#I need more daggers and knives and swords | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zvtara-was-never-canon · 6 months

Note

you once said that the ZK do not allow the canonical Zuko to show real, sometimes ugly signs of trauma. can you write more about this? because that's what I always felt when I came across their terrible takes, but I couldn't express it.

Gladly! But first, I need to mention the sign of trauma that Zuko usually lacks - and that, for some reason, the fandom insists defines his character:

Fear

Don't get wrong, I'm not saying Zuko never experienced fear. We all saw that poor boy on his knees, crying, begging his father not to hurt him.

But in "Zuko Alone" we also see 10-year-old Zuko get bitter that only his younger sister was expected to show off her firebending skills, and deciding that he would go against his father and demonstrate his own skills to the Fire Lord - that despite the fact that he knew Azula was better at it than he was. Even when it goes wrong, he is upset, but doesn't look afraid of the consequences.

That same episode shows Azula mocking him for playing with knives despite not even being good at it, and even though the fandom insists she was his worst fear ever since he was a child, Zuko responds with a "Put an apple on your head and we'll see how good I am." That little guy has exactly zero chill.

Let's not forget why he was banished either: Despite being considered too young to be in that war meeting, Zuko demanded to be there, eventually got his way, and despite having been told not to say anything, the second he hears a general suggest using their own men as "fresh meat" to lure the enemy, Zuko speaks out against it. And at the start of the Agni Kai, he looked 100% ready to fight a grown ass man with battle experience - until he saw it was his father/Fire Lord.

Let's not forget his Agni Kai with Zhao, which was his idea and that he actually won - and before that, he openly calls Ozai a fool, to which Zhao points out that banishment clearly not teach Zuko to watch his mouth. Or the time he openly challenged Azula in Ba Sing Se and they only didn't fight then and there because Azula knew she'd have the advantage by using the Dai Li. Hell, at the start of that very season, after she tried to lure him to a trap, Zuko's first reaction is to charge at her, fire-daggers in hand. That boy is the definition of "Fuck around and find out."

He has also done things like choosing to save his uncle from earthbenders instead of chasing Aang, crossing a blockade and going into actual Fire Nation territory even though he legally is no longer allowed to do that, and helped rescue Aang from Zhao as the Blue Spirit. It shows us that Zuko doesn't have an issue with temporarely deviating from his mission because of something HE deems important even though his father doesn't, openly disregarding Ozai's orders, and even basically saying "My father will have the Avatar as a prisoner only if I'm the one to capture him"

And, of course, on the day of the eclipse, Zuko grabs his swords and directly threatens Ozai, telling that bastard to sit the fuck down, shut up, and listen to his list of reasons why he sucks as a parent, ruler and person.

Zuko is brave. Unbelievably so. He is fierce, proud, and impulsive to the point of getting himself in situations that he should have known would not go his way (like fighting a waterbender in the snow, in the full moon) because he is very much a "act first, think later" kind of guy. So the fandom's insistence that he is constantly paralyzed by fear is a gross over-simplification of how his trauma affects him.

We only see him genuinely afraid of Ozai twice. During the Agni Kai itself, and then again when he WANTS to speak out against his father's plan to burn the Earth Kingdom to the ground, but can't bring himself to because he remembers what happened last time he spoke out against that kind of horrible thing during a war meeting, at that very room. It took something THAT triggering to make him cower before a challenge.

However, fear wasn't the only reason why didn't speak out during that moment, and that takes us to the first "ugly" sign of trauma that the fandom as a whole likes to pretend Zuko wasn't repeatedly shown to experience:

"My father is right about me, actually"

Zuko doesn't think Ozai was wrong to disfigure and banish him. How could he? Nobody in that entire room stood up to at least try to support him, not even his uncle - who also once said "Why would your father have banished you if he didn't care about you?" because, surprise surprise, nobody in that family knows how to help someone through trauma because they're all dealing with their own shit. Even his crew, who WAS sympathetic to him after finding out how he got that scar, were still 100% willing to not only support Ozai, but risk their lives for him.

Zuko isn't just trying to heal from abuse, he is trying to heal from victim-blaming, and to go against YEARS of indoctrination that say the Fire Lord can do no wrong. That's part of why it was so difficult for Iroh and others to help him: Zuko didn't believe that he needed or deserved help.

And that is also one of his three major unhealthy coping mechanisms. Claiming that HE needs to prove himself to Ozai, that HE needs to make up for HIS mistakes, not the other way around.

It might seem strange that this could be a way to cope, but look at it this way: If it WAS his fault instead of Ozai's, then that means his dad is not an unfair, abusive piece of shit that is unbelievably cruel and impossible to please. Zuko just needs to accomplish this mission of capturing the Avatar and everything will be fine, they'll be a normal family again, and he won't have to be afraid of someone he thought he could trust.

It was like Iroh said: Things are never going to be the same ever agin, but the Avatar gives Zuko HOPE. And that hope that his abuser will one day have a change of heart and be a loving father to him again is both what allows Zuko not to give into despair - and what keeps him trapped in that awful situation.

Misplaced Anger

Another "unpleasant" sign of trauma that Zuko has is how he clearly has an anger problem. Sure, he's a moody teenager with a short fuse, but we see over and over again that he tends to blow things way out of proportion, and that when faced a fact or opinion he doesn't like, he is quick to lash out at someone with VERY cruel words (see him calling Iroh a lazy, shallow, jealous old man in "Avatar State", or calling him crazy and saying if he wasn't in prison, he'd be sleeping in a gutter in "The Headband").

Through the entire show, many people faced Zuko's wrath - Iroh, Aang and friends, his crew, Azula, innocent people of the Earth Kingdom, Mai, Ty Lee, that one rando that talked to Mai, and even Zuko himself.

The one person that usually escapes said wrath is, ironically, Ozai. In "Zuko Alone" he refuses to believe his father would ever be capable of harming him, in "Avatar State" he snaps at Iroh for doubting that Ozai really changed his mind about the whole banishment thing.

He is mad at Aang for being too difficult to capture, and at Zhao for stealing his one chance to come home. He never stops to question if it's fair that his father had him chase someone that was presumed dead, aka an impossible task, as the condition to bring him home. He also never addresses how he feels about the reason WHY said banishment happened until the Day Of Black Sun.

He is mad at Azula for lying to him and trying to take him home as a prisoner. He never gets mad at his father for not only wanting to lock him away forever because ZHAO screwed up at the North Pole, nor how messed up it was that he put Azula in charge of said mission.

For fuck's sake, in the day of the eclipse, we find out that Zuko legit believed his mother was DEAD - and the entire circumstance was shady as hell and put Ozai in a very bad light. Yet Zuko still wanted his love, still wanted to be a "worthy" son.

He HAS to direct his anger at other people, otherwise he'll realize that no, his father, the adult that was meant to care for him, is a complete monster.

Everytime Zuko lashes out at other people before confronting Ozai, he's basically acting like someone who is drowning and, in a panic, is trying to pull the nearest person under so he can try to breathe. It is one of the most accurate and honest representations of trauma and abuse, and it makes me SO mad when people erase it in their fics because "poor, innocent, helpless turtleduck that can do no wrong" makes Zuko look like less of a dick - and also completely strips him of his agency.

And that isn't even the thing that fans ignore the most. That "honor" goes to the simple fact that Zuko, as expected of a child raised to believe the Fire Lord can do no wrong, decided that Azula had the right idea and that the best way to avoid being a victim again was...

Copying His Abuser

Zuko has REPEATEDLY let his "inner Ozai" out through the show.

He is all manipulative by not letting the pirates know he was chasing the Avatar who was worth A LOT more than the scrowl they'd get as a reward for helping him, and by using Katara's necklace as a way to try and get her to say where Aang was.

He repeatedly steals stuff from innocent people (including some who helped him, like Song) because, in his own words "These people should just be giving stuff to us" - aka he's very much an entitled prince.

He betrays his uncle by joining Azula in Ba Sing Se, leading to Iroh being thrown in prison. He also doesn't give a shit when Katara says "I thought you had changed!" and he sends a freaking assassin after the Gaang. Even him refusing to tell Azula that there was a chance Aang could still be alive works both as a "Zuko doesn't trust Azula to not use that against him, and for good reason" and "Zuko did not even stop to think that, since Azula was the one who killed Aang, him coming back also puts HER in danger, because he's too focused on his own problems to notice anybody else's."

More importantly, he rejected a chance of a ceasefire with the Gaang three times (The Blue Spirit, The Chase, Crossroads of Destiny), much like Ozai refused his shot at ending the war in the finale before his battle with Aang, and not only did he challenge Zhao to an Agni Kai and seriously consider burning him, he also threatened one of his crewmen by saying he'd "teach him respect" - which we found out later that episode was what Ozai right before disfiguring poor Zuko.

For fuck's sake, Ozai was literally designed to look like an older Zuko. One without a scar, one that was never banished, one that never had to see first-hand all the death and suffering war brings and reflect on the role he plays in it.

Finally, we have the war meetings in "Nightmares And Daydreams", in which Zuko doesn't speak out against his father's completely inhumane plans to deal with the Earth Kingdom. When talking about it with Mai, he says "I was the perfect prince, the son my father wanted. But I wasn't me."

That is the turning point for Zuko for a reason. It's him finally being forced to acknowledge that, to become Ozai's ideal son, to earn his (conditional) love, to not be his victim he has to be just as bad as he is, just as cruel, just as unfair - and we see in Azula's breakdown how Zuko likely would have ended up if he accepted that path.

But he didn't, and that was not easy because even though it was the morally correct choice, it'd require him to sacrifice everything - his title as a prince, his right to be in the Fire Nation, his relationship with Mai, his (extremelly complicated, sometimes good, often awful) bond with Azula, the "easy" way to get literally anything he wanted at everyone else's expense, and, of course, accept that his father was never going to love him, was never going to change, and was never going to feel sorry for abusing him.

Erasing such a central conflict of his character for the sake of denying he ever did anything wrong is, ironically, removing one of Zuko's most noble character traits: his inability to just live with himself after doing something horrible. There's a reason he is in deep conflict even after getting everything he wanted after the fall of Ba Sing Se - he knows he doesn't deserve it after what he's done.

If you ignore his mistakes and the horrible consequences it had for other people, you also ignore Zuko's growth. This puts him more in the position of a good guy being held hostage by the evil villain, not of a troubled child that redeems himself as he matures.

No flaws, no mistakes, no growth, no arc.

Trauma Doesn't Just Go Away

This one is, by far, the bad trope regarding Zuko's trauma that Zutarians are the most guilt of: assuming that if he just gets enough comforting hugs (mainly from Katara), all of his inner turmoil will suddenly be healed. No more sadness, no more fear, no more of the ugly traits they never acknowledge in the first place. Just a happy, fully recovered Zuko.

But that's just not how these things work. Having the support of a loved one helps victims feel better, but it won't magically make everything okay. Trauma is a really difficult thing to handle. There's good days, bad days, relapses, bad habits that are difficult to move past from. And not only are there cases in which people take YEARS to recover, there are also cases in which they never fully heal, and instead just learn to live with that burden that is still very much present.

I understand the desire to show in fics and headcanons that Zuko will eventually be fully healed and happy, but the way Zutarians make Katara act as not just his girlfriend, but as basically his therapist that needs to find miracle solutions for every single one of his problems, comfort him whenever any minor inconvenience happens until he's gotten enough hugs to be magically okay doesn't just reveal how hypocritical they are, since they insist Kataang is about Katara being Aang's girlfriend/mom/baby-sitter, but also that they legit do not understand a damn thing about trauma and how it works.

Which takes me to:

How Mai Actually Did Right By Zuko

Poor, poor Mai. She gets blamed for "bring out the worst in Zuko", for not being "supportive", for being too cold and unemotional, for not "seeing the real him" - yet she's one of the characters that CONSISTENLY help put Zuko back on his track.

She offers him emotional support and lots of signs of affection over and over again - telling him not worry when they're arriving at the Fire Nation, pointing out she doesn't hate him when she says she's beautiful when she hates the world, explicitly saying she cares about him in The Beach, being incredibly sweet and loving to him during all of Nightmares and Daydreams, and then again in the finale by helping him get dressed up and acting all cute as they get back together.

But she also holds him accountable when he screws up. She doesn't let him use his difficult life as an excuse to be a jerk and calls him out when he's being unreasonable, or when she feels mistreated/like he's making a mistake (see The Beach and Boiling Rock Part 2).

But since the fandom loves to completely erase Zuko's mistakes AND to not let go of a stupid ship war, this completely changes the context, making Mai out to be this awful, bitchy girlfriend, when in reality, she did a great job handling Zuko - sometimes even better than the fan favorite and mentor figure Zuko had through most of his arc.

Uncle Iroh Fucked Up

Before all of you try to kill me, let me make one thing clear here: I love Uncle Iroh. He is one of the most awesome characters in the show, and I fully believe he was trying his best to help Zuko.

But he is still a human being that makes mistakes, and he was raised in the same dysfunctional family Zuko was, meaning he often had NO IDEA how to handle his deeply traumatized teenage nephew/son.

Him spending all of book 1 trying to help Zuko capture Aang so he could go back to living with the guy that disfigured him is already bad enough, but we also have the episode "Avatar State" in which Iroh asks "Why would your father banish you if he didn't care about you?"

Obviously he only did these things because he didn't want Zuko give into despair and depression - but he is still, at best, ignoring the issue, and at worst actively making excuses for Ozai's abuse of his own son. This backfires on him spectacularly, as Zuko sides with Azula over him both in the first and last episode of the season specifically because he believes that appeasing Ozai is the right thing to do, as he was only banished "for his own good."

But THE biggest mistake Iroh made when it came to helping Zuko was his refusal to accept that no, Zuko was never going to be happy by living a quiet, simple life in Ba Sing Se - even after Zuko explicitly said as much to his face.

Obviously, to some extent, Iroh HAS to make Zuko accept that he won't ever be able to come back home after Ozai literally ordered Azula to capture him, but he could have tried to find some kind of middle ground with Zuko, since being a waiter clearly wasn't making him happy.

"Oh, but what about how Zuko started acting after his metamorphosis? He was so happy about working on the tea-shop with his uncle, and that was supposed to reveal his true self!"

Yes, it was supposed to do that. But we saw how Zuko acted after actually dealing with his trauma and redeeming himself. He was obviously in a much healthier place, both mentally and spiritually, but he was still moody, still sarcastic, still as proud as ever, and even Iroh recognized that he was meant to be Fire Lord.

Zuko's arc has a lot to do with identity, with how he sees himself. At that point, the only thing he still had in life was his uncle - so he was acting like him, because there seemed to be no other role model, no other path. Seeing that weird, cheery, relaxed, always-seeing-the-good-side-of-things version of Zuko was honestly unnerving.

And Iroh thought that Zuko basically giving himself the Lake Laogai treatment was okay because he following in his footsteps, doing what helped IROH heal and change - he didn't realize it was never gonna be able to do the same for Zuko.

The very second Azula shows up, even when she's being hostile, Zuko drops the facade, because she's a reminder of both his old life and what he thought his future would be. And when she offers him "redemption" Iroh tried to advice Zuko against joining her by saying "The redemption she offers is not for you" (as in not for someone who is doing better and doesn't need to return to the Fire Nation) and "It's time for you to choose. It's time for you to choose good." How is it a choice if Iroh is explicitly saying which option Zuko cannot pick, essentially making the decision for him?

Iroh didn't just get the way to help Zuko wrong - he didn't realize his nephew didn't believe he needed help. They were not on the same page at all, and that contribuited to Zuko betraying him.

Though, thankfully, it ended up being for the best, as Zuko found his own way to redemption by himself.

Conclusion

This fandom as a whole tends to not understand Zuko at all and just eat up a bunch of fanon while pretending to be so intellectual, which I very much resent it for.

#anti zutara #pro maiko #pro mai #zuko is not an awkward turtleduck

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xfgpng · 8 months

Text

Hotaru Haganezuka

— : [nsfw] unprotected sex, pet names + mentions of blood

— : kink :: knife play

he’s good with swords. it’s always been his passion and he likes the way you sit and watch him, glancing at his hands shyly every time he gets to work.

he notices the way you squeeze your thighs together when he’s using smaller daggers and knives. it could be for work or when he’s simply making dinner, you’re not nearly as subtle as you think you are and he finds it adorable as much as he finds it sexy.

his sweet wife had a thing for sharp knives?

he’d laugh if he didn’t like it so much because if he was being honest, the idea of holding you up against the wall with a knife placed gently against your throat makes him hard.

“see something you like sweetheart?” he asks and he sees the moment your eyes glaze over before you scoff and look away from him.

“stop talking nonsense” you say dryly, “am i not allowed to watch my husband anymore?”

“oh baby” he laughs, “you can do more than just watch”

you roll your eyes but he sees the way you swallow and fix your skirt. it’s your tell and he’d never get tired of reading you.

“come here” he says and you do as you’re told even though you act like you don’t want to. you both know this silly game you like to play, letting him have his way every time.

“you’re so bossy” you sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pushes you up against the wall behind you.

you gasp when he lifts your skirt up, using the knife in his free hand to cut your panties off you. he moves fast and you bite back a moan, refusing to let him know how good he makes you feel despite not doing anything.

“i liked those!” you frown, slapping his chest.

“too fucking bad” he chuckles, pressing the cold metal of the blade against your throat, “i’ll just buy you new ones”

“you’re so— fuck” you grip his arm as he slams into you without warning. it hurts but just the way you like it and it’s not like it’s been that long, your husband was insatiable and had fucked you gently this morning.

“there she is” he grins, licking his lips as he stares down at your lips and then the blade pressed closer than he had intended.

his eyes widen when he sees the thin cut and the tiny droplets of blood. he moves to pull away, apologising profusely but you grab him by the back of his head and kiss him hard.

he feels it then, the way you clench and unclench around him and how wet you are. his mind goes blank for a moment and all he can think about is being inside you and the knife still pressing into your skin.

it’s no longer pressed that hard against your throat but it sends a spark up your spine when you feel how cold it is and how warm he feels inside you.

your head lols to the side and he takes the opportunity to kiss and bite, licking the spot where the blade had accidentally cut you.

“feel good baby?” he whispers and you nod, moaning against his lips when he moves to kiss you again

“who knew you’d be such a perv” he scoffs, thrusting harder and pushing you further up the wall.

you can’t really argue with him, too busy moaning and chasing your high. he can’t take his eyes off you, from the way your eyes cross to the way your mouth hangs open. he’s always found you so beautiful but like this? you looked the best.

the knife pressed up against your neck looks good against your skin and he knows he won’t be able to get the image out his mind for weeks.

he wonders if you’d be interested in trying other things but the way you squeeze around him tells him everything he needs to know.

he smirks and leans in to kiss you.

#[ 🪼 ] xfg writes #[ 🌶️ ] xfg’s thirsts #[ 😈 ] xifeng’s kinktober #hotaru haganezuka #demon slayer haganezuka #haganezuka x reader #kny smut #demon slayer smut #hotaru haganezuka smut #hotaru haganezuka x reader #hotaru haganezuka x you #demon slayer haganezuka smut #hotaru x you #hotaru smut #hotaru x reader #hotaru x y/n #hotaru haganezuka x y/n #kny haganezuka #kny haganezuka smut

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heartfeltcierra · 1 year

Text

Kid X Insecure Plus Sized Female (Tomboy) reader

Request-Hey Cierra! I wanted to say I love your insecure plus sized reader stories!!!!! I want to request Kid with a insecure plus sized reader who is more on the tom boyish side. Maybe she tries to impress him and it backfires or something to that extent! Thank you

AN-I have been dying to write for this man! Thank you so much I absolutely loved this idea. I really liked the way reader comes across, she is honestly a badass and I love her. Thank you @seafoamxshayde for helping me edit.

Masterlist

Word count- 8.1k

Readers thoughts are in bold and italics

Other Characters- Killer, Heat and Wire

! Contents/Warnings!

Very suggestive themes towards the end(͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖), Violence, Mentions of a burning building, Mentions of weapons, Reader is a weapons specialist, Yelling, Cussing, insecurities regarding femininity and being plus sized, Reader gets humiliated in front of a crowd, Mentions of alcohol consumption, Destructive thoughts.

ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ Enjoy! -Love, Cierra

“Get up Y/N we're about to port!” Heat shook your body, but you didn’t move a muscle. “Please wake up!”

“Nooo, I’m sleepy~.” Your groan in your semi awake state. “Gimme five more minutes.”

“But you told me to wake you up no matter what.” He gives you a few more nudges. “You said you had something very important you needed to do today, remember?”

“I’M UP.” The sleepiness you felt moments ago was replaced by a sense of urgency. Today was the day! “Thank you, Heat. You're so reliable.”

“You're welcome.” You see a small blush paint his face. “Killer said to come see him in the kitchen first.”

“Gottcha.” Heat leaves your bedroom so you can get ready.

You throw some comfy clothes on and walk over to your “closet”, but you just call it your mini arsenal.Instead of clothes it's filled with everything from throwing knives, swords, polearms, guns, grenades, bombs and even a few bazookas.

“Where are you?” Your eyes scan over the insane amount of artillery. “There you are!” You smile and grab the old dagger you’ve deemed your favorite. It was also your first ever weapon. Your crush since childhood and current captain Kid gave it to you years ago saying “You need to defend yourself in case I’m not around.” And you took that to heart. You learnt everything you could about defending yourself. Gradually you dabbled into different weapons, thus creating your obsession.

But when there is obsession, there is also vast knowledge. You are second to none when it comes to weaponry and you know how to wield just about anything like a pro. Enemies undermine you due to being a bigger girl, but your quick to show them badass comes in many different shapes and sizes.

You can even do minor repairs to weapons with the help of your captain. He is actually the one who recently redone the handle on your beloved dagger. Kid put so much thought into the fine details. He etched your initials into the side of the handle along with his Jolly Roger, made the hand guard in the shape of a star and to top it off, made a new holster for it. Everytime you look at it reminds you why you're so in love with him. He may be a grouch, but he is your grouch. Well he’s not technically yours, yet.

You’ve kept your feelings for him locked away thanks to all of your insecurities. As a fighter you're confident, but as a woman..not so much. You recall a newspaper article titled “New world beauty standards.” According to it most men sailing the Grandline preferred women with hourglass bodies, petite structures, and next to no body fat besides boobs and ass. It also mentioned they preferred women who were cute and in touch with their femininity. You may not be able to change your body size or shape, but the rest of it you can learn.

“I hope you're ready, Eustass Kid.” You holster the dagger around your thigh and head to the kitchen.

~~~ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ

“Good morning.” You walk into the kitchen to see Killer frying up something. “Whatcha making?”

“Pancakes, your favorite.” You watch as he flips the pan like a pro. “I figured you’d want to start your day off right considering you're finally fessin up to Kid. That is if you haven’t chickened out...” Killer lays a plate of pancakes in front of you.

“I’m not backing down this time, as a matter of fact I'm doing it at tonight's party.” You stab your fork into the pancakes and take a big bite. “Heat told me we would be porting soon. Once we do I’m going to head into town. I need to pick a few things up….. But.”

“First of all don’t talk with your mouth full and let me guess Y/N.” Killer crosses his arms. “You're broke.”

“How did you know?” You furrow your brows.

“I’ve known you long enough to know your bad spending habits. But I hate to break it to you.” Killer sat down before breaking the bad news. “I’ve got to restock on food and other supplies, meaning I have no extra. Sorry.” Looks like I’ll have to use my back up plan.

“That’s okay Killer.” You stuff the last bit of pancake in your mouth. “I’ll figure something out.”

“So what exactly are you going to get anyways?” Killers' questions cause your cheeks to heat up.

“Well I’m not really sure, but I want to do something special. I figured I’d get a makeover or something in town.” You may not have a master plan, but you're a good improviser.

“I see. So how are you going to get the money to do that?” The masked man questions, little did he know…..

“You're not my only piggy bank Killer.” A devious smile forms on your face. “I’ve got a red one too.”

“What the hell did you just call me?” He may wear a mask, but you didn't need to see his face to know he was pissed.

“Uh.. Nothing. Hey look at the time. Gotta got. Thanks for the food!” You jump up from your chair and speed walk out of the kitchen only to run into something hard.

“Dammit Y/N!” You look up and see your said red piggy bank and captain giving you a not so nice look. “Watch where you're going.”

“Oops.” You fight back the urge to snap right back at him, instead you back away and look him up and down. Admiring the view~ “Wow captain, your muscles keep getting bigger and bigger every time I see you. If I’m not careful I'll run into you one day and get sent flying overboard!” You don’t know how to flirt all that well, but you know how to butter Kid up and all it took was a simple compliment.

“Shut up.” He snaps his head away from your prying eyes. But judging from the red on the tips of his ears, it worked. “Anyways we are going to be dropping anchor soon. Do you have money?” No but I’m about to~

“So funny story…” Kid rolls his eyes as you make up an excuse for your lack of cash. “And that’s why I am broke.”

“I should have known.” He shoots you a wicked smirk before bending down to your eye level. “You know what Y/N? You keep getting broker and broker every time I run into you.” His metallic hand grabs yours before his flesh hand drops a leather pouch in your palm. “I heard this island has some good weapons shops.” He trails off. “Just don’t go buying something stupid, got it?”

“Me, buy something stupid? Never!” A smile forms on your face. Maybe I should call him a ‘Kiddy Bank’. “Thank you.”

“Hey captain, we're dropping anchor!” You hear Wire call from the deck.

“Okay everyone listen up.” Kid’s voice booms. After giving the crew different tasks Kid dismisses you. Operation doll up Y/N was officially on.

~~~~ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ

In town

After managing to sneak away from the crew you reach the city. It was pretty large and filled with restaurants, bars and plenty of places to shop. You wander around with no rhyme or reason while trying to think of what to get or do. Out of the corner of your eye you spot a newspaper and magazine stand.

You look over all of the magazines until one catches your attention. The girl on the front was holding a perfume bottle with big bold letters above it that said “The Granline Beauty Insider.” You open the magazine and skim through it. It was mostly ads for different cosmetics, but it did have some helpful pointers like, “Speak softly and have good posture.” “Wear red, it’s sexy.” “Walk slowly and sway your hips; it drives guys crazy!” “Wear a pair of high heels.” “Buy lingerie.” You slam the magazine shut out of embarrassment. I doubt I’ll need that.

After walking around and brainstorming you come up with a plan. First thing on your agenda- Buy and learn how to use makeup. You ask a local and they point you towards a cosmetics shop.

~~~~ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ

At the cosmetics shop

“Hello there!” The worker greets you with a wide smile. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Umm yeah actually.” You look around at the overwhelming amount of makeup products. “I’ve never really worn makeup and I don’t know a thing about it.”

“Oh I see. Well don’t worry!” The worker grabs your hand. “First things first let's find the correct foundation shade you need. Also what color theme are you going for?”

“Red please.”

She ran you all over the store while giving you pointers on how to apply everything she was giving you. You made mental notes on all of the techniques she uses to make a ‘Flawless look’.

“I think that’s got all the basics. I’ll take this up to the register and let you look around some more!” You thank the clerk and explore the store on your own.

A pleasant smell invades your nostrils. You follow said smell until you end up in the perfume section of the store. They have the bottle of perfume the girl on the magazine cover was holding. Apparently it was called ‘Grandline Goddess’. You spray a little on your wrist and get sent straight to heaven. According to the box the notes were flowery orchard, tropical fruit with a hint of musk. You're coming with me.

“Is this all for you?” You nod at the clerk. “Alright, your total is 7,000 berries.” HUH?!

“Here you go.” You hand over the cash while holding back a scream.

“Thank you! I hope my crash course lesson was helpful!” The clerk hands you the bag.

“It was. Thank you so much for your help.” She waves you out as you leave the store. “Holy crap that was expensive!” Lucky for you the pouch Kid gave you was filled to the brim, so you still have quite a bit left.

~~~~ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ

The next mission was to find something to wear and a pair of shoes. Most of your closet consisted of sleep clothes, tactical gear and clothes that give you max mobility for fighting. And as far as shoes go you had either boots or sneakers.

You window shop trying to find a shop that carries your size. So far most of the shops that had anything cute didn’t carry plus sizes which was a bummer. But when you were at wits end you found a plus sized boutique and the clothes looked cute and stylish. Jackpot.

~~~~ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ

In the boutique

“Welcome! If you need any help let me know!” You smile at the clerk before exploring the store. It was amazing how many colors and variations of dresses they have. But one particular dress caught your attention. The shade of red matches perfectly with the makeup you bought and it was in your size.

“Can I try this one on?” You hold the dress up, grabbing the clerks attention.

“Certainly, I’ll show you the fitting rooms. Right this way please.”

~~~~ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ

In the fitting rooms

“I’ll be right outside, please let me know if you need help.” The clerk steps out, leaving you alone.

You do your best to avoid looking in the mirror while undressing. It's sad how taking one look at your body could destroy everything.Your confidence, your mood and self worth could be taken away at a single glance. With a deep sigh you zip the dress up with the help of a hanger. Your fingers smooth the fabric to your body as your face the mirror. You’ve never really thought anything looked good on you, but the dress isn’t half bad. It fits just right and the magazine wasn’t lying when it said red was sexy.

“That dress was made for you! You look absolutely marvelous!” The clerk beams the moment you step out of the dressing room. “Do a spin for me!” You smile and spin around in circles and feel something fall off you in the process. “Oh my.” You stop and see your dagger had fallen off and into the floor. Oh crap.

“My bad haha.” You and the clerk share an awkward laugh. “You know us girls gotta protect ourselves.” You trail off and strap the dagger back to your thigh.

“Yeah, you're right.” The clerk relaxes. “Anyways I think I have a pair of heels that would look good with the dress. What is your shoe size?” You tell her and she disappears into the store before coming back with a box. She laid the heels in front of you. You put them on, but did not take a step out of fear. You look in the mirror and see she was right, they really tie the outfit together. But the real question was can you walk in them and not kill yourself? For better or worse you trust you can learn.

“I’ll take both please!”

~~~~ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ

By the time you got done shopping the sun was starting to set. Blue and pink hues fill the sky. You recall Kid mentioning when the sky looks like this at sunset, it was a good omen for smooth sailing. Hopefully that means tonight will go smoothly too.

“I better head back to the Victoria.” You took a few steps before your mini transponder snail began to ring. “Hello, you have the pleasure of speaking to the one and only Y/N.”

“Wow, I’m honored.” Killer voice deadpans. “So change of plans. No party on the ship tonight.” Your jaw almost hits the ground at his words. “Instead Kid wants everyone to meet at the bar near the end of the town in an hour.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see ya there.” Click. You release a heavy sigh. It was good that there would still be some form of celebration, but you hoped it would be on the ship for the sake of privacy. “It’s going to be okay. You’ve got this Y/N.” You mentally pat yourself on the back. No backing out.

~~~~ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ

You rush back to the ship and start getting ready. You lay out all of the makeup you bought and start applying it. Despite never having used makeup before, you do a damn good job. Everything was blended well, your eyeshadow was symmetrical and the whole look was overall decent.

The dress smooths over your body once more. You walk over to the full length mirror by your bathroom and check yourself out. Despite your initial worry, you feel confident and even a little sexy. But something was missing… Jewelry. You dig around in your room until you find the jewelry box you stole from an enemy ship a while back. It of course was filled with stolen jewelry. You go through it until you find something to match your outfit. A golden necklace with a red heart charm catches your eyes. Perfect.

You put the necklace and earrings on and finish off with a few sprays of perfume. But now comes the hard part. The heels. Thankfully the heel wasn’t crazy high off the ground, but it was enough for you to feel off balance. You nearly face plant a couple times but after doing a few circles around your room you feel confident enough to walk in them.

You almost walk out the door but remember something important. A weapon. Hopefully tonight you don’t have to use one, but with Kid and the rest of the crew, you never know what is going to happen.

“Let’s see. I need something to match.” You search once again and spot the perfect one.

~~~~ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ

You were the first one to show up at the bar, much to your surprise. You figured you’d walk in to see Kid throwing back drinks and scaring people away. But neither him or the rest of the crew has shown up. You find a vacant table and wait for everyone else. A wave of nervousness crashes over you when you think about Kid. Will he like how I look? As if on cue the bar doors burst open, revealing the man of the hour.

Kid walks in like he owns the place with Killer following behind. The pair spot you and start to walk your way. Your heartbeat picks up when a pair of orange eyes land on you. With a few heavy steps, Kid was standing right in front of you. His eyes look you up and down before they stall on your face.

“Hey Kid, there is something I need to tell you.” You spoke in a softer tone and straightened your back up. For a moment he just stares at you. “Kid I lo-” Your cut off by Kid’s howling laughter.

“Why are you talking like that and what the hell is all over your face?” You were absolutely floored by his reaction. “And when did you start wearing dresses? It doesn't suit you at all.” His words make your heart drop. He let out one last laugh before going up to the bar,completely throwing you off. You clench your teeth and blink a few tears away.

“Y/N…” Killer’s voice snaps you from your thoughts.

“It's fine.” You cringe at the way your voice cracks. Hold it together Y/N, you're strong.

“Killer get over here!” Kid’s voice booms against the walls of the bar.

“You better go before he starts trouble.” You give the masked man a fake smile. He nods before joining Kid at the bar. Part of you wants to leave so you can cry, while the other part wants to waltz up to Kid and knock his lights out for laughing at you. Crying would only destroy your makeup and punching Kid wouldn't change a damn thing. I guess I’ll stay and see how things play out.

Heat, wire and the rest of the crew came filing in one by one. The music in the bar was loud and energetic as people hit the dance floor. Everyone not dancing was laughing and enjoying their drinks, while you sat alone, sulking like a kicked puppy.

“I need to find a girl to dance with.” The men sitting at the table next to you look around the room for possible takers.

“There’s you one.” You can feel their judgmental eyes study your body as they laugh.

“Hell no man.” You clench your fist knowing they are making fun of you. It’s most definitely not the first time it’s happened, but right now you were in no mood.

“I have ears, you jackasses.” You shoot the men a nasty glare.

“No wonder you're all by yourself. Not only are you fat, but you're a bitch too.” You only smirk at the man's comment.

“You forgot one thing.” You slowly bring the skirt of your dress up to reveal the red and gold flintlock gun strapped to your thigh. “I’m also packing.” You point your finger to each man at the table. “I have three bullets, one for each of you, with the name 'asshole' written on them.” The men look taken back, just the reaction you wanted. “And if you're wanting to find a partner so badly I can send you straight to hell, I heard the devil really knows how to dance~” Your eyes stare into their fear stricken ones as you slowly pull the gun from the holster. One by one they ran out of the bar with their tails tucked between their legs. “That’s what I thought.” You bring your dress back down. “Cowards.”

You take a deep breath and try to not let their comments bother you, but what they said stung a little. I need a distraction. Your eyes land on the dance floor, you notice some of the crew getting down and dirty. They had gorgeous girls grinding up against them. At this rate you doubt any of them will be coming back to the ship tonight.

“You look like you could use this.” Killer walks up and sits a drink in front of you. You murmur a thanks before chugging the whole thing down. “I’m sorry tonight didn’t go how you planned and if it's any consolation, I think you look great.”

“Thanks Killer. And it’s okay.” You lie. It’s really not okay and you're not okay at all. You're putting up a good front at least. “I should have known, I mean it is Kid after all…”

“Still..” The blonde taps his fingers against the table.

“You know what.” You clench your fist in frustration. I need to do something. “I think I want to have a little chat with him.”

“Okay, but I’m going with you.” You and Killer stand up from the table and walk towards the bar.

You trail right behind Killer as he navigates the crowd. From time to time you’ve had to grab the back of his shirt thanks to the unfamiliar shoes you wore. You think of what you're going to tell Kid, how you should word it and if you’ll actually say anything at all. You're pulled away from your thoughts as you ram right into Killer’s back.

“Is something wrong Killer? Why did you stop?” His whole body was tensing up. You tug the bag of his shirt demanding an answer. “Helllooo? Earth to Killer?”

“Y/N, I don’t think it’s a good idea.” You could hear his voice waiver over the music. He’s hiding something.

“Killer what’s wrong?” He didn’t answer. “Killer let me see.”

“No Y/N, let’s just leave.” Killer turns around and tries to get you to go back, but you slip past him. “Y/N wait, don’t!” It was too late.

Your eyes land on Kid and the two harlots in his laps. You’ve always heard the phrase “It felt like my world fell apart.” and now you finally know what the feeling behind that was. Your mouth goes dry. The world starts spinning. Shit, I did all of this for nothing.

The stinging in your eyes was becoming unbearable. They were so beautiful, feminine, and thin. Everything you were not and everything you wanted to be. The skimpy outfits they had on showed off their perfect figures. You could already imagine the laughs you’d get if you ever wore anything like that. They were the embodiment of sexy. Something you tried to achieve tonight but failed. You were crazy to think you’d turn heads when this was your competition. But at the end of that day that's how it’s always been. You were so jealous, so full of rage and at the same time your heart was shattering. The iron wall you put up masking how you truly feel was breaking at the hinges. You finally look away, unable to handle it a second longer.

“Killer, I'm going back to the ship.” You feel your lip quiver as tears form in your eyes. “I don’t feel good.” You try to run from him but he grabs your wrist.

“Y/N, wait.” You try to shake out of his firm grip.

“Killer I can’t watch that a second longer. I just can’t.” The last part comes out as a sob. “I don’t want to be here, for fucks sake let me go!”

“At Least let me walk you back.” You shake your head, company is the last thing you need.

“No, please just leave me alone.” You pull away from Killer and run towards the door.

You struggle to fight the crowd with tears blurring your vision. A heavy feeling was conjuring in your chest with each unsteady step you took. That was supposed to be me with him.

I need to get out of here. Your steps become sloppy as you try to hurry, causing you to lose your footing. You hit the wooden floor below you face first. The crowd of people around you fell silent. You rise up on your knees and realize something was wrong. Looking down you see a trail of red fabric wrapped around a loose nail on the bar's floor. That red trail of fabric led up to your stomach that was now showing. You try to cover yourself with your hands, but nothing you could do would make their prying eyes leave your body.

Your eyes widen in horror as the people around you start to laugh. You try to stand up but your shoe slips, sending you right back to the floor. Fingers point at you like you were a circus animal performing a trick. It was absolutely mortifying.

Their laughter, their shushed insults swirl in your head with the booming music. The room around you seemed to be getting larger and larger, or maybe you were getting smaller. It was all too much.

“Here Y/N. I’ll help you get up.” You see Killer holding his hand out, but you smack it away.

“I don’t need pity from you!” Your yell causes the crowd to go silent. You stand up on your own and head towards the bar's exit. “I’m going back to the ship. And don’t you dare follow me.” You sling your heels off and use them to cover as much of your bare stomach as you can. You walk out of the bar barefoot and humiliated.

~~~~ʕ•́ᴥ•

You board the ship and head straight to the safety of your room. You throw your heels to the floor and walk in front of your mirror. The mascara left trails of black down your tear soaked face. Your makeup you worked so hard on perfecting was destroyed, along with the torn dress. The brief moment feeling pretty and confident was gone and replaced by humiliation and disgust. Your hand wraps around the necklace's gold chain before yanking it off.. I’m worthless. You let the torn dress fall to the floor. I’m nothing. You look at your naked body in the mirror. I’m just a joke.

“Why can’t I lose weight? Why can’t I be pretty? Why can’t I be someone else?” You yell at your reflection while clenching your fist, fighting the urge to punch the mirror. “Goddammit, I can't even stand to look at myself!”

The overwhelming emotions coursing through you causes your knees to give out. You slide to the floor with hands gripping your hair. Swirls of laughter entwined with your destructive thoughts. I hate you, I hate you so much.

Purururu~Purururu~

You hesitate for a moment, but your trembling hand reaches over and grabs the ringing transponder snail.

“Hello?” You try to sound as calm as possible.

“Y/N have you made it back to the ship?” You feel a pang of guilt hearing Killer’s voice remembering what you did to him.

“I made it back, but Killer.. I-I’m.” Hot tears roll down your face. “I’m sorry for yelling at you and smacking your hand. You were just trying to help me..”

“It’s okay Y/N.” Killer tries to reassure you, but it doesn't work.

“It is not okay!” Your body shook trying to fight back wails. Get a grip dammit. “I’m so sorry,I- I’m being emotional. It’s just.. I thought Kid would have liked how I looked ya know.” You wipe your nose with the back of your hand. “I tried so hard but I wasn’t good enough. I never am.”

“That’s not true.” Killer growls. “Don’t say shit like that.”

“Yes it is Killer. You saw how everyone laughed at me like I was some kind of freak. All because of my stomach showing. Did you see how many girls in the bar were walking around wearing bikinis with their stomachs out? No one was laughing at them and you want to know why? Because they are beautiful and I am not.” Killer went quiet as if he was unable to find words to comfort you. “I’m sorry I’m having a melt down on you. This was supposed to be a fun night and I ruined it all because I wanted to tell Kid I love him.” But the love is unrequited. It’s something only you will hold near and dear to your heart, but you're also the sole bearer of its pain. “Killer, don't worry about me, go back into the bar and enjoy yourself. A hot shower should fix me right up. Goodnight.” You hang up before Killer could protest any further and head into the bathroom.

~~~~ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ

Steam from the shower fills your small bathroom. The hot water wraps around your body in a blanket like comfort. The warmth brings back the fond memory between you and Kid. It was when you all first set sail years ago. The ship had to be docked on a Winter Island for emergency repairs. You were used to the South Blue’s mild and warm weather. It only took 1 day of the harsh cold for you to fall ill. No matter how many layers of clothes you had on, no matter how many blankets you wrapped around your body, nothing could warm you.

~~~~~~~Flashback~~~~~~~

“Here Y/N, I made you some hot chocolate.” Killer handed you a big mug. “Be careful, don’t get burnt.”

“Thank you.” Your voice was dry and raspy from coughing. “I haven’t heard Kid yelling or rampaging recently. Is he okay?” You blew the beverage to cool it, before taking a sip. Killer’s laugh reverberated in the room.

“Yeah he’s okay. He’s been cooped up in his workshop. Last time I checked on him he said he was about done with whatever it is he’s working on.” Killer sat on the small wooden chair by your bed.

“Probably something to do with the ship. Hopefully we get out of here soon or I might turn into a Y/N popsicle.” You drank all of the hot cocoa down before letting out a pleased sigh.

“We should be done soon, just rest up for now.” Killer ruffled your hair, something he always did when he was worried about you.”If you need anything let me know.”

“Okay.” You handed the empty mug to him before he walked out of the room.

When you woke up next it was already dark outside. The temperature in the room had dropped even more. You couldn't wait to get the hell away from the snowy hellhole. Your ears perked up when you heard heavy footsteps approaching. You recognized the pattern immediately. The door handle turned and the door opened to reveal a very tired looking Eustass Kid.

“Hey captain.” You gave the red head a weak smile. He didn’t say anything as he shut the door behind him. You noticed he was carrying something in his hands. He stood beside the bed and unrolled what appeared to be a blanket.

“Here.” He pulled the covers off of your body and placed the blanket onto your body. The fuzzy fur that lined it felt so good against your shivering form. “If you click this button it warms up.” He clicked the button and you immediately started to feel the warmth radiate from it. So this is what he’s been working on all this time.

“Thank you Kid.” You snuggled into the blanket.

“Yeah, whatever.” You watched a pink blush decorate his cheeks. You opened your mouth to tease him, but started to cough instead. The force from the coughs caused your body to quake. You pointed at the glass of water on your nightstand. Kid frantically grabbed it and held it against your lips. You gulped the water down and pulled away to take a breath.

“I’m sorry you have to see me like this.” You never liked showing any kind of weakness, especially around Kid.

“It’s okay, you can’t help it.” Kid started to walk over to your bedroom door. You frowned knowing he was going to leave. But to your surprise he didn’t, instead you heard the lock on your door get turned. He kicked his boots off beside the door before he walked back over to the bed. “Move over.”

“Huh?” Your heart hammered in your chest as you watched him remove his jacket, followed by his shirt.

“Don’t make it weird. Just shut up and do what I say.” His non existent eyebrow twitched. Make it weird? You nodded your head and moved over in bed. The bed creaked as Kid’s massive body crawled beside you. Your eyes were glued to his every move as he got comfortable. He was so close that you could feel his body heat. You covered the blankets over your face to hide your giddy expression. But who could blame you, your longtime crush laid shirtless right beside you. “What the hell are you looking at!?” Kid growled out, causing you to turn away from him in the bed. I guess I made it weird.. Oops.

“I’m sorry.” It was embarrassing as hell getting caught checking him out, but it was well worth it.

“Sure you are.” The hairs on your neck stood up hearing how close he was. The bed shifted as he moved until his chest was pressed against your back. He draped a muscular arm around your plush midsection and placed his head on top of yours. Your mind went blank processing what was going on, Eustass Kid was cuddling you. It was strange how small and safe you felt in that moment, like nothing big and bad in the world could get you. It was the most wonderful feeling ever and you never wanted it to end. “Now go to sleep.” You relaxed into his protective hold.

“Roger that captain.” You yawned as you spoke. Between Kid’s warmth and the heated blanket, you were getting coxed right into sleep. You were almost there when you felt Kid gently tighten his grip on you.

“You're okay…… You’re gonna be okay Y/N.” Kid’s voice was barely above a wispear. Your eyes shot open realizing he was saying that to reassure not you, but himself. He must think I’m asleep. “I’ll keep you warm. No matter what.” He may be terrible at showing emotions, but the words he spoke conveyed how much he cared and how worried he was about you.

~~~~Flashback end~~~~

But the warmth from that night was long gone.

“Why not me?” You keep replaying the scene over and over in your head. The way the girls giggled as they traced his biceps. The way they laid against his chest while giving him bedroom eyes. You could only hope he wasn’t going to bring them back to the ship, the last thing you need to hear is him screwing them all night. You feel a throb in your chest just thinking about it. You were sabotaging yourself with no end in sight. The warm shower water was long gone at this point and replaced by the cold.

“I thought you said you would keep me warm? What a fucking liar.”

~~~~ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ

Meanwhile at the bar..

“I would but the bar is on fir.” *Click* Well she hung up.” Killer put the teary eyed snail back into his pocket. “You catch all of that Kid?”

“Yeah, I did.” Kid stood right beside Killer in front of the bar that is now burning to the ground . “What should I do?”

“Well Kid.. I think you should apologize to her. She was so excited about tonight and it went up in smoke.Literally” The bar behind them crashes to the ground. “You love her too, don’t you?”

“I’m no good for her Killer.” Kid clenches his fist. “I hurt her and she is crying because of me. I don’t deserve her. Not one bit.”

“That’s not for you to decide. At the end of the day she wants you Kid.” Killer sighs and places an arm on Kid’s shoulder. “Yes you hurt Y/N, yes she is crying. That’s why you need to go fix it and make sure it never happens again. Now go to her.” Kid contemplated for a moment before making up his mind.

“Killer, you're in charge, take the crew to a different bar.” A scream comes from the pile of burning bar. Kid smirks hearing it. “Seems like one of the lousy fucks that laughed at Y/N didn’t die after I got done with em. But they won’t survive getting burned alive.”

“You technically laughed at her too.” Guilt fills Kid even more.

“I know, shut up.” Kid turns away from his friend. “I just wasn’t used to her looking like that and I didn’t know how to react. It’s not that I didn’t like it or anything..”

“Enough talking.” Killer gave Kid a push before walking away with the rest of the crew. “Go make things right kid. and try to be gentle doing so.”

Kid ran down the empty streets, straight towards the Victoria. He made a few stops, stealing a few things that he hopes would bring a smile back to your face.

~~~~ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ

Your body shivers when you step out of the shower. You shouldn’t have stood under the cold water for that long, but you were numb. Physically and mentally. You dry yourself off with a fluffy towel before changing into your night clothes. It felt good to be free of makeup and free of that dress, but it still hurt knowing it was all for nothing. You step out of the bathroom and throw the wet towel in a basket.

“Can we talk?” Your body tenses up ready to fight the intruder until you realize who it was. Kid sat at the edge of your bed, holding a huge bouquet of flowers and a sword.

“Why are you here Kid? Why did you leave the bar?” You shoot him a confused look.

“I burnt that lame ass bar to the ground.” His crazy smile fills his face but goes away in an instant. “More importantly, why did you walk home by yourself? It’s dangerous for a woman. I know you were upset, but I would have came and-”

“Don’t be a sexist pig, besides you looked preoccupied.” The tension in the room was becoming thick and unbearable. “Besides, a woman that looks like me has nothing to worry about.”

“What the hell does that mean Y/N?” Kid’s voice booms against the walls of your room. You could feel your blood boil at his outburst, all the pent up anger and sadness was about to pop.

“What it means is exactly what you think it means, Eustass.” Your brows furrow in anger. “Don’t pretend like you give a shit all of a sudden. You sure didn’t care back at the bar.”

“That’s not true Y/N.” You slam your foot down in frustration at his words. Liar.

“Bullshit Kid! I got my makeup done, dressed pretty, and I tried to be cute just for you and you didn't even care. You only laughed in my face.” At this point you didn’t care what came out of your mouth. “I was going to tell you how I’ve loved you for years. But seeing those girls in your lap reminded me why I keep my feelings secret all this time. Because I knew this is how it would turn out. With all the gorgeous women out there, why the hell would anyone want me. I don’t even want me. You know what I'd give up to look like one of those girls? The envy I feel towards them is down right suffocating..” Your hands come up to cradle your face. “I can’t stand this and I can’t stand you Kid so get out.”

Kid didn’t move. He didn’t speak. Your angry voice fills his ears and your tears reflect in his eyes. At this moment he realizes just how much damage he caused. He is unsure what to do or how to make you feel better. Was there even anything that could? “Go make things right kid. and try to be gentle doing so.”

“Come here Y/N.” He held his flesh hand out. “You're shaking.”

“My shower got cold, but I’ll be fine. Just go away..” Kid stood up, causing you to take a few steps back to create some distance. “I said go away!”

“I’m sorry Y/N.” You're frozen in shock, he has never said sorry to anyone a day in his life. “This is my fault. Truth is I love you too, but I just can’t help but think you deserve someone better. Someone who doesn't get pissy at the drop of a hat, someone who isn’t a huge asshole like I am. Someone more stable. I’m not going to make anymore excuses, just know I do love you. So please come here.”

“I won’t.” Your back was now flush against your bedroom door. Kid turns around and picks up the sword he brought with him.

“Look at what I got~.” He waves the sword as if to bribe you. “I’ll give it to you if you come here~”

“Leave Kid.” You cross your arms and turn away. “And take that lames ass sword and tacky bouquet with you.” The floor vibrates as Kid walks right up to you.

“Oh yeah?” He slams his hands on either side of your head. He was trying to intimidate you but you had no plans on backing down. Your sharp eyes never waiver from his and you stand your ground firmly. “That’s my girl.” His comment caught you so off guard your mind went blank. Kid took advantage of that by wrapping his flesh arm around your back to pull you against him.

“Don’t play with me Kid.” You try to get out of his grasp but his metallic hand comes around your back, completely caging you against his chest. “You just wait Eustass Kid, once I wiggle my way out yo-” You stall the moment you see the gentle look on his face. His smile wasn’t crazy big or sinister. It was pleasant, calm, and very unlike him.

“Want to know something?” He pulls your body away from him a little before his flesh hand cups your tear soaked cheek. “I thought you looked damn good tonight. If I didn’t laugh my jaw would have fallen clean to the floor. But I was right when I said it didn’t suit you.” You raise your brow. So he liked how you looked but it somehow didn’t suit you? “You don’t need dresses or make up to impress me. You do that everyday just being yourself. You don’t have to be thin, feminine or none of that crap. I don’t want you to be anyone else but you. I love everything about you Y/N. I love that excited look you get when you find a really cool weapon or how your eyes get crazy when that said weapon blows something up. I love how you stay close to me when we are fighting, and I know it’s not because you're scared or need my protection which you will always have no matter what. You stay beside me to protect me from my own recklessness.”

“Kid…” Crap, I’m crying again.

“I’m not done yet. I love how you're always broke and bumming money from me. As annoying as it is, I find it cute. I always keep a pouch in my pocket just for you. I bet ya didn’t notice how it has your name engraved on it.”

“Really?” His arms let you go so you could see for yourself. You run over and grab the pouch. You flip it around and see the engraving, but it’s not your name. “Kid, my name is not ‘The reason Eustass Kid is broke’.” You threw the empty pouch at him.

“I’m pretty sure that’s you sweetheart.” Kid fell onto the bed laughing his head off at your pouty expression. “But I truly wouldn't have it any other way. So come here and that’s captain's orders.”

“Fine. I’m tired of arguing.” You mosey your way to him, he spread his legs apart so you could stand in between them. “Just so you know I’m still mad at you.”

“I know. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right.” His head came down to rest on your plush stomach. The affection he was giving you felt good, but it didn’t change the fact he was a jerk to you earlier.

“So Captain, you said you would do anything to make things right, is that correct?” You reach down and pull his goggles back before letting them go so they smacked against his skin.

“Ow what the hell was that for?” He rubs the sore spot left from your little assault.

“Consider yourself lucky, that's all I do. Now If you want to make things right, listen up.” Kid’s eyes sharpen at your words. He was getting serious.

“I never want to see anyone in your lap that isn’t me.”

“The throne is all yours.”

“It better be, next I want you to be open to me about your feelings the best you can. And I’ll do the same.”

“Of course.”

“I also want that empty room next to Killers room, I need more room for my weapons.”

“Done, it’s yours”

“One last thing, I want a new money pouch. A much bigger one~”

“I'll think about it, you greedy little woman.”

Giggles erupt from your throat as Kid pulls you down with him on the bed. You smile and nuzzle into his chest, taking in the comforting smell of oil and rum. You know there is alot you and him still need to talk about, but for now you just want to enjoy this moment with him.

“You know I did like the red lipstick you had on, but I think a different shade would have looked better…”

“And what shade did you have in mind?” You lift off of his chest and notice his sinister smirk was back.

“Mine.” Before you could question any further he flips your body underneath his and crashes his red lips against yours. The kiss is rough and fueled by years of pent up passion for one another. His hand snakes down your side to give your thick hip a rough squeeze before your lips detach. “Looks like I was right. I bet it would look good here too, even better here, and here.” His lips begin to trail down your neck. Kid pulls back and stares at your flustered face. “Pretty girl, I think I’ll just paint your whole body red.”

And he did just that.

~~~~~~~Bonus~~~~~~~~

You woke up to see Kid sleeping peacefully as he held you against his chest. But by peacefully you mean he was snoring loudly and drooling like a wild animal. Carefully you wiggle your sore body out of his hold. The heat creeps back onto your cheeks thinking how it got sore to begin with.

You wrap a spare blanket around your nude body and crawl out of the bed. The red beast beside of you thankfully didn’t wake up. I need to wash up. On your way over to the bathroom you stop in front of the mirror and let the blanket fall to the floor. Every spot on your body you hated or felt insecure about was covered in Kid’s red kiss marks. Although the marks got fainter and fainter as they went down your body, they were still there nonetheless.

A smile forms on your lips when Kid appears behind you in the mirror. His flesh arm came around your body as he buried his head in the crook of your neck. He planted a soft kiss behind your ear before looking at you in the mirror. You hold back a laugh seeing how wild his hair looked.

“Good morning Captain bedhead.” You give Kid’s bicep a kiss before resting your head against it.

“And who is that thanks to.” His sleep laced voice grumbles in your ear. “You sure held on to it tight and made it a mess while I ate yo-”

“SHUT IT.” You turn around and hide your face in his chest. “You're one to talk anyways. I look like a piece of abstract art.”

“You do and I’m one hell of an artist.” His hand runs up and down your side. “But I’m nowhere close to being done with you.”

“Huh?” You didn’t have the chance to blink before you were slung back onto the bed. “Kid what are you doing?”

He didn’t answer, instead he walks over to your dresser and grabs the tube of red lipstick out of your pile of makeup.

“This will have to do for now.” He bit down on the cap and spit it out before applying the lipstick. “Seems like I missed a spot. I can’t leave my masterpiece unfinished, now can I?”

~End~

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howtofightwrite · 7 months

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I have read your post about how size doesn't really matter if the two fighters are equally trained, but I wanted to ask if the same holds true in an armed fight? Like sword fights and the like? Sorry if this has been asked before, or if it is not your specific area of expertise. Thank you!!!!

I'm pretty sure we've covered this before but I'll go again.

The way you've phrased it is a little vague, and the answers are different.

If you're asking about to fighters with roughly equivalent gear, then, no, their size and weight won't matter that much. If you have a thirty-six inch razor blade, and your opponent has a thirty-six inch razor blade, it doesn't really matter if you're an inch taller. Hell, at that point, it really doesn't even matter much if you're a foot taller, yes that means your effective reach is going to be a little longer (about 6.2 inches in this case.) But, the difference between being able to take a swipe at someone standing seventy-eight inches away from you, versus being limited to a mere seventy-two inches, isn't a huge deal. Now, that extra six inches of reach isn't nothing (and, realistically, those numbers will be a little lower overall (I'm halving average arm/span, and assuming they're six and seven feet tall, which does result in one abnormally high number. When you start looking at more nominal height ranges, like 5'7 vs 5'11, the actual difference in reach will drop around an inch. Bluntly, that doesn't matter.)

Now, if you're asking about their weapons, this is an entirely different situation. A specific case we had in the past was someone who wanted their dual wielding dagger user to go toe to toe with someone armed with a greatsword. In the real world, greatswords tend to have, at least, a sixty inch blade, while most knives are going to be under a foot long. In a situation like this, the greatsword creates a five foot kill zone around its user that the dagger wielder cannot traverse. As a result, they cannot attack the greatsword user without some serious creativity, or the element of surprise.

This is true for all weapons. They all have both a maximum and minimum effective range, and while the wielder can often do things to keep the weapon, at least, partially functional at very close ranges (such as pommel strikes, or half-handing), the effective range of a weapon is extremely important to understand. Also, and I hope this was clear already, but this applies to melee weapons. It's pretty common to think about ranged weapons having a max effective range, but this is just as true of a sword or spear. Similarly, as I mentioned, they have a minimum effective range as well. A lone spear user can keep themselves safe from a dagger wielder if they can keep the knives out of reach, but if the dagger fighter manages to get past their spearhead, that weapon is going to be far less effective (though, it won't become completely useless. It is still a staff, with pointy bits.) (Also, minimum effective range does apply with ranged weapons as well. Again, not something we think about often, but it is true, and why things like the eight foot rule exists for handguns.)

It's a little out of scope here, but the weight of your weapon is also extremely important. The heavier a weapon is, the faster it will tire out its wielder. And, to slightly oversimplify, an exhausted fighter is a dead fighter. This is why swords are remarkably light, frequently weighing less than two pounds, with the upper end of the spectrum (the greatswords like the Claymore or Zweihander) still weighing than a well fed, adult, housecat. Heavy weapons can easily become a death sentence to their user. And you do not need a lot of weight to get the job done. An eight pound hammer is both shockingly heavy (as weapons go), but it will do unspeakable things to anyone it solidly connects with.

In a competitive sense, if your weapon is heavier that will turn into a disadvantage over time. It's difficult to exploit in a one on one fight, but on an afternoon battlefield, where the fighting has been going since dawn, that will have had a chance to wear down the wielders.

So, yes and no, it depends if you're asking about the fighters, where it doesn't matter, or the weapons, where it becomes extremely important.

-Starke

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#writing reference #writing advice #writing tips #starke answers #how to fight write

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azulyrae · 3 months

Text

❛ —— 𝐈𝐕 : The Bishop.

to yearn for a mate was to dance around the thin line of blind devotion. azriel thought of himself a maculated sinner with the nerve to beg the cauldron for a sacred connection. he shouted at the skies until his throat dried and his voice lost to the clouds; until his wings were too sore to fly and his heart was too tired to hope.

to abandon the pursuit of a mate was to abandon the thought of everlasting love. yet, there she was. a fever dream above expectations, with similar scars and a soul who mirrored his.

after a rough argument, azriel travels to the core of his mate’s memories, and finds that there’s always more than meets the eye — and that, at last, his prayers were well-answered.

the fourth chapter of onyx sword of sorrow.

check the original post to be aware of the trigger warnings.

azriel/fem!archeron sister. reader with mind control & the ability to shapeshift.

THIS CHAPTER HAS DESCRIPTIONS OF PAST SEXUAL HARASSMENT! please be safe while reading it!

word-count: 5K.

But I don’t know what else that I would do, than to try to kiss the skin that crawls from you; than feel your weight in arms, I’d never use. It feels good, girl, it feels good. Oh, to be alone with you.

— To Be Alone, Hozier.

Azriel felt distressed due to the bothering awareness of the growing sweat running down the extension of his forearms, dripping from his hair to the bridge of his nose; from his elbows to the earth; from his palms to the wooden-hilt of the pair of swords he maneuvered. His steps were fast and precise, crushing the leaves underneath as he retreated, footwork and handiwork aligned to exploit the radius of his abilities. It was a frenetic and relentless pace born from the increase of her amelioration, which granted him the long-awaited opening to no longer repress his movements — since the better [Name] got, less was the need to inhibit his polished instincts, battle aggressiveness, and speed.

The female had a long way to go: more than once had the wooden-sword touched her arm or legs, and if it was made of silver or steel, it would’ve sliced her skin, drawing blood from the teared flesh. However, those occurrences grew infrequent after proper repetition. [Name] had been trained before by a mortal man whose identity she was yet to reveal, and by Mor herself, an experienced and talented warrior in whom Azriel would trust with his life if it was required — had done it even, countless times before. A month under a regained routine of guidance and practice, and [Name]’s muscular memory had already started to act accordingly to what it had been once taught, growing accustomed to the intensity of heated confrontations.

Neither her proficiency nor her dedication were a surprise: [Name] remained with her sais in hand whenever they were meant to rest, spinning the blades on her fingers as though it was an interesting pastime of hers. Azriel presumed that her previous knowledge of daggers and throwing knives was half-responsible for such a swift familiarization, for the sais were turning into an extension of her body. The female spun one in her fingers as they played a match of chess or ate their meals or even jogged on the beach at nighttime, and the male couldn’t help but to grin to himself at the fact that he had given her the most well-suited pair of blades, one that was perfect to her fighting style.

As the two darted around the jungle in quick steps, Azriel reminisced times when a quite drunk Mor had insisted on the importance of having a vast knowledge in the matters of dancing. She would sway left-and-right in a long, red dress, twirling in her feet and dragging Azriel to the center of the room. Mor tried to convince him to learn a few waltzes, arguing that battling was but a mere variation of dancing — only that it also happened to involve swords and life-or-death situations. At last, Azriel brushed her off after two or three songs, their closeness enough to steal his breath away, a fresh and sadistic torture that made his skin crawl. He couldn’t see it back then, and wouldn’t dare to either.

To battle was to reap one’s life, to either stare into their eyes as the Mother claimed their souls or to move forward onto the next opponent. It was a chaotic scenery of gore and severed limbs and warm blood. It wasn’t something that one ought to equate to a delicate and intimate thing such as a waltz. Yet, as his feet stepped back in a defensive manner, being followed-in-suit by [Name]’s offensive stance, he understood what Mor meant.

They were a pair of agile dancers, pooled in sweat and driven by obstinacy and an equal sense of competitiveness. One could presume that [Name] would’ve cowered at the sight of his swords — one in each hand —, but she grew bolder, more courageous, and at last understood the dynamics of that particular match of chess, applying her relentless and unpredictable strategies that drew one to an inescapable and pitiful defensive stance. It had been a long time since Azriel had guided their waltz: the charge of it was entirely hers.

[Name]’s durability remained a matter to work upon whatsoever, especially if he was to consider the intensity of her battling: a repetitive and vexing thing that could tire out even the strongest defense. However, as of then, it happened to do the same to her, and the longer Azriel refused to relent, the more she lost her preciseness and strength.Yet, in terms of technique, she wasn’t at all disappointing.

The Spymaster raised his right arm across his chest, placing the wooden-sword above his left shoulder. That granted him a further boost as he lowered down the weapon, outlining a half-arch towards her carotid; an attack that, were their battle under different circumstances, would’ve been lethal. [Name] spun both her sais. The one in her dominant hand was held horizontally, and it trapped the wooden-sword in between one of its guards; the other one remained somewhat vertical and served as leverage, its blade crossing the inside of the guard from the other pair of sai she held. The movement itself resembled a plus sign, with his wooden-sword caught in the middle due to the positioning of her blades, making it impossible for the opponent to rid his weapon from that lethal trap.

If Azriel had all but a single sword, the battle would have ended then and there. [Name] would have used her sais to snap his blade in two and the lack of protection would have been enough for her to spin one of them and drive its point straight into the side of his neck and pierce through his carotid. That was not the case whatsoever. Because [Name] raised both her arms to meet one of his wooden-swords in the middle, both her armpits were left defenseless.

He pressed the edge of the other sword held by his left arm against one of those vulnerable spots, and his voice had neither cockiness nor glee when he stated: “You’re dead.”

During the first weeks of his training, when he was yet learning about the pressure and most lethal points where it was best to strike the opponent, Azriel found it odd and entirely embarrassing that one could die due to a cut to the armpit. It was, if anything, the stupidest and less dignified manner with which to perish in battle. However, the moment Truthteller first sliced through that vulnerable part of his rival’s body, his misconceptions were muted at the horror of such a death. Blood gushed everywhere as if he had squeezed a cherry in between his fingers to drink its juice. It pulsed non-stop, meeting Azriel’s face and blade and armor, droplets invading his eyes and painting the world in a horrific tone of bright red. His opponent fell to his knees and convulsed in utter agony, his hand clinging to the maimed tissue of his armpit. The sight left him petrified to the point where he was not even able to strike the dying male with a merciful slash of Truthteller and free him from that suffering. Instead, he observed as the Mother claimed that tortured soul and was haunted by the sight of it ever since.

The mere idea of losing his mate in a similar manner brought tremendous dread, and was enough a reason to cause a turmoil in his stomach and a sudden wave of nausea. Azriel pictured it, challenging the discomfort within him, punishing himself with that awful perspective. He had waited more than five centuries for his mate; the other half of his soul; and five more centuries he would torture himself was she to perish due to the lack of training. That end would paint her image not as his love, but as his sin; his greatest failure.

The snap that came when she broke his wooden-sword in two was enough a sound to ground his mind back to the present, drifting it away from the what-ifs as though his thoughts were a lonely sailing boat under the mercy of a turmoiled sea. Azriel didn’t miss the touch of her armpit, how it drove itself straight into the point of the reminiscent wooden-sword, but neither had he missed the glint of her eyes, staring into his very soul.

“You’ve read my mind,” he accused, steadying himself as she took a few steps back, twirling her sais.

“I was invaded by them,” [Name] argued. “Your thoughts are as loud as a parade of drums and tambourines.”

“Rhysand would disagree,” Azriel countered, sensing the need to defend himself.

“I’m more sensitive than a daemati, as we are both well aware.”

He found himself itching to lose himself within the banter that his mate offered. The bewitching character of their bond was quite an odd thing to witness, but the more time he spent with her, the more Azriel believed that it was not their connection to blame for that senseless tendency, but her. Compelling and argumentative, melting the solid ground of the world in which he stood into a puddle of his well-established beliefs. To fall into her words was to abandon all logic; to stare into that puddle and envision a glimpse of the male he had once been, before centuries of war and death engulfed him in the abyss of pessimism and paranoia: convinced, challenging, eager.

It was a sight to behold, neither uncomfortable nor familiar; a reasonable prospect of a version of himself he had long decided was lost and buried under the piles of corpses — both foes and allies. But to stare into the past, to envision himself through the reflection of the lake of his melted world, would do him no good. Because the male that stood above that pile was the strongest, the necessary means for his Court’s survival.

Azriel caught himself stepping on that puddle, returning to reality, avoiding the goodness that his mate could bring to the surface. His thoughts were back to the gore of that slash; the severance of that inconvenient artery. Because a world without his mate was inconceivable, and if to keep her alive meant to remain chained to his worst version, then so be it.

He drove the wooden-sword straight into the ground. The tip shattered, and the entire extension of it came apart in a dozen pieces. [Name] merely glimpsed it with a somewhat sense of unamusement.

“You were careless,” he snapped, for once not caring to conceal his anger.

“I’m well aware,” she bit back with a scowl.

“You’re not,” the Spymaster insisted, his steps diminishing the distance between them. “You’ve never had to witness death at such a close range; never had to feel your opponent’s blood splattering into your face; you don’t know.”

Her nostrils flared and her entire body trembled with the intensity of her own anger. Azriel could smell it, escaping through her pores as though wildfire in a dry forest.

“There’s something that I’ve read,” she started out slowly, an edge to her voice that he had never heard before. “An interesting theory, really, about the limitations of the mind and its projection. Let’s try it out.”

[Name]’s teeth gritted with her last sentence, and Azriel had no time to react before his mate latched one of her hands to his face, her fingers and nails biting into his temple. He felt as though the weight of earth shifted under his feet, his breath stolen from his lungs with a violent and invisible force. The skies, once painted orange and yellow and filled with white clouds, morphed into darkness. The stars were dim — not even a speck of the sight Velaris offered during the night — and the Spymaster was no longer within the borders of a forest; could no longer hear the sound of the waves crashing against the shore far from where he stood. Instead, Azriel was in the middle of an unknown and miserable district, the houses so small and precarious he could not believe half-a-fae fitted inside. The streets were empty, the torches were long put off. He found the scenery as peaceful as it was deplorable, but the previous silence was soon replaced with a loud piece of music.

His eyes followed the source of said cacophony. Azriel could distinguish the sound of lutes and a hurdy-gurdy, flutes and drums. His thoughts wrapped around the concept of a gleeful festival, but were instead met with a single home with bright, colorful lights shining through the closed curtains of many windows; with at least three floors built of bricks and stones, whose roof was a well-planned triangular structure covered in soot and of many different tiles. Above it all, stood a lonely and small gyrfalcon of white feathers, poorly hidden.

The door to that house — so different to the ones from the street before — opened. Azriel noticed the presence of a muscular man, tall to the parameters of a mortal, and concluded that one was most likely to be the guard to that place. He felt the urge to scoff with a well-placed arrogance, aware that he could take that man down with half a blow. However, the smaller frame that walked past through the guard and ventured into the night streets caused his stomach to twist and drop. Azriel hastily read the title painted above the entrance: “The Lupanare”, and felt a sudden urge to throw up; a numbness to his fingers and nerves that refused to subside.

The female figure under the door was dressed in fine silks of translucent shades of blue. The attire had a thin and long skirt divided in four sections; the one in the middle was made to protect the sight of the female’s intimacy; the other two sections began at the side of her hips, leaving the entire front of her legs bare to the external eye; and though he could not see, Azriel figured that the fourth section was a mimic of the first one: a piece of fabric that scarcely protected the ass. The odd skirt was connected to the top through a thin belt made of silver, with adornments meant to mimic shells, that encircled her entire waist. While the bottom had one thicker layer of silk to cover the intimate parts, the top left nothing to the imagination: it was made in the format of a V, leaving her entire waist, back, and part of her abdomen bare. The silk was so thin, one could see the breasts almost as though they were uncovered, as the only barrier that stood between the eye and the body was the top’s dark shade of blue. It was held together by silver ligaments, a large shell above each clavicle and a chain that encircled the neck. Azriel stood far from the female, but he could hear her voice almost as though he was by her side.

“It’s best to change before leaving,” the guard seemed to instruct her in a deep, yet oddly worrying tone.

“I don’t have the time. There’s something wrong at home, I can feel it.”

The voice that answered broke him entirely. It was no ordinary female. For the love of the Mother, it was his mate. Azriel’s heart, all of sudden, danced around two different beats; his breathing was split into two halves; his soul, however, remained one with that of the female that hurried out of the brothel. He felt enraged and saddened; worried and aware. It took him a moment to realize that, by sharing her memories, [Name] began to share her feelings as well.

The Lupanare left his sights as his mate ran into the night, wearing nothing but a set of thin silk wrapped around silver chains. Azriel felt the urge to move; to grab that fragile figure and soar with her through the skies, away from those dull stars and into the dazzling night of Velaris. But he could not. He was stuck into place as though a tree with roots too deep in the soil. One could not change the past any much as one could alter a memory.

When that sight of [Name] came closer, Azriel noticed that she was inches smaller and less agile; she seemed younger, although not too much, perhaps a year or two, at best. He grew used to her fae-form; to how it increased her height and speed and the overall flow of her movements. Seeing her in that mortal shell was unfamiliar to him, and Azriel wondered how his mate felt about that whole ordeal.

The memory shifted accordingly to her steps. The music was long gone, as were the colors. She had left the district of the brothel and was running along the poorest streets, passing through alleyways and locked one-floor houses without a thought in the world. No longer had Azriel started to worry about the safety of those actions, someone grabbed her shoulder, and plunged her against the dirty wall of a narrow alley. His mind shouted at Azriel, all logic evaporating from his entire being upon witnessing that scene. Every nerve within him commanded his limbs, demanding him to move. It was his mate; his heart; the very reason why he had been born, why he had endured those five centuries of sorrow and loneliness. His mate needed his aid, and he wasn’t there.

The revolt that ran through his veins as though liquid fire had gone cold with terror. Not his: hers. Azriel could sense it, had his soul shivering because of it. Again, he felt the need to move; and again, he could not. This time, it was not desperation and rage that moved him, but the utter necessity to comfort her, to keep her safe.

“It was only a matter of time,” the man slurred, and Azriel felt the hot breath and smelt the stench of alcohol, regardless of the distance. “I knew one of that brothel’s little birds would eventually try to flee from the cage earlier than they should. Now, I’ll take what’s mine.”

A hand covered her mouth. Azriel tasted the soot. With a grin, however, the man decided to place his hand on her throat instead. “There’s no need to scream. No one hears the weeps of a whore.”

It was torture. Azriel desperately tried to free himself from his mate’s memories, and thought that, at last, as cowardly as that was, he could tear his eyes from the scene. The Spymaster looked up — seeking solace in the stars and founding none — and his eyes caught on the white gyrfalcon, propped on a roof. He prepared himself for the worst, but instead, heard a masculine shout of pain.

Azriel’s eyes landed on the scene. His mate had managed to hide a dagger somewhere in between the thin silks of her attire. It was on her dominant hand, the blade digging into her attacker’s stomach. She pulled it out just to plung it again. And again. And again. The man fell backwards on the ground, blood was pouring from his mouth and stomach. His mate fell with him, digging her dagger into his chest and ribs and throat. He felt the warmth of blood as it splattered on her; face and chest and legs, the shades of blue mingled with red. He felt the burning behind his eyes as the tears fell down her face.

At last, she got up, spat on the body, and pressed her back to the wall. Her soul shattered in a cacophony of feelings: satisfaction, fear, anger, horror. But no sympathy. Her hands were trembling, but she would not let go of the dagger, whose steel blade was reddened and wet. The minutes that it took for her to compose herself felt like an eternity. His mate turned on her heels, prepared to leave that scenery, and Azriel caught the glimpse of a taller figure observing at the entrance of the alleyway. The Spymaster had only managed to discern the long and bright red hair before the memory faded.

Azriel felt disoriented. His vision burned with the sudden brightness of the afternoon sky. He heard the sound of the waves and felt the warmth of the Sun against his nape. The shared reminiscence took but a small fraction of time, yet it felt as though they had been lost in the tissue of the past for non-ending hours. [Name] had taken a few steps back, her hand no longer touching his face, and despite the consequences, the pain that came with the lack of her was equal to the worst of punishments; to drink the most lethal of poisons. Inside her memories, he had a taste of what it meant to be one’s mate. There, Azriel grew roots inside her soul, and she had nestled herself at his very core.

She was observing him then, and he drowned in her eyes, addicted to the sight of her; to her entire being. “The owner of the Lupanare, Moira, prided herself in the fact that her… workers… were free of diseases.”

Her voice. Azriel regained the control of his nerves and will, commanding his legs to dash towards her. Yet, the Spymaster felt the tug of a bold shadow on his collar. They had developed the tendency of remaining hidden during those times of the day, weak due to the light. Yet, one of them darted forward to ground him, to make Azriel see not with his heart, but with his eyes. [Name] stood far from him, hugging herself; her scent was one of unsuruness and hesitation; she craved the space between them, clung to it as one living in the desert would to water. Azriel stopped in his tracks, not daring to give another step.

“Moira stated that, for the expenses to offer an environment secure from diseases to be worth it, the price to spend an hour with the women should be befitting to the efforts placed in their health,” [Name] gulped, as if the mere act of remembering that treacherous woman brought a sense of great pain. “Safe to say, the men that came to the brothel had coins to pay for their stay. Those who could not afford the time, had to resort to the women on the streets.”

Azriel took in her expressions and the sight alone clawed at his heart. “I get it. You don’t need to tear up old wounds for my sake.”

She moved her head in denial, closing her eyes. “It makes no difference when said wounds never healed enough to make for scars.”

Azriel went quiet. He wished he had a word of comfort to offer, but the typical, easier ones, were of no use. The Spymaster could appeal to the passage of time: [Name] was now immortal. A longer life meant opportunities to rewrite the script of one’s trajectory; to bury the awful instances of time with centuries of greatness. But how could he gather the courage to voice said things, when five centuries later, he remained haunted by what had happened when he was a boy of ten? Reminded of said horrors whenever he caught a glimpse of his hands?

[Name] seemed, however, grateful for his silence. “The women of the Lupanare were forbidden fruits to those who couldn’t afford them. Most of them had been either trafficked or expelled from their homes, but some rare exceptions, like me, had a place to return to in the morning. By the end of it, there was only me. The men who couldn’t be regulars at the Lupanare would pry at the edges, waiting for an opportunity to grab the ones who dared to walk home. I was lucky to have a dagger, to know how to wield it. The others were not.”

She took an instance to catch her breath. Azriel was startled to watch his mate take a few steps closer to the trees. He feared he might have upsetted her in some form, but his worries were gone as soon as he caught a glimpse of his shadows whirling around her in mute comfort.

“That memory I showed you… it was from the night Tamlin took Feyre. I wasn’t home then, but I felt a disruption within me, every aggravating instinct shouting at me that I was needed somewhere else. It took me three hours, but at last I was able to flee without being seen. I was careless. I was grabbed. I got rid of the problem. That was my first kill.”

Azriel felt the urge to apologize. He tried doing as much, but his mate brushed that away with a wave of her hand. “You didn’t know.”

“Did I shout my thoughts again?”

A smirk crept over her lips. He felt slightly relieved. “A little bit.”

“Regardless, I lost my temper. I apologize.”

“You weren’t entirely wrong,” she insisted. “I’ve never had to dispose of the men I killed. That first one—”

“Lucian did it for you,” he concluded, and she blinked in shock.

“You glimpsed it so far beyond? Well, yes, he did. Somehow. I never got the courage to ask,” [Name] sighed. “Feyre must’ve let it slip that one of her sisters wasn’t home; either that, or Tamlin saw it through her. Whatever happened, he sent Lucian to fetch for me, and so he did.”

“He enchanted you?”

She nodded. “I returned with instructions to wait outside for him. He gave me a new set of clothes. I changed. When I entered that small home, the fact that Feyre left to help a rich aunt sounded natural. My memories were filled with burlesques, I was the result of a well-placed spell.”

[Name] left the shelter offered by the trees, and Azriel could hear the whispers of protests coming from his shadows. The sudden proximity sent a shiver down his spine, for his mate was but a few inches away, and the feeling of the bond they shared remained fresh in his mind.

She pulled the long sleeve up, and there, inside her forearm, Azriel glimpsed a burnt scar. Fire had maimed his mate as much as it had maimed her. It was a long trail; the flames spreaded from below the shoulder to above the wrist.

“Moira had us tattooed. She said it was a sign of our employment contract, but we all knew better. It was a mark, one meant for the commoners to identify us as whores and to mistreat us in the streets. Moira wanted to make sure that we’d never be able to find a job again, that we’ll always be her property. Tamlin’s spell clouded my family’s memories well enough but not the memories of the town. When we were given another Manor, Elain wanted to celebrate. We threw this enormous party, but the glares I’ve received from the guests that night were enough to undo the spell. Suddenly, my youngest sister was nowhere to be found and I had a past that couldn’t be erased and a tattoo I wanted gone.”

“You’ve… burned yourself?” Azriel inquired, though the thought alone sounded horrendous. He could remember the pain vividly; had frequent nightmares of flames taking over the skin of his hands as though starved beasts. To have a self-inflicted burn scar…

“I’ve tried to, but was too much of a coward to get it through,” she answered, tugging the sleeve down. “I still had three friends — soldiers —, stationed at the village. So, one night, I went to the tavern they were regulars at, and paid them to burn that thing.”

Azriel was appalled. “They accepted it?”

“We all have mouths to feed or broken dreams to drown out with cheap wine,” she came to their defense. “The three were stationed at the end of the Mortal Realm for a reason. I knew they’d never agree to burn me for free, and Tamlin was kind enough to give us some coins, so I used it.”

The last sentence came with a scowl, and her tone was filled with scorn at the mention of the High-Lord of the Spring Court.

“When Nesta went after Feyre, I was still enchanted. And when she told me the news that there was nothing to be done… I guess I also felt the need to punish myself. As if I had to pay.”

Azriel moved his head in denial, holding back the urge to touch her chin. “You’ve paid more than enough for errors that weren’t yours.”

“I know that now,” she whispered. “But not then. So I drank half a bottle of cheap whisky; they soaked my arm with alcohol, and burnt it with a cloth. The pain made me pass out. The healing was one of the worst things I’ve gone through.”

He knew. Mother above, Azriel knew that all too well. The female in front of him was his mate, with aches and scars that had, too, been carved deep into his core, leaving nothing but bitterness and shame on its wake. Azriel should’ve known which words to say; which advice to give; but he doesn’t. He can’t help his mate heal a wound that he hadn’t learned how to heal himself.

The Spymaster watched with certain helplessness as [Name] picked up her sais, twirling the blades between her fingers. Her eyes were glued to his hands — uncovered ever since he learned that gloves were too much of a hassle to keep. Again, his throat dried up with the amount of words unsaid, the sentences that sounded too shallow. Azriel opened his mouth — if only to try —, and watched it in awe as [Name] used her strength to tear the cloth of her shirt. The long sleeves fell on the grass and she kicked it aside, allowing the afternoon light to press kisses to her now bare shoulders.

“Someone told me my training attire wasn’t adequate,” she voiced. A short laughter echoed from his parted lips, sounding odd to his own ears. It had been a long time since he last laughed. [Name] opened a smile at the sound. It had also been a long time since she had smiled.

“You should listen to that someone more often,” he teased, grabbing the fallen branch of a tree to mimic a wooden-sword.

“That wouldn’t be smart. He brings branches to sai fights.”

“And somehow, he manages to win.”

“Beginner’s luck. He’s a bit younger so I cut him some slack.”

“You called me an old male yesterday after managing to outrace me at our beach’s jog.”

“Have I?”

Azriel grinned, using his knee to split the branch in two. “If I win this one, I’ll have you shift into a kitchen mouse to follow Cassian around the House of Wind for a whole day.”

“Well, when I win this one, I’ll have you clean up my bathtub of experiments.”

Azriel remembered the stench left by the chemicals, and the glimpse of the once white marble covered in a dozen different shades of violet. He shuddered at the mere thought of it, knowing that she was making sure that he wouldn’t go easy on her during the rest of their sparring. He dashed forward. The branches were larger than the previous wood-swords, so her range of stances were drastically diminished.

But that was his mate. His [Name]. The world was her chessboard, and she didn’t mind sacrificing pawns for the sake of victory. His offense met hers, and their next match was but a metaphorical waltz on tiles of black and white.

general notes: last chapter I said I wished I had those wild AO3 explanations for delayed updates and, well, talk about manifesting. since I love oversharing!! I had a small surgery!! and my laptop broke, it’s the first time I’m uploading on my cellphone and I feel like a millennial. also, what do we think of what we read of Az in House of Flame and Shadow? let me know, let’s chat!

taglist [comment to be added]: @nyotamalfoy @arilindemann @bsenpai @rachelnicolee @piceous21 @forsiriussake @sassybluebird @esposadomd @brujitafantomatico @witchymomfrien

#acomaf #acotar #acowar #azriel #azriel imagine #azriel imagines #azriel x reader #acosf #acotar x reader #azriel / reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #sjm

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shy-urban-hobbit · 6 months

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Collab with the wonderful and crazy talented @elmonstro . It was so much fun working on this with you!!

Lambert absolutely hated markets. As a general rule they were noisy, crowded and more often than not at least one merchant would try to rip him off once they caught sight of either his medallion or his eyes. Aiden however, had no such hang ups and loved to people watch and talk to various merchants about their wares, the stall owners scents turning to just a general wariness which was easier to ignore as he complimented the quality of their wares or charmingly haggled over price in a way Lambert never could (whether it was due to his schools teachings in getting certain humans to lower their guard or if it was just Aiden, Lambert wasn't quite sure).

He found his gaze wandering as he stood listening to Aiden get into an animated discussion about a spice he'd never even heard of, nevermind tasted. Some of the merchants looked to be packing away for the day, a mother pulled a fussing child away as they made grabby hands at a stall selling various sweet treats and he was pretty sure that young woman just pickpocketed the old man she'd bumped into but Lambert decided he probably deserved it, if the name he called her in response to her apology for running into him was anything to go by.

The telltale flash of sunlight on metal coming from the end of the row caught his attention. They'd done this enough times now for Lambert to know he'd probably be back before Aiden even noticed he'd gone and if he wasn't, the Cat would have no problem finding him again.

The stall had a surprisingly wide array. Lambert spotted wicked looking punch knives with engraved blades alongside the usual vegetable and carving knives. A couple of ornate daggers which were definitely more for decoration than practical use if the fancy handles and sheaths were any indication took pride of place front and centre. No swords but judging from how old and stooped the smith looked, Lambert took an educated guess that the heavier stuff was back in his workshop. Lambert was about to turn around and make his way back to Aiden when he spotted them. Nestled towards the back was a pair of daggers. Small enough to be easily concealed but the blades looking wicked sharp nonetheless. One had a slight curve whilst the other was straight as a rod. The handles had the exact same simple ornamentation - a line of gold filigree winding around and up the steel like a vine whilst the accompanying sheaths were the exact same shade of royal blue. A matched set then.

He was suddenly struck by images of those blades being cradled in dark skinned, long fingered hands. The sheaths complimenting blue armour and green eyes.

"Can I see those?" He asked waiting for the smiths nod of permission before he reached over. The balance was good and there were no visible imperfections.

"My son does all the leatherwork for the sheaths." The smith piped up, a note of pride in his voice, "Treats it right and proper so it won't fade or crack." Lambert nodded as he smiled. They were perfect. At least, they were until he saw the price. There was no way he could justify spending that much, not when they didn't know how far they'd need to make their coin stretch; even with half of their earnings going into a shared purse (which he wasn't going anywhere near. That was for emergencies and besides - it wasn't much of a gift if Aiden ended up putting money towards it too).

Trying not to let his disappointment show too much, he placed the straight blade back on the stall, "How much for just the one?"

Aiden ended up meeting him halfway, smiling when he noted the direction Lambert was coming from, "Why am I not surprised you got drawn in by sharp, pointy things? Get anything?"

Lambert thought about the dagger he'd managed to tuck away into the top of his pack. The smith hadn't seemed too pleased about separating them either, but a sale was a sale. He shook his head, wrapping an arm around Aiden's shoulder, "Just looking. You done?"

Aiden stared at him briefly before nodding. If Lambert's emotions were showing on his face, he was gracious enough not to mention it.

Aiden wrinkled his nose at the slop that was passing for stew in the inn's main room and Lambert found himself sharing the sentiment. It was to be expected really; the room was barely the right side of habitable. They could put up with worn, dirty mattresses and sour ale for a night but they drew the line at meat which smelled like it was about to turn, even under all the spices and gravy the cook had tried to disguise it with.

"Ugh. I'm going to go see if I can catch that vendor we got those pies from earlier before he closes up. I'll be right back." Aiden said, draining the last of his drink and dropping a couple of coins, leaving Lambert at the sticky table before he could reply. Not that he'd been a great conversation partner since they'd left the market.

Neither of them were overly materialistic: both literally and figuratively, they couldn't afford to be and Aiden had always placed more value on the thought behind a gift rather than its worth anyway. Lambert knew logically that Aiden would love the curved blade that was currently burning a hole in his pack as he was both excited and slightly ashamed to hand it over. The incident with the smith incessantly poking at a certain sore spot. They risked their lives day in, day out and for what? The cheapest rooms they could find and having to constantly compromise on little indulgences. He knew there were plenty of others in the same situation and worse but still. It made him question sometimes if the scars and constant vitriol were worth it.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a familiar head peering around the doorway, making a 'follow me' gesture before disappearing back outside. He wordlessly allowed Aiden to lead him to the back of the building where he used an empty barrel as a boost to start scaling the outside wall. Lambert followed easily, the old stone providing plenty of hand and footholds where parts had been worn away or broken off completely over the years.

"Here." Aiden said handing over one of the still warm pies once they were settled on the sloping roof of the Inn, "I grabbed a couple for breakfast too."

They ate in an easy silence, Lambert enjoying the taste of the tender rabbit and vegetables as he people watched. Once he'd finished, he stripped down to his tunic and lay back on the sun warm tiles, watching as the sky gradually turned from various reds and oranges to a deep blue as the sun started to disappear behind the mountains which dominated the horizon on one side of the town.

He turned his head slightly to look at Aiden when he felt eyes on him, the Cat was giving him a fond look which never failed to make Lambert feel like an awkward teen with a crush.

"What?" He huffed, giving a small smile in return.

Aiden shrugged, "You look good like this is all. Relaxed suits you." He shifted his weight slightly and as he tucked a piece of hair behind his ear - something Lambert knew was a nervous habit, "I got something else while I was out. For you."

"Me?" Lambert sat himself up as he watched Aiden start rummaging through his pack before pulling out something wrapped in plain brown cloth.

"I saw it and immediately thought of you and I was going to wait for a better time. But you seemed like you needed cheering up and besides, I don't think you can get any more romantic than a rooftop at sunset."

As if on queue, a musician started playing somewhere, the sound of soft fiddle music drifting over to them through an open window. They locked eyes with each other briefly before bursting into laughter.

"I stand corrected.' Aiden said as his laughter died down, taking the strange tension that had fallen between them with it as he held the small package out to Lambert, "Go on. Open it."

Lambert couldn't place why the weight and shape felt vaguely familiar until he revealed a royal blue sheath. Oh, sweet Melitele this couldn't be happening.

"The guy said that it was part of a set," Aiden started, looking apologetic, "But he'd sold the other one earlier. I-" His expression turned to one of complete bafflement when Lambert started chuckling quietly. Those chuckles quickly morphing into full belly laughs.

"Uh, Lambert?" He asked, trying to tamp down the hurt that was rising up at his gift being laughed at.

"Shit. I'm sorry Aiden. I promise I'm not laughing at you it's just...I got something for you too."

He reached into his own back and held out a package of similar size and shape, wrapped in the same cloth. Aiden took it, eyes widening as he seemed to piece things together, "Is this-"

"Yep."

Aiden's smile rivaled the sun as he admired the blade Lambert had handed over.

"You know." Lambert said as he attached his own to his belt, "I'm pretty sure there's some places where this means we're married now. Or at least betrothed."

"Do you want it to?"

"Huh?"

Aiden looked uncharacteristically shy, not quite making eye contact, "What you just said... about the...do you want it to mean that?"

Lambert's heart started doing somersaults, "That we're married or we're betrothed?"

"Either. Both?"

It felt as if the whole continent was holding its breath waiting for his answer.

"Yes. Both. Yes."

He suddenly found himself with a lapful of Cat who seemed fully intent on kissing him stupid until the need for air became an issue.

"You?" Lambert asked, looking directly into Aiden's eyes from where their foreheads were pressed together.

"What do you think?" Aiden asked with his familiar smirk, raising Lambert's hand to his lips and kissing his knuckles, something that never failed to get Lambert flustered.

"Let me hear you say it?"

Aiden shifted so his mouth was grazing the shell of Lambert's ear, "Yes. To both."

Their mystery musician switched to something more lively, not that the two of them were paying attention. Wrapped up in each other as they watched the last sliver of sun disappear.

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fanart #aiden/lambert #aiden x lambert #lambden #lambert/aiden #lambert x aiden #witcher aiden #lambert #witcher lambert

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highladyjane · 6 months

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I don't want another warrior training like we've already had in the former books, but aside from training her Seer abilities, I can also see Elain having some basic and necessary training both for self-defence and to become a spy disguised as an emissary of the NC (because she can definitely be both at the same time). And I definitely see Nuala and Cerridwen + Az, and maybe even her sisters, teaching her a thing or two about how to properly wield a knife outside the kitchen - on her own terms and choice ofc.

Feyre was the bow and arrow, Nesta is the sword, and Elain is definitely the "knife in the dark" (just like Azriel).

I can totally see her carrying a knife/dagger as her weapon of choice under all her beautiful dresses like...

I don't think Elain, nor any other female character (especially in the Maasverse tbh) will lose her "soft femininity" just because she learns how to wield a blade. I think what they choose to do with that blade is what makes the difference.

None of them likes violence itself (except for probably mostly the Illyrians), but they sometimes have to resort to it because they need to. Knowing how to handle a blade doesn't necessarily mean it's for violence or to kill - but to defend, protect and save lives just like she did with Nessian vs Hybern.

She may have some lingering trauma from that incident to process, but I think Elain will see that having a dagger around at times is actually useful and easy enough to hide - and the perfect weapon of spies.

Maybe not even just for self-defence but for random pruning, carving, and slicing things in her garden and kitchen lol... It can be subtle and unexpected, but useful and sharp enough when needed - just like her.

No matter what happens to Truth-teller after HOFAS, I still think daggers and knives will come to play for both Az and Elain.

Maybe he'll even gift her a secret, lovely dagger of her own next Solstice... 😏

So that she can...

... in front of Az so he can momentarily forget the existence of air and have something new to fantasize and be tormented about at night 🤭 Like "Call me a mistake one more time, you jackAz" 😏 loljk

Yes, I'm getting carried away.

I can see so many possibilities and potentials for Elain.

She has repeatedly shown the will of becoming more useful and not like how she herself realised and admitted to being like in the first book (because character development, duh). And since she's starting to "show some claws" I think she'll also want to learn how to really fend for herself and not always have to rely on others, especially not Az (not after that Solstice incident) nor her sisters to always come and save her.

She likes domestic things and is the only one among her sisters who is actually good and useful at it, she's a Cauldron-blessed Seer (and now likely also Koschei's next target), but she also has hinted unexplored potential for something besides all that - the stealth, shadows, and secret-keeping = spywork.

She's the perfect housewife-spy like those in WW2 that SJM herself referred to.

Introverts like Elain are always underestimated observers and always so easily dismissed as boring just because their mouths aren't as open as their minds.

Elain knows how to surprise and I think she definitely will again in her book.

Especially with something sharp at your throat the next time you call her boring and useless.

She's the perfect knife in the dark. A beautiful rose with thorns. A thing of secret, lovely beauty. 🌹🗡✨😌

#Can you tell I just watched this film and still somehow thought of Elriel and then got carried away lol #I also want Elain in more blue dresses to drive Az nutts #elain is NOT useless nor boring #spy elain #pro elain archeron #my elain #hi i wrote this at 1 am #elain archeron #elain archeron coded

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alexanderlightweight · 9 months

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Hi! I would love to see your version of Malec with the ridiculous amount of hidden weapons stored in various places on a person. The idea of Magnus undressing Alec & coming across a ludicrous amount of weapons, pleases me immensely. Then the idea of Magnus starting to wear weapons for Alec? Chef's kiss. Pretty please? Thank you!

it mostly follows along that vein and i hope you enjoy it

this is set in feral sweetness, like honeycomb

<3 lumine

There is the slightest hint of a smirk on Alexander’s face as he approaches and Magnus wonders at what his mischief his love is dabbling in tonight.

This is meant to be an auspicious eve and while Magnus knows Alexander won’t do anything to jeopardize the ritual, he still finds himself suspicious in the way where he expects Alexander is going to surprise him.

In good ways of course.

Alexander stops just before the alter and meets Magnus’ unglamoured eyes with amorous devotion.

“I surrender myself to Magnus Bane. That the protection and defense of my own life be offered to his own hand. That my weapons will now be used to defend him, to protect him from all enemies and dangers.”

Alexander had told Magnus that he won’t be summoning any of his weapons during the ceremony.

No, he will wear them and offer them with his own hand and deed.

Now, standing before the witnesses gathered it’s clear that Alexander isn’t wearing clothes made of fine silk and cottons and linens.

Alexander is wearing the very finest of his hunting gear.

The leather is sleek and it ripples as the glow of floating golden lanterns dapples it with light. Magnus has only seen Alexander dressed like this once before and it was when his darling had been called through portals to a rift across the world. The buckles are dark, made of dark metals to better blend into the shadows.

Knee high boots made of soft but durable demon hide that are as dark as ichor and button even as they curve to his calves perfectly.

Alexander stands before them all and slowly takes off his jacket and Magnus loses his breath in delight even as he waves away those arounds concern at seeing Alexander’s weapons.

The quiver and bow are already laid out on the alter and two rows of throwing daggers follow along with a sword from each thigh.

For a moment Magnus thinks that’s it, and then Alexander is uncoiling a bullwhip from his waist and bending to pull out two small daggers from his left boot and a row of long thin needles from his right. The thin bands of metal around his wrist turn out to be an adamas garrote and there is a hint of a smirk on Alexander’s cheeks as he pulls out a set of adamas-plated knuckles with little spikes on them from an extra strap on his thigh holsters.

Likewise are a pair of fingerless gloves with small plates of adamas sewn across the knuckles.

Then Alexander begins unbuckling a harness from his back.

It holds eight more throwing knives and another hilt that tucks itself into the hollow of Alec’s back. As if that weren’t enough — because it is and Magnus is wondering how Alexander runs with this much weight even with the trans-formative properties of adamas — and then Alexander is laying out what is clearly an adamas lockpick set.

After that he’s not nearly as surprised as he should be when it turns out there is an expandable staff of adamas attached to Alexander’s quiver. Or that the bow and drawstring itself are also created from runed adamas.

There is a moment there when Magnus is sure that they’re done, and then Alexander also sets down his stele and then goes to take off his shoes.

“Darling, surely you don’t have more knives in there?” Magnus murmurs, quiet and trying for humor but truly he’s too baffled. It was strange enough to see Alexander have as many weapons as needed just by a thought, it’s almost worse watching him shed weapons as if they are a second skin and he a molting snake.

“No, I got all of those.” Alexander assures him with a soft smile that the closest of the witnessing warlocks seems shocked by. Magnus can understand as Alexander’s ardor turns his face gentle and besotted. “But my boots are adamas tipped and the soles are lined with spikes. Considering I’ve kicked through a demons chest before, I think they probably count as weapons.”

“By all means—” Magnus murmurs even though he’s now aching to taste the calluses of Alexander’s training against his tongue and feel the evidence of Alexander’s competency beneath his hands.

It’s even sweeter, realizing that Alexander purposefully strapped on so many weapons with the understanding that he was offering them all up in defense of Magnus.

Next is a small blowdart and pouch and finally, Alexander sets down his stele.

There is a telling gleam to his gaze and Magnus knows that despite the show of weaponry, this still isn’t the whole of what Alexander is capable of. However it’s enough to honor Magnus and Magnus understands the desire to keep behind a few secrets. Especially as he does the same.

“Someday I’m going to disarm you myself.” Magnus promises quietly and the only sign that Alexander’s heard and likes the vow is the tight bob of his throat as he swallows.

It’s a small victory in of itself and Magnus brushes a kiss against Alexander’s cheek even as he steps forward to make a show of accepting the small armory offered.

#lumine writes #writing wednesdays #writing wednesday #feral sweetness #malec #shadowhunters #magnus bane #alec lightwood

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pandalorian36 · 1 year

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Izzy Hands x reader

The crew finds out Izzy’s sparrow tattoo has more meaning than meets the eye when someone with a duplicate appears while they are on shore leave.

Warnings: Mentions knives & drinking

Should be gender neutral reader pretty sure I kept it they/them pronouns. Apologies for any spelling mistakes.

Word count: 2000+

Your P/O/V:

I lean back against the roof of the building I am currently sat on watching the boats flit about in the harbour. Taking a long drink, I sit up suddenly snorting out a laugh when a ship with four flags on the mast comes drifting into harbour. Grinning I take out my spyglass scanning the deck, the oddest array of men ambling around the deck with a blonde man who appears to be ordering them about, probably the least scary group of pirates I've ever seen. Another man comes onto deck drawing my attention clean shaven but still recognisable, Blackbeard.

I nearly fall from the roof in shock. What the hell happened to him? And more importantly where is Izzy? Standing I gather my swords and dagger and jump down to the ground pulling up my hood as I walk closer to the docks keeping to the shadows as the crew ties up the ship and lowers the gang plank Blackbeard is the last to leave "You know I think I preferred the beard." he turns squinting into the shadows "Y/N? Y/N L/N is that you?"

He grins as I walk out into the lift "Long time no see." he chuckles patting me on the shoulder "We need to catch up. Drink? On me?" I laugh "Never say no to a free drink." he slings an arm around my shoulders "How you been?" I shrug "Bit of this, bit of that. What happened to your ship and your beard?"

"Long story." We enter the first pub we find the same group of pirates from the deck crowded around one table. "Ed, there you are." I raise an eyebrow, Ed? he grins slapping me on the back "L/N, this is Stede." The blonde man in expensive looking clothes offers his hand "Pleasure to meet you." I smile slightly "So you are the gentlemen pirate? Jackie told me all about you."

Stede is positively beaming "Really? How excellent. Do you always wear your hood up?" Edward laughs slapping my shoulder again "Long as I've known 'em. Well least till they know you a bit better." I sit down accepting the drink one of the others offers "Let me introduce my new crew. He motions to each one naming them and they all either smile or nod in response. "Where the hell is my first mate?" The dark haired one Lucius shrugs "Who knows. Probably swearing at... Nope he just walked in."

"Izzy. Look who I found." I feel my pulse quickening as footsteps approach his voice washing over me "Who?" I stand turning "Hey Iz." he clears his throat slightly "Walk?" I grin knowing the pirates behind me are all currently staring "Lead the way."

We walk outside and the first alley we pass I push him inside and against the wall capturing his mouth with mine burying one hand in his hair "I missed you." he groans arms looping around my waist "Fuck, missed you too."

Pulling apart the two of us breathing heavily "Forgot how handsome you are." he chuckles brushing hair out his face before pushing down my hood kissing the sparrow tattoo on my neck mirror to his own, I slide my hands down to his hips "How long are you on shore?"

He groans "Only a week. It’s been fucking months since I've seen you." I sigh kissing him again "Guess we'll just have to make it count." he chuckles the two of us pulling apart and walking along the beach "How's the new crew?" he shrugs groaning "They are an incompetent bunch of weirdos. But Ed... Him and Stede definitely have something go on."

I grin "It was obvious. You still being your regular grumpy, intimidating self." He chuckles "Of course." I laugh nudging his side "Have you tried being friendly?" he scowls "You know I'm not fucking good at that." I shrug "You won me over." his lips twitch slightly into a smile "You're different." I turn so we're face to face "Different?" he grumbles something, so I put a finger under his chin forcing him to look me in the eyes "What was that?" he rolls his eyes "I fell in love with you." I grin kissing him gently "Lucky I fell in love with you too."

Turning we walk back to the tavern where I pull my hood back up following him inside. Edward grins "L/N, I was just telling the crew about how you took on five guys at once." I laugh sitting down "That was one time Edward." he shrugs "It was fuckin awesome," he slaps my back several times right over the two swords crossed in their leather holder "These aren't just for show." Stede grins "So you are another pirate. All the tattoos, blades and everything."

Laughing I shake my head slightly "I guess." Ed grins "Still sailing with Captain Barlowe?" I take a long drink "No. I've been on my own for a few months now." Stede smiles slightly "Well you'd be welcome to join my crew? Any friend of Ed's is welcome." Ed nods glancing at Izzy who looks blank apart from a small ray of hope shining in his eyes "I might take you up on that." Stede beams "Oh excellent. You will get pay of course, and breaks, the food is good. Roach is our resident doctor and chef."

I huff out a laugh pay and breaks no wonder Izzy was having trouble with them. The crew have an easy feel about them, though Jim seems skilled with knives. Ed seems more relaxed than last time I saw him and though I know he would never admit it so do Izzy. Slowly everyone gets drunker, and I stand "L/N you leavin?" I laugh patting Ed on the shoulder "I'll see you tomorrow." he nods turning back to Stede. Leaving I stand outside the door Izzy stumbling out moments later "Y/N wait." I grin wrapping an arm around his waist "You really think I would leave without you?" he smiles leaning into my side "You still have a house here?"

Nodding I lead him to the small cottage I bought a short walk away from the main town and unlock the door Izzy slumping down onto the worn sofa "Come ere." I chuckle laying on the sofa pulling him into my arms "Forgot how cuddly you were." he grumbles "Not cuddly." I laugh kissing his sparrow tattoo "Course not." He pouts slightly lips brushing my collar "I could kill you at any moment." I grin "I know."

I jerk awake breathing heavily disorientated for a moment. Izzy sits up hair all askew looking adorable half asleep before wrapping his arms around my waist leaning his head on my chest "Still have trouble?" I nod relaxing into his arms breathing evening out "Been getting worse," I breathe in deeply running my fingers through his hair "You always helped." the two of us get comfortable again Izzy soon drifting back off to sleep. I forgot how much I missed this, maybe I could accept Stedes offer.

Drifting off to sleep again I don't wake up till late morning Izzy still snoring softly on my chest. Grinning I start tracing his scars and tattoos as he starts stirring "Morning." he groans voice heavy with sleep "I always sleep better with you." I grin kissing his forehead "You look adorable." he scowls head resting in the crook of my neck "Tell anyone and I'll murder you." I laugh "I know."

He shifts around slightly till we're face to face "What did you think about Stedes offer?" I smile brushing a finger along his cheek "Would you be okay with it?" he sits up eyes hard "I love you. Fuck Knows I'm not brilliant at showing it 'specially around others. But having you by my side would be fucking perfect."

"Then I'll accept. You sure you can handle the crew knowing you're not as intimidating and scary as they think?" he shrugs flopping back down on my chest "You’re the same." I grin laughing "I suppose so."

After a slow morning we both wash and change Izzy having clothes stored here. Pushing him against the wall I kiss him harshly "We can keep this hidden from the crew if you want?" he ponders for a moment before nodding "Is that okay?" I grin "Course it is love. Ed doesn't even know everything."

The two of us walk back into town finding Stede and Ed seated in the same bar as yesterday eating breakfast. Ed grins "Morning." the two of us sit down Stede smiling through a mouthful of food "Good morning. Have you thought any more about our offer?" I nod glancing at Izzy "I would love to join your crew." Ed grins patting Izzy on the back "Bet your pleased." Izzy shrugs slightly but to anyone who knows him well, his eyes betray his true feelings "Suppose so."

Stede grins offering a hand which I shake warily "Welcome aboard. We leave in a week for more pirating adventures. And if you have any issues, we talk it through as a crew." I nod again and he sits back "Ed never actually mentioned your name?" I laugh pushing down my hood making sure the fabric hides my tattoo "Y/N L/N."

The rest of the crew slowly saunter down to breakfast, so I slide into the seat next to Izzy to create more room. One hand comes down to rest on my knee while I prop my other leg up on the table. Once everyone has arrived Stede announces I will be joining the crew. I lean my head back against the wall twirling a small knife around my fingers. Stede smiles "Well we'll get some more provisions sorted out and a hammock." Izzy looks up "That won't be necessary."

"Well, where are they going to sleep?"

"There’s a spare bunk in my room."I grin his grip on my knee tightening Stede nods though still looks a little confused "Oh right, excellent. That’s that sorted then." I bite back a smile, clearly, he's shocked Izzy is offering to share not that I'll be using the other bed but the crew doesn't have to know that.

Packing my few personal belongings, mostly clothes and knifes, into a bag I follow Izzy onto the ship to his cabin. Its only small with a bunk along either side and a window in between. Spotlessly clean with one chest under the window I'm guessing with weapons in as the draw under the bed is full of clothes. Throwing my bag onto the bed I wrap my arms around Izzy’s waist kissing him gently "Guess I have to listen to you now." he chuckles "When has that ever happened." I pull away shooting him a wink "I'm full of surprises."

The first week at sea passes without incident, I fall into an easy pattern with the crew teaching them sword work and helping with chores around the ship. I always wear high collared shirts or jackets to keep my tattoo hidden. Though Izzy yells regularly according to Lucius and John he's actually improved treating them a little better. I smile when they say this staying quite. "Y/N?" I turn to Pete and Swede "Yea?"

"How long have you known Israel?" I shrug slightly "I don't know fourteen maybe fifteen years. Why?" Frenchie speaks up "Has he always been. You know. Cold, unapproachable. Grouchy." I laugh shaking my head slightly "He's not that bad. Trust me once you gain Izzy's trust there is no one more loyal. Though he doesn't show it I reckon he would go to the end of the earth and back for this crew. He certainly would if Bla... Ed asked him too. He’s loyal to a fault."

"Really?" I nod starting to coil rope "You really shouldn't insult your first mate." Frenchie crosses his arms "We're not insulting him just questioning his... personality." I turn away looking out over the sea "Izzy Hands has a lot more to him than meets the eye." I can practically here Lucius roll his eyes "Yea right."

That evening I wake up in the middle of the night to find Izzy gone. I sit up pinching my nose before pulling on a jacket. I don't bother with a shirt or shoes as its warm. Walking out onto the deck I find Izzy leaning over the railing at the prow of the ship "Iz?" he doesn't turn around, so I walk up behind him sliding my arms around his waist and leaning my chin on his shoulder "You alright?"

He shrugs not saying anything "Iz love talk to me."

"I'm fine." I sigh tightening my grip "Well I'm not going anywhere." he frowns speaking gruffly "Why do you put up with me?" I grin peppering kisses along his neck "Would you like a list?" he shrugs still refusing to meet my eyes "Alright. Because you are strong, incredible, independent, you make me feel safe, happy, you make me laugh. You're so handsome. I love your eyes, your hair, your tattoos, your voice. I fuckin love your voice. How you’re so sweet when we're alone and you give the most incredible hugs and kisses. You calm the storm constantly raging inside me. Would you like me to continue?"

He turns tears lining the edge of his eyes "What about my cold, unapproachable personality." I sigh backing him into the railing "Israel Hands you listen to me. You know neither of us are any good at emotional crap. But I have loved you since you pressed that dagger to my throat and told me to piss off before kissing me for the first time." his lips twitch slightly "I swore to love you for the rest of our lives remember? I love everything about you the good and the bad. I married you remember. For better or for worse." he finally smiles arms sliding around my neck "Fuck what did I do to deserve you?" I shrug nuzzling his neck "Guess we both lucked out."

I capture his lips with mine teasing my fingers through his hair both of us jumping apart when a high pitch squeak comes from behind. "I saw nothing. I saw nothing." I twirl the dagger I grabbed around my fingers relaxing slightly "Olow. What are you doing out here?" he takes a step back scratching the back of his head "I couldn't sleep so I came out for some air."

"He does it regularly." I jump Buttons materialising out of nowhere "Right. Either of you breathe a word you'll get a knife to the gut, understood?" they both nod and I squeeze Izzy's hand before heading back to our room Izzy close behind. Once we are safely back in our room I turn around "Iz I'm so sorry." he shrugs tugging of his jacket and sitting on the bed "I don't mind" I blank "Really?" he shrugs again kicking of his shoes and laying back "I want people to know you're mine."

I grin laying on top of him "You sure?" he nods combing his fingers through my hair "Yea. But not right away. I don't know how to act like this around others." I smile softly kissing down his neck and chest "You don't have to love, just do whatever you're comfortable with." he sighs melting under my kisses "You can show your tattoo." I smile tracing the ones on his chest "I love you." I lay back so he can lay on my chest. "I love you too."

The next morning, I throw on a loose shirt leaving the top undone as well as leather trousers and my sword. Izzy leaves first kissing my tattoo before he leaves. Checking the cord around my neck is still secure I pull on my boots and head out onto the deck joining the others for breakfast. Izzy plonks himself down by my side knee knocking into mine slightly. I smile into my food Olowande looking confused.

Pete, Roach, Lucius, and John are all whispering heatedly sending glances in mine and Izzy's direction. "If you have something to say. Share it with the group." I glare at the group who all fall silent mumbling "Pete?" he looks up "Well we were. We were. Roach what where we doing?"

"We were discussing. John?"

"Errr, Lucius?"

"You have matching tattoos!?" I chuckle turning and leaning in slowly giving him every opportunity to move before I kiss the sparrow on Izzy’s neck. The whole crew staring wide eyed and gaping "And rings." Olow gapes "You're married?" Ed saunters over "Who’s married?" John points at us "Izzy and Y/N." Ed gapes "When did you get married? How did I not know about this?" I laugh shrugging "You never asked."

"Do you think he’s less grumpy in bed?" I feel my smile drop glaring at Pete, Roach and John growling out "Our personal lives are none of your concern. Understood?" they all nod Izzy’s lips twitching slightly into a small smile while Lucius gasps dramatically "You can smile!?" I chuckle playing with the handkerchief around Izzy’s neck whispering “Sorry love." he turns slightly shrugging "I'll get used to it."

#izzy hands #ofmd #our flag means death #x reader #izzy x reader #izzy hands x reader #pirates #ofmd x reader #x y/n

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akuneko-tls · 6 months

Text

Weapon Review part 1(?)

Warning: will describe what weapons do

Let's review how well the weapons fare against angels and what they're gonna do with it. By your local akuneko brainrot patient (me). The bonus points aren't really counted.

The types of weapon listed here are unofficial and merely what I think they are.

I'm pretty sure the weapons aren't scaled in actual size in the pictures because Lucas's scythe definitely looks bigger in-game and Lato's daggers aren't that big.

Daggers/Combat knives

I was searching for materials regarding why daggers over swords for research purposes, but then I remembered Lato uses daggers too. Daggers are so cool.

It's lighter than swords and should increase his agility

And it has holes, holes on blades to reduce weight (usually) so further increase in agility

It's perfect for stabbing and easy to carry

Maybe he can throw it because he has multiple. Requires mad skills tho

The hilt makes it look like a trench knife (maybe it is, idk)

It mainly stabs. Too short for fatally slashing (different story if he wanna torture or something) What he gonna do, stabs angels eyes? Actually do angels have the same vitals as humans? Then he can just stab their hearts

Generally lower damage and shorter range than swords

I wish the blades were serrated to make it cooler (+ easier to tear off limbs)

7/10 +3 from being cool

Double-bladed polearm

Looks graceful to me. Polearms aren't for throwing because they're longer and heavier than spears.

With blades like that I think Berrien can use it for stabbing, except with more force because of the momentum

Looks like it can slash too but I don't think it's effective. It may be a quick attack but it needs space to do a rotation. Maybe it'll do well when surrounded by angels and that's when double blades come into action, he only needs half of the rotation, maybe less if there are many angels but not enough damage Imo

It definitely has long range

The long shaft can drive away things, defend, and maybe for bludgeoning too just like what a metal pipe would do *insert falling pipe mp3 here*

Hard to use in a cramped space

Double blades like that is actually quite heavy, and he should be rotating/thrusting that around

Actually would get Berrien in big trouble if an angel closing in

8/10 it's good. I like how he stores it under his bed

Double Ax/Labrys

Practically, the point of Double Ax is so that the blades can have different degrees of sharpness. Lumberjacks can use one side for felling and the other for limbing. But Fennesz isn't a lumberjack so you know whose limbs,

Definitely dishes out big damage

Labrys is a symbol of power, it should looks intimidating, it sure does but I don't think angels can feel intimidated (if they feel anything at all)

There is a lot Fennesz can do with it, it's primarily for chopping/hacking but it can also do thrusting, hooking, slashing, and so on. For maximum damage he can do an overhead strike... No wait I just realized this Labrys has longer shaft than usual

Increased reach I guess

It's heavy, no matter how strong Fennesz is, it might drain his stamina

Create openings especially when gaining momentum

He'll get in big trouble too if an angel closing in

7/10 DPS enough ig, +3 for being pretty and loosely looking like a butterfly

BFS

Look at that extra-broad broadsword. I wonder which one is heavier between this and the double ax

Big damage but with speed, Bastien is known for his insane speed

What else does it do other than damage…? It looks very cool I guess, like a shounen protag or Guts or Cloud

Just like usual sword it's good for stabbing, thrusting, slashing, piercing, etc but because it's wide it can be used for shield too maybe

Heavy

Despite the speed he still leaves openings and results in plot-points. What a deadly weapon

5/10 too deadly +2 for shounen

Thorned/barbed whip

What was Ammon thinking when choosing this? It's less of a killing weapon and more like a torture device. Looks very aesthetic tho since it resembles a rose

Can make the opponent bleed profusely. Can angels actually die from blood loss? (Do they even have blood…?)

Long range, and can keep angels from getting closer

It's noisy so it can intimidate & scare things away. Again, if they can even be scared at all

Fictionally it can be used to tangle, trip, or holding enemies in place ala Indiana Jones with his bullwhip (requires mad skills)

It barely does any fatal damage

Difficult to control/aim

With it barbed, it's more likely to cause accidental self-injury. Or injures companions. Unless he's really really skilled… Well, I sure hope he doesn't train often. *Insert uncanny mr incredible png*

Then again it would be difficult to not harm any companions in a cramped place

It can't do any slashing, thrusting, hooking, or literally other type of attack, it mostly whips

Also would get in trouble if an angel closing in

4/10 it's cool but impractical, +3 for being pretty

You know what, I know way too little about angels or maybe I just don't remember

Maybe to be continued in part 2

I started writing this for no reason so yeah why not post it.

#Ramblings #Brainrot #Idk man #Akuneko #I actually feel bad spamming the akuneko tag #Weapon #Woohoo #daggers #axe #Thorned whip™#BFS #send help #Double bladed polearm

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cloudninetonine · 1 year

Text

A Player's Aid: Chapter 11

Fandom: Legend of Zelda, Linked Universe

A/N:....I'm just sorry OUYDBUDHD but also my tag list got lost, if you could please say if you'd like to be tagged in the comments! (I know I can look at previous chapters but I lost some new names and it would be easier to build from scratch so I have it HDOCDHJ)

Warnings: Foul language, descriptions of gore, violence and mentions of injuries

Enjoy!

The effect was immediate.

The sound of many boots against concrete was deafening and your vision blurred as Hyrule tugged you along, his grip still tight as you stumbled after the men in the direction of the castle.

The Hero's instinct is what you deduced, it’s what powered these boys. To jump so readily into action, unafraid of what was to come- these men had a mission to protect the people of Hyrule and you admired everything they did for them. Not even Wind flinched at the scream, didn't hesitate like the others as they raced away from the Sacred Ground, you tumbling along almost unable to keep up with Hyrule's speed (Jesus christ these fuckers were fast-)

You finally broke through the treeline to see the scene before you- horrid and bone-chilling as it played out.

A lone adventurer had seemed to be downed, blood running down a deep gash on their arm in rivers as they tried desperately to claw away from the behemoth of a creature, hissing and spitting towards them as it stalked closer, the giant skull on its back just as intimidating as its many eyes and snapping fangs.

Skulltula were always intimidating enemies in theory. Spiders were already scary, making them the size of a horse with a withering skull on their back, legs similar to knives and pincers dripping with what you could only guess to be venom only made them even more terrifying- you didn’t want to shame the Zelda graphics, but there was no way, from the deepest and darkest depths of hell they could even begin to bring justice to the creature that stood before you all.

"Not a fucking Skulltula…" You whispered in a blood-freezing horror, ducking behind Hyrule when it turned towards your group, seemingly hearing your words. "Christ on the cross, set it alight."

With another hiss, it dashed in your direction, your whole body locking up only for it to cry out in pain as an arrow landed right in one of its many eyes, the group dashing forward with Hyrule removing something from his pocket and pressing it into your hands: a dagger.

"Stay here." He held your cheek softly. "I'll be right back."

He turned towards Wild, situated in front.

"I've got them." The blonde reassured, sending him a knowing look. "Don't worry."

With a firm nod, Hyrule ran to the group sword at the ready with a pat on Wild’s shoulder, your eyes wide in awe as you watched him hurl a phantom red projection of his sword right at the gigantic monster, its shrill calls making you cringe.

As its wails pierced the air, you could vaguely see Sky raise the Master Sword with a calculating look on his face, an almost holy light climbing up the length of the sharpened blade until a familiar sound reached your ears and the hero slashed across the air, the sight of a skyward strike cutting through the lengths of grass and slicing one of its many legs clean off its body, the appendage flailing before disintegrating into dust as the monstrous bug got even louder.

Sickening to see this close.

"Stay behind me." It was a soft order but you weren't about to defy him, slightly ducking behind him as he continued to aim at the Skulltula, the men fighting valiantly. "I promise to keep you safe."

You dug your fingers gently into his tunic. "I know you will, no need for promises."

His ears fluttered subtly at the words.

Watching the guys fight up close was much better than watching from afar, you could have only imagined just how amazing the fight from the riverside bokoblin must have been- breathtaking would have been too small a word to use, there wasn't any word the dictionary that could begin to perfectly describe how the boys fought. Calling it a movie scene would have been underrated, no, it was an art piece even with something as pathetic as a Skulltula, these men looked as if they had just been plucked from the Renaissance itself and you almost went breathless as you continued to bear spectacle to the scene.

Their footwork, their swings, the looks on their faces- they were heroes alright, not a doubt in your mind would refute that. Wild's steeled gaze and the way he handled the bow were just so amazing to you, he was a professional of course but there was an energy about him, not the goofy wild man but the hero that bore the Triforce of Courage.

You were in the presence of some of the strongest men in the current world…

Twilight and Warriors had rushed over to the fallen victim while the others had continued with the battle, arm over each shoulder as they had hauled them further away with reassurances of safety, appearing close to your side as they fished into their bags for a potion to deal with their wounds. The gash on their arm was horrible but the apparent one on their side was worse, bleeding profusely and long, your stomach churning at the mere thought while Warriors called for their attention, deeming this “no place to die.”

…You weren’t about to see someone die, were you?

The idea sickened you to the core.

A cry echoed out as Hyrule used a nearby boulder to leap onto the back of the great beast, the shrill shrieks of the horse-sized spider bloodcurdling as the Hero raised his bejewelled sword and thrust it into its head, tainted blood gushing onto the grass below leaving a bloody mess.

Your heartbeat pounded in your own ears as the monster screamed.

A horrid sound, disgusting and gut-wrenching, you felt even more nauseous as you were able to hear the faint sound of a popping squelch as your hero dug the sword deeper and deeper, blood spurting onto his forest green tunic and catching some of the other boys also.

From your vantage point on that cliff, the destruction of these creatures wasn't something that had gotten to you but seeing this was way worse than your own imagination, no matter how majestic the men looked as they fought, this was still disturbing when the valiant filter was pushed aside. This wasn’t the pg-rated game any more, the one you would play for hours when you were younger, not a care in the world as you gathered the convenient drops- this was real life, these were real living things-

And this was real gore.

You gagged, hiding your face into Wild’s shoulder to force away the morbid curiosity as the other heroes continued to beat down the monster, its shrills engraining into your mind as one of the boys dealt the finishing blow.

(It had been Legend, watching Hyrule flail about as the Skulltula tried to rid him of its back, the man sliding down beneath the monster while digging his weapon into its stomach as he skidded against the grass, opening a mortal wound that had entrails spilling from its underbelly)

The familiar sound of a monster’s corpse poofing away was what brought you back, shyly peaking over Wild’s shoulder as you watched Legend stand, the stains of his tunic a gruesome eyesore that dusted away in the wind along with the smoke of dark magic that was once the Skulltula, Hyrule’s own caked clothes cleaning in a similar fashion until both were free of the thick, murky substance that was monster blood and huffing from the fight. The two looked at one another, conflicting feelings dancing on their faces until they nodded at one another, a sign of acknowledgement in their tense times.

You felt embarrassed at the shaky sigh you released, Wild looking back at you worriedly as you took a step back to compose yourself.

Why were you even scared? It’s not like you contributed to the fight in any way.

“Are you well?”

“Y-Yeah- yeah I’m good.”

His brows furrowed, his hand coming to hold yours. “You can talk to me.”

Your thumb gently danced over his knuckles. “It’s just…scary seeing them up so close.”

Cringing at his soft expression, your free hand moved to rub at the back of your neck.

“Monsters are a disturbing sight to many, you don’t need to be embarrassed for your reaction.”

“I know I just don’t like being some sort of damsel- I can’t fight but I’ve got enough sense to know how to protect myself and it just feels ridiculous and sad hiding behind you like some scared kid.”

It wasn’t a fault of yours, of course, especially in the presence of such skilled fighters it made sense but you couldn’t help it- you felt inferior, you felt weak, you hated having to hide behind your friend and you wished that you could at least stand beside him, a partner more of a cowering fool.

Wild hesitated, his mouth pursing in thought when both your attention drew to coughing close by, the presumed random traveller spluttering as the ranch hand and Captain pulled them into a seated position, the group circling her.

“Are you alright?” Twilight asked, a supporting hand on the person’s back. “Are you able to speak?”

“Yes.” The young woman coughed, covering her mouth with her arm, “Yes, thank you, I thought those moments would be my last.”

A shiver run down your back at the thought of something as hideous as a Skulltula being the last thing you saw before your body grew cold and stiff- would it eat you in that state? Could Skulltulas even eat?

“Do you know of what became of the people here?” Straight to the chase, Time leaned down to the level of the woman, face gentle similar to your shared first interaction, a show of support from such a traumatizing moment. “It was filled with many but now it lays barren.”

Her face curled in confusion. “You mean…you’re not here to help us?”

Your stomach dropped.

Help with what?

She continued. “The head of the people sent a bird not two days ago- we were attacked, by these things-”

“The Skulltula?”

“Yes- they came in every direction, there were so many, we couldn’t run so we held up in the castle-” Warriors rested his hand gently against their shoulder, a soft mutter of ‘breathe’ leaving his mouth as the person panted, her shaky breaths slowing in an effort to calm her racing heart. “There was an opening and I took it when no one had responded then I got caught by that monster- I- I thought you were responding to our call-”

Time’s face had hardened with each word, his scowl like his sharpened sword. His anger was evident, the lingering tension in his shoulders shown even under that heavy chest plate; you knew why, everyone did, it was very much obvious this was the work of the Shadow, predictable and vile, coming for the public like the coward he was to draw out the many heroes for his own gain and entertainment.

This was a trap.

And a very obvious trap.

And he dragged innocent civilians into this mess.

“Can you stand?”

The woman stumbled over herself before nodding, pushing to her full height with the help of the other elders.

“Good- leave to the nearest Inn, we will clear the castle.”

Your mouth dropped at the words, looking towards the towering Hyrule Castle in horror.

The whole thing!?

“T-The entire castle?! But that’s not possible!”

Not possible for most, but then again these were the Links you were talking about, heroes of the times- if they had fought against Ganon, Demon King and bringer of Darkness, of course, they could fight off a few Skulltula.

A few dozen sounded a bit of a stretch though.

“We’ll be fine.” There was a cocksure attitude to Warrior’s words, his smile confident and eyes sparkling with his fighting pride. “A few giant insects won’t be getting the best of us.”

Oh yes, he did sound very cocky indeed- you wondered if the woman was judging him silently from his tone, god knows you would have had you not known he was a great hero.

She tried to argue more, stumbling over her words and trying to reason however it reached deaf ears her stance slowly falling as the group began to discuss their next plans- Wild was the focal point of this, after all this was his home and he knew it like the back of his hand, planning a rescue mission was going to fall to him.

You studied her for a moment now that you could- pale skin, black hair and dark eyes, just a regular-looking adventurer who seemed to be caught on the wrong side of things.

Something felt…off though. Maybe it was just your skewered sense, or your simple wary nature after being thrown through a magic portal by a magic shadow.

It felt like one of those scenes in movies: discovering the wounded adventurer, aiding them in their time of need and watching as the hero lets them accompany them on their quest, after all, it’s not a hindrance right? Betrayal would usually follow, disguised by that weak damsel now shown to be their deceitful enemy this whole time, tearing apart the group by the seams and leaving them all to rot with nothing but a prideful cackle.

Yet, that was the work of fiction, this was real life (such a strange thought now that you pondered it) and so nothing like that would happen, right?

“Please, let me at least join you!”

…right?

Your eyes narrowed, watching the expression on her face then shifted to study the rest of the men, sharing uncertain glances with each other.

Did they feel a similar unease or did they simply want to keep this woman safe?

“I don’t think that’s for the best-”

“My family is in there! My friends too! I’m not just gonna sit by while they’re suffering!”

Any persuasion was met with refusal, the woman becoming only angrier with every second until Time let out a sigh, steeling his gaze as he looked down at the woman.

“Your name?”

She stood taller, “Maggie.”

“Do you even know how to handle a weapon that hangs off your hip?” This was a test, you could tell, the complete shift in his personality was a warning of sorts for what was to come- you would reasonably back down from such a hard look and you were positive that was what Time was trying to do. “Fought any monsters? Been in any battles?”

It didn’t work, as shown when Maggie glared right back. “I’m fully capable of taking care of myself.”

“Seems you can’t.” Legend quipped and Time sent him a scolding look, the pink-streaked blonde throwing his hands with a look of surrender. “I’m just saying we saved you.”

She flushed a deep red “I was by myself but if I’m with you guys I should have a chance- strength in numbers.”

Your eyes stayed trained on Time as he listened intently, the others sharing different glances with one another as they waited for their chosen leader to finalise his decision, your shoulders dropping when he sighed in defeat, dragging a hand down his tired face.

“....Maggie, I will be responsible for you if you venture back into this castle with us- so, you must stay close and not stray far, no matter what you see, is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, we move now.”

“Old-” Twilight’s mouth snapped shut, eyes averting from the flaming ones of the eldest. “...”

With a sigh, the man backed off, whistling for Epona who perked up happily, trotting back over to the forest. "I'm not taking her in there."

And you couldn't blame him, not with the threat of something like Skulltulas lurking around the castle halls, Epona could be jumped without a second thought- but leaving her alone wasn't an option, someone had to watch her just in case, right? So taking Gilda gently from your hair, you gestured her over.

"It'll be safer for you with her."

She crossed her arms. "(Name), I've been in more fights than you."

"...Gilda please-"

"I'm just teasing! I'll keep an eye on her, you've already got your fairy by your side~"

Had Hyrule been in hearing range you knew he would have swiped at her, so you spared her a chuckle and watched her whizz off after the ranch hand with a shake of the head.

"Should have guessed these fairies were just as cheeky as the fae."

Time glanced back over to Maggie, gesturing her forward once Twilight had returned, adorned with weapon and shield. “I want you to lead us, if you were able to escape then there may be a good chance that it was a blindspot to the monsters.”

You didn’t trust this, not a single bit. Your radar was going haywire, your body pumping the adrenaline into every little crevice within your body, hands shaking as you watched Maggie take the lead, the others slowly but surely following behind her until you were trailing right at the back with your fingers tightly secured around the dagger Hyrule had only given you moments ago.

The traveller had rejoined your side in haste, eyes ahead as his hand came to grab your own protectively, Wild marching on your opposite with a similar protective sense hanging over him.

“He’s got a plan…”

Hyrule muttered more to himself than anyone but Wild wasn’t far behind with his scepticism.

“A dangerous one- thought that was supposed to be my job?” The comedic tilt in his voice did not aid you at all, Wild’s face pinching in worry at your expression. “We’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

You knew they would, they were your heroes and you knew they would do anything to keep you safe.

Yet something told you that it wasn’t going to be that simple.

~~~~~~~~~~

You wouldn’t say you suffered from arachnophobia. Sure, you weren’t a fan of the things, but not in a way to say you had a fear of them. They were certainly freaky looking, eight eyes, eight legs, could produce cobwebs and drunk the blood of flies and other such small insects- but a true fear of them was not what you had, nowhere near. You had seen someone with the phobia, their dropping jaws and the way they raced to the opposite side of the room-

To avoid the tiny money spider that hadn’t even gotten close to them.

That was true fear- that fear would have had them dying right on the spot at the sight before you at this very moment.

The webbing was huge, like sheer curtains decorating the old stone walls of the castle, the few egg sacs a disgusting sight as the men cleared them out, the many Walltula shrieking and spitting fiercely only to die by the steel of the heroes’ blades, monster smoke almost thick enough to choke on.

It was terrifying how quickly the monsters had seemingly taken over, not a place in sight was free of the streams of natural mesh, over the carpets, over the paintings, over the windows and in the doorways- suffocating was the best way to describe it all, especially from the number of times you had walked into the cobwebs, spitting and waving your arms in a horrid frantic boogie to be rid of the texture.

Wind could only laugh so many times.

“Shut the fuck up, Wind.” You had whispered harshly, patting down your tunic once again. “You’re only laughing because you’re too fucking short to get hit by them.”

He waved off your insult with another hushed laugh. “You just look so fucking stupid when you do that.”

You flipped him off, pushing your finger into his face harshly and jerking back when he tried to nip at the skin, calling him another colourful nickname in which he elbowed you painfully in the side.

Fucking hell he was strong for a fourteen-year-old.

"Just around this corner here." Maggie's voice brought you back in, focusing on her head between the many others.

The feeling still hadn’t gone away, not with you and certainly not with the others- you all knew you were walking right into a trap. The signs were evident to them all, a reason as to why Wind had been sent to the back with you three.

“The old man says as soon as anything sketchy happens he wants us to split!”

“Isn’t that dangerous? What if you guys get hurt?”

“Have some faith, (Name), we’re stronger than you make us out to be!”

You knew that- of course you did! Yet the threat still lay bare to the world. Skulltula were probably surrounding you at that very moment and it was clear that you could all be ambushed at any time, the further you walked into the castle, the deeper and darker it got only certainty grew in your brain that the upcoming fight would be inevitable if you were caught in a small corner.

That had to have crossed the old man’s mind, right? Under the blonde head of hair was a smart man, a calculating one so Time must have had a counteractive plan just up his armoured sleeve. He’d get everyone out of here, maybe with a few bumps and bruises, but you’d all come out of this ordeal alive and well with only a little major life-changing trauma- nothing you hadn’t gone through already.

The thought didn’t help though, not really without some partnering action, the weight on your shoulders only growing with each step you took, each room you passed, each corridor you turned into-

…You recognised this corridor.

Rebuilt and better than ever, with the help of the construction team and two years of passing, the winding path that lead to the Dining Hall was almost unrecognisable, the one you had trekked so many times when scouring the castle as you played. You wanted secrets, you wanted weapons and you wanted Korok seeds, if it meant having to lap the entire behemoth 100 times to get what you wanted you were ready to do it, you had practically memorised the route in game but it seemed the rebuilding of Hyrule Castle alongside the millions of cobwebs and the fact you were currently walking through its corridors had gotten in the way of your near photogenic memory of the place.

The archway to the armoury lay only a few feet ahead, along with the following path towards the library-

“The library’s this way, there should be some patrolling but we can easily get through them if we work together.”

The library….

There was a resounding click in your mind, footsteps stopping before they could meet the stone of the walkway, the dawn finally breaking in your mind.

It didn’t make sense- it didn’t make sense.

These hallways were always full, they were the main paths, why would she go through here when they were clearly the most dangerous routes?

Why did she take this way when she could have gone through-

“The secret passage.”

Pause.

You were staring, waiting, watching for that reaction.

And here it had finally come.

Time had been looking for an opportunity, and that had to be it, a broken piece within the glass that was her facade, once pristine and perfect, now so obviously cracked as Maggie finally paused just a few feet ahead of you all, the Chain having stopped when noticing your further figure.

You had given them all they needed.

“Pardon?”

It was cryptic in a way, horror and thriller running down your spine as your body shook with the adrenaline now running its course through your body as you readied yourself for what was bound to come.

“The secret passage, behind the bookcase.” There wasn’t a way they didn’t know about it, Wild had left it open for fuck’s sake, they had been rebuilding, it had to be common knowledge that Hyrule Castle had a secret passage. “In the library, why didn’t you just go through there?”

“I didn’t know there was one.”

Wild looked at you.

You looked at him.

He shook his head.

Liar- as expected.

“I really fucking doubt that.” The Chain had backed up to you quickly, quietly, aware that one false move would have broken the hypnotic spell your words had cast over them all. You licked your dry lips in an effort to stop the dryness from taking over your mouth. “How could you, as part of the restoration, not know about the secret passage in the library?”

“I’m not part of the team.”

Your voice was shaking. “S-So you just stayed ignorant about the place you were inhabiting for the past year or two? Not a single soul bothered to tell you about the cool secret passage in the library?”

“No.”

You grasped Wild’s hand frantically, terrified tears in your eyes.

“You’re a really bad fucking liar, Maggie.”

You could hear the grin in her voice. “I know.”

Weapons were pulled from sheaths, battle faces pulled sharp as you were quickly yanked once again behind them all, their stances deadly as they waited for something, anything that Maggie- whoever this was was about to bring down on you all.

“Are you with the Shadow?” Time called, a sneer on his face. “Or did you just crawl out from one of its portals like the rest of them?”

She laughed, still refusing to turn around as she did, her voice bouncing off the stones and echoing throughout the area- almost masking the rumbling footsteps that were quickly making their way to your direction, a quick glance back the way you had came showing a Skulltula quickly making its way towards you all- no, many were heading over and a quick glance in the opposite direction showed the same.

Fuck you were being cornered.

"Link."

One look and the circle drew tighter.

You were in real danger this time, weren’t you?

“I was just passing through,” Maggie’s voice was quick to change, sinister and cold, curling into this scratchy forced sound as if talking itself was a struggle. "Though I will say that Shadow of yours had an offer too tempting, so I thought why not?"

"And what offer did he give you?"

There was a snap, crack and following pop as Maggie finally turned, your stomach dropping at the body horror of her face expanding to form a snout, skin tearing away to reveal the blue fur beneath and murky gold tint taking over her face.

"The death of the Hero of Courage, of course."

Poof!

The cloud of magic saved you from the horrific scene of the monster’s full transfiguration, dark purple blocking your vision before the sound of flapping wings caught your attention, eyes widening in surprise as you watched the view return to you and replaced what was once Maggie, was a blue bat-like creature also similar to a keese.

"Ache?" You muttered in confusion, backing into Hyrule warily and feeling the man tense beneath you.

Not a common monster, not at all, the eyes of Ganon that hailed all the way from the traveller's timeline- they weren't impossibly hard to beat, well, depending on the Ache of course, a single hit usually was enough to have them out. But that's not what they were for, they weren't exactly fighting monsters, Ache's were pretty much spies for the other foul, grotesque beings, the ones watching for your hero closely so they could snatch him up and use him as a sacrifice for their master: Ganon.

The Ache was here for Hyrule, you knew that and so did Hyrule, so without another thought, you sidestepped to keep him out of its view.

It's the least you could have done.

Even if it was useless in this moment of time.

"I'm not really one for fighting." The creature cackled, hovering a little further away. "So I'll just let them deal with you- no need to worry though, I'll be back soon."

It swooped away into the armoury, just as another group of Skulltula came rounding the arch, their hisses and squeals like nails against a chalkboard.

Shields were up at the ready, swords poised and you, little old you, were in the middle with your dagger at the ready as if you knew the first thing about fighting.

"There's more than anticipated."

"Can we take this many black-blooded?"

"Who's to say they are black-blooded?"

"You think the Shadow wouldn't do that?"

"Enough- stand at the ready, do not break this circle."

The feeling had come back, but then again it hadn't gone away either, crawling up your back, poison seeping into your skin as you glanced around frantically for the feeling.

Something was watching you.

Not the heroes.

You.

Just, you.

And you knew that, because it was the exact same pair of eyes that had stared at you from atop that cliff the other day, menacing, cold and cruel, every dark intention you could think of rolling through your mind space. It wasn't the Chuchu back then, their googly eyes were never that evil, they could elicit a body-numbing reaction, but they could have never brought this kind of primal fear that laid deep into your stomach- not like that night after work had.

Dink was looking straight at you.

But from where? You couldn't see him through the bodies of monsters that the boys were fending off, nor in the Dining Hall, in the shadows of the dark corridor, hell, even the damn ceiling didn't have those red piercing eyes of his.

So where-

Fingers grasped your ankle firmly, nails practically piercing through the fabric and digging into the skin as a deep, breathy chuckle caught your ear through all the noise.

"Got you~"

You didn't have time to scream as you were dragged straight through the portal beneath your feet, catching a glimpse of the others turning in surprise, the feeling of a hand trying to grab yours, a possible scream- before your whole body had disappeared into the absolute black.

It took mere seconds to re-emerge from the inky abyss, spluttering and coughing for stolen breath where your body met the floor violently, cheek meeting the scratchy carpet beneath that tore at your poor, victim skin as you were dragged across the floor, a weird sound echoing through the room before you could take a small glance to see the portal vanish into nothing, leaving a stone wall in its place.

You looked at the area solemnly, wishing it would just open back up to you so you could jump back towards the boys, gut-churning with a violently sick feeling at the thought of looking back.

To make the situation real.

"Awh, are you scared, little guide?"

Yes.

Yes, you were.

#linked universe x reader #linked universe #lu #linked universe imagine #player au #a player's aid

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vinnfeyntheinsane · 3 months

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Percy Jackson characters next to you on a plane:

Luke: He sits in the middle seat, but takes the armrests. He acts friendly enough otherwise, and keeps up a running conversation. It dies out pretty quickly, though. At some time during the flight, he pulls a massive, wicked looking sword out of his carry on. Nobody else seems to notice. He starts to polish the sword, smiling at it as if it came from his own womb. He sticks it back in the bag and pulls out several knives, repeating the process. You have to lean as far away as possible, because a few times during the flight, he makes a few experimental dagger swings.

Annabeth: She sits in the window seat, and talks about the mechanics of the wings during takeoff. As soon as the snacks come around, she starts scribbling violently on the complimentary napkins. After a while, she takes down her tray table and pulls out a massive, fancy laptop, then starts cross referencing her napkin with multiple complicated tables on her laptop screen. She is working frantically, as if the entirety of reality relies on her calculations. You ask what she's doing, and she starts spouting off about structural supports until your eyes glaze over. It seems smart, though.

Grover: He offers to sit in the middle seat, so that nobody else has to. He doesn't take the armrests, but he does ask for your napkin and snack wrappers. He eats them with relish, then pulls out his carry on to reveal that it is entirely filled with snacks. He shares them with you, so you don't mind that he is literally consuming the packaging. He also offers to play tic-tac-toe with you if you are bored. He's pretty good.

Percy: Sitting in the aisle seat. He asks for your barf bag as the flight takes off. He looks like he's going to need it. The entire flight, he is clutching the armrests with white knuckles, hyperventilating, and muttering prayers in a language that you can't understand. You ask him if it's his first time flying and he looks at you and says, "No, but my uncle said that if I ever tried it again, he would kill me." You don't ask any more questions. When the plane lands, he leaves so quickly that you have to chase him down and bring him the bag he forgot.

#percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson spoilers #pjo fandom #pjo series #percy jackon and the olympians #annabeth chase #grover underwood

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aroaceleovaldez · 1 year

Text

cool weapon ideas for Riordanverse characters (OCs or otherwise) since MCGA/TOA only barely started giving us more weapons than “sword, knife/dagger, spear, bow” (garrote, sickles, manuballista/crossbow, blowdart, nets, misuse of instruments, etc)

Remember that one BoO cover where Leo randomly had a chainsaw. Yeah. If you need a mortal item for it to be disguised as like Riptide’s pen form, you could totally make it like a belt chain or something that turns into a chainsaw. That’d be fun.

Similarly. Leo should get to use his toolbelt as a blunt force weapon. Like the office fight scene from EEAAO. Do you see my vision.

Also remember the old headcanons about Will making a lasso/whip out of light with photokinesis powers? That was cool.

Baseball bat / Baseball bat with nails are always good. I have an old OC with that and also i saw a post the other day about Piper with one.

Meteor hammer / rope dart. They’re just cool (again: See office fight scene from EEAAO). My friend and I have an OC that has a meteor hammer yo-yo.

More demigods with their godly parents’ iconic weapons! Meg got sickles, let’s keep it up. Poseidon kids with tridents. Hades kids with bidents. Apparently one of Bellona’s weapons is a whip. Where’s the Indiana Jones Bellona kids.

Obligatory “give somebody a scythe” (works for any chthonic or plant-themed demigod)

PICKAXES. This sounds silly but ancient Romans actually wielded pickaxes and similar in war and did use them as weapons. So like. where’s my Romans who are about to put a pickaxe through someone’s teeth. come on. Similarly - Slings/slingshots! Hooks! Shovels/spades! These were also all legitimately used in ancient Roman combat.

Axes. We see like, two characters use axes in MCGA. There should be more. In a somewhat similar vein, hammers! Big war hammers! LT Musical!Silena had a big hammer and it was great.

Put some more variation in our swords/knives/daggers! Throwing knives! Maybe also throwing stars. Javelins! Lances! Tbh just throw stuff. Also unique types of blades, cause we’re technically not bound by Greco-Roman or even like, Indo-european. weapons. Even if we were, there’s lots of options. Like falx. Which i have just learned about but they look cool.

Brass knuckles. Claws. Maybe even some type of fang weapons. Don’t tell me you have an entire camp of teens trained by WOLVES and not a SINGLE ONE OF THEM went “wait hold on. i have an idea.”

Will Solace should get to use medical equipment in combat. As a treat. Imagine him wielding like, a bone saw or something. Really just saws in general seem like an intimidating weapon, even if not very practical.

Silly weapons. Give me a demigod with a pizza cutter. Frying pan. Misc sports equipment (Bring back Luke’s golf club!). Maybe even a discus? Give me Aphrodite kids making DIY flamerthrowers out of perfume and aerosol sprays. Anything.

#pjo #riordanverse #oc #ocs #list

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loserchildhotpants · 1 year

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First kiss, Angry kiss-- maybe something nose breaking like the famous Brokeback Mountain scene where maybe Cas/Dean is angry at the other for doing something reckless?

kiss prompts

you got some making out and grinding and art in this one anon i hope u enjoyyyyyy

As a human hunter (in-training), Cas still likes to use blades.

His form is perfect in a way that doesn’t need to be explained to Dean; he sees the way Cas crouches, bends and twists, how he sweeps his legs, how his arms snap out like venomous snakes, how he looks to be completely, gyroscopically stable, and he knows just by looking that Cas’ mastery of blades is in part, innate, and another part learned, malleable, still constantly evolving and bettering.

There’s no doubt that Cas is lethal, and he makes for a great sniper when it’s appropriate, but other guns are a bit clunky for him, he doesn’t like them, and the kick-back always makes him frown in a way that Dean thinks he recognizes as disappointment.

There was a time that Cas could fire a gun and not feel kick-back at all, Dean supposes, because he used to be supernaturally still and solid, but now he’s human, and kick-back can fuck up a shot.

Besides, Cas is nimble, graceful, stealthy. He’s better suited to his knives, daggers, and short swords.

He’s handling two machetes tonight, beheading vampires with a precision and bloody majesty that Dean weirdly envies.

The issue, Dean guesses, is that because he doesn’t understand blades as well, because he doesn’t handle them as often, he doesn’t trust them as much. He wishes Cas would still carry a gun, a blunt object, a fucking chainsaw - just anything more than what he insists on keeping on him.

When he was an Angel, he didn’t have need for more than his blades, but he’s not an Angel anymore, and this case was supposed to be easy, but there’s a bigger nest here than either of them imagined.

Cas has been itching to hunt - to prove his utility, to prove a point, and Dean understands, he does, so he picked a case he didn’t think they’d need Sam for, and now they’re in Idaho backwoods, with waves of vampires waking and screeching and charging from the shadows of this forest in numbers that definitely require more than two hunters.

Dean’s swinging with a wide arc, his eyes keep skittering to Cas because he’s fucking nervous, and every time he looks over, Cas is bloodier, his clothes are more ripped up, he’s sweating now, and to Dean’s horror, a vampire built like a fucking train comes storming up to Cas, knocking both machetes from Cas’ hands, and they clatter to the ground along with Dean’s heart.

In the time it takes for Dean to suck in breath enough to scream, Cas’ fists dive into his shredded jacket, come back out double-wielding razor-sharp daggers in a backwards grip, and with baffling precision, he slices, forces them through the vampire’s neck until the head and body are separately dropping to the ground uselessly.

The scream doesn’t come, because Cas got his footing back in time, so Dean keeps slashing and bashing, keeps looking at Cas, and he watches as Cas starts meeting these vampires halfway, marching up to them like he’s got armor on and not just ribbons of a discount Hanes tee he picked up from Wal-mart.

These daggers he’s got are shorter than the machetes, they require close quarter combat, and Cas keeps charging at these fuckers, closing the distance between them in long strides, forcing them up close and personal, and Dean’s getting dizzy with worry.

The worry doesn’t do either of them much good, though - they both come out of the fight very much scathed, grimey with gore, exhausted, but also very alive with organs and limbs assembled in just the fashion they arrived in, which is luckier than Dean’s willing to look into the mouth of.

Cas is too drenched in blood to make heads or tails of visible injuries, so checking him will have to wait, but when that last vampire drops, and they’re both trying to catch their breaths, Dean suddenly, viciously, hopes he is hurt.

He’s furious.

He stalks off, sheaths his machetes, picks up the ones Cas basically abandoned and makes his way back from where they came, assuming Cas will follow.

The Impala is parked in brush near a dilapidated shed just past the property line on some farmland; it’s the dead of night, no one’s noticed Dean, Cas or the Impala here in the dark, and to Dean’s great relief, the shed’s got running water going to the hose.

He sprays himself down and just as he’s wondering when Cas is gonna break the silence, he does.

“You’ve not said anything.”

And Dean keeps to that.

“I’m beginning to suspect that you’re angry,” Cas admits as freezing water ricochets into Dean’s fucking ear canal, “this hunt was successful, though.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Dean mumbles through gritting teeth; he lets the spray hit the crown of his head, and all that red rushes down his face, neck and torso.

He throws the hose at Cas, who is worse off than him by miles with arterial spray drenching him, and Cas nearly fumbles it, clearly caught off-guard by Dean’s aggression.

“Hose down,” Dean orders, his anger still percolating into something sharper and clearer, “you’re not getting into Baby like that.”

Frowning, Cas does as he’s told; his jacket got lost in the mele and what’s on him now is barely fabric enough to wrap a wrist wound. The jeans are gonna stain that way permanently too, and those secondhand combat boots will not be going back to a light brown after this night.

Dean grabs a new shirt from his duffel, puts the sopping one into a trash bag in the trunk for later washing, and when Cas offers him what remains of his own shirt, Dean just puts it with the actual garbage.

With shame swirling low in his gut, he watches Cas shower himself, which he gets away with, because Cas’ eyes are shut against the cold pressure. He watches how the pink bloodied water cascades down his face, he watches the muscles in Cas’ neck, shoulders, arms and back flex and bunch, blood and water cascading.

There are lots of cuts on Cas, plenty of them still bleeding lightly, and there’s dark bruises too, scattered across his chest and arms, already purpling.

This was dangerous.

This was a very close call, and he’s enraged that Cas can’t even seem to recognize how dangerous it was; he’s cool as a cucumber, and it’s making Dean’s rage ratchet up and up.

Once Cas is toweling off, Dean shoves one of his old pullovers at him, then wordlessly gets into the driver’s seat. He doesn’t turn music on, and he doesn’t ask if Cas is hungry enough that they should stop for food.

He takes them back to their motel, shoves Baby into park with too much force, and slams the car door when he leaves Cas there.

Cas follows him, of course, and once they’re safely inside, Cas shuts the door with a gentle snick of the lock, steps up behind him to touch at his shoulder, and Dean reacts without thinking.

He smacks Cas’ hand away from him, twisting around and shoving at Cas’ chest so that he stumbles back toward the door.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

“You’ll have to expand on that.”

“That was fucking reckless, Cas!” Dean shouts, a vein he thinks his father had in his forehead now throbbing on Dean’s, “you acted like a -”

“Like a what, Dean?” Cas challenges, narrowing his eyes, “like a seasoned soldier, who knows their own competence? Is that very threatening to you?”

You’re not threatening, Cas, you’re wearing my old hoodie, you’re human now.

“Okay, rushing at an insane number of vampires with nothing but some fancy knives isn’t competence, Cas! It’s reckless! It’s stupid, it’s reckless, it’s dangerous! You’re a human, Cas!”

“I know that,” Cas sneers, “I don’t need you reminding me.”

“Apparently you do!” Dean exclaims, “Cas, what you did out there -”

“I did the job.”

“You didn’t do it right!”

“I think the number of dead would disagree with you.”

“You were throwing yourself at them!” Dean yells, a hot lump of fear in his throat, “you didn’t even go back for your machetes! I couldn’t help you like -”

“I didn’t need your help!”

Growling in frustration, Dean stomps up to Cas, pushes him up against the door with his forearm barring Cas’ chest and he glares down into Cas’ ocean eyes when he says, “not your call. You wouldn’t let me just run a fuckin’ Angelic garrison my first week with wings, and you know damn well you weren’t leading this mission. I’ve got the years under my belt, I’m the human here with the most experience, I’m the seasoned hunter, Cas. What if you’d needed me, huh?”

“I didn’t, though,” Cas argues, his chest tense under Dean’s arm, “I was capable, I proved it to you.”

“You proved fuck-all but that you’ve got a death wish! What if you’d gotten hurt worse?”

“Then that would’ve been my problem.”

“Not the way I see it!” Dean argues, “what if you’d -”

“I’d have figured it out!”

“What if you didn’t!?” Dean’s eyes flicker between Cas’, “what if you didn’t figure it out, Cas? Huh? What if the swarms had kept comin’, what if those blades got fucked up, dull, or knocked outta your hands, and you’re half a nautical fuckin’ mile out from me?”

Cas is all rebellion when he holds himself ramrod straight and answers, “I don’t need you to protect me.”

“Fuck you,” Dean jostles Cas against the door, “what the fuck is your problem, Cas?”

Dean really doesn’t mean to stare at Cas as much as he does, but he thinks anyone this close to him would have a hard time not getting lost in that gaze.

Dean met Jimmy way back when, and Jimmy’s eyes were not the same as Cas’. Often, Dean thinks to himself that looking into Cas’ eyes is as close as he’ll ever get to safely seeing Cas’ true form; they’re luminescent, preternatural. There’s something about them, even now, that isn’t entirely human.

Cas isn’t entirely human, Dean figures - he’s just an Angel with clipped wings. He’s cut off from the Host, but that doesn’t mean he’s been transformed into a human soul, occupying a human body; he’s a many-eyed, feathered, incomprehensible creature locked up in a flesh prison.

Dean keeps his arm where it is, pressing Cas into the wall, but he relaxes his brow and softens his body language when he says, “this is it, Cas. This is what the life is like with me. Sammy hated it too, but y’know what? He’s alive. So, if you hate me for it, then you hate me for it, but Hell or high water, I’m gonna make sure you’re alive to hate me. That means you don’t get to kamikaze yourself for a -”

“I don’t hate you.”

Dean’s brought up short by the way Cas’ face falls, how his eyes go from fiery to worried, how he suddenly looks small in Dean’s retired hoodie.

“Dean, I don’t hate you, I could never hate you-” Cas’ eyes jump down to Dean’s mouth, his dark, thick lashes flashing like fans when they move back up and his pupils are dilated, he licks his lips and trails off, “I…”

The way Cas’ eyes hold his gaze, the way his human heart is thudding increasingly faster against Dean’s forearm, there’s this heat pooling in his gut, there’s anticipation expanding in his chest like a balloon, he’s watching Cas’ hooded eyes, thinking, there’s no way. There's absolutely no way...

Carefully, Cas is tipping his head just so, and before he’s even really decided to, Dean’s shutting his eyes, curving his body in closer just as he feels Cas press their lips together.

The kiss starts small, shy and soft, unsure of itself because it can’t possibly be real, but then Dean’s remembering how fast those vamps were coming, how close they got to Cas, and that anger – that fear – surges in him again and he shoves himself against Cas.

There’s a muffled, ‘mmmph!’ against Dean’s mouth, but as Dean urges his tongue past Cas’ lips, it’s followed quickly by a charmingly soft gasp and then agreeable moan.

Cas’ hands come up to Dean’s pecs, as if to soothe him, but Dean doesn’t want to calm down – he wants to swallow Cas whole like an anaconda so that nothing can get to him and hurt him. He wants to keep Cas somewhere inside him where he’ll be safe.

Dean grabs Cas’ wrists, pins them to the wall behind him and uses the few inches of height he’s got over Cas to crowd him; he presses the length of his body right up against Cas’, and his grip is too hard, he knows Cas’ hands must be going numb, and he’s pushing their bodies together too tightly, and he’s kissing Cas like he means more to bite him.

Cas takes it.

Cas gives back, even.

Virginal as he is, he excitedly, shamelessly grinds up against Dean, their buckles snag and the drag of their still-drying denim scratching together is so loud to Dean.

Cas groans and mewls lowly under him, making those gravelly, bass notes in a way Dean's never heard Cas make them before.

You’re supposed to be embarrassed, Dean thinks at Cas, knowing Cas can’t hear him, turning his head again to kiss him harder, deeper, you’re so hard. You like this, and you don’t know you’re supposed to be cool and aloof about it. No one taught you that. No one quieted you. Never change, Cas.

Awkwardly, Cas has to break for air, but they’re so entwined, they're sealed together, he can only tilt his mouth away to gasp for air, their faces still pressed together because Dean won’t – can’t – back off.

“Dean,” Cas rasps, maybe wondering what it is Dean is doing with him.

Dean doesn’t know what the fuck he's doing with Cas, so he avoids answering the call of his name by grinding against Cas again, giving him sweet friction while he kisses Cas’ chin, the corner of his mouth, seeking, seeking —

“I want to be able to protect you again,” Cas murmurs nearly inaudibly — shamefully.

“You did,” Dean tells him, tears building in his eyes as he thinks back on what he saw, on just how close a call this was, “you do. You always do.”

“No – not like I used to, not —”

“Then we can protect each other, okay?” Dean compromises, bumping their noses, pushing their foreheads together until Cas will open his eyes and look at him again, “I’m not your keeper, Cas. We can — we’ll figure it out. Just don’t make me lose you. I can’t do it.”

“I don’t know how to promise you that,” Cas admits, tongue peeking out to taste at Dean’s lower lip.

Dean closes his mouth around Cas’ tongue, pulls it into his mouth, sucks on it, crushes Cas against the wall again, and he kisses Cas until they’re both begging off for air again.

“Don’t,” Dean huffs, face flushed, hard as a rock against Cas; he loosens his hold on Cas’ wrists, lets Cas’ arms fall a little down the wall, “can’t promise shit in this life. Just tell me you’re sorry for scarin’ me.”

The sincerity must do it for Cas, because with little hesitation, Cas looks him in the eye, head bent back against the wall where he’s still learning to breathe again, and he replies, “I’m sorry to have scared you, Dean. Truly.”

Just as Dean’s eyes get hot again, his hands twitch with the need to secure Cas down to the closest surface, Cas slips his hands down their shared grip to tangle their fingers together.

He leans in and kisses Dean gently before Dean can do anything hard or harsh.

He kisses Dean again, and again, chaste, a few swipes of tongue, doing something to Dean not unlike hypnosis and eventually Dean’s being backed up into one of the motel room beds.

The backs of his knees hit the bed, and Dean winds up with Cas in his lap, cupping his face, gazing down at him with hooded, desire-dark eyes.

He thinks Cas wants to ask something, he can see it in Cas’ eyes, but whatever it is, Cas stows it away; he pushes back on Dean until Dean’s being pressed into the mattress by Cas, and their roles have been fully reversed.

Cas holds him down, pushes against him, into him, kissing Dean like he wants to devour him, and Dean understands, he feels it too, so he surrenders. Gladly.

#deancas #destiel #lemon #ish #melanie writes #first kiss #kiss prompts #prompt fill #prompt fic #fic prompt #ask #my stuff #melanie draws

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