling of her eyes at that, even though her voice was crumbling from the slight overuse of the past few days. “Oh definitely. Most people on this ship are.”

“So much of a mess,” Pepper agreed, pulling the steaming sourdough loaf out of the oven, placing it down and wafting the steam to them with a contented smile.

He blinked gently between the two of them, and then murmured in amusement. “It seems I have found a bulwark of the lost.”

It closed its eyes in a ‘smile’, hiding her emotions behind her lids. He had no idea how correct he was, and what that phrase meant in its hindbrain. “Very much so!”

It cared dearly for every member aboard this ship— and for the ship’s soul itself, the ancient Lady. But it could not deny that this was an interestingly lost group of souls. The lot of the crew were all uniquely cracked pieces of different pottery. Some fixed with adhesives, or needing a reapplication, some tied barely together in a lump with twine, and most of them gaining new hairline fractures. It hid a tired grimace behind a covered yawn instead. 

All hail the wandering tired, lost, the lonely, and forgotten of The Sacred Heart.

Settling into a chair she put her arms on the table and rested her head on them. The conversation was interesting, and it wanted to be engaging within it, but she was tired. It would have to see how long her stamina for being awoken at random hours would hold up after years of disuse.

He looked down (finally, considering their height difference) at her display of exhaustion and nodded at her. “You are a fine defender then.”

That was a title she could freely accept without a qualm. For the implications or Power behind it was not nearly as dangerous or Changing as the others she’d recently been hearing. It hummed a laugh in reply.

“You have done well to provide them such safety.”

“That is my job.” Above all else; it strove to be a safe harbor in a storm, even if she herself was also caught in it. 

“I would commend you as is tradition,” he gestured, one arm resting on his elbow while the other rested flat on the table, “but.. I do not have any medals.”

Oh that was a treat; her? Commended with medals? For showing basic compassion? Pull the other leg; it wasn’t so much that it was just plain absurd in her mind, as much as it was the idea that she would want that. If she ever claimed that it did, that was not her anymore. 

She instead laughed softly at the compliment and unneeded reward. “I need no medals. Them feeling safe and happy is all I need.”

“Hm,” he huffed, head twitching in surprise, “a follower of God true, I find in you.”

“Mm,” she hummed in another quiet breath of a laugh. It was all it really could do at the moment. It would have to summon the will to be a more active participant shortly, but for now, she was perfectly content to lay here for a moment. So it simply engaged with the dead Saint as pepper did whatever they needed to with their sacred loaf.

“Riches do not matter, so long as you have what truly does.” 

“Mhm,” she chirred, “and if the people need the gold to reach those goals then I’m happy to provide.”

“You would give to the needy, with no promise of anything back?”

“Oh, absolutely.” That was the whole point of giving to the needy, wasn’t it? It wasn’t to get a gift in return, no matter how nice that would be, but just to help your community. 

“Even should they scorn you?”

Its claws twitched as it puffed out a tired laugh. Always these questions. “Especially so..!”

“Even should they hate you. Despite your good deeds..”

It closed its eyes in exhaustion. Why should she care if they hated her, if what it did furthered them to a place where they did not have to be uncomfortable or unsafe? It was not going to hurt them; everyone needed a place to land. 

She shrugged into the dark, and it heard Pepper chime in on her behalf. “She lives on pure spite.”

“I—” she chuffed a laugh, chuckling dryly at the accuracy of that, “I do in fact live on pure spite. I will be kind until I am dead.”

“Please don’t die,” came the nervous chuckle.

“Not planning on it,” she sighed with forcefully brought in air, opening its eyes to see Alidoro nodding along; approving of her spite-filled love of the world. She continued, “If I have to make my father go through that a third time I’m going to actually just—”

What would she do? Claw her way back from the dead? Probably. Explode something in her rage at being taken away from those that needed her? Yeah. Was any of that really coherent in her mind or really appropriate to say in that moment? Absolutely not. “I don’t know,” she finished unsatisfactorily.

“Collapse into a heap?” Pepper offered— a joking lilt to their lips.

“No, not that,” she confirmed, pushing herself back upwards into an ‘appropriate’ sitting position with a stretch, “I will be tearing something apart. Oooh-kay.”

“That would be,” Pepper said eyebrows raised in appreciative imagination, “a feat to see.”

“How goes the sourdough?” she asked by way of changing the topic. There was no need to linger on the idea of her doing damage or her inevitable death; she pondered it often enough in her silent hours.

“Good news,” they started, smiling, “I didn’t burn it.”

“Yippie,” she nodded in blanket approval, waiting for the possible bad news.

“Bad news?” Alidoro prompted, with the same apprehension as her.

“Ehh?” They squinted, thinking quickly, “I don’t suppose we have any bad news.”

Enososin shrugged her shoulders as she cycled through random inconveniences. “Out of plates I guess would be bad news?”

“That would be bad news,” Pepper agreed, “but I think we should be okay.”

“I’ll bring out the cutting board,” she huffed and got up with a roll of her limbs, pushing herself to do something.

“Thank you, my dear,” Pepper thanked; sing-songingly sweet. 

“Mhm,” she sang back in response.

With a roll of her sleeves from her claws, she ducked her body down into the cupboards and started moving things slightly to get at the larger cutting board; there were certain ones marked with little symbols that Pepper had emphasized for her on what product they were to be used for— the meat one being marked with a tiny imitation of a cleaver. The bread board was marked with a little cartoon loaf near the bottom, but it was far easier identified by the fact it was a stained wood, and the only circular cutting board that was within the cupboards.

“You address one another as if you have known each other all along,” Alidoro prompted, looking at Pepper, because the cleric did not feel eyes upon her neck.

It rubbed the front of its neck with a quiet exhale. Well. They kind of had, but Enososin was pretty sure that Pepper hadn’t figured that part out yet, and she was quite frankly fine keeping that to herself. There was no need to explain that she’d met Pepper long before they had introduced themself by that name. Grabbing the board, she put it next to Pepper’s baking stone and went to grab the bread knife— its serrated edges letting a subtly different ‘zing’ upon being taken from the block.

“I suppose being stuck on a ship for a.. lot of traumatic experiences will do that to people,” Pepper extrapolated, confirming that they did not know— or at least was not bringing that up— so she only nodded without looking behind her.

“If I never have to see another kraken as long as I live,” she decreed, twirling the knife so the blade itself was closer to her forearm as she turned, “it will be too soon.”

Pepper visibly shuddered at the reminder. “I hate that kraken.”

In true Sentieran fashion, Alidoro hummed an “Eh!” Which encapsulated agreement and sympathy all in one syllable.

Handing over the knife, handle first, Pepper took it and started moving the sourdough from the baking stone onto the cutting board with a quick sweep underneath the loaf. Bringing the bread, board, and knife over to the table, the cleric looked between the two and back to their empty cups.

“Do we want more tea or are we good, do you think?” She questioned, looking at both Pepper and Alidoro, but mostly the famished looking Saint.

“Please.”

“He drank.. most of it,” Pepper huffed— grabbing their own honey from the stockpile and a spice from the cabinet. The fondness in their voice and face belying any and all actual annoyance at the starving spectre.

“I see!” she chirped, putting her hands on her hips, “Same stuff then?”

Pepper shrugged. They didn't seem to particularly have a qualm in either an encore or a new set. Alidoro, while leaning forward towards the two of them, looked absolutely torn between looking at the bread and looking back up at Eno. “I have not drank anything in five hundred years. Please.”

“Do you want the same stuff?” She questioned again, squinting an eye, “Or do you want a new set?”

He only looked up at her pleadingly, eyes large beneath the mask. “Yes please.”

“That was not an answer,” she declared with quiet mirth, “but ok.”

“I want.. Same.”

“Same?” She confirmed. At his tiny nod, she bobbed a nod in return. “Ok.” 

She had been beginning to settle on the idea that maybe just giving the man a new batch of the same stuff would probably be a good idea, either way. Grabbing more water for the kettle to boil, she began to set up another batch of the spiced tea. Behind her, she could hear the ‘pop’ of a seal being opened and the sharp tang of cinnamon as Pepper drizzled and garnished the sourdough in the combination. As the water boiled, she turned around to lean and watch Pepper start cutting into the bread with a firm familiarity and peaceful countenance, placing slices on different plates. 

When Pepper then put the plate of sliced bread in front of the ghost, he grabbed the biggest piece and shoved it into his mouth with the fervor of a starving man being granted food at last. Which, she supposed, was exactly the case.

“Slow down,” Pepper teased, raising a hand in his direction– looking caught between grabbing the man’s shoulder and cupping his face— as their eyes were fond.

“Isrefllygood,” came the muffled and slurred reply as another slice of bread disappeared underneath the mask, gone into the abyss.

Pepper giggled, hand falling back to the table they now casually leaned on, eyes sparkling. “I’m glad you like it.”

He nodded in sincere appreciation, and around another mouthful of bread, “Ifsvurygood.” 

Pepper laughed again, face turned up in beautiful delight before turning that soft smile onto her. “Would you like any, Eno?”

It pushed at the growing buzz in her skin, the feeling that meant she was pushing it in the social niceties for the moment, away as she nodded. The silence in her chest could be drowned out. It could push through a bit longer. “Yes, actually.”

“Mhm,” they hummed, and got to work slicing another piece of bread for her— the knife swishing back into a chef’s hold and slicing through for more. It did not escape her that due to how the bread was cut, Alidoro and herself were getting larger slices of the bread. It let out a quiet trill of amusement.

While it did that, she pushed off the countertop she leaned on, turning, and instead pulled out a tankard of a cup from the cupboards, flicking the latch that kept them closed back into place, and poured a good majority of the tea into the cup; that way he wouldn’t have to worry about refilling it while the two of them took their time.

“Here you go,” she said, placing the tankard next to his plate with a hefty wooden ‘thump’. The drink was down for only a moment before the spectre grabbed the handle, and with his next bite of bread, drank a sip of the spiced honey tea.

“Between me, him, and you,” Pepper nodded at each of them in turn, “we’re probably going to devour this entire loaf in well under thirty minutes.”

“Thirty minutes?” she whistled, looking down at Pepper in amusement and incredulity, “That’s too long to even start the ceiling! I’m betting ten!”

“Y’know?” They laughed, an ironic twist to their brow as they passed over her plate of bread, “You’re right.” 

Ripping off a small piece of the sourdough, she nibbled on the bread. The heat of the oven in the bread and the sweet spiciness of the cinnamon’d honey drizzled artfully on it, and gracious in its amount, warmed her belly and she had a sip of hot tea to wash it down. The comfort of the small meal made the buzzing in her skin lessen, and the over awareness of the missing bodily sounds of all three inhabitants of the room fade to the background of her anxiety. Though her ‘nibbling’ on the slices was closer to eating half the piece in a ‘small bite’, so she was done with her plate as Alidoro was joining her in getting another. Between her and Alidoro, starving and simply a larger mouth, they were through half the loaf as Pepper was getting their second plate. All in all, it took little more than five minutes to decimate the entirety of the sourdough, and through most of the tea.

“Wouf,” Alidoro sighed in contentment, putting his cup down with a small thump, “ay. That is good.”

He looked up at the both of them with a soft sigh and a gentling posture, a soft satiation settling over the entire kitchen from the strength of it. “Thank you.”

“Of course!” Pepper smiled tenderly, clearly contented that the fruits of their efforts had comforted the unhappy man.

Enososin herself was in the middle of a drink as he thanked them. Technically, she could speak without fear of choking or even gurgling, but instead she reached over and patted him on the shoulder in solidarity.

“Eyg,” he breathed out— glowing eyes falling half lidded as he leaned back in his chair. The three of them silently sat together, Pepper and herself drinking what was left of the tea while the man beside them rested. At somewhere close to the two minute mark, the sounds of his breathing changed— Eno turned her head to see that he was passed out, and softly snoring.

“Asleep already?” Pepper asked, a soft and small smile pulling at their lips from over their cup alongside a playfully raised eyebrow.

“Food coma,” she replied simply. He definitely deserved a bit of rest after all the cold shocks the man had gotten over the course of the hour or two he’d been present.

“Mh,” they considered softly, both brows gently creasing into a tenderly concerned expression as they nodded, “that’ll do it to a man.”

The next few minutes in the kitchen were quiet as the three of them rested together at the table, one asleep while the two women curled silently around their cups of tea and each other. The lull of the waves and the gentle sounds of the boards ticking their own tunes in tandem as she listened. But there was something on the wind, a shifting of sounds, and it tilted its ear to listen. Swishing and clicking. Tap tap of feet. Someone was coming inside, and there was only one person who regularly slept out there.

It only had to turn its head a fraction to confirm that the familiar form of Abaddon had come down from the crow’s nest and down into the kitchen with a tiredly baffled expression at the sight laid before him.

“Why..” he partially drawled, eyeing her and Pepper with a tilted head, “is everyone in the kitchen..?”

“S’only just..” Pepper defended, eyes stopping at the snoring ghost only momentarily as they quickly switched their gaze to look up at the cleric instead, “me and Eno!”

From the looks of it, Abaddon could not see Alidoro. Which.. While the fact of it made sense— herself aligned with the same religion of the Saint, and Pepper wielding the greatsword on their hip with Abaddon being neither— it might cause issues if he decided that’s the topic of conversation he wants to linger on.

“I could have sworn I heard the clattering of three here..” he looked about, even turning to look and see if someone had decided to hide for some unknowable reason. “My senses do not usually deceive me..?” 

Which. With the way it was going. He would.

In return, it bit back a small, ‘You sure about that?’ for the sake of not having to explain the comment. Such as that there was, in fact, three no matter the way you spun the story; whether that be Alidoro, Pepper, and herself quietly clattering about, Pepper chasing after Alidoro earlier with Kallstrom having been in the kitchen earlier, (which was an amusing recitation from Pepper while Alidoro added things in between bites), or now Abaddon and the two women ignoring the current elephants dancing in the room.

They were rather large elephants.

Regardless of her thoughts quietly swirling, he shook his head as he seemed to settle on delusions. “Mayhaps it is the night air.”

He then paused– as if realizing something in the same vein that snagged. “By the way..” he blinked, eyeing the two of them with a squinty look, back to tilting his head at them. Not moving towards or away. “What are you two doing up?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Pepper immediately sighed. Too quick off the tongue to be anything but the truth, but said in such a way if it were Eno on the other side, she would have seen it for the omission of truth it was. They could not sleep, yes, but why couldn’t they sleep?

So, she immediately fell into coordinated step with the cover, giving no opportunity for him to delve into the simple statement, and gave a gallic shrug. “Made bread.”

Pepper nodded, their shoulders relaxing minutely, “Couldn’t sleep, made bread.”

“You couldn’t sleep,” he slowly repeated, his head tilted downwards with a turn to his expression; clearly not believing either of them, or that it was the whole truth, “so your first idea was to make bread..”

Pepper’s eyebrow popped up with an incredulous little smile, “This isn’t the first time I’ve done this,” they reminded, and gestured to their surroundings. Their domain, and woe be to those that threatened it. “I stress cook. You know this.” 

“And you have seen me many a night. Making tea,” she added— gesturing to the almost finished pot sitting between the both of them, “At three AM.”

The time was generalized, but it was usually as she woke from something to calm her heart and mind. But for the considerable future, she guessed it’d just be her mind. Not to mention that ever since he’d come aboard the ship, he usually joined in, whenever she did.

“That. Cannot be healthy,” he drawled– gaze turning from suspicious to simply exasperated. A familiar adage between the two of them.

“Probably not!” she replied, easily slipping into the familiar dance around the state of her health. Never her favorite subject. “But I do it regardless, and then go back to bed!”

“To be fair, I am a nocturnal creature,” Pepper added, smile turning a bit shy as their wings fluttered behind them nervously. “I just. Shit out my schedule to function on the ship.”

“I am not,” she chuckled, voice cracking ever so slightly as it touched too much on a familiar sentiment, but thankfully in a different sentiment, “no matter how many times people think I am, I’m not.”

Pepper laughed regardless, happily delighted by the banter. 

Abaddon grumbled at it. “I am going to start coming down here.��

..As if he didn’t already? It wasn’t often that he joined the entire group— smaller gatherings being what he seemed the most comfortable with— but he was residing here, so it furrowed its gaze in confusion at the strange non-sequitur. “Okay?”

“Yeah?” Pepper chimed, and their face suddenly brightened considerably with mischievous mirth. “To stop us?”

“To send you back to bed,” he huffed, glaring at Pepper with crossed arms.

“Well that’s no faaairr,” Pepper whined performatively, draping the top half of themself onto the table like a sunbathing cat.

“If neither of you can sleep; I cannot sleep. You cannot sleep. And we are merely perpetuating an issue that could very easily be solved,” he paused, hands forming a triangle of claw points and pointed it at them, “if I just knocked you out.”

“Oh, okay,” she rolled her head an entire 356° degrees before rolling it back to normal, mimicking a more intense eye roll at the now finished sentiment. It’d work, that’s for sure, but definitely wouldn’t do much as a permanent solution; unless one was gunning for head trauma, then that’d work. 

“Why knock me out when you can just join me in my bed?” Pepper prompted.

Abaddon’s raised eye and slow “Excuse me?” was simultaneously joined by a sleepy, but fast paced sentieran, “‘Cuse me?”

She carefully did not react to the particular paired up voices. “Oh he woke up,” she murmured with the quietest breath, hiding her minutely moving beak behind its tea cup’s tilt, down to a slightly wide-eyed Pepper. 

The ghost slowly propped himself up and looked at Pepper in judging confusion before looking over towards— yep— the ghost did a fast rapid blink at Abaddon standing a ways away from them. When you weren’t familiar with his lurking habits, he did cut a rather intimidating figure.

“This isn’t even an innuendo,” Pepper corrected, amused but giving Abaddon a small smile. “I’m just saying, you could—” they waved a small hand in correction, pushing themself back to a vaguely more upright sitting position, giving a small self-deprecating grimace for a second, “—you’re welcome in my room, anyone is welcome in my room. I’ve made this clear.”

She nodded at the firm tone that Pepper adopted by the end of it; the stance of someone not taking a polite dismissal as an answer. “You have indeed made this clear, melimelum.”

Abaddon sighed at the firm open-handed invitation; Shaking his head slightly and reshifting his plumage in a settling gesture as he recrossed his arms.

The singular benefit of the odd disconnect between her and what felt like Her right now meant that she could observe the little things that always caught her attention and not feel the immediate need to do something about it. Nonetheless. “I mean if you want some tea,” she gestured once again to the kettle, “there is still some left.”

“And a little bit of bread,” Pepper cheerfully, but quietly, added with a widening grin. 

“Jesus,” he huffed, groaning. “Fine. Fine. Just— keep it down, alright?”

“We’re not trying to be loud,” she murmured, partially to him and mostly to herself. Had they been overtly noisy? That awareness was something that had been lost to the comfort of her fellows. 

“You are not trying,” he agreed, “but as I’m sure you understand perfectly, E—” the pause was accompanied by a slight twitch; something that made her think that he was quickly debating on whether or not to address her by her full name or not, but in that split second, he landed on what everyone called it. “—no, it is quite easily loud.”

“Very much so,” it agreed. There wasn’t much to be done about it, aside from deafening herself or silencing everyone in the room spell-wise, but there was always that tipping point– even out of the room.

“Lovely,” he softly grumbled. Shifting again, and rolling his shoulders— in turn displacing his tightly tucked wings.

This was why she hadn’t seen him in the flesh in several days. They were both doing very badly at ignoring the elephant in the room.

But then that careful shifting turned tense— it seemed that Abaddon was going to finally address it. “I need to get going soon.”

Pepper’s expression turned to one of genuine surprise and soft confusion. “Why’s that?”

“You know why.”

Eno very firmly interlocked its fingers together around her cup so that she would not accidentally break it within an uncareful fist. “No, because you have not told us.”

‘You have not told me.’

He blinked as his tired expression turned to surprise at her; whether it was the cool tone or her actually contributing more than tea to the conversation, it was not going to waste time on. “Right, it was only.. Gaura and Sol, my apologies.”

Abaddon put his hand behind his head, expression gaining a deliberating twist. “I erm.. with my mission in Kingston completed..” 

“I was sent there to deal with a vampire lord. That vampire lord has been dealt with..” He extended his free hand and gave one of the most tiredly firm looks she’d ever seen.  “I need to make my way back to my home.”

“Where?” Was the first thing Pepper questioned, brows slightly furrowed while their antennae drooped. Upon that, however— Alidoro, had seemingly decided that this next part of the conversing was to be something to be observed instead of interacted with. With nary a word, he got up from his current seat and sat back down next to Pepper’s chair– leaning on their shoulder without even a shift of air. A silent comforter.

“I cannot tell you that.”

She put down her cup with a small thump. So this was indeed the time that they were having this talk. An unfortunate introduction for the third unwitting participant. She sighed; Manually breathing out air that seeped into its lungs. “Alright.”

She stared at him. Her voice ticking out of tune like a malfunctioning pendulum. “This. Could have been. Avoided. If you had just. Said that. In the first place, but.” ‘That bridge has been burnt.’

“Well. Admittedly, the plan was to just leave,” he confessed, looking at the very least contrite. 

What he said was not lost on her, even as the sound of involuntary clawing of wood as her hand shifted into a fist bit into the conversation. He winced a bit. “Sol stopped me.”

It quickly removed its hands from the table. Even when she had no reason to, and even reasons to not do those things, Soleil continued to do huge acts that nearly solely benefited the owlin. She truly cared so much about that woman. “I will have to thank her later then.” Her voice was gone. 

“It was not out of hatred or dislike for anyone here, I assure you,” he implored, gesturing with his hands outward. “It’s just—” he broke off again, looking irritated. “—necessity.”

Irritated that he had to explain himself? Or something else? Perhaps that he needed to justify himself leaving at all. That bit at its guts incessantly the second it appeared. 

“Abaddon,” she began, narrowly avoiding the use of ‘amata’ instead. “If you choose to leave, that is your own prerogative. You are your own person. I’m not going to–  force you to stay. That’s— that’s not why I’m.. I’m not even really mad, is the thing—! I’m just upset.”

She fell short, trying to figure out words to clear the air when all it wanted to do was say ‘please don’t go’. It raised a hand to her face and clawed into her flesh as she tried to think. Upset was definitely a word she used. Should’ve used something else. Something that didn’t pertain to her own feelings. Why had she said that? Between its claws and its musings, it could see that Pepper had held out a hand as it rubbed its face.

She whispered down to them. “I don’t want to break your knuckles, dear.”

“I can handle it,” Pepper whispered back, pushing their hand forward an inch, assuredly. 

She sighed, manually as much as instinctually. It was offered. There was no reason to not take the offer. “Ok,” she mumbled, and using her free hand to grasp Pepper’s tight, it could hear the bones near immediately pop.

Taking the moment to try and assemble some sort of explanation, it took that fraction of a stolen second to calm its expression. His decision he was now announcing to them was completely reasonable. The choice he made was.. Understandable. There was no reason for her to get upset at the fact that someone who had tried to kill her and her friends was leaving.

There was no reason to get upset at a friend leaving.

“I just—” and immediately neutral look that she scrabbled together under her hand broke like fine china as she looked back up at the man across from her as genuine distress overtook her. “—running away with no word? The only reason we would have learned about it was that you were completely gone? I get if you choose your home and your life’s mission, rather than some strangers who are on a hare-brained series quest– but!” 

Realizing that her voice had started climbing in volume, it forcefully reined herself back in; the burn she felt seizing the back of her eyes from falling to the verge of tears alerting her of the precipice she lingered on, and she quieted her voice pleadingly. “Please. Please, at least say goodbye. If– if not because you’re my friend, then so I know that you– that you did not vanish. That you did not get taken away unwillingly. Please.”

“You would have been contacted,” he assured, hands placatingly outward, gesturing expressively as he continued. “I wouldn’t have left with nothing— the plan was, as it stood, I would leave. I would write a note, and then I would leave; properly.”

She made a sound of distressed confusion and waved back animatedly. “And how would I have known that note wasn’t forged?” 

“My handwriting is very distinctive, I would have found some type of way—” he paused with a sudden shake of his head and looked down at her with cynicism. “With that line of thinking, Eno, how in perfect honesty do you know that I am not in fact a doppelgänger or a hologram right now?!”

“Because you—!” It shook its head. 

‘Because you would not be having this conversation with me right now. I have experienced doppelgängers, both being impersonated myself and seeing the one they are copying, and they are imperfect in their mimicry.’

“Well, if you want to ignore the fact it would be a very clear difference in magic then because you are still talking to me!”

He raised a brow. “Astral projection is a thing.”

It felt its wings shift in an involuntary show of perturbation as it spluttered, feathers fluffed. She was a cleric, of course she knew that astral projection was a thing; she wasn’t that stupid! “I am perfectly aware of this.”

“. .. ...I feel as if I should stop making jokes.”

It stopped midthought and movement, and winced in realization as she rubbed her face again and tightly tucked in her wings. Of course he had been joking. His voice had been deadpan. It was being needlessly confrontational on an extraordinarily minor point.

“Or at the very least begin arguing my point— look,” he emphasized, bringing himself back to the subject as she peered up at him, “it’s been lovely. Truly. Best time I’ve had in a while.” He dismissed the softness with another shake of his head, gesturing towards the entrance. “But it had an end goal. I had to kill the vampire, to progress my.. to avenge my people. To further the goals of my Order. It’s my life’s work, it’s everything I have.” 

He crossed his arms. “Without that, I am nothing.”

It pressed its palm into the wood of the bench in an attempt not to crush poor Pepper’s hand. As it was, there was a small wheeze from the mothkin and a similar sound from the wood beneath her palm. “You—!” It called instinctively out of distress, and then reeled it back in as much as she could, even if her gesturing went back to simply gesticulating in the air. “That is a lie. That is a— giant..!” 

‘Liar liar. That is a giant mess of a lie meant to hurt and contain you. You are more than nothing, and damn the people who taught you that.’

“That’s a lie,” she finished firmly even if her voice shook. “You.. matter.”

“They made me what I am,” he countered, raising his prosthetic arm in both defiance of her words and as a physical reminder of what they’d done. “They saved my life.”

“And you can exist without them!” she pushed. “You are not just a gear, in a machine!”

‘In their machine. More than a tool for them to use with no consideration.’

“Of course I’m more than a gear,” he responded, trying to appease her, “but even if I was, I can be that and still be important! Everyone mentions the gear in the machine as if it's some soul crushing conformist ideal, but it's not— the machine needs every single gear working in perfect harmony to keep itself going!” He gestured avidly about as if there were pieces surrounding them. A certain zealous light entering his eyes as he continued, ever onwards. “One gear out of place, the entire machine comes apart. Everyone doing their part together is what.. furthers our purpose! It's— it’s what we’re meant to do!” He gripped at his elbow, where she knew the main piece with his tools connected to his arm, clenching the finely clawed hand in a fist. “Am I supposed to abandon the people who gave me my arm, who gave me my life, my name?!”

“No!” She exclaimed, a hoarse scratch punctuating her call. “But you have to–! Mmm I’m not saying this right, am I?” 

Doubt pulled at her in every word it tried to form; Was this a pointless endeavor? Was it just stalling an inevitable? It was going to lose him because it could not get its words into an order that made it clear and—!  “Fuck– shit! God—” 

“Calm down, calm down.” Pepper quietly soothed; thumb having been rubbing circles into her knuckles lovingly, now pressing deeper into barely cognizant flesh.

It took a moment to grind its own knuckles into its temple with a small agitated churr. Think, since breathing did nothing. Think, since trying to listen to her heart was a fruitless exercise. God, give her the patience to kick her own feelings about what her friend was saying out of this conversation and deal with cult indoctrination with a clear head.

“It’s not that your purpose is— wrong or that you shouldn’t be in a community working together, as you say—!” Because it wasn’t; and that was a core element of all lies. That wasn’t the true danger of cults— the danger was the crafted inability to leave; Grains of truth wrapped in falsely grand packaging. “It is—! Mm. It is the implication that you have set down that you are worth nothing if you are not a part of it..!”

“If I am not a gear,” he began, clacking in irritation and derision, “an important gear, working for the betterment of the world, then what am I?”

“A person!” It emphasized roughly, leaning forward in plea. 

“A person doing nothing,” he snapped, wings shifting with tetchily, “being nothing, and contributing nothing. A waste of space.”

It grimaced with undisguised pain at the concept of someone— anyone— being considered a waste of space due to the fact they couldn’t contribute in a way an ambiguous ‘someone’ deemed ‘necessary’. Being necessary didn’t matter in her soul. But for the sake of the argument, and not just being called out as being a bleeding heart, she went for the more ‘rational’ option in the argument. “You would say that—? You would say that about anyone else?! Someone who may not be able to provide for themself?”

“If there is exception to be made, then there is exception to be made.” He punctuated, once again gesturing dismissively to her worries, just as much as he was being vigorously animated in his movements in the conversation. “If someone is disabled, too young, or too elderly, then that is an obvious exception—” until it wasn’t. “—the universe has granted them cadence! But when you are able—!”

“You do not have to!” It exploded, unable to control its distressed volume for a moment. For God’s sake, she had to get at least through to him before he left– them. “That is the thing! Even if you are able you are allowed and encouraged to sit down! And.. take your own time..!”

“I disagree.” He squinted, once again crossing his arms but as a punctuation— wings shifting to resettle comfortably on rigid shoulders.

It stared up at him, nearly dreading the answer to what she was inevitably going to ask next. “Why?”

“The moment I sit down, the moment I stop, the moment I give up, the moment I take a break, the moment I let my guard down, is the moment I die,” he hissed, that bright bright light in his eyes becoming feverish and insistent instead of the zealous light of.. passion for his Order. “Everything that I am, everything that I have trained for, it all dies in a single instant where I have decided, ‘Maybe, I don’t need to be at peak perfection right now,’— that is the exact moment that it will strike..!”

He looked away from her stare, looking at the ship’s boards without seeing Her or anything in their material plane, eyes wide and fists gripping fabric with a vengeance no fabric could have earned. “A realization that maybe it isn’t so bad to take a break.”

“Because it isn’t.” Was barely a hiss, staring up at him with sadness and tired anger for what had shaped this man. 

“And then— then,” he forged onward, stepping closer to their table with that zeal in his eyes and putting his arm— that prosthetic that looked made of bone— down on it, leaning forward towards her; wings extending and giving the impression of Death coming to collect. “Once I do what stops me from just sitting there doing nothing, contributing nothing. Being nothing, for all the rest of my life? Serving only myself?”

‘Because that’s not who you are at heart.’

Sappy. 

“And that is so bad a life?” She asked instead, a tired croak in her voice, gazing up at him fixedly. 

“Incredibly so,” he declared, leaning back only enough to give himself enough space to eye her with a haughty glare. “As a woman of faith I figured you would understand the betterment and serving others around you over oneself.”

It just liked helping people; the ‘betterment and serving others’ was her pastime, it was not as grand as an all encompassing faith guiding her heart to the right place— though that certainly helped. It just liked seeing people happy. 

For just a brief millisecond, it was positive that its heart had restarted in that moment. It took another fraction of a second to realize it was instead sheer fucking fury that boiled in her bones at amount of people calling her things she was not, and the presumptions of others in how she saw the things she understood of the world. The insistence that she look at the world she lived in and see nothing but the despair, the hate, the violence, instead of the people and places she loved and choose to defend all of that entailed.

And just like that, the feeling was gone; It felt exhausted. It had been exhausted for the past few days, this was simply exacerbating it. It wanted to go to sleep. The urge to cry like a child had been resting beneath her breastbone for days now. It made sure not a fraction of that slipped through its body posture or eyes anymore.

“And what if I said that I serve others because it pleases me.” Since he was so insistent that letting yourself have a moment to breathe, to rest, to give some love to yourself once in a while and let your mind recover would lead to the downfall of the entire world, what would he say to her favorability in helping others? “Would that make what I do wrong?”

“It makes you an incredibly unique and lucky person,” he groused, relaxing his shoulders from his stiff posture; tilting his head with a discontented cast to his face. “Not everyone can be so perfect as you.”

That had been the wrong thing to say, and she let him know that with slits for pupils. “I am not perfect,” she finally growled, dragging those embers of fury scattered back into a single point. Feathers sharpening, and claws digging sharply into her flesh beneath the table and it tasted blood. “I h—”

‘I hate that my fears are a reality now.’

“—You know what?” She countered, shutting down that sentence of hers with prejudice and smacking the table with her free hand as she stared up at him, so so careful of Pepper’s trembling hand, “Fine. I hate that everyone has been calling me perfect as of recently, and– Saintly and—! I hate it! I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!”

“I’m not!” ‘I’m just a woman!’

“Then leave it all behind!” He crowed, arms explosively gesturing outwards— his wings moving along with him and making it an even bigger gesture— as he leaned even further back, “Do exactly what you’re asking me to do!”

Its own wings flared defensively outwards in her uproar. That was not what she was asking him to do! That's not even what she was complaining about!

“I’m not as— You are misunderstanding what I’m asking from you!” Where had that gotten so twisted in his head? She shook her shoulders and tightly retucked her wings to them. “I’m not saying ‘leave it all behind’, ‘abandon your life!’ ‘Do what you don’t—’!” She growled out a frustrated whistle as words decided to escape her in the moment. She desperately just wanted to grip his shoulders and shake whatever block was causing this miscommunication out from both of them.

“I am asking you,” she lingered, grabbing at every word she could string together, “to maybe consider your own health. To maybe consider that you genuinely do not need to be running around at all times.” It gently emphasized with its own hand, elbow back on the table as she leaned heavily on it. “You do not. Need. To be perfect.”

Abaddon gazed down at her, expression flitting quickly between a form of worry and back to a similar fatigued weariness she felt reflected back down at her. “..Take your own advice.”

It leaned on its free elbow, fist pulling at her battlejacket’s sleeve. The sheer cheek of this man would be her undoing. “You first.”

He grimaced with shuttered eyes for a moment and then he growled— “Ergh!” reopening his eyes with a frustrated vexation as he tossed his head about. “You don’t get it! You don’t! Get it!!” 

“What am I not getting?” She pressed. If she couldn’t get him to not leave, then by gods and God above she was going to at least understand what he was so desperately trying to explain to her, because she wanted to understand, but she truly did not get why he wouldn’t let himself exist. 

Was it truly not enough that you wanted to? Or that someone else wanted you to, for yourself?

“Asking me to relax!” he exploded, throwing his hands in the air, wings following suit. “Asking me to slow down! It’s the exact same as asking me to abandon it. I might as well upend everything— tear this sigil from my robe! And just leave it all behind!” 

He continued— this time accompanied by pacing as he worked himself up into a near frenzy, snapping and clacking his beak with every addition. “Tear myself from everything I have known. Replace it with a banner of a rebellion. Replace it with the flag of The Sacred Heart—! Serve no one but myself and those immediately around me, and when the world starts burning down..” He turned purposeful towards the three of them, stance reminiscent in that of a stalking or temporarily caged displacer beast, as his tone turned sneering. “The cries of the damned will not fall on my ears because I chose to give up. Slowing down is the same as stopping.”

“It is not.” She grumbled, but both let him continue as much as he ignored her token protest.

“If I am to die, in the name of something like saving the world— from the threat that you know can come to pass—!” He spoke of the ashen wastes that Soleil and herself had been shown; a testament to what the vampires would do to their world if their destructive influence seized it. She reached and scratched at the nonexistent scar on her neck, but undeterred he continued his tirade. “Then I will happily lay down my life as well as the ones of those who’d threaten it.” 

“I will fight,” he snarled, posture turning aggressively defensive, “I will kill, and I will die for anything that brings that goal to its end. My ends justify my means— and I am but one. Soul. In a million. I will never matter as much as the world, no matter how much you seem to think that I do— no matter how much you seem to love me, no matter how much any of you seem to enjoy my company— I will never! Matter like you think I do; and that is the truth.” 

It stopped in all its movements. Oh.

“You are all just too weak and scared to admit it. Because you want to believe you’re free.”

It lowered its hand slowly back to the table. The sharp sting of the words distant as things clicked into place. Oh, amata. She was recognizing a familiar attitude from the fight, both physical and verbal, in her home. He was hissing with vitriol what he was feeling and pushing it onto her and the crew; but that attitude was ignoring how they actually felt. Or, she guessed, in this specific situation, her feelings.

The complete silence in her own flesh made her decision on talking about it for her.

“Abaddon,” she hummed, “I want you to do something for me.”

The utter emotionless tone of voice must have caught him off guard, because he blinked and turned towards her near immediately— head tilting a fraction to the side; she had his attention.

“Listen,” she emphasized minutely. “Very closely.”

By Abaddon’s own words, she knew that he had sensitive hearing; if not around the same level as her own. So what she wanted him to try and listen for was truly a simple thing for their ears.

“What do you hear?”

He tilted his head around, angling and adjusting himself minutely to listen across the rooms of the creaking ship. “The waves,” he replied, brow furrowing for a moment before going back to listening, “the rocking of the ship. Sleeping people below deck.”

The absences were not noticeable, after all. Those weren’t what you tended to listen for. She decided to lend a hint. “Do you hear my heart? Do you hear me breathing? Have you seen me blink?”

He blinked rapidly in surprise at the query. That microexpression of a frown, there for a moment as he leaned inches closer; listening intently. “..Not particularly, no.”

Absences, absences, absences.

“I have not felt my heart beat in three days!”

Abaddon’s eyes widened.

The despair that had been stalking the edge of the numb walls that had formed after that accursed woman spoke to her seized her with impunity, and the smile that gripped her was probably on the edge of hysterical. “I have not needed to breathe in three days. I have not needed to blink for three days. Because we have made a deal with a god to make sure that the world doesn’t end!”

She stood up, trembling and keeping her grip loose on Pepper so they would not be yanked upwards from the speed of her rise. Abaddon backed up. 

“And if it does—!” She laughed, but the sound came out as a broken breath, “Nothing will matter cause everything will be brought back to that single moment. And we will die. Over and over and over again.”

“So if we want to follow your logic! Nothing matters in the grand scheme— not me, not you, not anyone—! But we are here, nonetheless, and we are trying to fix—!” Here she paused. Gods, she truly had wrangled this crew into something that they couldn’t escape now, even if they wanted to. Discussing it out loud just.. hurt. “..Everything.”

“So all we really do have is the bonds that we have created,” She stressed, willing for him to understand the importance of how much she cared. “If you wish to go, and— save the world in your own terms then do so—!” 

“But God DAMNIT!” she bellowed, sorrow and rage making her voice resonate through the deck. “Do not! Say that I am not trying!” Her voice shook as she reigned in tears that had been trying to escape. “Fucks’ sake!”

Swearing at herself and at the stupidity of what she’d done, she sat back down. Tired beyond belief. Gods she just wanted to sleep. Surely there must’ve been some other way out, but she had neither the means nor the ways to turn back to that moment and strike a better deal— if one at all. No use in it. “If you want to go, go. You are not listening to me and I’m trying to listen to someone who’s not—”

‘Not going to care that I don’t want to lose him.’

It simply put its head back in her hand. Rubbing where the stress headache had been beginning to lurk. The other hand that Pepper held was gently squeezed. It pressed back lightly, apologetically. The poor creature had not needed to go through all that with their shaking hand in hers.

Abaddon, from what she could see, looked distressed— a volatile mixture of scared anger as his feathers were puffed every which way as he looked at the two of them. 

“I am sorry that I have yelled,” she uttered, voice rough from the exhausted explosion, which was putting it a little lightly on what she just did. 

He gently shook his head, gaining more momentum as he collected himself. “I—” The vulture broke off, putting his hands to his beak. There was a muffled noise, and then he returned to the table and sat down.

“I..” he barely seemed to know how to go about things, flicking his eyes between the two of them. Maybe realizing that he could hear no heartbeat or see their chests move might have been a little much. “This feels like it hardly even encompasses it but— I did not know.”

“No, because you were not there,” she shook her head in reassurance. Gods be thanked for that, that only a few of them were inflicted with the lock in time. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

Abaddon brushed his feathers down with a hand as he visibly realigned certain things internally. His expression hadn’t settled on any particular emotion, but horror was clearly creeping in.  “What is your plan?”

There was a chuff of a laugh. It might have been her. That truly was going to be one of their issues, wasn’t it? “Figuring it out as we go!”

“Try our best?” Pepper suggested, a crooked smile gracing their features as they shrugged, taking care not to jostle the ghost resting on their shoulder. “Looking out for each other is really all we can do.”

She could only nod, not fully sure of how else they were to do so. There was only so much you could prepare when the way was uncertain. “Make our way one step at a time.”

He looked truly horrified as he breathed out softly. “Why would you make such a deal?”

It couldn’t help the small twitch of a smile at the mirroring emotions tonight. It shrugged lightly. “Cause it’s our goal anyway, isn’t it?”

“You’ve doomed yourself,” he whispered quietly, “What if you fail?”

“Then we fail,” she declared, echoing her father’s murmur. “High risk, high reward.”

He spluttered softly at her blasé— a small toss of his head with a scattered demeanor. Poor dear, but she couldn’t help but comment on the hypocrisy inherent in his reaction.

“Isn’t that what you said you were going to do?” She gently reproached, tilting her head slightly. “Why am I any different?”

The vulture stared at her with something that was an interesting cross between indignation and appallment at her query. “Because you are better than I am.”

It was her turn to quietly stumble for a moment. “I am not better than you..!”

“Anyone,” he emphasized, leaning heavily on the table, “would disagree.”

“Well the one who is getting called ‘better’ disagrees,” she complained. Hell, she’d probably tell anyone else who might’ve said that in regards to Abaddon to shut up— kinder than her mind was being, but the point stood. Pepper softly laughed at the quiet griping.

Enososin however did not enjoy at all how much lesser he thought of himself. It held out her hand as an offer to the man across from her, and flesh and blood clasped her own almost instantly. She pressed it gently to let him know she was still here, still living.

It exhaled all extra air that had seeped into its lungs from talking in a brief fortification. “The main goal at the moment is to just make our way around. See what we can fix, see what needs fixing at a later point because we don’t have what we need— it’s like a runaround quest!” She laughed at the comparison. 

God.

Abaddon did not seem inclined to join in on the joke, his disposition somber even as he leaned in. “Do you even know the grand goal?” he questioned, gesturing with his free hand minutely in a tiny all-encompassing gesture, “What do you need to do to save it?” 

“Fix the world up to Time’s standards,” she divulged, “and I mean that quite literally.”

He looked stricken and baffled. “What are– his standards??” 

“We don’t know,” it laughed, her hysteria turning it a mite maniacal. She’d love to know, because even now, she had a feeling it was a perfect that mortals could never achieve.

“We’ll fucking—” Pepper waved dismissively, lookin similarly exhausted even as they chuckled along with her, “We’ll fucking figure that out when we get to it really.”

Her voice crackled. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it!”

“This is—” he frowned, and scowled at the table as he thought, “calling it foolhardy feels hardly encompassing.”

“Suicidal?” She offered with a chirp, “How ‘bout that.”

“Almos—” he quickly shook his head and looked back up at her with a glower. “Not even! That's also not enough.”

She hummed in thought, eyes scrunching slightly as her ‘brow’ furrowed. “What other words do we have–”

“Stop looking for a word!!”

“Well would you rather I cry??” She laughed at his frustrated snap, Pepper wheezing alongside her.

“You lecture m— argh,” he began to criticize in frustration, his feathers once again sparking outwards as he pointed at her accusingly. “You lecture me about being too dangerous and not taking a break, while you’re secretly trying to save the world all by yourself!”

“Not by myself, I have a crew,” she muttered, fondly but slightly exasperated.

“A band of six and a half strangers!” 

It pressed his hand chidingly. “They are my family,” she countered quietly.

“Doesn’t make us love each other any less,” Pepper added, jutting their chin up in defiance even though their words were soft.

“Ah. Love,” he sarcastically muttered. Leaning back a tad, even as he held her hand, he spat to himself, “Curse that shit!”

Pepper looked at the aarakocra with a semi-amused incredulity. “Abaddon, you’re a part of this.”

She nodded in agreement, the numbness stealing the spark of amusement, but she knew it was there. “You are in fact a part of this.”

“My family is dead,” he sighed, his otherwise impassive tone belying any feelings he had on the subject. “Has been since I was a child.”

There was a beat of silence as the owlin debated something— gently wriggling her other hand away from Pepper for a moment, Eno tiredly gestured with a ‘y’ shaped hand hold and moved it back and forth between them. ‘Same here’, she silently proclaimed and then slipped her hand back into Pepper’s, the mothkin grabbing hers easily without a word.

“I don’t — didn’t —” Abaddon looked down, face falling with the softness of his words. “I never thought to have a family again.”

It was a familiar tune, and not just because she was a priest. Before she could truly think of what she was saying, brain disconnected from beak, it let words flow. “If you want one, we are here.”

“It’s not that I don't,” he corrected, both himself and their own perception with a firmer tone, “it's that I don’t think I can.”

It tilted its head, curious at his amendment. “What do you think is stopping you?”

“Everything,” he stressed, the hand in hers squeezing in emphasis. “The man I am today is molded by that absence. By that need for vengeance.”

“And when that vengeance is fulfilled?” she questioned, causing a small twitch. “Where does that leave the man you are? Everyone needs a safety net.”

He unfolded one of his wings with a graceful stretch. “Not if you can fly.”

Cheeky. It couldn’t help the twitch of a smile at the know-it-all counter, for all three of them were winged, but continued on with a small inclination of her head. “Then where will you land?” She corrected. “Because no matter how strong your wings are, no matter how good the winds may blow; you will get tired. And you will—” ‘Fall.’ “..Your energy will fail you. Especially when there’s nothing to fuel it.”

Abaddon blinked, and his brow furrowed as his head tilted— twitching back and forth every couple of seconds; thinking with a keen light in his eyes. The silence was filled with gentle shifting of their surroundings and his breathing, but he ultimately shook his head. “And I will die,” he continued for her, drawling with bitterness, “And that will have been my purpose.”

She silently despaired at that answer. It was expected the second he started shaking his head, but it was still a sombre thing to hear spoken from her friend’s mouth. Instead of refuting it verbally, she simply squeezed his hand tighter into hers.

He looked down at the sensation— her undisguised clinging to him still being alive— and back up at her, a flicker of guilt in his eyes before swapping it for derisive confusion. “I don’t understand this logic.”

“You don’t?” she prodded, sensing the fault-line, “Or are you choosing not to?”

“I—” he faltered.

“It’s not– it’s not an attack,” she murmured, trying not to scare him off the topic. It preferred going straight for the heart of things and that was often not the softest way of getting there. “Just a genuine question.”

“I was genuinely questioning.. what was the truth.” His face contorted in melancholic vexation as he spoke, shaking his head in frustration. “I don’t know.”

“The truth is you’d rather die..?”

That softly spoken question was enough to melt the frustration from his face, leaving the weary melancholy in its place. “I’ve wanted to die for a very very long time, Eno.”

Its heart broke silently at the confession. It had been a sneaking suspicion throughout their time together, but there it was.

“I’ve wanted this to end for decades,” he continued, using his free hand to press at his face in exhaustion, anger long built into his bones seeping back through every word. “Since the moment I had everything I was ripped away from me. I don’t remember my real name. I don’t remember my mothers’ face. I don’t remember much of my village, nor my people’s culture.” 

“All I remember is fire,” he hissed. “And when that fire was doused, I was brought into a cult. A good cult,” he assured, with a preemptive acknowledgment, “but a cult nonetheless.”

It bit down any sarcastic or protective comments that started to swell too much in her throat, threatening to crawl out, because truly. What an incredible oxymoron he had just let loose out of his beak. 

“And it wasn’t made any better by the fact that— I was born wrong.” He snarled, claws digging into her and the table, wings flaring. “So I couldn’t even properly uphold our traditions— the very little ones I knew— so I remember, my mother painted herself red. With bone marrow. So I did that too. Only now as I am an adult, do I realize..” he trailed off with nearly glazed over with too wide-eyes. “I don’t know who or what I am.” 

“So. I made myself new. I am Abaddon. The destroyer. I kill. And I do what must be done. I am in this arm just as much as it’s in me. All of my purpose, all of my being is within these five fingers, and the tools held within its enchantments because without it I am nothing more than a stunted bird.” He clenched his shaking fist to the point she heard several different internal mechanisms creak as he spitefully hissed, “A stunted bird, who doesn’t remember her own fucking family.”

It had to scrabble together an incredibly fast cover to not immediately wince or whistle a wounded noise at the misgendering of himself, and even more so in a sound of sympathy. It held fast, but the quietly deep and sharp inhale from beside her told it that she wasn’t alone in the feeling. It instead gently pulled her hand from Pepper’s— lamenting briefly that she did not have nearly enough claws— and switched to holding both of Abaddon’s hands; flesh and ivory in hers.

“And you are also Abaddon,” she replied, rubbing circles into blood and bone alike, memorizing the callouses and little twitches, “my friend. You are.. a.. sassy sonuvabitch who has a manic sense of humor, and often says the wrong thing at the wrong time— but means well. And that may not mean much, in the face of a lost culture. A lost family. A mother you cannot remember the face of..” It swallowed thickly around the blurry, lost memories in her throat and continued onward, pressing forward because Abaddon needed her right now.

“But it is something. And I hope you hold onto that, because when vengeance burns out, it is going to leave you like a burnt forest,” she leaned a little across the table, imploringly. “You need to let something grow back.”

Alidoro, who for the entirety of the conversation had nuzzled deeper into the crook of Pepper’s shoulder, spoke up with a mumble; “The anger in your heart warms you now, but will leave you cold in your grave.”

It fought the urge to nod in acknowledgement, because the proverb was more than accurate, so instead it simply twitched its wings into a looser hold to her, laying them lower in a silent plea to listen.

Abaddon stared at her, rather intently as he searched her. Looking for.. Something. A lie? Whatever it was, he spoke up, continuing to hold fast. “I’ve never been.. anything more than this. I don’t know how.”

“You very clearly have,” she gently parried, “and are starting to, considering you exist around us. If you were only what you said you were, I think we would not have mourned your loss as dearly as we did.”

He gave her a withering stare as he dryly clacked. “You didn’t get to feel my loss, I was gone for all of five minutes.”

“It was really hard,” Pepper hummed. A pained smile on its face as it closed their eyes in playful expression to hide the sadness, “even then.”

“Fifteen minutes,” she corrected with a murmur. She had counted out the minutes after laying down to sleep. And that was only how long they’d known. Small ticks in her mind in time with her heart; the sound was gone, but it remained in her mind, being the only metronome she relied on now. “If you want to be exact.”

She didn’t think his stare could get more intensely fixed on her, but it did as he sat there, silently breathing for a moment. “You mourned me,” he finally countered, expression becoming less intense as he began to visibly rebuild an emotional wall, “don’t tell me everyone else did. I don’t need comfort that isn’t real, Eno.”

“I’m right here,” Pepper complained, their already pinched expression becoming even more so as its lips pursed along with the tender cracks in their voice.

“You–!” He began loudly, turning a piercing look upon Pepper, before visibly slumping and sighing. “I strung up.. your friend. I was going to crucify him. You watched as Sol impaled me through the chest with a trident, and drowned me on dry land—” he tilted his head with a cutting look, “—and you looked on and cheered.”

Pepper nodded in acknowledgement. “And that was then.”

(The.. well, to call it a sickness would be false, but calling it anything else belied the aggressive nature of the condition. But her condition had furthered, gaining her new features, and the darkness creeping up her arms had more stars freckling them.

It was as intriguing as it was concerning; which didn’t say much between the two worrywarts occupying the room— the cleric marking down the growth and changes with small sketches and notes.

Soleil sighed. Lovingly, but it was such a deep sigh. Worn out as she continued unimpeded. “Him and Abaddon, I swear. Giving us a run for our health.. Oh and if anything happens to that bird again, I swear to God. I’m.. going to cause so many issues. Above and below ground.”

“More felonies?”

“Oh definitely,” she agreed. “That, and I don’t need another debt to Hades,” Soleil chuckled. Pressing more into her shoulder. “Don’t.. don’t tell him I said that.”

She chuckled wetly in return. “I would never. You get the honor of telling him you care.”

Another quiet laugh shared between the two of them, taking a break from the world at large that demanded they be something that wasn’t them. “Then he will never know.”)

The memory of soft flesh of a mortal pressing into her side and the warmth of growing divine energy was dispelled as Abaddon tossed his head in mimicry of shaking it. “You tolerate me now because you think I’m attractive—” leaning over with a semi-sneer, “—sick being that you are.”

“If we want to go down that route,” she mumbled in slight amusement, tapping his hand with a quiet ‘click-click’, “you also slashed my neck open and tried to strangle me.”

“Yes!” he agreed, looking back at her with the expression of ‘no shit’ in a bewildered key, as if he thought she’d forgotten somehow. “And you still decide to be friends with me! You’re an idiot, by all accounts!”

It gently pushed away any thoughts of the past week with experienced tact. No need to linger on that for now, even if it did prove his point. “Yyeup.”

Pepper shrugged with one shoulder, giving a mock look of incomprehension at the idea of his responses. “Yet people can change.”

“That is illogical,” he clicked, glaring slightly at the bloodhunter for their continued persistence, “I have not changed. I am the exact same as I was when you first met me— just as brutal, just as honest, just as— manic, as you describe it! I am not willing to change!”

It slowly and purposefully blinked at him, drawing his attention with the movement as much as she was expressing something. It then slowly held up the hands that she still had clasped together into view. “Would the Abaddon of two months ago let me do this?”

“I don’t know.” He blinked before frowning thoughtfully. “More than likely not.”

“Then you have lied,” she chirped.

“There is a difference,” he protested, brow furrowing deeper, “I have not changed, I have simply realized that you are harmless.”

Pepper pointed at him with their whole hand, gesturing in agreement, the other still subtly wrapped around Alidoro’s seat. “That is a change.”

“Reevaluating one’s logic— one’s initial impression of someone’s threat level is different from changing. I am the same person with the same opinions, the same feelings, the same– needs!” His wings shifted in gesturing instead of his hands, shaking his head along with his thoughts and hissed out. “I need to kill, I need to destroy, it is my purpose– it always has been, it always will be– why don’t either of you get that!?!” He exploded in confusion.

“Because you are.. wrong. What you have just described is a change, even—” she held up a finger at Abaddon’s outcry of ‘No!’, “—if it is a small one. It is still a change. And you may want to kill, you may want to do your life’s purpose, but you have changed. Ever so slightly.” With her own wing she tapped one of her temples pointedly. “It is a shift in the mind; it might not be a shift as drastic as Kallstrom discarding the Navy.”

“Which was a foolish decision.” He grumbled with a huff, glaring off to the right.

Which.. coming from the same man who had been advocating for both Gaura and Desmond to do that exact thing and ‘expand the mind from Naval brainwashing’ as he had so finely put it, the lie was not so much ‘obvious’ as it was ‘a gong just sounded off right next to my ear, ow’.

“It was not,” she instead said, choosing not to bring attention to the sizable lie, “he.. he changed because he realized he was allowed to. He realized that he did not have to be as.. strict. Or on guard. He was allowed to shed a few layers.”

“And by that logic,” he added with a twinge of bitterness, looking content despite it that his point was about to be proven, “that is our difference. I am not allowed to.”

Pepper propped up clasped hands on the table, the set resoluteness in their frame belying the easy, if firm, tone they carried. “Abaddon.”

He turned his head towards them, clearly not knowing what to expect but already braced for an onslaught. “What?”

“You.. hated us. Before,” they clarified, gesturing towards. .. ... away, “when we met at that Church.”

“If I told you I still do,” he began, looking just as frustrated and dismayed about their presumed answer as he was curious about it, “would you honestly not believe me?”

“I wouldn’t,” she muttered, to the consternation of their table mate as he glared at her. There was no bite to it, or at least no truth to it.

“Would someone who hates us let us be near you like this?” Pepper prompted.

“I could say it was out of necessity,” Abaddon argued, a hypothetical cast to something that by his own argument, was not supposed to be, “to further my own goals.”

Which raised.. A few questions as to how that was supposed to be his cover for this whole endeavor because— “Is.. watching me rant and rave at you something that would further your goals?” she asked, tilting her head in genuine confusion and to bring attention to the holes of the explanation, “Would someone who hates us, follow— in his own words— a ‘random stranger’s’ call for help, and save him out of a window??”

“You do not know my goals,” he huffed. “I did that because.. Ergh!” He tossed his head as he tried again, looking determined to prove them wrong. 

“I did that because Ulysses is an asset not because I give a shit about him! He’s just as much of a tick as any other vampire; he's just the one with enough..” he paused briefly, anger faltering— “sense not to attack people! Rather should I call it guilt. Take that away, take his logic away and he’s just as feral and just as dangerous as any other parasite.” 

“Because that is what they are. Vermin,” he intoned, “Made for being destroyed.”

It took a moment to recognize the dead repetition for what it was; A mantra.

“Are you saying this for our sake,” Pepper immediately challenged the litany, “or for your own?”

“Shut up.”

At that familiar fire flaring back to life as he growled at Pepper, it refrained from sighing a small relieved breath. It did however, quietly wry, murmur to Pepper in a stage whisper. “I think that answers your question.”

“That doesn’t answer anything—” he scowled in confusion at them both, “you’re both insane!”

She shrugged. Honestly, yeah, most likely. “Fits well with you then.”

He clacked out a noise of frustration even as his furrowed confusion deepened, cocking his head in interest. “Why do you care enough about me like this anyway?” He grumbled, suspicion soaking the edges of his curiosity, “I haven't done anything to earn or deserve it!”

It tilted its own head in return, squinting in returned confusion. Something in her brain just.. Did not understand what he was trying to ask her— or more accurately, she understood the words he said and in the order he said them, but formulating an answer felt like she had been instead asked the answer to the multiplication of 245 by 62 in her head. 

“You.. don’t.. have to.”

“Yes, you do!” he vigorously exclaimed, spluttering at her simple answer. “I care about you because you..! Do things for me! Because you’re an asset to me! If you weren’t, I wouldn’t!”

An asset? How on Yggdraveild would she be an asset— her magic? He was probably able to get a more powerful magic user from within his own sect, no matter her qualms with it. That, aside from her ability to calm people down, was the only thing she could think of as an ‘asset’. “Alright,” she allowed, tilting her head back up and nodding slowly, “but for me it’s you.. simply existing around me. I care about you dearly.”

“How..?!” he frantically questioned, a hair’s breadth away from horrified, “I have hurt you.. multiple times— I am like to hurt you again!” Abaddon looked down and pressed her hands (gently despite everything, she noted) as he continued with fierce questioning in his eyes. “You are holding on to a thorned rose and gripping it by the stem— why?!”

��The rose is still beautiful, isn’t it?” Pepper queried.

“You gain! Nothing from this!”

Had she lips, they would be pursed in thought. As it was, she stared at Abaddon with consideration for a long silent moment. How did she explain that she loved just as fiercely as she felt her anger. How did she explain that something near and dear would always be near and dear, even if it hurt. 

One of the universal languages of course; violence.

“You.. don’t really love someone until they’ve hurt you.. and you still think of them as one of the greatest people in the world,” Her mind trailed over briefly to her father. It thought of the stories that had the most gruesome ends because of the love that was there, “because love is one of the most violent acts of mortals.”

He stared at her in disbelief; it was paired with a curious emotion caught in his face, unidentifiable, but undeniable there. “Where’d you hear that?”

“It’s something I’ve come to learn, because.. that’s a part of kindness, don’t you think?” she prompted, tilting her head this way and that. “Kindness is putting on work boots and loving someone more than they deserve, and then we lead right back into.. what do people deserve? Safety? Food? Water, shelter? Love.”

“No one deserves anything,” he grimaced, hiking his shoulders in displeasure.

She smiled, something quietly genuine creeping into it from the affection. “And that is why we deserve everything.”

Abaddon reeled back like he had been struck, a startled puff of bright feathers accompanying an appalled expression as he stared at her. “Don't quote scripture at me!”

“If you’re going to start a quote from scripture at me,” she started to laugh, pointing an accusatory finger from their linked hands at the hypocritical vulture, “I’m going to finish it!”

“Rgh. Erghgh,” he tchicked with a growl, tossing his head and wings flaring from aggravation. He began getting up, and she let go of his hands as he seemed to briefly forget they were still linked as he did so— pushing his seat out from under him and knocking it over from the force of his stride as he stormed to a wall. There was a moment of unfiltered noise, the click of different metals, clattering growls and tchicks amongst them as he then punched the wall.

“Don't break it!” Pepper called.

It clicked gently in unison. “Don't hurt her.”

“It’s not going to break,” he assured, breathless in his pique of emotion, “It’s not going to break I’m punching it with enough force that it won’t fucking break!” And he punched the wooden boards again.

Oddly enough— or maybe not, considering— she completely believed that he was carefully regulating how much force he was putting into his punches so he didn’t truly hurt the soul residing within the very boards. That, however, sparked an idea. With a decisive movement, she got up, grabbed something, and brought over the bread cutting board. She was intent on proving a certain point. “Here.”

He glanced at her and his eyes widened in a double take as he jolted from his attack. “I’m not going to ruin your good cutting board!” 

“Do it,” she insisted, holding it up. “It is just an item.”

Pepper piped up from behind them; voice tired. “We can get another one.”

“Items mean things to people,” he argued, glancing at it— keen eyes locking onto the little carved symbol of the little loaf— and gesturing over to the mothkin with an indignant expression down at her, “it probably means something to Pepper.”

“I can, eh..” they sighed, as they both turned their heads to look, shaking its head with a small unhappy smile, “go without it.”

“No,” Abaddon snapped, expression quickly turning upset as he fully turned to look over at them, his wings raised slightly, “you’re not going to go without it because I care about tha—!”

He stopped. Blinking once. Twice. Eno’s eyes crinkled at the realization that set in far too late for him to catch. The fact that the care went both ways; Fell right for the baited trap that the ladies had set.

Pepper smiled at him, blinding in its opposition to the sorrow from a mere second ago, a playful cast to their antenna. “Gotcha.”

“FUCK!”

The bloodhunter’s grin only got wider at the vulture’s violent surprise, leaning back in their chair minutely— their arm subtly wrapped around Alidoro to keep him steady on their shoulder— and they finger-gunned Abaddon with a little flair. “Hook, line, and sinker.”

“Fuck you!!” He hissed with enough force that if it weren’t for the embarrassed flare of his feathers and abashed tuck to his wings it could have been taken genuinely.

“I love you too,” they sighed, the fond exasperation in their face adding more to the simple phrase.

“I- I don’t love you—! I don’t love any of you!!” He nigh shouted, puffing himself much bigger than he was. “I’ve never loved anyone or anything– anything I can love has been dead a long time!!”

She mimed pulling out a pocket watch for the mothkin’s amusement as Abaddon had turned fully to face them. “Pepper, when did I die?”

Abaddon’s head spun towards her with nearly genuine fear in his gaze before he glared in recognition of the tease as Pepper began giggling, and he started growling and grumbling at the both of them.

Pepper hummed, miming thinking about when death had affected them— shrugging with a faux-frown and leaning back on their hand. “Good thing we’re good friends with Hades.”

It raised a finger in protest and gently corrected with mirth; “Good thing Sol is in his good graces.”

“I hate you,” he hissed as they continued their little playful charade, “I hate every one of you.”

She squinted its eyes in amusement. “We care a lot about you too, Amata.”

“I love that you hate it,” Pepper smiled softly, tails behind them swishing in delight.

Abaddon scowled with a frustrated grimace at the both of them, but without anything genuinely fuelling the expression, it watched as it quickly faltered. His brow softened and his feathers flattened out from being spiked in every direction. He went back over to their table, grabbed his seat, and sat back down with a sigh. She followed him with not a single sound, and this time sat beside him as he slumped.

“Fine,” he near silently uttered. Voice drained. “You win. I care. I have been broken.”

Ah. Breaking through point reached but at a heavy emotional cost for the poor man. It gently reached around behind him and brought him closer to her side as she extended her wing and curled it around him; a hug of sorts, but in the sense of becoming a support beam for another piece of wood that’s cracked in two. He didn’t return the gesture, but she hadn’t expected him to— hadn’t been the point of it.

“Everyone on this ship is a little broken,” Pepper consoled, standing up with a steady hand on Alidoro and bringing themself to Abaddon’s other side, getting pulled into the wing’s embrace. “I think that gives it a little charm.”

“No,” He quietly lamented, barely moving his head. “I was.. perfect. Perfect killer, the perfect warrior, and now,” he growled, a breath of fire in the remains as glared at nothing, “I care.”

Pepper shook their head. “No one is perfect.”

“I am,” he stressed. “I have to be.”

“You don’t have to be anything.” Pepper echoed, gently patting Abaddon’s side with a light and gentle touch.

“Yes. I. do!” he corrected with vehemence, the onus of his life ringing in every word, bringing twinges of life back into his movements, “I was made for this! It’s everything I’ve ever done..!”

“…But it’s not everything I am,” he whispered hoarsely. “Is it?”

“No,” the cleric confirmed, gently pressing more into his side, “it isn’t.”

His head bowed. “..They filled my head with dreams.”

Her chest ached for him. It could only quite literally imagine; there was nothing quite like realizing dreams were false, but even more so when they came from a place of fundamental trust. But.. Dreams were dreams, and no hope came from a bad place, even if it was misguided. “And they were good dreams.” And even then, every lie held a grain of truth.

“They told me I was special. That I would be the one to save the world.” His gaze dimmed even further. “All I had to do was obey.”

“And they would teach me to fight like no one else could ever do.”

Its non-beating heart twinged in pain. It did not want to intrude even more into his space than she was allowed, but there was only so much one could hear before wanting to gently scoop someone up and hold them tightly to you. So instead, she gently pressed herself into his side with a small, couple second squeeze of her arm before letting the hug soften again. It could hear Pepper shifting and rubbing his other arm comfortingly.

He didn’t look down towards her, per se, but his head dipped further towards her as he softly whispered. “Can I tell you a secret?”

It nodded immediately, regardless of if he could see her do so or not. Secrets were easy. “Yeah,” she softly confirmed.

“Do you remember how I lost my arm?”

Concern gripped her by the gut but she nodded briefly; it remembered the throwaway comment during a couple of ‘heat-of-the-moment’ things. A vampire, he had said a few times. Lothric himself, if that spur of the moment yell had been true when the four of them had looked through the cubes on their way to Davy Jones. She had been.. well, devastatingly concerned had been a good descriptor even if she had just stared in silent amused horror at the man. “You mentioned.. that.. I believe a vampire had cut it off..?”

A tiny nod. “That was the truth.. but not in the way you’d think.”

“My mentor cut it off,” he corrected, and suddenly a lot of concerning new connections in her head were being made about him and the cult and it violently fought off a harsh twitch, “because it would make me better, he said. Stronger. Those of highest rank in the Blood Order.. imbibe vampiric blood themselves. Become.. the strongest. I was next in line to become a praetorian, and mark myself with that blood. But I chose to take on this field mission instead.” His glance turned off to the side. “Or rather, to delay.”

Several distant waves of relief and horror and concern all mixing together into a heady swirl were blocked by that persistent buzz of numbness, but the entire thing registered, at least. “I am glad that you did,” she murmured honestly, because there was no other way to put it. Thank God he had decided to delay.

He looked down at the arm she was beside— his prosthetic— with a faraway look. Glently clenching it and unclenching as the mechanisms near silently with tiny ‘clicks’ and ‘thunks’ shifting within. “I’ve always thought of this as my weapon. A way to make myself.. perfect. To keep myself.... strong. Better than them. But now that I think about it.. an old man cut the arm off a child in the name of strength. I did not want strength.” 

He wrapped his arms around his midsection, the wings beneath her own shifting defensively tighter. “I wanted to go home.” 

She called a soft trill of comfort, quiet and deep. Gods above. What had Abaddon said earlier? That there were exceptions to be made for those who should not be burdened? If that had been true of his Order, why had they inflicted that upon him? Why had they looked at a small boy and decided that he wasn’t too young to start? The answer was unfairly simple, unfairly pragmatic, and she hated it. It was easier when someone’s young, to shape what you want them to be. 

Whoever had done that to him, whether it was truly a King of Vampires or a simple mentor that resided in the cult, they were in for a rude awakening when she got her claws on them. For the meantime, it focused on what truly mattered; soothing her friend, trilling quiet sympathy and care.

He hunched over, exhaustion and sorrow causing what looked to be a tremble. “Why do I have to be strong..?”

Oh, amata. It gently bumped her head into his shoulder to get his attention, continuing even before she saw light eyes tilt minutely her way. “You don’t have to be,” she murmured, crossing a little ‘x’ on her chest in complete seriousness, “That I promise. You are allowed.. to be weak, you are allowed to be sad.” It quietly but firmly whispered. “You’re allowed to want to go home.”

It took a fortifying second as he peered at her with an passively impassive gaze, quiet and listening as she spoke. Missing home was something she was intimately familiar with. She was about 80% sure that nearly everyone on this ship knew that feeling too well.

But home..

Enososin.

She liked her name. It was nice, even if a bit of a mouthful. A little bit of a vain admission, she would freely admit, but it was true to her nonetheless. The name itself however was a combination of two words, meaning ‘strong’ and ‘witch’— or if you wanted to be extremely literal in the translation of sosin; ‘blood master’. Combined, you had something close to ‘powerful bewitcher’.

Her mama’s last name had been Folook; to haunt or torment— to plague with fear. Her mom… If she remembered right, it had been something that started with an A. She couldn’t remember. Her last name had been a combination of those two, when she was little— hyphenated. The only reason she remembered either of her last names at all was because she had told Rollo when she knew one. It had been long enough with no one to remind her of the other.

Everyone ignored that and called her strong.

“When I was small,” she started, because that’s how all stories started. “That’s all I wanted. I just wanted to go home. But.. home didn’t exist anymore.” And that had hurt. That had hurt bad enough that apparently being told the cause of it, decades later, reopened something long shut. “So I had to find a new one. I was.. extraordinarily lucky in that regard.”

It wondered if he knew what she meant by that. The way the Church took care of her, the way Rollo took care of her. She would bet he did, even if it had wounded him. “But it just means that you can find the place that you want to call home. It does not have to be with us,” she confided, pre-acknowledging his earlier argument, “it does not have to be anywhere soon. But now, you can find it.”

‘And when you do, I hope it keeps you warm.’

There was a moment as he looked at her, almost tender as he responded to her earlier trills with a soft and high ‘chii’. It only had a moment to briefly tilt her head in response before he spoke up. “I.. think.. I want it to be with you.” He whispered, achingly gentle, continuing on just as soft-spokenly. “Because.. you’ve shown me more kindness and safety than I have ever experienced before.” 

“And because I think.. in.. some way that I don’t know how to properly express,” he confessed, looking at her softly, “I love you.”

The quiet call it let out at that was warm and loving, but it cracked along the edges because it didn’t hide the tears it could feel gathering. If this man didn’t stop taking the floor right from underneath her, she swore to God. “I love you very much, amata,” she croaked, words difficult as she kept her tears of sympathy and love at bay, “and it does not matter how long it takes for you to figure out how to express that, alright?”

It retracted her arm back from around him, and reached up to instead hold his face softly as he blinked in silent surprise. Caressing flesh tenderly for a moment as she carded through his feathers soothingly; bringing him down enough for her to properly, and delicately, headbutt and nuzzle his face in affection.

“I know,” he murmured, gently butting her back after taking a moment, “I do not need permission, but.. it would help if you granted it.” He hunched over a smidgen as he mumbled quietly, “Could I..? Have a cabin..?”

“Of course,” she churred, unbelievably soft in her words. Had that been why he did not come down? “I believe there is one with your name on it.”

“Such is the magic of our Lady,” he lightly mused, nodding softly in her hands; long blinking as she continued her ministrations though his feathers.

Their Lady was a delight, even if she had been rather quiet the past few days; probably sensing that they all needed their alone times. So it only hummed its agreement of, “Mhm.”

“I have..” he paused, gaze flickering as he visibly reworked the sentence, “as much as I like sleeping under the stars. I.. it gets cold.” He confessed, sheepishly almost. “And lonely.”

Almost immediately after those words were done being spoken, the wing that she had wrapped loosely around both Pepper and Abaddon curled just that much tighter around them; the heat trapped within her feathers hopefully keeping the chill of winter’s night and memories a fair distance away from their little table.

It could feel the both of them curl more into her wing with a soft sigh from the bloodhunter and a brief melting gesture from the acolyte. For another moment in time, they just rested there, silently gathering their collective wits. 

It could see Abaddon’s brow begin to furrow— only slightly, as he seemed to be thinking about something; hooded eyes flicking to and fro in visual plotting. With a small raise of his head, he once again addressed the both of them. “I think I have an idea for how I can help you.”

Both Pepper and herself chimed a questioning, “Oh?” In unison. And they hadn’t even practiced.

A small flash of mirth crossed his face at that before he continued rather seriously. “Do you remember when I gave Ulysses my blood?”

“Yes,” the owlin confirmed. It was a little hard not to remember, as she had been rapidly consumed with concern for both men’s safety in that moment. She trusted both of them in differing ways, but not with their own safeties. Which was proven rather promptly, in the grand scheme of that day.

“It effectively supercharged him,” he explained, gaining more life to him as he started doing small gestures again. “I remember the process. I remember the process of how I was enhanced back at the guild.”

“Okay?”

“I could offer you.. upgrades.” 

It hesitated. Not due to lack of trust, but lack of understanding. Upgrade what specifically was her question. “Upgrades to our.. blood?”

To be fair, he also seemed to be trying to explain it the best he could this late at night without possibly scaring them. “..Yes,” he hedged, “sort of. Enhancements. Magical or physical.”

It hummed in enlightenment. That made a bit more sense than just straight up blood upgrades. Regardless of the method, power-ups were useful; you just always had to be careful in the use of that power. “That would.. definitely be helpful..!”

“Certainly better than being a broody freeloader,” he semi-jested, shrugging his shoulders minutely.

“You’re allowed to be our broody freeloader,” she teased.

“We’ll love you regardless,” Pepper added in accompaniment.

“Mhm. But, if that is what you wish to do on the ship, then we can definitely set up a little area for it.” Because everyone liked feeling useful, one way or another.

Abaddon made a show of looking around at the mostly empty deck, the potential to add anything they want here quite a literal thing. “With such a massive vessel, we have plenty of room.”

“We already need to make something for Kallstrom,” Pepper added, and without even seeing their face she could hear the small pout of their lip.

“We need to make an alchemical station for Kallstrom,” she nodded, looking near the empty area a forge could rest, and then sighed along with Pepper in affection and weary exasperation. That man. That man. “Making phosphorus in the kitchen..”

“He was doing what—?” Abaddon startled, lifting and turning his head towards the counters as if he’d see the evidence and then snapping quickly to the downstairs area. “I’m going to bleed him!”

Pepper just started making tired, distressed noises as they fully pressed their weight against them both. 

“Our dear chef was having a bit of a conniption fit,” she explained, rubbing his shoulder to bring his attention back. “I talked to him. He did not. Realize. That it was poisonous. To the rest of us.”

The vulture paused, quickly clicking things together. “Ah..” 

“He’s so smart but so stupid,” Pepper complained with an affectionate mumble, partially muffled into Abaddon’s cloak.

“That..” he partially trailed off, looking equally weary if a bit amused by the antics of their artificer. “Does sound like something he’d do.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” she moved her head a bit down and to the side to look more directly at the semi-curled up mothkin, who looked up at her with a tired and frazzled expression. “Pepper, he does send his apologies, but he said he’ll apologize in the morning.”

They sighed, once again closing their eyes and hiding their face again to recover. “I’ll thank him in the morning. Or I’ll give him a good.. smack against the head— who knows. I’ll decide in the morning.”

She chuffed a small laugh and agreed with a hum. “Decide when you get there.”

“I do believe I saw— speaking of stations—” he questioned without questioning, a tilt to his head towards the stairwell, “I saw the Exterminatus below deck.”

“Yes,” she nodded, confirming that they were supposed to be there, yeah. If she had lost the other two already this early out to sea she would have to wonder how one could enter the dimension all missing socks and mittens slipped into.

“They had made some form of.. weapon station,” he gestured to his prosthetic. “Like a workshop.”

It nodded. “That sounds like Aiden and Colt.” From what she’d absorbed of the two Exterminatus in the short time they’d been paired together, the warforged would absolutely start working on his own things to help improve himself while also helping Colt provide weapons for the rest of the ship. Maybe Aiden had suggested it, maybe Colt did; she’d have to ask.

He looked.. Vaguely concerned as he continued, looking downwards towards the stairs. “They were building.. weapons of very strange proportion.”

It looked over at Pepper; they weren’t holding it, but she remembered the strange whip-like cane the mothkin and multiple others had retrieved— that and the monstrous cleaver with a saw-like blade that Gaura had clutched like a giddy child in a sweetshop. “Ah..”

“I think I saw a giant pizza cutter,” he muttered and then squinted. “I think I also saw one of them stick a spear into a rifle.”

Odd, dangerous, and probably a bit unwieldy for anyone who didn’t prefer oversized weapons; right up a good majority of this ship’s alley. She nodded in confirmation. “That sounds like weapons they would make.”

“More power to them.” Pepper delighted, tails swishing in amusement. Whether it was in response to Abaddon’s concern or the fact that the Exterminatus were making a.. Giant pizza cutter, apparently (that she had to see, because what in the holy earth) below deck was only known to the mothkin.

“Be careful. Please,” he implored. “Though I suppose I did just offer you blood enhancements, so. I’m,” he paused, a small self-aware wincing smile as he shrugged. “I have no room to talk.”

Pepper raised themself from Abaddon’s side and sat up a bit more cohesively as they pointed a finger, playfully accusing. “You have absolutely no room to talk.”

“It’s stones in glass houses, but the sentiment is the same.” She confirmed, nodding up to Abaddon’s worried eyes. “We will be.”

Pepper nodded and then shrugged. “Try to, anyways.”

“The ship is our house, basically, we are allowed to be as careful or as reckless as we want, since it’s the only place we can truly be,” well, “careful.”

“If it’s a house, it must be comparable to a mansion.” Abaddon ruminated, looking around the deck they were on alone— and then the below decks gained even more room for people to walk around and exist without too much issue. That along with the fact that three of the decks were closer to work decks? “You could fit a small village on this thing.”

“Mhm!”

“Knowing Eno?” Pepper hummed, looking at her knowingly with playful offense, “We might get there!”

It huffed in slight embarrassment. It was a big part in why she had put her vote in on the largest ship type when they had designed The Sacred Heart, because with the way they had been going they would be acquiring many more souls who needed a home, but to be read so plainly was a little much at the moment. “I was not going to say it..!”

“I love you Eno,” Pepper’s smile turned puckish as they grinned, “but we know.”

She clicked at them, playfully chiding as they giggled at her false displeasure.

Abaddon watched them for a moment before he looked down at himself, frowning. Before she could ask what was wrong, he muttered thoughtfully. “Far too much red.” The vulture then took off his cloak, unclipping and pulling off the robe that she had grown so used to seeing out and around the ship, revealing an armor set that she had only seen in brief glimpses. 

What she was not surprised to see were all the sheathes and loops for different weapons to be hidden beneath the robe but in easy access for one’s claws; his sickle was present as well as a number of other blades. Decorations were dotted across well-kept, thick chainmail with pieces of connecting cloth, both to keep things in place and simply add more layers in protection of getting hit, and leather bracers, clasps, and loops keeping everything solidly together. Paired underneath with what seemed to be a padded linen and leather; all of it over top a darker hued tunic in comparison to his robe. A very prepared warrior.

As she memorized the outfit, the man himself had been folding up his cloak without truly looking at it, an upset flare to his feathers even as he mumbled. “I think I need to go without wearing that symbol for a moment.”

Reaching out to one of the thinner areas of the thickly protected set, she rubbed his back in what she hoped derived him some comfort. “Whatever you need.”

“I’m going to go to my cabin,” he sighed, resting the now folded cloak on the seat besides himself. “I think I’m going to sleep for the first time in a while.”

Pepper’s face lightened beside them and they smiled up at the aarakocra with affection. “I think it will do you some good,” they agreed.

“It will most likely do you some good,” she tiredly affirmed. ‘It would most likely do them all some good’, she thought, and pulled her wing back so he could actually move and escape from his seat to get to sleep. 

But before he did any of that, he fully turned to her and reached out— pulling her into a surprise embrace. It took a moment for her brain to fully engage with the instinctively returned gesture, but when it did her mind categorized it with speed. It is a sharp hug. Sharp and warm from the man himself, but physically cold. Metal from his armor and the familiar bite of claws dig into her flesh through feathers and cloth as he clung. She wrapped as much of herself around him in as protective a cwtch she could manage.

After he pulled away, after briefly getting caught on things, he looked at them both. “Thank you, friends.”

It trilled a small sound as Pepper beamed in unison. “Any and every time.”

“Good night,” Abaddon mumbled.

“Good night,” She returned.

“Good night,” Pepper sang softly, “and if you ever need some company, my door is always open.”

Enososin only nodded in agreement. Pepper had covered all their bases, and there was nothing more for her to add; doors were announced to be open and he could seek them out if he wished.

Abaddon nodded in return, head dipping lower than his usual nods; whether it was a genuine gesture, or his exhaustion getting to him, she wasn’t going to guess. The poor man had poured out a lot. Getting up with a quiet breath, he then headed for the stairs down towards the living cabins, disappearing into the depths.

After watching him disappear, she turned her head back to the mothkin who shifted closer and was now staring at something— looking down herself, she saw that Pepper was fixing the cloak with an intense stare. 

“I wonder when the last time he washed that is.”

Ah. It looked between the tail-swishing moth and the garment. From the smell of iron she knew resonated from it.. She knew blood was red, if only by other people’s words, so if it had been completely drenched in blood hundreds of times over— it might’ve been a different color, once upon a time. “Do you wish to?” 

“I.. am very curious,” they admitted, putting a finger to their lips in thoughtful curiosity, “and I have the sudden urge to need to clean it.”

“Iiii wish you well,” she hummed, “because I have no idea if I would be able to even tell.”

“If it comes back a different color…” they muttered wryly, trailing off pointedly. “It’s not my fault he didn’t take care of it.”

“I think the point of it would be that it is..” she looked at it, sudden doubt seizing her, “rrred?”

He had said red right? Yes, he had. She knew that it had literally just thought about blood being red, but sometimes it heavily doubted the words with no reference for it. Besides, everyone kept saying red in relation to him; blood, red, cult associated with blood drinkers. Went well in hand, so she could quite literally only assume.

Alidoro, from where he was laying on his arms, resting on the table, looked between the two of them, something that looked similar to an incredulous exhaustion tinged with a little wariness set in his glowing gaze as he piped up for the first time in a while. “Your friends are.. volatile.”

“Welcome to the crew of The Sacred Heart,” Pepper dryly mused, looking moments away from snatching the cloak and tucking it away to extreme clean it.

Before any decision could come about it however, there was a sound of footsteps— tilting her head in the stairs direction, to listen closer she could tell they were not taloned ones either; it was booted ones, and they were light and slow enough that it was intentionally trying to stay quiet. 

Pepper’s own head began to twitch, hearing something as well, and turned to look over. The owlin very intentionally turned her head just enough to see the door, where it saw the beginnings of Kallstrom’s pince-nez wearing face peeking around the corner— probably looking to see if they were gone yet. Upon seeing they were not and that they were very much still there and staring at him, he then very not quietly whispered, “Shit!”

“Hi Kallstrom,” Pepper called, wiggling their fingers in a coy and aware little wave. 

“Ehm,” he coughed, emerging from the stairwell with an abashed posture (he was straight as a rod) and a sheepish expression (completely straight-faced) as he nodded to Pepper. “Hello.”

They casually leaned on the hand, posing themself on the chair to be a dramatic form of ‘relaxed’ as they raised an eyebrow at him, light in their voice. “What’re you doin’ up still?”

The man slowly began to hide the jar filled with a strange white powder that he had been holding partially out of view and shook his head curtly in direct opposition to his voice as he dragged out the syllables. “Nothing.” 

“Mhm?” They hummed teasingly, both eyebrows raising in polite curiosity as their tails flicked in delighted amusement, “What’d you have in your hands? What’s that?”

He looked pained, tail curling near his leg and very aware he’d been caught but still trying to shake off their attentions. “De..hydrated milk..?”

“Yeah?” they smiled, the twitch in their lips getting the better of them. “Is it now?”

“Definitely,” he said with utmost confidence, nodding curtly. His eyes flickered over to the side, looking at what could, in Eno’s mind, be categorized as an escape route. “Say. Can I go up-deck for a moment?” 

Pepper rapidly blinked in surprise, raising off their hand for a moment as they looked over at the door themself. “Uh yeah?”

It hummed its own question. “You’re going to top-deck?”

“I don’t want to disturb your conversation,” he expressed with a small wave of his claws, “I can wait. I just have..” The tiefling froze as he realized that what he was about to say next was not in alignment with his previous lie. “..an idea. That this milk. Is bad. Has gone bad. And as such I’d like to. Dispose of it. Yes. Over the edge of the ship. Definitely. That is what I am doing.”

Pepper in the corner of her vision was pinching the bridge of their nose, mouth turned thin as their shoulders shook with barely contained laughter— Enososin was under no such obligation and as such was giggling into her hands like a madman. Gods bless Desmond Kallstrom, he was so silly in such an important way.

“Kallstrom..”

His head turned ever so slightly downwards towards Pepper, ears flicking, and the innocence in his voice and expression convincing no one. “Yes?”

“If you’re going to be using that, for your little inventions, I’m not going to make you throw it out,” they emphasized, and then sat up, pressing their hands together in prayer in front of their lips as they ennunciated each word. “Please. Refrain. From using. The kitchen.”

“Oh. Uhm,” he startled and then paused. Tail lashing in thought. “Can I be honest?”

Pepper nodded, once again correcting their posture and turning into something casually lounging again, but in a more genuine fashion rather than playing a game. “I would love you to be, yes.”

“I wasn’t actually going to throw it out.”

“Oh, I’m,” they snorted. “Quite aware.”

The tiefling stood there in thought for a moment, ever so gently tapping a rhythm on the lid of the jar as he looked over at them— not quite seeing as he considered something— before the light came back and he gestured over with his head to the doorway. “..Would you like to see what I am going to do?”

Pepper blinked. All casualness gone as their eyes widened in surprise.

It smiled at both of them. Silly. “Yes, actually.”

Pepper looked at her with still wide-eyes and then back to Kallstrom, as if expecting a ‘gotcha’ in return for theirs earlier. “..Yes?”

He perked up considerably at the responses, heading off to above deck with what anyone else would call a ‘spring in his step’, but for Desmond was just a quick time march, waving them along with an impatient gesture. “Come with me.”

Pepper got up with curiosity, following on Kallstrom’s tail. Standing up herself, she patted Alidoro on the shoulder, whispering quietly to the Saint. “C’mon, you get to see how insane he is.” No one should miss an inventor when they were excited about something, even if it turned out bad, it would be something to laugh with him later. 

The ghost ‘hmph’ed quietly, but didn’t offer any other form of protest as he followed by her side until they caught up with the fiery duo, upon which he drifted to Pepper’s shoulder, standing beside them.

As she approached, she realized that under one of Kallstrom’s arms was a strange wrap of leather, something she initially filed away as the vest he had been wearing earlier, simply tucked away due to not being in danger of being exploded; instead it was something else. The night was beautiful as ever, but it was chill enough that Pepper shivered slightly as they stood there.

They weren’t standing idle for too long as Kallstrom started casually handing the jar he was holding to Pepper. “Here, hold this.”

“Ah,” they looked at it and took it from him, looking back down at it with no small amount of dry curiosity and sarcasm, “Sure.”

“It’s not going to explode,” he assured, before he tacked on with a fierce expression and pointed finger, “but don’t! Drop it.”

They rapidly blinked up at him, eyes partially wide at the sudden urgent tone. “Oh-kay?”

“If it comes into contact with bare air, it will explode—” he waved a partially dismissive and an earnest teacher’s ‘listen to me’ gesture all in one hand movement, “so don’t drop it, keep that lid sealed. Watch what I’m doing.”

Pepper suddenly regarded the jar with a lot more wariness than before, Alidoro beside them also eyeing it critically as if it were a rabid slavering beast that had just popped into existence on board. Pepper then squinted in confusion. “How did you get it in there?”

“Very carefully.” Then he actually registered the question with a startled ear flick, and didn’t just answer automatically. “Well— I made the phosphorus in the jar.”

“How..?” They squinted.

“Don’t think about it too hard.”

Pepper shook their head, mouth turned into a rueful moue as they visibly remembered who they were talking to. “I’m— okay.”

Kallstrom put a hand on his hip as he gave Pepper a squinting frown, gesturing at the jar and the materials under his arm. “Do you want me to go into the exact process of how I made it in a jar or do you want to see the cool experiment?”

“No— maybe another time, show me– show me what you’re going to do.”

“I don’t want to fucking explain it— God!” He shook his head, a furrowed look but a tiny amused turn to his lips and twitch of his tail giving away the non-seriousness of it. “Bitch.”

Without further ado, he crouched down and set down a large sack of what seemed to be leather, spreading it out with a flap as one would a sheet and smoothing it on the deck; there was a secondary thunk as a thick rope wrapped around it was also put down. Attached to the strange new collection was a pipe leading into it, which itself was connected to a dish that fed into the pipe. Suddenly with all of it laid out, she realized what it looked like; a deflated balloon.

“Alright,” he beckoned Pepper back over. “Hand me the phosphorus. Carefully.”

“Okay..!” Pepper confirmed, handing over the jar as carefully as they could and as slowly as they could without taking everything at a snail’s pace. 

Kallstrom took it, securing it in his hands before he started moving again. Very slowly, he placed the jar into the dish and attached the pipe over the lid of the jar, twisting it with a low hissing emitting from it. The tiefling’s eyes flickered up and quickly beckoned her over— the speed of the movements a jarring difference— and she approached cautiously, but quickly.

“Grab the edge of the..” he fumbled for a moment, words escaping him as he pointed at the— “balloon, and hoist it up.”

With a nod, she went to the other side of the balloon and hoisted it up with both hands till Kallstrom waved a hand at her to keep it there.

He very slowly held up the pipe and dish. “Alright. I’m going to tell you to let go on the count of three and I need you to let go, but throw it up into the air. Can you do that?”

“Yes. I can.”

“Okay. Okay. Pepper, hold this.” With a flick of his tail, he handed off to them the very thick rope while his hands were busy, looking at them seriously, “Hold that, don’t let go for your life.”

They nodded avidly, a bit of a wry smile creeping onto their face as they secured the rope around their hands. “Alright! Aye aye.”

Eyeing Pepper briefly with his own critical eye, he nodded, and began to bring up the jar of phosphorus in the dish with the tube attached to it, angling it to pour in.

“One.. two.. three!”

Then he flipped the dish over with the jar, pouring the powder through the pipe and into the balloon.

“Let go!”

With nary a millisecond after his shout, she immediately tossed the balloon into the air with a quick ‘fwoomp’ of leather. And as she did, it was none too soon because she heard the key quiet hiss of the phosphorus making contact with the air and leather inside the balloon, and with a near explosively bright light— ignited. 

The explosions did not rock through the leather or even cause too much backlash in sound— in fact, she noted through the now semi-transparent casing, that it seemed to be fireproof leather. Now whether that was a magical application or something Kallstrom had cooked up it wasn’t sure, but whatever it was it was working magnificently as the explosions shifted into a lifting solution. The shifting and swirling blasts of light— different shades of them, and that’s where she realized they were different colors— from inside the balloon drew a gasp from the mothkin.

Awesome was truly the only word she could think of as she looked.

“Oh..!” Pepper’s gasp was louder now as the extent of what Kallstrom had created was now revealed, floating staunchly over all of their heads— only held from flying away by the netting of rope held taut in their hands. “Holy shit!”

As the balloon stayed in the air though, the tiefling whooped an ecstatic “Yes!!” and leapt into the air, pumping his fists in sheer excitement and spinning once he’d landed. “Yes, it worked, hahahahaha!!” 

“Wow…” they breathed in awe. “This is.. amazing, Kallstrom!”

“No, you don’t understand!” He grinned with boyish glee as his tail went a mile a minute, “If we get this to a large enough scale, that amount of lifting power could lift the entire! Ship!” 

Pepper blinked and looked back up at the balloon with a newer perspective. “Huh..!”

He leaned back and seemed to revel in the sight, eyes bright. “I have invented sky travel!”

“Holy shit, Kallstrom.”

“Congratulations,” she murmured, looking solely at the ecstatic scientist.

“I would clap if I didn’t have to hold onto this,” they jested, gripping the rope tighter in spite of their words.

“Yes, please don’t let go of it,” he looked distressed at the joke but pleased at the compliment, “it took so long—!”

With the way the man’s emotions were high and loud she didn’t want to accidentally cause a swing into a depressive fit, not that she genuinely thought it would happen, but it was still better safe and overly-pleasant than sorry and cleaning up an argument. “I will clap for you,” she assured, and clapped heartily at the man’s creations.

Pepper smiled warmly at the both of them but gave a small bow of the head in her direction. “Thank you, Eno.”

After the small bout of applause, they all stood there admiring the engineering for a breath. Kallstrom let out a very deep sigh of appreciation gently crossing his arms as he peered up at the stars and his work. “It’s beautiful.”

It chirred quietly. “It really is.”

“I can make it without the colorful spark powder as well, in case we want to fly without such..” he lazily gestured his hand around with a small smile, searching for the words. “Heh— brilliant entrance.”

“I don’t know,” Pepper hummed, leaning on their hand semi-playfully but mostly serious with the twist of their mouth. “I quite like it.”

He nodded in agreement. “It is very fitting.”

With the queer and colorful lot of this crew? It was absolutely fitting. But she agreed all the same. “Well, in case for stealth,” she advocated. “Have a couple of versions of it.” There was no reason as to not have both, after all.

“Y-yes,” he nodded, his crossed arms becoming more of a posture as he shifted on the soles of his feet— gesturing with one of his nods to the balloon. “That is what I wanted to show you.”

“It’s brilliant, Kallstrom,” Pepper praised. “You really are a man of genius.”

His ears flickered up and down at that, like a happy capybara. “I had thoughts like this when I was in the academy,” he admitted, looking ruefully wistful about the fact. “But I was far too busy studying swordplay and chivalry to.. actually do anything with them.”

The night had been full of such comments, but thankfully this one was softer, no longer unfulfilled. It brought one of the more genuine smiles to her face as she hummed down to him, “It is wonderful to see them in reality then.”

“I love being an artificer,” he murmured, a tone of yearning that had been finally satiated in his voice as his tail swished about gently. It was endearingly sweet.

And almost as if on cue, Pepper nodded along, an idea glinting in their eyes looking between the lights and the tiefling. “You should show Sol sometime,” they offered innocently, but genuinely.

“Oh— I have, uhm.” Tail swishing of a more intense speed, that of which some might even call wagging if one was looking for specifics. “Something special planned for that.”

“Awww!”

His face visibly flushed as he jolted from his slight reverie, eyes flashing and hair crackling alight briefly as he pointed at Pepper, and Eno in turn, threateningly. “Don’t you dare breathe a word of it to her.”

“I would not. I would never,” Pepper said, placing a hand on their chest in faux-appallment, the delight smile giving them away. “I just think that’s adorable.”

Enososin chose the simpler option of being a bit silly; miming that she was trapping her beak with lock and key, tossing the key away into the nothingness. Desmond, however, decided to play her game, catching the ‘key’ from where it would have been tossed into the void, and mimed eating it.

She couldn’t help that she started gigging in delight. “Oh you goof,” Pepper murmured in shared mirth. It was always fun to encounter someone who was willing to play childish games.

“Either way,” he sighed, looking far more content than he had in a while, eyes awash with bright light. “That is.. my presentation.”

It smiled at him with crinkled eyes. “It is.. amazing, Sunshine.”

“It’s truly incredible.” Pepper agreed.

“I hope to show this to Lockwell and Vyrdakks and.. see if we can’t get Nassau’s ships in the air— imagine!” He cried, bouncing on his toes and looking between them with vibrant excitement, gesturing at them both. “Sky travel..! Limitless clouds open to folk without wings!”

“It would be a wonder to share it with other people,” she concurred. When she was small, it had always been a thrill to go flying with Roe whose wings had been strong enough to carry claw since claw was young. To be able to share the skies with those who don’t have the privilege of flight...

“I wonder if I could make a long burning powder..” Kallstrom continued, eyes reflecting the stars as he gazed upwards, “Maybe we could build entire cities up there!”

“Make sure to get some rest..!” Pepper chided, affectionate as ever even if their eyes flickered like a candle with the flame of concern.

He chuckled in a tune of rapture, mind on cloud nine as his body swayed on and with the ship. “We could create Heaven! On our very own mortal plane! A city in the clouds— Can you imagine it?! Pearly gates!”

Even if this kind of talk was the very essence of the word blasphemy, she couldn’t help but be similarly delighted by his earnest desire to create something that hypothetically beautiful and full of wonder. It made her laugh rather than feel any sort of affronted. “Make your own sort of Eden..?” she prompted.

He briefly came back down to the earth blinking rapidly, realizing the gravity of what he had just said, and probably as well as whom. “Well.. nothing so grand but.. enough to be beautiful.”

It chuckled again. Nothing like reality setting boundaries for you. “Set your eyes on functional first,” she advised. After all, if you missed the foundations, everything would collapse. “And then build upon it.” 

He sighed, a frown settling back onto his face as he nodded curtly with her comment. “Good. Point.”

The disappointment saddened her; that hadn’t been what she meant to do. She didn’t want to discourage his idea of a flying city, because truly it was a beautiful idea, but it was just more concerned with the fact that— “Don’t want it falling into the ocean.”

“That.. is true,” he conceded, his brow unfurrowing slightly in favor of a considering look. “That would not be good. We don’t need a second Atlantis.”

“No,” it agreed, relief in her voice at the concern being understood now, “no we do not.”

“Knowing you however?” Pepper prompted, wings gently flapping. “You’ll probably figure it out.”

“I was going to say, you’d have probably just built some sort of failsafe so that if it does it would just become..” she gestured, words not arriving as she pictured— “A floating island or a city under the sea that land-beings can survive.”

“Well, of course I’d design a failsafe like that, who wouldn’t?” He grumbled, but nodding in assent, mind clearly going through ideas. “A madman, that’s who.” But that suddenly had Kallstrom  pausing in all his movements and looking at both of them, gaze turning slitted as he put his hands on his hips in affront. “Do I look mad to you?” he demanded.

She had been politely not commenting in her head about what was going on with his attire; like the fact that he had foregone the vest and was now standing on the deck of the ship shirtless in pajama pants, considering earlier he clearly had not expected anyone else still up, and boots. The new, but signature artificer goggles on his forehead while absolutely coated in soot and sulfur covering his hands, and mixed dust on his sleepwear. The picture of someone in their element.

“No,” she objected with mirth, “you look like an inventor.”

Pepper chuckled lightly, elbowing Alidoro playfully as he muttered something that was undoubtedly a ‘yes’ of some kind. “I think most inventors are at least a little insane.”

“All artists are a bit insane; they have to be,” she volunteered, nodding along. “Otherwise how are they going to create?”

The mothkin grinned from ear to ear at the addition, nodding in delight, humming sing-songily. “How are they going to come up with these.. insane ideas?”

“Insanely wonderful ideas,” she corrected in jest. Because truly, where would the world be without both science and art? They were one and the same after all, and to try and remove one from the other simply didn’t work.

They chuckled in affection, looking at Kallstrom as they purred. “That is correct~”

“I thank you for your praise,” he ducked his head, hiding the softly pleased and almost shy expression for the millisecond it was visible. When he shook his head and looked back up, he was back up to snuff, if looking a bit tired. “I think I am going to go to bed now.”

Correction— a lot tired actually, because that swaying wasn’t her imagination nor just the ship. Poor dear, but he had brought this upon himself. “You said that a couple hours ago; did you like your tea?”

“Oh!” He startled, blinking rapidly— and then gave another ever-so slightly sheepish nod and scratch of his cheek. “Of course. It was lovely.”

“I’m glad.”

“And I promise,” he prefaced, a tired look while putting his hands up; concedingly chagrined, “I mean it this time.”

“You better,” Pepper teased, a sly little smile and crinkled eyes tilted towards the insomniac.

“Yes, of course,” the soldier lamented, expression turning wry and voice dripping with sarcasm. “Why would I ever not want to sleep?”

The bloodhunter rolled their eyes playfully, but seemed to acknowledge the genuine cause behind the statement with a softer look. However, that was not how their game was played. “I am not above going in there and making you go to sleep myself.”

He tilted his head at Pepper, tail flicking once as a scarred eyebrow raised, crossing his arms in challenge. “Is that a promise?”

Their smile turned fox-like as their twin tails swished in rejoinder. “Do you want it to be?~”

“..I think you have other occupations.”

“My bed’s big enough.”

The man rolled his own eyes with a smile fighting him on his lips. “Oh I’m well aware.”

Pepper laughed in delight at the back and forth banter, leaning on one of their hands with a soft smile at him. “Get some rest. You’ll need it.” 

He breathed out silently, gaze turning a mite softer as he nodded at the both of them. “You too,” he shot back, and then he headed below into the decks again; the click of heels becoming fainter and fainter until it was stopped.

The three of them once again were left alone to their thoughts. In the brief downtime, Eno pulled the balloon down partially so she could have her own grip on the rope, but other than that, began perching so it could be comfortable. Pepper followed her lead and sat down beside her with a small sigh of relief.

If Eno surrounded them with her wing, that was just common courtesy at this point.

While they sat there, waiting for the balloon to lose its buoyancy, (Eno beginning to count the minutes so she could make a note of it to the sleepless inventor), Alidoro joined them in their sitting; a little farther away, leaning back on his hands, as he stared up at the stars. 

“They are much different now,” he hummed after a time, tilting his head around to look at them all.

“I imagine so,” she murmured along with Pepper’s sigh of ‘yeah’. It had been five hundred years after all; if they hadn’t changed at all, even if just by a few inches in their sky, that would be a bit more concerning.

“There were much.. more back in my day,” he lamented softly, a nostalgic melancholy creeping through his words. “They have dwindled.”

Pepper looked over at him with a sad twist to their mouth, humming a small “Hm,” in recognition of the loss. She imagined that quite a few more things had changed and shifted that would unsettle him; or perhaps they would bring him joy, depending on the change. Pepper would probably be solid support for the man during all of this, and vice versa, by the time they were through.

Alidoro sighed, shrugging slightly as he shifted into a crossed legged sit. “I suppose such is the nature of stars..”

She was not good with star charts, nor the true nature of the beings, but that was not due to not enjoying them; she was simply not good at the mathematics of it. But this, it understood perfectly well and it nodded silently. “Moving planet and whatnot..”

“Yes..” he agreed, a softer fondness for the stars entering his voice. “Because most do not fall to anyone’s command.”

They did not fall to anyone’s command, but they did like to make their opinions known, if Celestine was to be believed; and she usually was, as the owlin herself had finally experienced that first hand. Though maybe a bit more intense than what the aasimar usually dealt with. She hoped so at least.

“They are a lot harder to read now, I must say,” he admitted, tilting his head to try and get a better read on the sky, trying to figure it out. “I usually know my star charts pretty well.. but this is.. gobbledygook.”

Suddenly it realized what he had been specifically referencing as she thought along those lines herself. “Oh.” 

“The stars. Have become incomprehensible— to even Celestine.” 

“Wait,” she called in realization, as he turned and blinked at her in confusion. “Actually. That does remind me, I apologize. The stars are not.. uhm. In the politest terms.. in their correct state.”

His eyes furrowed as he squinted in what she could reasonably assume was a frown, turning completely around to get more context. “Excuse me?”

“I forget how my father had put it, but..” Or maybe it was her memory that was mixed; he hadn’t mentioned specifically why the stars themselves were affected, but they were, along with everything else in the missing year. “The stars are.. stagnant.”

He blinked, long and slow. “I see.”

“The world has become a little uhm..” Stagnant. Stuck. Fucked over six ways from Sunday. “Out of sorts.”

Pepper piped up from beside her, looking dryly deadpan. “Gone to shit.”

“In more vulgar terms,” she conceded, “yes, it has definitely gone to shit.”

He sighed, reaching up and rubbing at his temples with a gloved hand and a new understanding. “Hoh boy.”

“You might understand now why our crew is so..” she gestured. Lost.

“Broken..?” He offered with another sigh, leaning on his knees as he considered her words. “God gives His strongest soldiers his hardest battles..”

Pepper groaned quietly, leaning into her shoulder. “Tell Him I don’t want to keep fighting.”

Alidoro looked at them with understanding, worry tinging the glowing eyes, but adopted a faux-chiding tone in his voice with ease. “I don’t think you should have made a deal with a Titan then.”

They groaned louder. “I am sooo sick of this.”

“It was either that or die,” she explained, giving a one shoulder shrug so as not to displace Pepper. “And if we fail we die anyways.”

“If only you had me!” he playfully bemoaned. “I could have helped you out.”

“Well I only knew of you afterwards,” Pepper light-heartedly whined, spreading their hands outwardly in complaint.

“The sword specifically,” Eno chuffed, because that was going to be a treat to explain to anyone who recognized the lost sword of the beloved martyred Saint and how did they get that, “not just of you.”

“Yes yes,” Alidoro waved off, a joking chuckle in his voice, “I am sure I am very famous.”

“Considering I have seen multiple stained glass windows of you,” she concurred wryly, “yes.” It was especially hard not to, when you lived in a Church of the same religion.

“You’re very famous back in Sentiero,” Pepper added, beaming. If he wasn’t, Eno mused, she’d have been very confused.

He looked quite a bit startled, sitting up straighter as the shock that his joke was actually true went up his spine. “Huh,” he considered, tilting his head a little bit. “Neat.”

“Children were told about your story,” the mothkin explained, a soft nostalgic smile on their face as they got lost in time and place, “all the time. I loved hearing about it.”

Considering she’d also heard the story of The Saint and the Sinner when she was little, and had vague memories of little stylized drawings along with them— “I believe there are picture books actually.” 

Pepper confirmed the partial question with a softly delighted hum. “Mhm.”

He snapped his head upwards towards her, eyes wide. “Do they have my face?”

“I don’t.. know,” she admitted. Her memory was faulty sometimes, and considering the lack of remembrance from the man himself, there could be something magical at play there too if it wasn’t connected by the same storytelling magic causing this already. And even then— “I haven’t looked at one since I was– small.”

“Shit!” he hissed in frustration, leaning on his thighs.

Pepper looked distressed as they leaned towards him. “We can always check..!”

“We can check, that’s one of my main ideas here,” she soothed, calling attention to a simple concept to latch onto. “I feel like we need to find an image of you, or we need Alessandro to help with this. I think he’ll be a help regardless. But. An image of you. Something.” 

And here came the crutch of the argument. “There’s got to be a variation of the story old enough that recalls your face.”

“I remember.. ah! The painting,” he reminded himself, leaning forward in excitement, “in the church in Sentiero.” 

“We need to find that.” She nodded, thinking back on the conversation from earlier. If they could find that, at all, that would be fantastic; as it was with the luck of this group, she did not think it was going to be that easy, but they wouldn’t give up until all options had been exhausted.

“That will be our first place to start,” Pepper continued, looking pleased about it. The speed at which they had both decided that helping this man was one of their top priorities upon reaching Sentiero was even funnier to her considering their collective pack-bonding. She would hazard if anyone tried to take that sword away from them at the current moment in time they would receive a mouth full of fire to the face.

“I can’t remember what it looked like, of course–– but it is tangible!” He chirped, leaning on his boots like an eager child during a story. “That would be held dear.. surely.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Pepper assured confidently. 

“If not by the public,” she added, “then by Alessandro.”

He nodded enthusiastically, eyes gleaming with love, light, and.. “Ohh, I have hope again!”

It regarded his expression and softly prayed to the universe. Please be kind to him. “Keep that hope.” They were going to need every spare ounce of it they could get.

The three of them relaxed again into an easy silence following that; the hope from the spirit filling the very air as the lull of the waves filled their emptiness. Alidoro broke the silence once more with a quiet grunt of surprise a few minutes later. “Oi. I must say. It is late.”

Pepper looked up, squinting at the night sky, probably noticing the lightening in hue if their expression of vague surprise was anything to go by. “I suppose it is.”

“You. My friend,” he said, pointing at Pepper while getting up and walking towards them both, “we need to get to bed. If you are to wield me with effectiveness, you must get. Good. Sleep.”

“Oh no,” Pepper’s face dropped playfully, even as their antennae went rigid. They quickly shook their head. “Eno. Eno, I don’t want to have a sleep schedule–!”

Oh. Oh, the genuine plea for her to help in regards to not getting a sleep schedule was just too funny. “Too baaad,” she sang, squinting its eyes playfully in tune as she tightened her grip on the soon to be dropped rope, “it’s being enforced by a paladiiin~”

The next squeak from them was so high pitched she wondered if it was meant for only her to be able to understand. “Fuck!”

When the ghost reached the sitting mothkin, he actually lifted them up without a word— swept up into a princess carry— to the sound of the startled noble woman’s yelp, face immediately flushing with even wider eyes. As he headed for the door he called over his shoulder— “Have a good night, Enososin! May you rest well.”

“You don’t have to carry me!” came the shaky squeak from his cargo before they looked back at her, pleadingly. “Eno!”

She gave a wave as they went down the stairs. There was no good reason for her to interfere after all; wins all around in the fact they were going to bed. “Have a good night, Pepper.”

Disappearing from her sight did not mean disappearing from her awareness; she could hear them continue talking as they went down to their, well, now shared cabin. However, when the murmurs turned more intimate in tune, she purposefully turned her ears to the white noise of the sea and the ship.

Keeping an eye on the balloon she waited for it to come down, keeping the rope tight around her claws as she was left alone with her thoughts.

A dangerous pastime these past few days. 

Thinking about tonight was easier. It got to clear up a couple things that had been nagging at her heels, causing stress and worry. It did not.. Well, she could hazard a couple guesses as to why the suddenness of Abaddon’s attempt at leaving hurt so bad, and why it had ignored that. In point of fact, she was going to ignore that for a while; it had no bearing on the matters at hand and was not helpful for her thoughts. Maybe when it was all over she’d consider it, but for now. Back to the depths with it all.

Soleil… Enososin was worried for her; their dear sea sorceress. And not just because of the new information they had learned, with the.. husband. They would deal with that pest whenever it decided to show its face. What concerned her at present was the.. godhood, for lack of better terminology, that was fast in its progression and concerning in its power. She was beyond thankful that that growing godhood had saved all of them in Kingston, but she had seen that tired light in Soleil’s eyes.

(“I want to burn everything in a gentle fire,” Soleil murmured, a small amused quirk to her lovely mouth. “And not from anger.”)

It also gained a worry. Alidoro’s situation was… well, confusing was not quite the word for it, horrifying, yes, but it was certainly a little befuddling. Yes, magic was fickle and could be extraordinarily painful— metaphorically and literally— but to think the land of storytelling did this to him? They had truly forgotten so much of the original story that he was like that now? Why didn’t Alessandro tell it like it was? Had he embellished it so much throughout the years that he no longer remembered the original? Could that happen? He was still himself, if the attitude was anything to go by, still a person if nothing else, but so warped by other’s false memories of him that he had–– in turn— lost his actual form. A shell of what they remembered of the Saint. He clearly remembered his life but if he tried to think of what he was, it was gone. 

Or maybe that life wasn’t real either.

A small ‘thud’ startled her out of her thoughts and she shook herself from morbidity as the balloon landed onto the deck. “Oh,” she gently rubbed the deck of the ship, “Sorry, dear Lady. ”

There was a quiet creak; just a quick little ‘it’s fine’ before falling quiet, which gave her a moment to assess the statistics; the balloon had floated for around ten minutes as she sat by herself, (leaning on the higher side towards the eleven minute mark) with little bit more with the conversation the three of them— unfortunately she had not been one hundred percent paying attention to how long Pepper clutched the balloon, she’d have to rewind and count in her head a little later once she had a moment to process. As she picked up the balloon and the rest of the items, she heard the boards creak pointedly at her. It blinked at the ship in amusement. “I’m going, I’m going,” she chuckled, “Let me just put these out of the elements and I’m gone.”

The next groan of the boards was something akin to a sassy ‘as you should’ type of sound that she could only give a snort at. She was not exempt from the dragon soul being a sassy mother hen.

It headed back into the beasts’ belly as she put the balloon, rope, dish, and now empty jar on top of a (non-food related) barrel, away from the main kitchen but still within sight so the poor tiefling wouldn’t have a conniption over where it had disappeared to. 

Patting both the equipment and the ship herself, it finally made her own way down to the third deck where the multitude of cabins laid; most unclaimed, but their merry few had plaques upon them— some a little away from each other, a couple extremely close.

As she headed down to her own door, solidly somewhere in the middle of the lot of them, there was a thump. Against the ceiling. It raised its eyes and looked at where it had come from. A quick glance at the nearest plaque to the sound had her nod to herself, and then continue quickly and silently onward. What Pepper did on their own time was their business, and she hoped they had fun with the ghost. 

Opening her cabin door, she moved it slowly so as not to jangle the bells attached to the handle too loud; they were a warning system for a reason, sleeper with too keen of hearing she was, before slipping into her room and closing the door just as softly but firmly behind her.

After closing the door behind her, she rubbed her face and briefly let herself slump against the door, uncaring of the twinge it brought in her wings or the muffled twinkle of metal. She was so tired. It was going to sleep until noon at this rate— but even as she thought that it knew that was not to be, not with all that would probably happen, and started moving to her bed. Though there was a sound that shouldn’t be there, as something crinkled lightly in one of her pockets— she hadn’t put any loose papers in her pockets. 

She blinked. What had she forgotten? 

It looked down with a small confused hum and reached into her pocket that had made noises it was not supposed to make— the one with the king’s blood cube, actually— and it pulled out a small piece of paper with a symbol on it. A black hole, surrounded by the rings of light, enclosed on opposing sides by the markings of a clock face making a split circle, the hands straight up through the center of the collapsed star— hour above, minute below— and the imprints of little white planets, or smaller stars, decorating the face near the numerals. 

Oh.

She knew who this token was for.

Without another thought, it gently folded the paper, intent on putting it into the secreted pocket where the effigies of the other godly tokens lurked, when she accidentally ripped the paper with too sharp a movement of her claws. Before she could even begin to swear at its clumsiness, she watched her claw reverse and untear the paper. It stared at the small little piece of parchment. ‘That would certainly be handy, with all the sharp implements flying around’ was her distant thought, but she perfunctorily put it into her battle jacket’s pocket, and removed the garment with an automaticity. 

It stood there a moment longer, methodically turning every thought it had to silence as she leaned more heavily on her back. Once there was nothing left, it brought only one thing from the emptiness and numbness; music. Beginning to hum an ever familiar lullaby, it gently pushed herself off the door, tossing her battle jacket over the foot of her bed, intent on no more thinking for the rest of the night. Crawling into bed, she covered itself in its blankets, and promptly closed off the rest of her mind.

Prologue; One - Two - Three - Four

High Seas; It Begins - Something's Wrong - Blood in the Water pt. 1 -Blood in the Water pt. 2 - Crimson Runs Blue within Crépuscule (pt. 1) - Crimson Runs Blue within Crépuscule (pt. 2) - Fake Orchestra playing a Synthetic Symphony pt. 1 - FOpSS pt. 2 - Impacto pt. 1 - Ikanaide pt. 2 (here)

[gemwing1988]

Eira Gemwing TV Tropes

A/N: Warning, this fanmade TV Tropes will contain spoilers. Please read with care and enjoy.

Katie and Vale’s only daughter. Eira is Katie’s successor as the Heart and Scriptor.

The Ace: Out of all the new generation Dreamstones, she is a very good swimmer and a brilliant ice skater.

Action Girl:

Actually Pretty Funny:

Affectionate Nickname:

Katie specially nicknames her daughter as her little “snowfire”.

Her friends often call her “Ree”.

Afraid of Needles:

Aerith and Bob:

All Girls Love Ponies: Most especially unicorns.

All-Loving Heroine:

All Your Powers Combind:

Animal Motifs:

Teddy bears. They symbolise love, comfort and companionship. They also represent childhood innocence, which fits Eira given her Companion Cube is a teddy bear.

Dragons.

Apologetic Attacker:

Apologises a Lot:

Baby of the Bunch: At the age of eight, she is the youngest of the generation of the Dreamstones.

Beautiful Singing Voice:

Beauty Equals Goodness:

Berserk Button:

Much like her mother, it’s not a good idea to bully, threaten or hurt her friends, family and loved ones.

It’s unwise to try and steal or hurt her teddy bear.

Beware the Nice Ones:

Be Yourself:

Big Sister Instinct:

Inverted. Eira is the youngest of the second Dreamstone generations but she always often protect Issac, Becky and Aiden as they do for her.

Played straight with Plumeria, who is said to be younger than Eira in Sprigon years.

Big Sister Worship:

Big “NO!”:

Blow You Away: She inherits her mother’s wind element.

Blue is Heroic:

Book Smart: While she’s no Matilda Wormwood, Eira still manages to get some decent grades.

Breath Weapon: Being half-dragon, she is able to breathe fire, ice and other elements.

Brutal Honesty: Most especially when she angrily berates a jerk, bully or even a villain.

Bully Hunter:

Casting a Shadow:

Celestial Body: Her dragon form inherits her mother’s starry wings.

Cheerful Child:

Child of Two Worlds:

Children are Innocent:

Companion Cube: Since her toddler years, she carries her teddy bear everywhere and treats it her as her Best Friend (in the words of Woody in Dreamlight Valley, toys can be your first friend). She is very overly protective of Teddy like a mother would with her child whenever someone tries to take him away.

Cuddle Bug:

Cute Bookworm:

Cute Bruiser:

Cuteness Proximity:

The Cutie:

Daddy’s Girl: Downplayed. Eira has an equally close relationship with both her parents. She still has a slightly close one with Vale, given she is quick to reject the Devil’s delusions of her being his daughter.

Dark is Not Evil: She inherits her father’s shadow element and, much like her dad, she’s one of the heroes.

Defiant Captive:

Damsel In Distress:

Damsel Out of Distress:

Delightful Dragon: Especially as the Cheerful Child and Kid Hero verity.

Determinator:

Does Not Like Spam:

She’s not a big fan of any verities of spicy foods.

She gets her disdain for mushrooms from her mother’s side.

She doesn’t like mature or extra mature cheeses of any sort. Mild is fine. Mature, not so much.

She is especially disgusted at the idea of eating kidney and liver.

Even the Loving Heroes Have Hated Ones:

Excellent Judge of Character:

Extremely Protective Child:

Fear of Thunder:

Feathered Dragons:

Free-Range Children:

Friend to All Living Things:

Gamer Girl:

A Girl and Her X:

She’s often not seen without her teddy bear.

Just like her mother, she has her own Sprigon companion, Plumeria.

Girls Love Chocolate: It runs in the family.

Girls Love Stuffed Animals:

Good is Not Soft:

Graceful Ladies Like Purple: Purple is her favourite colour. As a Tomboy with a Girly Girl Streak, she wears a light purple zip-up hoodie and purple slip-on sneakers. Even her dragon form is purple.

Hardcore Adorable:

Hardcore Bookworm:

Hair-Trigger Temper: Subverted. She’s usually the most mellow mannered out of the second Dreamstones generation, but when it comes to her friends and loved ones being in trouble or she’s dealing with those who are very mean, she’ll go all out like a blizzard. She usually apologises for it afterwards.

The Heart:

Heart Symbol: She wears a silver locket with a small heart-shaped locket jewel on it, which symbolises her having a big heart, often wears her heart on her sleeve and her title as The Heart of the second generation of the Dreamstones.

Heroes Love Dogs:

Hidden Depths:

She inherit’s her mother’s fondness for bowling and is very good at it.

She occasionally makes very good painting artwork inspired by her great Nana on Katie’s side. Vale and Katie love her work so much, they hang some of her work on the walls.

She enjoys some cartoons dating back in the late 90s and early 2000s. Eira: Mum was right; you can never go wrong with some classics.

Humble Hero:

Iconic Item:

Her silver locket with the snowflake engraving and heart-shaped gemstone in the centre, which she carries around all the time. As well as her bracelets.

Her teddy bear as well in her child to preteen years.

Ideal Hero:

Innocent Blue Eyes: She inherits her mother’s blue eyes, which symbolises her innocence, especially as a kid.

Innocently Insensitive: As much as a sweet kid as she is, Eira still has her flaws and she would often say or do things wrong all the while of being innocently unaware of the consequences until it’s too late. She does apologise for it at the end.

In the Blood:

In the Hood:

Irony: Eira had inherited a handful of her mother’s interests, likes and dislikes of certain food and many things she’s good at, but of all things Katie isn’t good at is ice skating, which her daughter is extremely good at.

Karmic Protection: In her baby/toddler years, Eira tends to go on some “baby adventures” akin to Tommy Pickles, which often leads to some crazy antics, which often lands her as Unintentionally Karmic and/or accidentally causing a huge mess even for those who didn’t do anything wrong. She was just a baby who was too young to know any better and was innocently lost in her own world, the karma universe was generous enough to let her off the hook.

Kid Hero:

Kind Hearted Cat Lover:

Let’s Get Dangerous!:

Like Parent, Like Child:

Little Girls Kick Shins:

Little Miss Hardcore:

Long Hair is Feminine: Downplayed. At the age of ten, she has her hair down and is long as her father’s human form, but she’s a Tomboy with a Girly Streak like her mother.

Meaningful Name: Both Eira means “snow” while her full name, Gwyneira means “white snow” in Welsh. Her first element is ice and her fondness for ice skating makes her name very meaningful.

Magic Pants:

Ms. Imagination:

Neat Freak: She’s surprisingly very tidy and organised for her your age. While most kids hate having to clean their room and would rather leave it messy, Eira prefers her room to be tidy whenever she can since she will need to find certain items when needed the most.

Never Bareheaded: With the exception of bathing, sleeping and swimming, Eira is hardly seen without her crystal blue headband at the age of ten.

Nice Girl:

Not Above It All: As sweet as she is, Eira can still have a couple of Deadpanned Snarker moments and a sassier side to herself.

Oh, Crud!:

Passionate Sports Girl: She enjoys swimming and ice skating.

Patchwork Kids:

Picky Eater:

Pint-Sized Powerhouse:

Plucky Girl:

Puppy Dog Eyes: One of the perks of being the Baby of the Bunch.

Purple is Powerful:

Precious Photo: Shel always carries around photographs of her loved ones inside her locket, which holds up to six pictures.

Prone to Tears:

Raven Hair, Ivory Skin:

She Cleans Up Nicely: She had always been pretty regardless of her choice of clothes but she does look most especially nice in a dress on certain occasions.

Shock and Awe:

Shrinking Violet: Eira has some shades of this, especially as a child. She is often shy around new things and people but once she comes out of her shell, she’s a good kid to be around with.

Skip of Innocence: A trait she often carried in her toddler years. She skips less when she grows older, but still retains her innocent cheerfulness.

Skirt Over Slacks: As a Tomboy with a Girly Girl Streak, Eira wears blue-black leggings underneath a blue denim skirt when she was eight years old.

Spin-OffSpring:

Strong Family Resemblance:

Sweet Tooth:

Tender Tears: Much like her mother, Eira is among the most emotionally sensitive of the Dreamstones, most especially at a young age.

Terms of Endangerment: Even when Katie is Happily Married and gave birth to Eira, the Devil never gave up on his unhealthy obsession to make her his wife and queen, which now extends to forcefully make Eira his daughter. He often refers to Eira as “his little princess”.

Tomboy with a Girly Girl Streak: She’s a Tomboy who wears a denim skirt over leggings (when she’s ten years old), also likes the colour pink, has a fondness for stuffies, cute things and wears a sparkly bracelet and a locket with a heart-shaped gem on it.

Trademark Favourite Food:

Ice cream ranging from chocolate, coconut, mint chocolate chip, white chocolate brownie and plain vanilla.

Barbecue chicken pizza with extra cheese.

Cheddar and tuna baguettes.

Iced donuts with drizzled with chocolate frosting.

Tranquil Fury:

True Blue Femininity:

True Companions:

Undying Loyalty: To her family and friends.

Unintentionally Karmic:

Unwilling Suspension: Eira often gets snatched up and dangles by the hood of her hoodie when caught by bad guys, forcing her to frantically flail about, screaming.

What Beautiful Eyes!:

Why Did It Had to be Snakes?:

The Devil is among one of the things that terrifies her. Since she was 3-4 years old, she even referred to him as the “big, mean and scary cat man”.

The only time she fears the dark is when she’s trapped or is alone in an unfamiliar and creepy environment.

[bleaksqueak]

hello hello, it's been a while since i asked a question so i'm back with one about...hair! can you tell us anything about the soli cast's hairstyling habits? ranking them from least to most effort put into maintaining it every morning, who's the most likely to wear braids, how attunements (feathers or anything else) play a part in this and what accomodations/products the veil makes for these mages.

Always a pleasure to see you show up in my activity feed or inbox, so the questions are welcome! Ranking them, funny enough but Maia would be at the top of the list for how much effort is put in. Her hairstyle is, by all means, simple. Behind the scenes, though, there's a lot going on to make it look effortless... and of course, when hair reaches a certain length it does become quite a task of love. This goes beyond just styling, as we're talking potions, serums, perfumes and maintenance.

Lyra easily comes after Maia... though she enjoys looking Nice Enough (it might be more accurate to say she likes looking "Cute, in a Mad Scientist Hippie sort of way"-- her own words), her haircare routine is more out of necessity than Maia's labor of love. It wasn't always as difficult to tame, but as her manifestation's overgrowth peppered in between her already wavy, loose curls, that changed. Thankfully detangler potions and specialty combs made for her exact type of manifestation come in quite handy... having a husband willing to help tame the nest, even as it got more out of control, also helps. It's difficult to see due to mostly seeing her from the front during chapter 2 and the post chapter omake, but she clips part of her thick hair back with a fused crystal lotus barrette. Etched into it is a simple sigil that aids in helping to keep things in place. It can't work miracles, but it can help keep her hair and feathers from tangling due to day-to-day activities. Audric follows after them. He wears a tidier, shorter hairstyle unless you count for the length of feathers that he ties back and tucks away under his uniform coat when on duty. There's nothing overly special in his haircare routine, though that changes when it comes to taking care of those silver-grey feathers that rest beneath his dark hair. Maintaining them to prevent breaks and fraying is where most of his efforts go. As they're a product of a rare phenomenon where a manifest trait is passed to a child from both parents sharing the same manifestation, though, he's been doing this since he was a small child... there was considerably more fraying and breakage as a child despite everyone's best efforts, especially as new growth and pin feathers are going to cause enough itching that a child isn't going to be able to resist. As an adult, though, it isn't much of a problem... and feather manifestations being a more common one in the veil means there's plenty of resources for taking care of them. His preening is now spot on. Audun follows soon after... Though his feathers are fine and small, much more flexible, and aren't quite as finnicky as his wife's and eldest son's. His hairstyle is simple, shorter, with the side lengths clipped back, it isn't difficult to maintain. His biggest task is (or was...) helping Lyra with hers or praying that-- Elias would probably never bother if his family didn't insist. This insisting generally comes from Audric, who will Cut If For Him If He Won't Get it Cut. He takes minimum effort in day-to-day upkeep, only keeping it free from tangles so Willow won't get caught when she's slithering about. There's a brief moment when it's freshly cut and styled by his older brother that it looks neat, intentional and styled... that probably lasts as long as one shake. Audric doesn't fight it anymore. Neither does Audun. Life's too short to keep rolling that boulder up the hill.

[sweet-star-cookie]

tell me about the southern birds! :DD

Alright! ^_^ One thing to note about this group is I haven't worked out the core concepts for all of them yet, meaning some of them are currently a lot more vague and what little art I do have right now is far from finished, subject to a complete overhaul like with Aranea's redesign. There are a lot of bird constellations I'm working with, so I'm currently figuring out how to stop them from being too same-y, both visually and in their narrative purpose. That said, I figure showing the roughs is better than nothing anyway, so here we go!

The Southern Birds are primarily a dance group, and use that title to refer to themselves collectively when performing. At one point they performed for the Sky Mirror Circus, but the relationship soured over time. Eventually, as more things started to fall apart and many of the constellations needed to fend for themselves, this group added in more combat training to survive, though some adapted to this change better than others (more on this later). Especially after the fallout with the circus, the Southern Birds look out for themselves most of all.

True to the grouping of their constellations in real life, the members are Phoenix, Tucana, Pavo and Grus. We'll start with Phoenix, as she's the leader of the group and is the most important narratively speaking.

Unlike the other constellations and true to her name, she can resurrect herself after burning out, and this death defiance was of great appeal for Ura and her circus initially, as it could serve a lot of intrigue and shock value to an audience. But Phoenix still isn’t immortal, and she’s one of the only constellations that shows her age visually because of this. The more times she burns out, the more her feathers turn to ash and stardust, and her magic takes a greater toll to use. Some day, she too will burn out for the final time.

I wanted to go for an aging debutant / 1920s flapper kind of inspiration for her design and personality, as both she and Ura’s performance styles and aesthetics match a similar era. She holds herself to a high standard, and can come off as haughty, overly particular, and quick to anger, especially about matters of passion. Though she is indeed the mythological fire bird, I based part of her body shape on that of an ostrich, particularly her legs. Great for dancing, sure, but also great for a swift kick if need be! She is one of the members that adapted quickly to more combat-based movement, and does much to protect her group as their leader.

The brooch she wears is called the Phoenix Heart, and was a gift from Ura when they first fell in love. That initial spark was a genuine one, but as Ura descended deeper into her obsession with "living forever" and the dangers that come with that, Phoenix knew she couldn't reason with her. She felt more and more used by Ura, as if her magic was the only thing she was truly in love with, and their relationship ended with great bitterness.

Phoenix carries a lot of distrust towards the zodiac after what happened with Ophiuchus and his connection with Ura, seeing it as a failure on their part considering how poorly it went. Though the zodiac never claimed to be the "leaders" of the Astral Plane, their increased protection measures and wielding of elemental magic via the Solunar Spirits held certain expectations for the other constellations who they now claimed to be under their protection. Expectations that, to Phoenix, were barely met at all.

Because of Ophiuchus, she views the Starglass as nothing more than an arbiter of destruction, and thus doesn’t exactly give Cassie a warm welcome when they first meet. She does eventually come around to at least help them find Ura, though it's more for the sake of protecting her group and putting her ex-girlfriend behind bars than anything else.

Tucana - The Toucan

The youngest (and smallest) member of the Southern Birds, specializing in baton twirling for her performances. Though Pavo is her primary guardian, the entire group takes care of her in one way or another. Given her size and age, the others are often focused on keeping her safe the most during anything involving combat, as Tucana simply isn't strong enough to fend for herself (bless her little heart though, she tries).

The coloured specks on her feathers are pieces of confetti or glitter used in her cheery, upbeat dance routines. As you might expect, she's got the curiosity and innocence of a child, and is based on a baby toucan specifically, hence why her beak is a lot smaller than her adult counterparts. She hops around to move whenever she isn't flying, which she can only do in short bursts. Pavo - The Peacock

Tucana's primary caretaker, and thus is the most worried for her safety. He possesses a fairly anxious personality overall, and is known for splaying his feathers when frightened. As such, his dances involve a lot of quick movements and shaking motions. He shares a similar need to "look pretty" like Phoenix does, but his vanity is more of a personal desire and it does not possess the same arrogance as hers.

Though his anxiety makes what combat skill he does have rather clumsy and frantic, he is able to use his feathers to distract and misdirect foes, allowing someone else to land a blow instead.

I'm currently toying with the idea of him being some kind of fortune teller or tarot card reader to tie into the astrology angle, but I need to work on the concept more in terms of how I'd integrate it into the lore, and that will in turn inform his visual design a bit more. As I mentioned before, I don't want these designs to be too same-y, and a lot of these birds are of the "long and spindly" variety in terms of body shape. In addition to avoiding the potentially harmful tropes associated with fortune tellers, I also feel he looks too much like Lord Shen from Kung Fu Panda at this stage, even though he'd likely have the typical blue/green/yellow palette of a typical peacock anyway. Grus - The Crane

Arguably the most graceful of the group, specializing in long and flowing motions as a ribbon dancer. He is the brother of Columba (The Dove), who took over as pirate captain of the Argo Navis after the death of The Roaring Thunder, the previous incarnation of Leo.

Both cranes and doves are common symbols of peace, but each of them approach that idea quite differently. Grus is a pacifist, disliking conflict in any form and thus did not adapt to combat training very well at all. He instantly regrets his involvement in it, even just in training.

Columba, on the other hand, has a far more militaristic approach to peace, feeling it must be earned and maintained by force instead, frequently leaving the two brothers at odds. Grus's more subdued and quiet personality often does not pair well with Columba's loud and authoritative demeanour. As a result, the two parted ways, choosing to approach the predicament of the Astral Plane in their own respective groups instead.

[tormented-velveteen-heart]

Dear Lady Velvet,

Agh, it's a new week. I hate Mondays!

Do you have a cure for the Monday blues?

I have a few yellow rose bushes, and I yet need to dry them. Dry flowers are underrated. I love the idea of preservation, a heirloom that travels throughout many generations. Do you like hair wreathes as crowns? It's a spring transition for me. I love poetry - one of my greatest passions. I do write poetry too, but not often.

I like black and red only for special occasions. A night at the opera? A masquerade? Otherwise, I tend to be less dramatic, a wall flower, dressed in pastels or earthly like a forest fairy.

I liked the melody of Gallows. Reminds me of Dr. Lecter's famous quote from Hannibal (2001):

"Io fei gibetto a me de le mie case." “I make my own home be my gallows.”

It roughly translates to “I made my own home be my gallows,” reflecting a profound metaphor about self-imposed exile and punishment. In the scene, Hannibal references Dante's Inferno: he's comparing his own exile—and possible betrayal—to the damned who hang themselves on thorn trees, like Pier della Vigna in Canto XIII. He deliberately frames his residence—not as a sanctuary—but as a symbol of his self-inflicted condemnation.

“I made my own house be my gallows.” — Dante Alighieri, Inferno, Canto XIII

This underscores that Hannibal is drawing on Dante’s theme of betrayal, self-destruction, and despair. In short, he's acknowledging that his own sanctuary doubles as his punishment.

Ophelia is stunningly beautiful, but I cannot look at the painting. The harm that Hamlet caused her is unforgivable. In fact, I've lost any sympathy I had for Hamlet because he treated Ophelia miserably.

La Belle Dame Sans Mercy is a classic. I often wished I could be a cold-hearted woman. Sadly, I am the pathetic opposite.

I am a romantic at heart too, too much, I'm afraid.

I am hypersensitive so like you, I could never do the work of an undertaker. I could not even be a nurse.

And worry not, necrophilia has never been my thing either. I have no desire for the dead except for in a séance.

My porcelain collectibles are unique custom-made sets from Bayreuth, Germany and Versace by Rosenthal. I also have a considerable connection of Disney characters, starring mostly Beauty and the Beast and Snow White and the seven dwarves. They are safely kept in a lit cherry wood cabinet. Each piece was hand-picked by me and is unique. I am attached to them and I've run out of space so I will not be getting anything else. Truth be told, just like I am a goth forest witch, I am also a Disney girl. That's just another side of me. I hope my Disney side does not scare you away ahaha. I also hope no one has poisoned you against me, because I noticed you stopped replying. I cannot control what people maliciously say online. There is plenty of vile evil in this world that no witch can fight. If I had the powers, I would make it so such evil does not prevail or at least does not rule it but my abilities are very humble.

I favor vampirism as long as it is not made into a "cult". Did you like Twilight or did you find it overly sweet?

They say the gods envy us because we are mortal. I don't believe it. I am not vane to aspire to live forever, but I would prefer longer than shorter life. Of course, that ultimately means, growing old.

I completed my response to you because I believe in good manners. Be well and thank you for the exchanges so far. I am sad to see them interrupted. But remember please: to believe falsehoods without seeking the truth is a choice: when the door to the truth closes, no hand of mine can open it. I wish you the best velvet lady.

-feather fountain pen anon

I'm glad to hear from you, truly — each note from you in my inbox is always such a delightful treat.

Please don’t worry — no one has said anything ill of you. And even if they had, I wouldn’t listen. People will always have something to say. Words mean little to me; actions are what matter. You've given me no reason to dislike you, and as I've said before, I’ve truly enjoyed our discussions.

I’ll admit, light has recently fallen on a very sore, wounded place. But I didn’t want that to spoil such a warm, heartfelt message. I hope you don’t mind me skipping ahead to this letter before answering the others — I simply felt the need to respond, even though I’m not in the best headspace.

I will be okay; it's just a difficult season. Please don't fret. 🖤🥀

As for the Monday blues... I used to hate Mondays as a child. But now, I sit with them — I slow down while the rest of the world begins again. I'm lucky in that I usually work weekends, so Mondays belong to me. I was born on a Monday during a new moon — beginnings are my favorite, though they’re always the hardest to start. Tea is my savior on Mondays, especially the bad ones — that, and music.

Your yellow rose bushes sound lovely and bright. They reminded me of this little witch shop I once visited; they had dried herbs hanging from the rafters, and cobwebs had made nests in them. I thought it was hauntingly beautiful. I wish I had taken a picture. I don’t yet know how to make flower wreaths, but I wish I did — I imagine sitting in a sun-warmed field, weaving them into crowns with a dear friend or loved one. The way you describe things, I swear I can smell the wildflowers, feel the spring breeze, and see the soft sun filtering through the green.

I adore poetry — both reading and writing it. It is a lifeline to me, like blood. Sometimes it spills out onto the page when I least expect it. You've inspired me to write more lately, and for that I’m deeply grateful. I missed it.

Sometimes the most delicate, unassuming flowers are the ones that leave the greatest impression. I believe the same is true of people. You strike me as introspective and grounded, and I imagine the soft pastels and earthiness suit you beautifully.

I loved your Hannibal reference! I've been meaning to watch the original, though I've only caught glimpses so far. That quote — and its connection to Dante — is so powerful. I think some people live in that cycle of betrayal, self-destruction, and despair. It saddens me to see it so common, but I’ve learned the importance of knowing when to reach out a hand, and when doing so could pull me under too. Perhaps that’s my own loop — seeing people emotionally hurting themselves and instinctively wanting to save them. Maybe it’s a wound in me I haven’t yet healed.

To be cold-hearted is a lie — I’ve tried it. Both extremes are painful. To feel too much is a divine punishment; to feel nothing is a special kind of hell. Please, never change. You are a beautiful soul 🖤

I’m biased, but romantics are my favorite kind of people. They do often seem to carry the heaviest hearts — maybe because they see the world differently, more vulnerably, in a world that demands cynicism. It reminds me of this quote from Penny Dreadful:

"We're all awkward in love. Mine has always gone awry. When I have opened myself to it in the past, it's left me... damaged. The consequences are too grave." — Vanessa Ives

Vanessa Ives — I relate to her so deeply. But I won’t go on about that now.

I’d love to know which of your porcelain Disney pieces is your favorite. What memory is attached to it? How did you come to acquire it? Beauty and the Beast was a childhood favorite of mine too. Alice in Wonderland (the animated version) is a comfort movie — and the entire world of Wonderland, in its many forms, still lives in my heart. Your love of Disney doesn’t scare me in the slightest — it’s part of what makes you you, and how could anyone hate something so honest and unique?

Speaking of vampirism — I recently watched the newer Nosferatu. It was decent; I mostly enjoyed the setting, costumes, and atmosphere. The writing wasn’t groundbreaking, but I’d still watch it again while working on projects. If you enjoy black-and-white (mostly silent) films, A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night is worth a watch. I also recommend Only Lovers Left Alive — and of course Queen of the Damned (I dream of that bathtub scene filled with roses), Interview with the Vampire, and The Lost Boys — all classics. I haven’t watched Twilight since I was young, though I hear the books are stronger. I tend to prefer my vampires dark, brooding, and bloody. The band HIM often comes to mind when I imagine the aesthetic of vampires I enjoy.

As for the gods... I think perhaps they’ve grown bored. They’ve seen everything, experienced everything. For mortals, it’s different — life is precious because it ends. I don’t envy the gods either. Immortality would lose its flavor, eventually. One can only experience so much before even beauty becomes routine.

I’ll be honest — I’m holding your responses close to my chest right now. In a very small, dark world, they’re something bright. You don’t need to worry — I will always seek the truth. I don’t believe in taking bitter whispers at face value. Black sheep understand each other — and your wisdom and kindness are rare gifts. Thank you, truly, for being a light in these dim moments.

I promise I’ll be responding to your other messages soon — they mean a great deal to me. I simply had to answer this one first.

Until then, be gentle with yourself. Yours in shadows and soft light, Lady Velvet 🖤🕯️

[room-surprise]

I think it's very possible that some characters might have pierced ears but aren't wearing earrings because they're doing hard physical labor (going into the dungeon). That makes logical sense, and seems like something Kui would do.

So the fact that Otta has them in canon is probably meant to tell us something about her character, and make her stand out.

There's actually one other elf with pierced ears, in Kui's elf race portrait page, and there's also an elf there who has tattoos on their ears!

Since you went off on a tangent, I will too:

I think most likely Kui either doesn't like drawing earrings (maybe thinks they don't look good?), or she's trying to keep her designs as simple as possible (more likely imo), and maybe she wants to keep earrings as a special, extra bit that she only uses occasionally.

It's for sure ahistorical, earrings were very popular for both men and women throughout history until very recently... BUT, people most likely didn't wear their earrings into battle or while they were plowing fields or something. So it's not illogical for most of her characters to not wear them.

Kui doesn't seem to like drawing super complicated clothing, jewelry and locations, even when she draws extremely wealthy characters she tends to keep their designs exceedingly simple and stylized, to the point where they all seem very minimalist and austere.

The coronation of a wealthy king! In his... plain pajamas and bath robe? His high school uniform? His plain tunic and pants?

The third painting is obviously the oldest a lot more simple than the other examples, and the most similar to Kui's coronation, but you can see there's still patterns and complex drapery everywhere. Kui's drawing looks a bit like they're in an empty warehouse 😂 and I don't blame her! But it's a recurring thing... Her backgrounds get more complex as the manga continues, but they're still very austere.

Though obviously I can't say for sure, it seems to me that Kui's description of elven fashion is a bit snarky:

"You can see this by looking at the way their queen dresses." The joke here is that the queen doesn't wear anything, she's practically a nudist at times! Yeah that would explain why they don't like "extravagant decorations" like... pants, or shirts.

I think Kui may be aware that she's made some of her character and setting designs overly simple compared to the grounded realism that most of DM has... historical costumes and settings are almost never this simple but Kui avoids visual complexity.

And so Kui is suggesting that this is because in-universe the elves value minimalism (something that happened in real fashion history so, it's not unreasonable). And since they're the dominant cultural force, logically every other culture is following this trend to some extent... Except the dwarves.

The dwarves are culturally opposite of the elves in almost every way, and so wealthy dwarves (who Kui almost never draws! Phew!) have the most maximalist clothing and culture, full of details and frills:

I 10000% support her in this for the record, but I'd guess this is why there's so little jewelry in Dungeon Meshi in general.

She likes clear, simple costume design without a lot of details... Specifically if she's going to have to draw the character over and over again.

...Except when it comes to feathers, scales and fur, then she will draw in EXCRUCIATING detail. She even went back in the last volume to add MORE fur and feather detail in the book version of the final confrontation.

But that's not surprising, she used to be (still is?) a furry, and furry artists often love rendering texture things like fur and feathers and hate drawing human clothing 😂

cithis gender anon back again with extremely trite info that no-one cares about probably: does any other elf have their nails painted? I can't belive i didn't notice that? (That comic where cithis and flamela and pattadol all go to the warden ... hotpot(?) Shows it- they're a darkish red!)

Gasp

I think that's only when they have modern clothing on, in the adventurer's bible she doesn't have nail polish

None of the characters have nail polish as far as I can tell, another thing I noticed is that earrings are pretty rare too (Cithis only has them in modern clothing too) I only remember Otta and Leed having earrings in the story

I think that's perhaps a character design quirk from Kui tho? Even Lycion who to me reads as someone who would have piercing has none, Cithis got the dangling earrings to help with the celebrity aura here tho, and Benichidori also has some in this extra

Maybe for Kui earrings give an edgier feel?

I WENT ON A TANGENT BUT THE NAIL POLISH IS PRETTY COOL I NEVER NOTICED, I care about all the details, sometimes I wonder whats purposeful characterization and whats personal preference coming from Kui in character design, the earrings one is very interesting cause someone once asked if maybe elves avoided them since they value their pointy ears, but taking every character into consideration nobody really wears them, elf or not. (It's interesting to me cause nail polish and earrings is something I just add to any character without a second thought)

Tbh about nail polish that's probably inconvenient to keep while dungeoneering (maybe earrings too?)

[pundertalefan]

Now that the Nightmare Critters have been out for a while, I've formulated a very interesting theory(?) Regarding all three groups of Critters I have. You can consider this a follow-up post to the one about the Rejected Critters I made a while back, if you like.

Firstly, a reminder that the Rejected Critters belong to BuggyHuggy, and this is just for fun. Any usage of "they" regarding them is because I don't know the gender of said Critter for certain.

Basically, my theory is that the Rejected Critters are the midway point between the Smiles and the Nightmares. Each trait is slowly warped or discarded the further you go through the Critters themselves. Read on if you wish to read my overly long-winded explanation.

Kickin Chicken is a good sport with a mischievous streak. He stays cool under pressure and does his best to encourage his friends to be as awesome as he is. That being said, he's not afraid to ruffle their feathers from time to time, especially with his friend Hoppy in mind.

Griffy Gingers is a prankster who takes his mischief too far. He just wants to have fun but doesn't seem to be aware of the harm his actions can cause to those around him. He only shoulders part of the blame, though, as nobody wants to step in and inform him of the negative outcomes of his various antics.

Icky Licky is a poor sport, who is truly talented but would rather make excuses, and as such, continues to be envious of others. He may also be a fan of mischief, considering who he hangs out with, but it's hard to be sure. Regardless, his sour attitude is a repellant to those around him, unlike the fun-loving outgoing Chicken.

Hoppy Hopscotch is someone who aspires to be better every day and helps others to do so as well. She's always looking to reach greater heights and seems to believe that anyone can do what they dream of if they put their mind to it.

Crocky Rocky only aspires to be as good as Kickin Chicken specifically, having no desire to impress anyone but him. It's unknown if their feelings of worship are reciprocated or not, but they show no signs of changing their mind.

Allister Gator doesn't aspire to be any greater than he is now. That would be admirable if he wasn't someone who would rather laze about for his whole life than put in any honest work. Like a sloth, he continues to wait, expecting others to do everything for him. It's a wonder he's still alive.

Bubba Bubbaphant is highly intelligent and uses his knowledge to improve himself and others he cares about. He does his best to learn new things all the time, acquiring new skills to help anyone in need. He loves to read and do research.

Moody Moose is mostly clueless, a moocher who heavily relies on others for support. He seems genuinely unaware of anything around him, not even remembering his name half the time. He would probably be the kind of guy to wander into a busy street if left to his own devices, simply because he wasn't paying attention. Put simply, he's a space cadet. If you were to ask him what that means, he wouldn't be able to tell you, and would probably forget about the discussion in a matter of seconds. Unlike Bubba, it's unknown if he can even read at all.

Toullie tends to refuse any support from others and would rather focus on trivial things instead of actually learning something important. He specializes in trash, greedy for junk, but also for information. He'll take any mess of any kind and figuratively absorb it into his life. However, he doesn't seem to want to check his facts before sharing them. Does he spread wrong info on purpose? Does he think he's in the right? Maybe he truly believes the ridiculous lies he hears or that his expertise could one day be crucial to the world's well-being. Does he get these ideas from tabloids or outdated book sources? Who knows.

Craftycorn is very creative and appreciates art in all forms. Physical creations, written stories, music, and spoken words. She sees the merit in everything and everyone around her. Despite being shy, she does her best to inspire those she cares for, sharing with them the wonders of artistry and creation.

Bully Bullito (though having a crush on Crafty) isn't one to notice the subtle intricacies of life, focusing on getting stronger constantly, taking no time to appreciate the beauties around him (except for his crush, of course). He seems to try on occasion to see the world in the way she does. But he just doesn't have a mind that's oriented towards those kinds of things.

Meanwhile, Rabie Baby is VERY creative, but not in a positive way. She enjoys embellishing rumors about others and is eager to make up anything about anyone just for attention. She's constantly craving gossip, whether it's true or not. She may also have a lust for blood, being a vampire bat. Let's hope she doesn't act on it.

Bobby Bearhug is a lover of all people and things, appreciating everything that makes her friends special. If anyone is feeling down, she'll do all that she can to cheer them up. She enjoys giving hugs and sharing smiles.

Tiggy Tigers wants friends desperately but lacks the tact to make them. As such, they come off as extremely clingy and overbearing. They'll repeatedly insist on giving affection to and begging for people to join them in activities, even if the individual(s) in question have already refused. If they can't convince those around them to be their friend(s), they'll resent them, swearing revenge on those who reject their advances. No one has stepped up to tell them that isn't the way to make connections, but considering their behavior it makes sense that no one would want to risk being in their general vicinity.

Simon, meanwhile, doesn't seem to care about anyone but himself. All the time he spends with others is to brag and boost his ego. He might be able to make a genuine connection if he tried, but his pride gets in the way of any attempt. He doesn't want friends. He wants fans. People to tell him how cool he is and how they wish they were as strong as him. He hasn't gotten any yet.

Dogday is bright and sunny, always caring for his friends, and eager to make new ones. Just like his good pal Bobby, he'll go above and beyond to brighten up someone's day. He's very loyal to and protective of those he cares for. Mess with any of his buddies, and you'll have to answer to him. Though, realistically, he's likely to just ask you not to do it again. Maybe with a tiny growl.

Riddle Roo appreciates the world as well, but only through material gain. They proudly admit to being a hoarder, having no desire to stop their behavior. They don't care what others may say about them. As long as they have their possessions, they think they're happy. They live in a delusional state, always suspecting everyone of trying to steal from them. A tad hypocritical since much of their collection was stolen from others in the first place.

Poe doesn't like the sun, preferring to lurk in the shadows. They remain mostly in solitude, feeling wrathful towards everything and nothing. They don't seem to treasure much in life besides the macabre, which might be why they're so miserable. Despite others being turned away by their behavior, they don't care. They just want to be who they are, no matter how depressed they might be. It's sad how alone they truly feel, even though they would never admit it. No one knows why they act like this. Perhaps they don't know themselves.

Finally, we have Catnap. Despite his distant nature, he clearly cares about his friends to a certain extent, helping them to sleep and always keeping an eye out for them. He's never too far away from any given situation, and if he's needed, he won't hesitate to rush over (though he may grumble under his breath and twitch his tail in irritation, especially if woken up suddenly).

Snidey Spidey seems to value others, but only so they can torment them for their own amusement. They don't care about others' feelings, relishing in the excitement they feel when they cause someone to jump or shriek. They'll occasionally treat others with tenderness and sensitivity, only so they can betray their trust. They are truly wicked and conniving. That being said, they wouldn't want anyone to die. That would end the fun, after all.

Baba Chops would rather be alone and secluded than anything else. There are times that she can be convinced to join others for fun and games, but it's only a matter of time until she's back to being isolated. It's unknown if she actually cares for the well-being of those around her, as she has a violent disposition, and won't hesitate to lash out if she feels too overwhelmed. Does she feel guilt for those she hurts? Or a secret longing to be content in a group that she could belong to? That mystery may never be solved.

To conclude, each trio has things in common and things that differ. The only ones who are the exception are Picky Piggy and Maggie Mako. There are only seven Rejected Critters, as opposed to the eight that the other two groups have. What would the midpoint be for those two?

Both Picky and Maggie love food, but Maggie seems to lean more towards junk food and sweets, while Picky encourages healthy eating. Perhaps the middle one would be someone who prefers not to eat at all. Or someone who eats unconventional things, like someone with pica.

Anyway, that's my ramble over. Thanks for reading, if you did. Hope you're doing well!

❤️🤍💙💚💛🩷🧡💜

[sciencestyled]

Huffin’ and Puffin’ Through Chaos: Why Your Life’s a Mess and It’s Not My Fault

Once upon a time—not in a “storybook” kind of way, but in the distinctly modern mess where the moral is buried under lawsuits and hashtags—I found myself with a branding problem. The Big Bad Wolf, terror of pigkind and red-hooded grandchild enthusiasts alike, had been reduced to a meme. You know the one: “When you huff, but the inflation rate still blows harder.” Ha-ha. Real original.

It all started when my latest real estate endeavor—a cozy cottage in a dense forest—was swallowed up by a viral TikTok trend. “Cottagecore,” they called it, and suddenly my sanctuary of solitude was overrun by influencers in $300 thrift-store overalls, frolicking in my lupine backyard for the perfect shot. I tried reasoning, but no one listens to a wolf. “Cancel the carnivore,” they tweeted. “How dare he growl at our curated aesthetic!”

In my attempts to reclaim some shred of respect, I turned to the pigs. Yes, those pigs. I figured, bygones be bygones, right? Wrong. The brick-layered tyrants were running an anti-wolf PR machine, complete with a 24/7 news ticker claiming I was an agent of chaos. “Entropy in fur,” they called me. First of all, rude. Second of all, what even is entropy?

So, I did what any enlightened beast would do: I Googled. And oh, what a rabbit hole—or pig pen—I fell into. Suddenly, the whole world started making sense. Entropy, I learned, isn’t just why my huff-and-puff strategy failed against masonry; it’s why my forest is filled with chaotic influencers and why everything from my fur to my reputation seems to fall apart no matter how much I try to control it. It’s the universe saying, “Look, buddy, things fall apart because that’s what they do.”

But here’s where it gets juicy. Entropy isn’t just science—it’s a lifestyle. The pigs? They’ve built their entire empire defying entropy with their smug little brick walls, but they’re swimming against the current. Look at their overly structured lives: insurance plans, gym memberships, diets that include kale. Sure, they seem stable now, but give it time. That brick house will crumble, just like their crypto portfolios.

And me? I’m embracing it. I’m not the villain—I’m the ultimate truth-teller. My huffing and puffing isn’t chaos; it’s an inevitable force of nature. And that’s where my idea struck: I needed to educate the masses. I couldn’t let the pigs control the narrative any longer.

Enter YouTube. Sure, wolves aren’t typically known for their production skills, but I teamed up with a raccoon who specializes in editing and dumpster diving for secondhand cameras. Together, we created the most captivating educational video this side of the forest, breaking down entropy in a way even a pig could understand. It’s not just about thermodynamics—it’s about life. Why your laundry pile grows faster than your savings account. Why your artisanal sourdough starter goes rogue. Why no matter how hard you try, your Wi-Fi signal will always cut out during the most critical Zoom meeting.

The video is raw, unfiltered, and packed with biting commentary. I explain why the pigs' brick house is a false idol of stability and why embracing chaos—entropy—is the only real way to live. Sure, I threw in some jabs at the pigs’ overpriced coffee habits and a few digs at human tech addiction. After all, what’s the point of explaining science if you can’t ruffle a few feathers (or fleece)?

So, here I am, the Big Bad Wolf, rebranding myself as the voice of reason in a world teetering on the edge of entropy. Watch the video. Learn something. And for the love of all things chaotic, stop trying to defy the universe. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: the house always falls down—so why not huff and puff while you still can?

[the-cat-chat]

January 13, 2024

The Dead Zone (1983)

A man awakens from a coma to discover he has a psychic ability to foresee future events.

JayBell: In my youthful days, I loved The Dead Zone tv show with Anthony Michael Hall (even though the ending was ruined because of its cancellation). I love movies and tv shows and books about psychics, and I also love crime stuff, so of course I was into it.

Now let's talk about the movie. It's disappointing in so many ways. First off, the pacing is just all over the place. I think they definitely had difficulty adapting the book into the movie, and it shows. It feels like a collection of different plots instead of one cohesive plot. This is probably why it made such a good television show.

Second, I hate what they do with Sarah's character. They make her seem so selfish and unlikeable. Furthermore, her appearances in the movie are so random and inconsistent (also impacted by the pacing). In the end, I couldn't care less about what happens to Sarah, which is sad, because so much of Johnny's motivation is about his love for her.

Also, I wasn't into Christopher Walken's interpretation of Johnny. Mostly because his "vision" acting is just so off and overly dramatic. It's hard to take those intense moments seriously with Walken's acting.

I don't mind how it ended so much. I get that Johnny feels desperate and cornered and helpless and that's why he makes the decision he does in the end. I also like how poetic it is that Stilson is actually the instrument of his own ruin, not Johnny.

I can't help but compare it to the tv show and finding it so lacking. A good story, but not a great adaptation.

Rating: 4.75/10 cats 🐈

Anzie: Again like the uncultured swine I am- I had no clue of the plot for this movie- only that there was a show decades ago with the same name and again- didn’t even realize the connection. But none of that matters bc Christopher Walken!!! At 40!! It’s the only thing my brain took in. I was so distracted the whole time. And it’s so weird bc of just how his body and mannerisms never changed AT ALL! And the hair???? At the start wow. Then when it becomes feathered. Wow. Totalllll Nerd Vibes.

But anywhooo the plot was interesting but really weird? Like I’m so glad it’s just accepted?? By everyonnnne?? Oh and the kid he tutors. Let’s glaze over that entirely bc that kid is a freak. (Kindly 😬) buttt let’s back track- first the coma situation- and his gf just gets married?? Has a kid??? Like it’s been 5 years!!! And the kid is what like 2?? So 3 years is fine- i mean he’s just in a coma??? Plus you live in castle rock!?!? Give the guy some time! Plus to meet and date enough to be married?!?!? Let’s give it a good estimation that she waited 1 1/2 - 2 years?!? Like I’m still on about stuff from 15 years ago! But whatever.

The plot does make sense but also in a way just feels everywhere- like first he helps- then he’s on about the girlfriend- then a recluse- on about the kid he tutors- recluse- help cops- recluse- obsessed with Martin Sheen (which let’s be honest was off in another solar system). I’m not complaining- but I can def see how it would work in tv form.

Special shout out to the scissors in the one scene- they def gave me some mental and emotional trauma.

Rating: 4/10 Catz 🐈

[chirrups]

You want avian headcanons? I've got plenty to share!

More Overly Birdy Grian Headcanons

(Prefacing this with some custom worldbuilding so you can kind of see where my headspace is at for hybrids: I like the idea that players can choose what kind and how much of a hybrid they want to be at any given moment.  Hybridhood is a spectrum you can stroll along and Grian likes dangling by his outlier fingers off the deep end of it. Meanwhile, most players with bird features have a lot less physiological tweaks going on.)

Grian has great eyesight but limited eye movement range. When looking around, he turns his head more than an average player to compensate for it (and has the increased number of cervical vertebrates to support this). It's a fun shock factor to twist his neck around super far! That being said, he also has a hard time with glass due to poor depth perception. Tinted/colored glass is more common on Hermitcraft now after he concussed his way through far too many windows.

Color preference is a bigger thing for him than for other players since birds are so visual. Bright colors have more correlation to excitement and dark has more to calmness in his subconscious mind. He can also see more colors than baseline players (I imagine a lot of Watcher-stuff is only visible in UV, if you're into that kind of thing).

On that note, he's harder to pull into bits at night because diurnal birds (like parrots) pretty strictly rise and sleep with the sun. He pulls all-nighters like any other Hermit does but he's notably a little more muted past sundown when there isn't something big going on. I also imagine the blanket-over-the-head trick that gets birds to freeze and chill out works on him too for a similar reason.

Grian molts! It happens in phases over 6-ish months similar to how large parrots do. It's generally a horrible time for everyone because Grian is itchy and cranky plus there are feathers literally everywhere (his base, other people's bases, the shopping district, in Mumbo’s mustache, wherever really). Other Hermits help him preen but the relief only lasts a short while. For avian players, frequency of molts depends on how many feathers one has since they take resources to grow in, so someone very birdy like Grian does it every few years.

Like real birds, flight-capable avian players usually have highly efficient 2-breath respiratory systems to oxygenate blood in their lungs and air sacs which supports flight. This makes them more vulnerable to pollutants as air and whatever contaminants in it stay in their body for longer. In high-smog areas of Hermitcraft, Grian carries a respirator on him even if he never really ends up using it.

Likewise, metabolism is elevated in avian players to power robust flight movement. Avian players have higher resting bpm and higher normal body temp, so temperature regulation is kind of a big deal. Grian doesn’t have many sweat glands due to his high feather coverage (as sweat and feather oils don’t mix) and is way more prone to heat stress. He does a lot of breaks in shade, uses fans, and relies on helpful friends with wet towels and orange slices to get through hotter days (and the Nether). At the opposite end, when he is sick he needs a lot more warmth to take the pressure off his body to maintain thermoregulation and focus more on healing.

Grian, as a parrot guy, has strong grip and dexterity with his feet talons. It's common to see him hanging or swinging upside-down by his feet around his base as he works. He's got special customized tool grips made for talon use to free up his arms/wings for flight to hard-to-reach build spots.

He doesn't have a good sense of smell and relies more on taste/texture for food. He can't taste capsaicin (chili pepper-based spicy) and treats it like any other fruit. To this effect, Scar has made some custom cookie recipes for him and a few other non-mammal-based players to try back in season 9. Grian can, however, still taste allyl isothiocyanate (radish, mustard, wasabi-based spicy) which led to some fun reactions the first time the Hermits had a sushi night.

Grian has dual control of his voice through his mouth/larynx AND his syrinx (bird-specific vocal cord organ). He uses his lips to shape sounds for player language and uses his syrinx for more complex noises including mimicry. So, when mimicking noises parrot-style, his lips don't move which is uhh deeply uncanny!

being a bird owner and bird nerd in general really does fill me with lots of small and asinine grian headcanons.

like: does grian have a gizzard? and if he does, does this guy eat rocks???

[blackleatherjacketz]

Into It

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

This was an Anonymous Request, so here it is! Sorry it took me so long, and I hope you like it! It’s my first time writing for Stranger Things!

Summary: You’ve been friends with Eddie and the Hellfire Club boys for a while now. It isn’t until he sees you in your Morticia Addams costume that he expresses his true feelings for you. 

Warnings: Teen+, Friends to Lovers, Eddie Being AFFECTIONATE, Arm Kissing/Caressing, Kissing, Gomez/Morticia Addams Role Play, Halloween, Haunted Houses, Svengoolie, Indiana (I grew up in and still live there.)

Word Count: 1K

Read more of my stories HERE!

“It’s almost time for Svengoolie!” Eddie sings in an overly dramatic tone, walking up to you with fingers wiggling in front of his scrunched up face. “Tonight’s special feature:” he juts his arms out straight, stomping loudly around the living area. “The Bride of Frankenstein!” He smiles and waltzes around you, his extended digits tickling your hair and shoulders before gently smoothing their way down your arms as he plants himself behind you.

“You thought one half-dead monster was bad,” He imitates the voice of the showrunner, quickly moving to the other side of your face to finish his thought, “Just wait until you see this!” He squeezes your shoulders affectionately, all but picking you up and turning you around to face the television against the wall.

“I can’t wait,” you admit, trying not to let him see how wide your smile is.

“You’re gonna love it.” He pinches your skin again for good measure, brushing his hands down your arms as the metal of his rings cools your flesh through the black lace of your sleeves. He feathers them past your elbows and forearms, warming you back up as they finally reach your wrists, encircling them before weaving his fingers in between yours.

You stop breathing all of the sudden, your lungs holding the cool autumn air hostage inside your rib cage as his mouth gets closer to your neck. You thought the goosebumps on your skin were left over from the fun house you just left, but deep down you knew better than that.

“It’s not the Addams family or anything,” he takes your hand and places it just above your hip, pulling you in close, his palm on top of yours. “But it’s just as good.” He raises your other arm up to eye level, the leather of his jacket squeaking as he extends it out towards the door.

“Cara Mia,” he whispers in his best Gomez Addams voice.

“Gomez,” you whisper, keeping up appearances just in case the two of you decide to forget what’s about to happen.

He glances back at you for a split second as those brown eyes of his darken just the slightest bit, waiting for you to either nod or pull away. It’s the same look he gave you when you showed up tonight at the Haunted Castle in full costume, red lips and all. Up until then you thought he only reserved that look for his guitar, the way his lips curled into a satisfied grin, letting his teeth show through just a peak before he shook his head of whatever thought was creeping in. That smile only widened as he insisted on walking in line directly behind you, his hands finding themselves all over your shoulders, arms and waist to protect you from the ghouls that popped out of the walls in the narrow hallways of the keep.

You always knew you’d wanted Eddie as more than a friend, but finding your tribe in the Hellfire Club seemed to be more important to you than bringing up your true feelings. All of the friendships you’ve made through him and Dungeons and Dragons had finally given you the confidence to really be yourself, to drop the facade of caring what other people thought of you.

You decide to play along with him anyways, figuring he wouldn’t have initiated any of this if he didn’t feel the same way you did. You nod for him to continue and watch as his lips press into your palm, his other hand sliding further up your dress as he mouths his way up your arm just like you’ve always wanted him to. You feel your heart skip a beat as his hair falls down around your elbow, the intensity of his kiss increasing the higher up he goes. His lips part as they reach the bare skin of your shoulder, taking little bits of flesh into his mouth as he creeps up your neck and jawline before he stops dead in his tracks.

“Tish,” he whispers, still playing the role. His features seem to have softened somehow, the bright animation that lights him up during your party sessions receding as his lashes drop gently in front of his eyes.

You want to kiss him, your whole body is telling you that as it buzzes beneath his touch, feeding off the undeniable electricity of his charm as he holds your hand so far away from you. You bring that hand up slowly, his calloused palm and fingers practically hovering over your knuckles as they cradle the back of his head, carding themselves in tandem through his messy curls.

You take the leap, pressing your lips against his for the very first time as if you hadn’t already thought about doing so every single night for the past six months. You tilt your head to the side, opening your mouth to his as you memorize the texture of his lips and the taste of his skin as the distant flavor of tobacco still lingers. You inhale as he kisses you back, his tongue brushing against yours after parting your lips, a hint of honey you weren’t expecting colliding with your tastes buds. You’d never thought about what he would taste like when you fantasized about kissing him before, but this was better somehow, this was… real.

“I was kinda hoping you would do that.” He says after pulling away, grinning from ear to ear. That light is back inside of him again, animating his features in a whole new way.

“Oh yeah?” You let go of his head, twirling a strand of his hair around your finger as you finally turn to face him.

“Yeah.” He blinks and shakes his head nervously, the confidence of your favorite character leaving him faster than he anticipated. “Thought I wasn’t being obvious enough,” he laughs under her breath, tracing a strand of your long black hair into the hem of your costume. “But I didn’t want to push it if you weren’t into it.”

You lean forward and kiss him again, gripping him by the collar of his jacket as you pull him off balance, forcing him to grab your hips to steady himself. “I’m into it.”