#PISS WEASEL? • Crack.

[eggymf-archived]

Heehee. Piss weasel.

Inspired from this post.

[mongccse]

@airxn​

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“Bitch.”

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[munsster]

hii!! i'd like to request a steve harrington x fem!reader fic pls <33 reader confesses to steve, but he says he doesn't like her. then reader's all 'okay fine, i'm gonna move on' and when she actually does that, steve is 🥺 lots of angst please and some steve grovelling teehee <33

gut feeling

A/N: okay yes 😏 i screwed this up the littlest bit, but i hope it still tickles ur fancy. also i’ve seen this done for king!steve and i wanted to write it for s4 steven

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have big feelings for Steve, he’s just not sure he feels the same way. 3.6k words.

Warnings: angst, but it resolves into fluff, unrequited love trope, lots of feelings, friends to lovers?, CURSING!, italics, established friendship, feat. Keith 😑

"You think it would be gross if we kissed?"

Steve thinks you might actually sound hurt, but he also thinks the face he's making is hilarious beyond belief: kind of contorted and screwed inward, nose scrunched and trying really hard to batten down a grin. You glare at him from the passenger's seat, arms crossed tight over your green Family Video vest.

You think he's wonderful despite his naiveté. If only he knew how handsome you thought he was, all caramel locks and big brown eyes and the kind of smile that reaches his eyes before he's even thought of it. No wonder he has an ego up to the moon. No wonder he still manages to weasel his way into the creases and crevices of any living creature's heart. Even yours. Hell, especially yours.

"Yeah, duh!"—and he's so sure of it, you could cry—"You're like the little sister I never had!"

You chuckle but you look like you're about to hurl yourself out of the car or get yourself arrested for manslaughter. Thank God he's only a block away from your house, or he'd never see the light of day again. Does he really think of you like that? The soft laughter peters out into a grating silence that burns right down your throat and feels like hard metal settling in your lungs.

He doesn't dare glance over at you. He only bites down hard around nothing and grimaces, eyes set hard on the lines dashing beneath the grill of his car. Jesus Christ, he does not think of you like that. And he begs whatever stupid pride is keeping him steady in this nonexistent pissing contest to leave it be, but its jaw is set in the tender meat of the game.

"Don't have to be so jovial about it," you grumble.

"What?"

"Mine's on the left," you grumble, nodding out the window. Oh, he's definitely in trouble. You only ignore him like this when he's done something boyish to a fault.

"I know. I drive you home every—hey!"

"Bye," you coo, booking it up the steps to your door, refusing to turn over your shoulder for fear that you'll burst into tears upon seeing him smile or frown or crack the slightest look of confusion.

He watches you slam the door and rolls the passenger window up with a frustrated sigh. Where the Hell did that come from and why. All while you're sitting against the foot of your bed, chattering into the phone at Robin, still wearing your uniform and tugging at strands of your hair as expletives weave themselves between every three words.

"Oh my Fucking God, I'm so fucking embarrassed right now, Robs—Does he—? Does he think I'm some sort of fuckin' baby? I just don't—"

"He's just being Steve, okay? He probably didn't mean it—"

"The way he looked at me, Robin, I felt like a fucking imbecile. Of all the dickheads in the world I could fall for, my heart chose Harrington? Maybe I'm the idiot." You sigh and kick your feet out, the frustration winding up new nerves and letting them go like tight springs to fling out over your body.

She sighs and it rattles through the grainy speaker. "You're not an idiot; he has his moments. Don't beat yourself up, you know how he gets. He's probably not thinking straight, just... tell him? The worst he can say is—"

"That I'm like a sister to him? Oh, how delightful. That's even worse than just flat out admitting I'm unattractive."

"You're not unattractive, don't do that."

"I am to him," you groan.

"Hey," she hums after a beat of crackling silence. You close your eyes and grip the sickly yellow receiver a little tighter.

"I really like him."

"I know."

"And it sucks."

"I know." The other end rustles and you let out a curt sigh just as you move to stand. "I love you, and I'm here for you. Especially when dumb boys make you feel like shit. You'll always be the most amazing and most beautiful girl in my life, don't forget that."

"Thank you. I'll see you, Robs."

"Take it easy."

—

Steve wakes up to an ache in his neck and a soreness in his knuckles. You didn't call him last night. And he's assuming you didn't call him before school this morning because his alarm clock flashes eleven, first period starts at eight-thirty, and the tone his ancient landline emits is shrill enough to deafen a man. Let alone wake him up in a cold sweat. He concocts a sick feeling in his stomach of burnt orange shame and maroon guilt because he has to wait until closing shift tonight to explain himself to you.

But by then, he's feeling spiteful. You weren't home when he went to pick you up and he waited ten minutes and knocked on the door in bulk. Until someone who was not you answered and told him that you'd gotten a ride with some jerk from the Hawkins High football team. That's not how it was originally said, but that's how he heard it. So you're avoiding him? It makes him spit up a little in his mouth, and he's going about twenty over the speed limit the entire way to make it on time.

By the time he can fling open the glass door and hear the sound of the tiny bell, he spots you in the back corner with a stack of tapes under your arm. Listening to music. To drown him out. And it makes him frown. Six hours. That's how long he'd have to endure this, then he could go home and not call you and not be able to sleep.

The casette in your Walkman can only run for so long, right? But he watches you rewind it after an hour and a half and slumps against the front desk when you grab a new stack of tapes from behind him. He simmers down after the first half of the shift, and of course, the fact that you won't talk to him rubs him the wrong way, but what's even worse is that now you're bumming rides off of losers on the worst football team in all of Indiana.

He gets worked up thinking about that guy's motivation and how many times he probably tried to make a pass at you. Steve would never do that to you. Even if he wanted to, he's a gentleman at heart. He could beat that jerk to a pulp just imagining him giving you the look. God forbid that sucker puts his hands on you. Steve would get charged with battery before ever letting that happen.

It's not like he can say anything to you about it either. He's pissed, and he knows himself. He'd get all angry and confrontational, and you deserve better than that. It's his fault you got there first, and it's his fault you got to stocking, and it's his fault you're tuning him out. But he didn't think what he said last night would be worth all that trouble.

"If you keep up the optic blast, I'm gonna buy you a ruby-quartz visored monocle." And that droning voice could only belong to one overbearing manager.

"What do you need, Keith?" Steve grumbles, and out of the corner of his eye, he catches you looking to the front of the store to watch the encounter with a smirk.

"Duty calls, Harrington. Corporate sent us more shelf space. Need someone to unload it into the office," Keith murmurs, shooting a glance your way, "And, uh... it's kind of unwieldy, so get the kid to help you out."

It makes Steve's eye twitch because you're not some kid. And if you heard Keith refer to you as such, you'd unleash a fleet of curses on him. Only Steve is allowed to call you that. Because it's funny, duh. You're a year younger than him, obviously he's going to use that to his comedic advantage. Oh.

He lets out a sigh—"alright"—and leaves Keith to man the front while he skirts to the back of the store and leads you by the hand through the office.

"'The Hell, Harrington?" you hiss, but you keep your fingers locked between Steve's, abandoning the rest of the tapes on Keith's desk and jogging to catch up with his stride. As forward and demanding as his grip may be, you have to admit, the warmth of his palm is comforting and it makes your heart race because you've never held hands with Steve before. And in any other circumstance, you might've been able to enjoy it a little more.

"Keith told me to tell you that you have to help me bring a shelf in from the truck."

"Oh, I have to?" you bark, now pulling your hand away and putting your headphones around your neck once you exit through the back door with him. "And you didn't think to give me a warning before yanking on my arm?"

"Yes, you have to, and maybe if you weren't listening to that shit so loud, you would've been in the loop." It comes out far more harsh than he intended, and that was exactly what he was afraid of happening in a confrontation with you. His brow softens, and the tension in his upper back and jaw dissipates into his own self-pity party. "And I didn't yank on your arm. Or at least I didn't mean to, so I'm sorry for that much."

Steve hops up into the truck and offers you a hand you don't take as much as you both wish you would have. Because he looks like a kicked puppy, and you have to stop yourself from cheering yourself on. Maybe this will be your first literal step towards getting over him. Once and for all.

After about fifteen minutes of heaving and ho-ing, the two of you manage to haul the shelf into the office as per Keith's request. He was right: it was unwieldy. The awkward grip spots caused a lot of overlap, and you both flinched away from the physical contact in a matter of milliseconds. But Steve couldn't deny he felt bad, and you couldn't deny that you definitely still had feelings for him.

You grab your previously abandoned stack of tapes to scurry out of the office, but Steve stops you by the elbow. And you glare back at him.

"Sorry. The... yanking, I know"—he shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down—"Look, I'm not entirely sure what happened last night in the car, but it clearly made you uncomfortable, and I'd like to apologize."

He can see the neurons firing when he looks you in the eye, but he can also see that his apology wasn't effective in the slightest. Because you're still anger-ridden and fuming at him. You put your headphones on and go back to restocking shelves.

He checks the digital clock above the door. Two hours till eleven. Great.

And they creep by like refrigerated molasses. Second by second. Every time he glances at the clock, only a minute has passed. Eventually, though, he starts cleaning up for closing: vacuuming, cleaning the windows, fixing the display. And he finds himself getting a little more efficient at checking tapes back in and rewinding them only so you'll cruise by the front—scowling at him, but nonetheless at him—to grab a new stack and shelf it.

Five minutes to closing and a sleek, blue sedan pulls into the parking lot, and you practically beam at it, grinning and skipping to the front. You grab your bag from under the counter next to Steve's hip and shove your Walkman into it.

"You know, my car works perfectly fine," he grumbles, "don't have to replace me with some football jerk." He knows that struck a nerve because your smile immediately flickers away into a squint.

"That football jerk is bilingual, a painter, and lets me listen to the music I like in his car."

"But that's not the rules," he whines, desperately defending himself against some sports guy who's probably taking advantage of you.

"Well, I like him and he's nice to me." You sling your bag over your shoulder triumphantly, marching towards the door.

Steve is aghast at the implication. He thought you liked listening to the radio. Plus he took Spanish and art for the required two years, it's not that great of an achievement.

Still, he sputters out, "Yeah, well—"

You wave over your shoulder. "Later, Steve."

Since when did he become such a loser.

He watches jerk-face open the car door for you then glance over to wave at him with a perfect smile and perfect hair and perfect manners. What an asshole. Steve does not wave back.

—

"That's the kinda guy she likes?" he fusses into the phone, palming his face while Robin chuckles on the other line. This whole time he thought for sure you liked the self-assured, cocky, college-age boy type. And now you're dating a high schooler. Come on, jerk-face is not even that good looking.

"First of all, they're not dating. Second of all, don't lie to make yourself feel better; even I can admit he's basically a Greek god," Robin says, shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth. "Third... why do you care? You’re acting like it’s your job to protect her, but it’s not. She’s an adult now, you know, she can take her of herself.”

He lets out a puff of air through his nose, blinking hard and leaning into the pale yellow receiver. Then mumbling: "She told you."

And she replies, cheerily: "Yup."

"Well—! I just... don't want to see her get hurt. I know that type of guy. I used to be that type of guy. He's bad news, I can tell."

"Right,” Robin scoffs, “It's definitely not because you love her.”

"I don't love her. She's just a baby, and we don't even like the same things. It would never work out between us, there's no connection." They both know it’s a lame excuse, but it’s worked up until this moment. It’s worked since the day you met. You’re too young, the end. Sure, you can be cute sometimes, but you’re also a pain in the ass and you two could never get along long enough to stitch together a real relationship.

But Robin sees through all of that shit. And she’s over it.

“Okay, maybe, but she listens when you talk about cars, and you buy the albums she likes even when she only mentions them once. Plus, you both love Dustin like he's an extra limb”—she’s right, you love that kid to death and Lord knows Steve looks after him like a son—“I think as much as you wretch and complain over her being too young and the connection not 'being there', it seems like you try an awful lot to get her to like you."

He immediately rejects the idea with a scoff.

"Of course I’d want a cool person to like me, old fuckin’ habits die hard. But that's all. She's cool and has a good sense of style and tells the best jokes and makes me feel smart and listens to me, and right now I'm feeling pretty crazy because maybe I do love her and I blew it because... because? Because I don’t know why—but she's probably sitting in some jerk's car listening to her favorite songs and watching him paint the sunset while speaking Spanish or whatever."

Robin closes her eyes, and Steve’s annoyed by the fact that he can hear her smirking. "Jesus Christ, I need to start charging you idiots for my time"—and she sighs—"Just... tell her all that cheese. And maybe throw in an apology or two. I don't know, do what you usually do when you pick up girls.”

He’s frustrated. And annoyed. But he throws a thanks at her anyway and stomps down the stairs and to his beamer. It’s not until he’s shrouded in the piercing light of the convenience store that he realizes three things: he’s still in his work uniform, it’s midnight, and he’s pretty sure he does love you. He grabs a bouquet, not even realizing it’s a bouquet of amaryllis and baby’s breath—he’d prefer roses, but ‘tis not the season, as the cashier told him.

Minutes later, he’s muttering under his breath like he’s mad, waiting for someone to answer your door. And thank God you do.

“Steve—?”

“Oh, shit, did I—were you—?”

“Oh, no, I was just…”—thinking about him—“nothin’. What’re you doing here?”

He pushes a furious hand through his hair, then tucks a chunk behind his ear, worrying at his bottom lip. More nervous than he’s been in his whole life. Then he flashes those soft brown eyes at you, and you’re toast. You step onto your doormat and shut the door behind you because he starts into his sentence like a blazing fire:

"I feel so stupid, and I’m sorry for saying you're like a little sister to me; I don’t believe that, and it couldn’t be further from the truth. You're not like a sister to me, you're like the only thing that matters and I feel like I wanna learn another language for you and take a cooking class for you and listen to your music with you. I just, I mean I’m trying to say you make me want to be a better person, and I feel like I’m already a better person whenever I’m around you. I... what I’m saying—and I promise I’m getting to it—is that I’m sorry for being so stupid and not seeing it before, but I think you're beautiful and I'd be honored if you'd forgive me and maybe consider letting me take you out sometime. Like on a date."

He’s breathing heavily, looking and feeling manic, and your eyes are wide as you slowly process his confession. It goes down like sweet wine, floral down your throat and settling in your tummy like candy. But still: what the fuck? Is he insane? Are you insane?

His hair is flopped to one side, and his work vest is snug around his shoulders. You step forward slowly, and the creases in his forehead seem to go smooth. And you point to the bouquet.

“For me?”

Steve glances down. "Oh, yeah, got em for you. Sorry they're not roses, it's not—"

"I love them, thank you."

He nods. And you smile. And despite how beautiful the soft pink and white flowers are, you’re not particularly focused on their safety when you hook your arms beneath his and rope him into a hug. It’s clearly just what he needed when he goes pliant and heavy against your chest, smiling into your neck as his hands wrap over your shoulders.

"I think we might both be stupid,” you whisper.

He chuckles. "Yup. Just a couple of stupids. Geez, what kinda pair are we?" You both pull away. Only to look at each other squarely. To see a smile creep and creep across the other’s face. And he cocks a brow and says, "By the way, worst twenty-four hours of my life—"

And that’s saying something after the last three years.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Steve, I was just so—"

"I know."

"So confused and disappointed, it was—"

"Torture, yeah, don't even think about doing that ever again,” he teases, pinching your side and scrunching his nose when you pinch him back.

"Yeah. Well, never tell me I’m like a little sister to you ever again.”

Gross.

"I don't plan on it"

With the slow bat of your lashes, and the tender curve of your lips, he can’t not think about kissing you. Not in this light. Not under the meddling moon, and not holding your waist like cupping pools of honey.

Then you look away. For all the shit you talk, he manages to make you far more shy than he ever anticipates. And it gives him butterflies to see you duck away.

"You know, I think you're pretty beautiful yourself, Harrington.”

Oh, he’s blushing now. The blood gushes hot to his face, he could sweat buckets right here and now. You can probably hear his heartbeat. Jesus Christ, what’ve you done to him? You can tell he’s nervous when he chuckles softly. "Does this mean I can start giving you rides again?"

You pretend to weigh your options. As if there would ever be a better alternative. "Only if you let me play my music sometimes.”

"Absolutely. I never liked the radio much anyway."

You let go of him only to cradle your bouquet in both hands, admiring the petals while Steve puts his hands back in his pockets.

"Then I'll see you later," he says. Grinning ear to ear, mind you.

"Yeah,” you coo, “I’ll see you."

With one hand on his shoulder, you plant a kiss on his willing cheek and let him go. But before he can make it to his car you holler, “Wait!” and he jogs back over to you.

"Did I forget somethin’?"

“Yeah,” you poke, "you forgot about our date."

He tilts his head a little, brows furrowed. "Our... our date? What do you mean our… Ohhhh”—he nods in understanding, suddenly hit with a wave of excitement and embarrassment—"Does tomorrow work? We could grab lunch or dinner or something and maybe stop by the arcade or—oh, the fair's in town, that could be kinda fun, unless you don't want to, I mean—"

"Steve?" you hum.

“Mhm?”

"I'd love to."

And suddenly his ego is miles through the roof; he's nodding and grinning and it’s like he can’t wait to wake up tomorrow just to see you again.

"Me too. Okay. Yeah! I'll see you then."

"Bye, Stevie.” You give him a small wave, and the shroud of plastic around the bouquet crinkles like the corners of his eyes at the idea of tomorrow.

masterlist

[axelsagewrites]

Where Am I?*Part Four

Pairing: modern!f!reader x (to be determined...) Ubbe, Ivar, Sigurd, Hviserks, Bjorn

Word count: 2146

Warnings: drinking, Sigurd making a cripple joke, drunk reader

Series Summary: After falling head first the reader wakes up face to face with a group of strangely dressed men who look eerily like the vikings she studies

Part one Part two Part three

Masterlist Here

Something your arrival seemed to have distracted from was the success of the latest raid. “You’ll love it,” Hvitserk told you over breakfast. He, you had soon noticed, was the only morning person of the bunch. Ivar looked even more homicidal while Sigurd was still too asleep to piss him off. Meanwhile Ubbe was still in bed, threatening to cut off whoever’s hand tried to wake him, “We pull out all the stops. Wines, mead, ale, -“

“Is anything not alcohol related?” you joked just as Bjorn walked in. You’d honestly expected him to have breakfast with his father, but Bjorn said nothing as he took a seat beside you. You knew he was tall but him sitting shoulder to shoulder with you made you realise just how not only tall, but wide he was. The man was built like a bear.

“Hello?” Hvitserk said, waving his hand in front of your eyes, “I swear none of you appreciate the morning,” he tutted.

“Die,” Ivar grunted, earning an agreement from Sigurd. You chuckled a little at seeing them finally on the same side.

Still, you shot Hvitserk an apologetic smile. “Sorry Hvitserk I just spaced out,”

“Spaced out?” He asked, even Bjorn looking down in confusion.

“Like got distracted?”

Hvitserk nodded in understanding, but Bjorn wasn’t satisfied, his head tilting even further in confusion. “Why do you say ‘like’ all the time? You always say like at the start of everything its strange,”

“I guess it’s like,” you said, pausing to chuckle at the accident though he didn’t laugh, “I don’t know it’s just how we talk where I’m from. Like how in every conversation someone threatens someone’s life here,” you said, finally earning a crack of a smile from him, “Where I’m from that would be the weird thing,”

“It’s not as if we mean it,” Hvitserk said.

“It’s brotherly love,” You turned to look at Ivar and Sigurd who both just kind of shrugs.

“It’s something all right,” Sigurd muttered. Ivar’s glare said enough on his behalf.

You ignored them both and turned back to Hvitserk with a laugh. After all they were brothers after all. It was all just talk. Surely. “So, if I go wake Ubbe up right now he won’t actually cut off my hand?” This time they all shared a concerned look. Okay maybe not.

“Take back up with you,” Ivar said. “Just encase,”

You sighed and rolled your eyes at the dramatics of all of them “Seriously? Right come on then,” you said, nodding your head at Ivar as you stood.

For a moment you actually saw a slight look of fear wash over his face, “But I’m still eating,” he tried to weasel his way out of it making Sigurd laugh. That was until you turned to him, hands on hip and his eyes suddenly dipped to the floor and the laughing stopped.

You threw your hands up, “He cannot be that bad!” you protested as you headed to Ubbe’s room.

As you headed for the door you heard someone’s chair scrape against the floor following you. You knocked on the door before quickly pushing it open, “Rise and shine sunshine- “

A loud groan came from the lump under the furs that was presumably the grumpy Ubbe everyone had warned you about. He quickly went to sit up and you jumped back when you saw the axe in his hand. Right back into what you soon realised was Bjorn’s chest.

Realization dawned over Ubbe’s face when he saw you, “Oh,” he said, dropping the axe onto the furs, “Sorry I didn’t realise it was you,” he mumbled, collapsing back into bed.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” you mumbled, stepping away from Bjorn and hoping he didn’t see the blush covering your cheeks from the previous closeness. Then they went even redder when Ubbe sat up in bed and you realised he had nothing on. “I’m just gonna,” you span around, trying to leave, before almost smacking right back into Bjorn’s chest. You almost gulped before looking up at him, “Sorry,” you mumbled, rushing out past him, not noticing the smirk on Bjorn’s face or the way Ubbe laughed at your antics.

-

Ivar had finished eating by the time you’d returned, and you very quickly insisted on him showing you the market like he’d promised last night. He almost jumped at the chance and debated flinging his knife into Sigurd’s chest when he insisted on joining you both. However, you weren’t out for long before Aslaug sent a thrall to fetch you.

Aslaug had arranged for you to receive another dress for tonight’s festivities since “our guests represent our honour,” and you weren’t going to turn down the clean clothes.

The boys had gone out to do some training leaving you to get ready. You debated doing some makeup, you did have a couple items in your bag after all. “What is that?” Aslaug asked as she and a woman you recognised as Helga walked into the room. You’d been sat at a table in the middle of the house to utilise the little light inside and hadn’t heard them walk in, “Its eyeliner,” you said, showing them the black on your eyes, “Like how you use charcoal on yours,”

“Can I watch?” Helga asked, excitement written on her face as she sat across from you, “What’s this?” she asked, picking up the liquid blush, “It’s so bright!”

“It’s blush,” you laughed, “It’s for your cheeks,”

Aslaug sat next to her, eyeing over the cosmetics, “Like berries?”

“Kind of?” you said, gently taking it out of Helga’s hand so you could put it on to show them,

“See?” you asked patting it in, “Same sort of thing but this lasts a bit longer,”

“Can we try some?” Helga asked and even Aslaug looked interested at the idea. For the next while you helped them apply some moisturiser and blush to ease them into it. you were honestly scared to show them your eyeshadow pallet considering how Helga reacted to a pink blush.

then it was your turn. Apparently, the hair problem was long overdue. Helga was gentle when she brushed but you winced as Aslaug took over the intricate braids. “Do all girls fuss where you’re from?”

By the time she was done however you had to admit it looked beautiful. “You almost look like one of us,” there was almost fondness in Aslaug smile.

Helga looked up with a large grin, “You’ll get used to the pain. You looked wonderful though,”

-

Walking into the bustling hall by Aslaug’s side was both comforting and terrifying. On one hand it meant no one would question you but on the other, everyone was staring. When the boys finally returned Hvitserk was the first to greet you and you happily accepted the ale he offered.

You were sat at a table with the five of them, Hvitserk and Ivar on either side of you, and Bjorn, Ubbe, and Sigurd across from you. However, something the group were quickly realising was their tolerance to ale was far higher than yours. “Do you not drink where you’re from?” Ubbe teased as your cheeks flushed from the alcohol.

“We do! I swear I’m not a lightweight. This stuffs just strong!” you laughed.

Apparently, the laugh was infectious as soon they were all giggly. All but Bjorn but for once there was a permanent smile on his face, “What’s a lightweight?” Bjorn asked.

“Someone who can’t hold their alcohol,” you told him, very matter of factly making them all laugh at your drunken confidence, “You lot wouldn’t last one second on a night out at my campus. I’m talking tequila shots, body shots, Jello shots,” you began to drunkenly list off as the boys tilted their heads in amused confusion.

“What’s a shot?” Hvitserk asked making you face palm.

“Oh, I have so much to teach you,”

-

Unfortunately, while the boys were great company and had adjusted well to you being in their groups your presence seemed to disrupt everyone else. It was Hvitserk who first noticed everyone staring at you, but you were too tipsy too care. However, as Ivar and Ubbe drank more both began to glare at the men whose eyes stayed too long.

Despite all the boys warning you about Ivar’s temper they all seemed to ignore Ubbe’s even when he insisted on you all leaving because a drunken Viking tried to hit on you. You however were happy enough to follow them all the edge of the lake and sit on the cold sand with a flask of ale being passed around.

As you were all walking down to the lake Hvitserk, and Sigurd were in a heated debate over which slave girl was hotter while Ubbe carried a giggling Ivar on his back. somehow, you’d ended up at the back of the pack, stumbling down the hill beside Bjorn.

“Woah,” he gasped, grabbing your waist before you could stumble and fall over a tree branch. “Steady,”

“Careful Bjorn,” you grinned up at him, holding onto the arm he offered you so you wouldn’t risk falling again, “Someone might think we’re friends,” you teased.

A smirk quickly showed on his face, a teasing light in his eyes, “Oh? Are we not friends already? I am wounded,”

“Friends don’t try kill their friends,” you pouted but you weren’t able to keep the charade up for long before grinning again like a Cheshire cat.

Bjorn just rolled his eyes with a smile however, “We weren’t friends then. We are now,”

“So, you won’t try kill me again?”

Another eye roll, “I won’t try kill you, no,” he said, shaking his head as he helped you to where the rest of the group had begun to sit.

“Pinky promise?” you asked, pulling out of his grip and extending his arm.

His eyes narrowed, head tilting, “What’s a pinkie promise?”

“Its where,” you said, stepping closer to grab his hand, “You lock pinkies,” you said wrapping yours around his, not noticing the smile on his face, “And promise something. And if you break it, I get to break your pinkie,”

“So, an oath?”

“An oath with a threat,”

“Of breaking a finger?”

“Pinkie specifically but yes,” you grinned, “So do you promise?”

“I promise,”

“Good,” you grinned, pulling your pinkie away from his grip before turning to join the group. You plopped down on the ground next to Ivar who was staring off into the sea, “Hi,” you grinned.

Ivar turned to you, laughing when he saw the wide grin on your cheeks, “Hello,” you could hear a slight drunken slur in his words. “Want some?” he asked, passing you, his ale.

You gladly accepted it, taking a drink of the alcohol you first hated but soon grew to love, “Thanks. You’re always so sweet to me,” you smiled before taking a drink, missing the way Ivar’s cheeks went red at your sweet words. Sigurd however didn’t want you to miss it.

“Aww look at the cripple,” he teased making Ivar scowl, “He’s blushing like a baby,”

You passed Ivar his drink back, noticing how tense his jaw was and quickly checking to see how close he was to his axe. After all you didn’t need to be here when the fall out happened, “Why do you care so much Sigurd?” you asked, rolling your eyes.

Everyone’s eyes seemingly went wide, shocked that your bubbly attitude had so quickly dropped. “you don’t get it,” he tried to brush off, “you’re not from here,”

“Then explain it to me,” you said, sitting up straight, “Explain what’s so funny about Ivar’s legs. Ill wait,”

“Well its just,” he tried to stutter earning a snigger from Hvitserk, “I don’t know it just is. Why do you care?”

You were honestly a bit hurt by that, “because he’s, my friend?” you said it like a question because the answer seemed so obvious.

“Okay well I’m sorry,” Sigurd shrugged, his eyes focused on the ground.

Luckily the night quickly moved on from the brief ugly confrontation however Ivar couldn’t get the reaction out of his mind. He was so used to fighting his own battles that he never even expected someone else to back him up, let alone speak up before him. Despite his bruised ego Sigurd thankfully stayed civil for the rest of the night.

A few hours passed before you all decided to walk home. You were in a world of your own at this point, your eyes fixed on how bright the night sky was with stars with no city skyline or factory gases to ruin your view. You didn’t even notice the stares from the boys or hear Hvitserk and Ubbe talk about how you stood up to Sigurd. For the first time this week you didn’t have a care in the world.

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[vampyrsm]

‣‣ COR UNUM: CHAPTER SEVEN | HACHIMAN

‣‣ Synopsis: Our tale once again continues deep in the snowy plains, atop a mountain where power is unleashed and revelations are made. But how does this fair for you? Will you come out unscathed or will this awakening destroy who you are fundamentally?

‣‣ Main Masterlist | AO3 ‣‣ Pairing: Sukuna x Reader ‣‣ Word Count: est. 7.4k ‣‣ Warnings: Blank blogs & Minors DNI. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. brief mention of cannibalism, set in the Early-Heian Period, trueform!Sukuna, descriptions of wounds, threats of death, female reader, brief pov from Sukuna, reader knows how to fight, extensive fighting scene, cursed energy usage.

The blistering winds hadn’t eased up, instead, they continued to shake the shoji door and rattle the old wooden beams that held up the temple. It was no doubt a full-blown snowstorm at this point, something that was good for the man who was currently watching over a sleeping lamb in his bed.

Sukuna kept his silent promise to watch over you, and he himself kept just as silent the rest of the night. He busied himself with books and old scripture of Cursed Techniques from ages long gone… at least that’s what he attempted to do until he found his eyes kept drifting back towards you.

You. An unsuspecting lamb in the belly of a starving wolf. 

You. Who had weaselled her way into his life so easily that it was starting to piss him off.

Maybe it’d be easier if he did kill you. Eat you as he promised. But something painfully tugs in his chest at the thought, his face curling into a painful grimace. Was this a long-forgotten human emotion? It feels almost too close to guilt… how could a man who had no qualms about tearing women apart simply to feast on them feel guilt? It was an idiotic notion.

At some point he had abandoned his post on the cushion, to stretch his legs out properly he told himself. But instead, he found himself looming over you like some demonic creature of the night, he stares down at your sleeping form. You’re far too unguarded like this, he can see a slip of your collarbone and a brief glimpse of your chest if you were to twist anymore in your sleep.

Sukuna can’t deny that you weren’t an attractive woman. You most definitely were. Powerful too. He hadn’t met a woman who had fought him so valiantly, never mind someone who had nearly succeeded in killing him twice – and that was all without even using your cursed energy properly. You were an enigma to Sukuna, something he wanted to crack and understand. 

Most women crumbled to their knees in front of him out of fear, yet you stood so defiantly. Always with that head of yours raised so high and a look on your face that he knew would be befitting of a ruler. 

That makes him huff out a breath of annoyance, his eyes drifting away from where he was focused on your chest; on your heart. He catches a glimpse of your exposed hand, its palm up on the pillow next to your head and he admits now that perhaps he shouldn’t have let you fire off that much energy. It was reckless, and it had damaged your hand quite severely.

His fingers twitch at his side, he could heal it for you. Just like he did with your legs in the forest whilst you slept. You never mentioned it to him, so perhaps you again wouldn’t mention his unusual kindness if he were to clear away the blisters and burns that litter your delicate hand. 

But something was stopping him from reaching out to brush his fingers against the palm of your hand. You had to learn a lesson, what use would it be if you were to wake up without the consequences of your reckless actions? No. He would not heal you completely. Even if his long-corrupted heart twinges again with something painfully close to guilt. 

Instead, Sukuna finds himself kneeling next to the futon. None of his limbs touch the bed itself so as to not disturb you, and his upper arms work delicately to wrap your hand in white silk from a kimono he no longer wanted. The blood and plasma darken the pristine fabric in a yellow tinge, but he still takes care not to do it so recklessly. 

It reminds him of when he had to tend to his own wounds before he learned how to reverse his cursed energy to heal his own body. It had been a long time since Sukuna had done something so… human. It felt odd but in a strange cathartic way, it eased the strange twinge in his chest in lieu of a contentedness that settled there instead.

Once the silk had been secured around your wrist, Sukuna again found him in a situation where he was hesitating. He had never hesitated before in his life, he’d always been one to go with his gut instinct. But this time he finds his gut telling him that maybe he can watch over you from his kneeling position next to you, you wouldn’t notice he was even there, would you? 

You didn’t stir once when he had grown closer, nor did you so much twitch a muscle when he delicately moved your hand and wrist to ensure the silk material had tightly covered your wound. What did that mean exactly? Did it mean you were simply a fool to have your guard down around such a monstrous man? Most likely, Sukuna laments to himself. 

The fleeting thought that maybe you trusted him has Sukuna’s fingers curling into tight fists, claws digging into the meat of his palm and the pain jolts him back up to his feet. If you trusted him, then could that mean there was something… more? What if you felt that same twang in your lower stomach as he did when he gazed at you? 

His mind drifted without much warning to the hot spring, that was the first time he had been able to feel your body in its entirety. It was so much smaller than his, fleshier in parts that mattered. Where Sukuna was hardened muscle and reinforced skin, you were undeniably soft. You pooled so easily between his fingers, and when he pulled you so close that he could smell the sweat on your skin… he wanted to—

No. He would not give in to whatever human desires he may be experiencing the longer he looks at you. A human like you had no place occupying such a huge portion of his mind.

Sukuna finds himself skulking back to his darkened corner of the room, the flickering embers of the burning Irori pit are dying with each passing second. Soon the room would grow cold. Humans and their need to keep warm… with just a grumble to himself and a flick of his hand, the fire burns bright once again and Sukuna relaxes into the dim light. 

From here, he can read the scrolls in front of him littered with cursed techniques he wished to master… and he could also keep an eye on you.

Morning comes without much preamble, you wake to find that Sukuna had not given in to the temptation to join you in bed. In fact, he wasn’t in the room at all. The fire in the hearth was burning dangerously low and the winds still howled beyond the shoji doors. 

Should you venture out of the room to go and find breakfast? Or perhaps, even search for Sukuna first? You can’t imagine he’d be pleased with the idea of you meandering your way through his temple. But there was also no way for you to know just where he was, this place was gigantic. You could get lost, or worse, you could run into the unsavoury souls that wander the temple walls… if you could say they had souls at all.

You shuddered at the thought of the woman with the strange scar. You knew you should never show such weakness to a potential enemy but there was just something so off-putting about her, you’d never seen anyone so blatantly disrespectful to someone like Sukuna. No one even dared to do such a thing to the Emperor of Japan, and he was not a monster with four arms and a taste for young women's flesh.

No, maybe it would not be wise to wander the halls. You’ll have to wait, and hope, that Sukuna comes back — maybe with food. You glance around the room now that it’s bathed in daylight, the snow outside makes everything appear a bleak white but it helps you see the details you had failed to see in the dim firelight last night. 

There are numerous scrolls, as there were in the last bedroom Sukuna used, but they seemed to be different. They were individually wrapped with a strip of bright red silk, some even with a wax seal that had not been broken. Just what could Sukuna be hiding on parchments of paper? Your fingers itch to find out. 

Instead of the possibility of having your fingers removed for even pondering the thought of snooping through confidential scrolls, you glance to the other side of the room. There’s a storage chest, long as much as it were wide. Now, that was something much more interesting than paper. 

It could hold a multitude of things. Clothing, perhaps, or even better… weapons. It most definitely looked like a weapons chest. You leap up from the futon, half-heartedly tugging your haori that had fallen loose in the night to hide away your exposed skin.

The closer you grow with each step towards the chest, your excitement to find out what was inside of there grows tenfold. It reminds you of when your father had tried to hide away his prized Naginata, or even his katana, he never let anyone use it and hid it away instead of displaying it proudly.

His most powerful weapon, he said. 

You wonder if Sukuna has a powerful weapon like that. He did have that Naginata you used on the Samurai but it didn’t seem to be anything too special; simply a weapon made for a man as large as he was. 

Kneeling down in front of the chest, your fingers twitch as you approach the lip of the lid. Only then do you notice the fabric on your hand, it’s bound as if it were done by a nurse or at the very least, someone with some medical knowledge. Had Sukuna done this in your sleep? Why? Why would he help you?

The thought stumps you. The same bandaged hand brushes against the partially exposed skin of your calves, they too were healed completely — that must’ve been Sukuna’s doing also. You hadn’t questioned it at the time, you didn’t dare ask Sukuna if he had a hint of humanity left in him. 

Your legs are smooth of any blemishes, no scar that indicated you were attacked, he had healed them to be brand new. You knew he could heal, you’d seen it firsthand when you slashed his throat, but he could also extend that to people? What else could be done with cursed energy? You figured that it was all for fighting and violence, but maybe there was good too in the use of cursed energy.

“Snooping through my belongings like some Tanuki will get your fingers shoved down your throat.” 

Sukuna’s voice has you leaping from the floor, unceremoniously might you add, your knee bangs into the chest and you trip partially on your haori. You whip around to find him frowning at you fiercely from the doorway, in his hand is a tray that has a pot of tea most likely and then a bowl of rice. Oh, so he had gone to get food.

“I–... I was looking for clothes. A haori is not ideal for the cold.” You lie, it’s a lame lie but not entirely false either. A haori would do nothing to keep you warm.

Sukuna’s upper lip twitches with what must be him detecting your lie, but instead of making a rude comment about it, he turns away from you. He sets the wooden tray on a low table next to the Irori, the fire once again roaring to life with a snap of Sukuna’s fingers. You can only watch in silent awe at just how easily he was able to use cursed energy, something he wanted you to master.

“Sit,” he orders, not sitting himself and opting to meander to the opposite side of the room to a smaller chest next to the one you had been wanting to snoop through. 

You waste no time and scurry past him when he approaches, the amused chuckle that escapes his chest brings an unsuspecting heat to your cheeks. You’d rather not focus on whatever that was, and instead, you kneel beside the hearth, leaning over to hook the teapot over the fire to allow it to boil properly. 

As you sit back and wait for it to boil, something is dropped into your lap. Your hands move to grab at it before it tumbles into the pit of burning wood,. With just the feel of it, you can tell it’s a kimono. It’s a beautiful dark blue, embroidered with silver stitching. Immediately, your uninjured hand brushes delicately over the silky material. 

It was undoubtedly made of some of the highest quality silk you had ever seen in a long time, perhaps you had only ever seen something like this when the Princess would pay a visit.

Sukuna finds himself a seat next to the hearth, just to your right. He makes no move to comment on whether or not you like the kimono given to you, instead, he reaches over to the pot of boiling water to pour it for himself. It was oddly domestic, if that was a work applicable to a man like Sukuna. His four arms were mostly hidden beneath his own kimono, wide sleeves for easier movement you noted.

His own kimono was of similar material to the one in your hands, if not the same. His, however, was a light shade of blue with a black edge, accompanied by a black scarf and you noticed he was even wearing socks. Ah. So Master Sukuna did in fact get cold. 

“Stare any longer and I’ll assume you no longer want the kimono.”

Your eyes immediately snap to his own at the sound of his voice, it’s not quite as loud as it could be, rather it was muted like he was too tired to put in the effort. He also doesn’t look particularly annoyed that you were inspecting his outfit, he’s far too busy eating rice with chopsticks that look more like tiny twigs between his fingers. 

Domestic. 

That word again has you moving, gathering the kimono in your hands to go and change behind one of the folding screens you spied earlier. You peel off the haori Sukuna had gifted you, and instead slip into the kimono. It’s baggy on the arms, large sleeves just like his own and you’d think it was his kimono if it weren’t for the fact it wasn’t too long on your legs. 

It’d been a while since you wore a traditional kimono. The traditional shrine-maiden clothing Sukuna had forced you into for a while became second nature to wear. But a kimono was all smooth edges and elegance, it almost felt wrong to wear it. Your hands smooth along the obi belt at your waist, and if it weren’t for your years as the Shogun’s daughter, you might’ve struggled to tie it on your own.

Re-emerging from behind the folded screen, you find Sukuna is still in the same place as he previously was but has traded out his rice bowl with a large cup of boiled tea. His lower set of eyes are partially closed, relaxed, and his upper ones flick up to you when you take careful steps towards him at the Irori. 

You fold your legs and feet beneath you, sitting on your calves and you try to not stare back at him. You can feel that burning crimson gaze roaming down along the exposed portion of your neck, along your hands when you reach out to take the ladle from the teapot to pour your own tea. 

Even despite the look Sukuna is giving you, the traditional kimono and serving of tea gives you a sense of familiarity; it feels like when you were at home. You often sat around an Irori with your father as a child, he told you stories of his battles and you would tell him of your book learning.

The memory tugs your lips into a faint smile, you missed when it was as simple as telling your father you were learning from a book that day instead of learning how to thread a needle. He had always allowed you to do what you wanted, you weren’t the ‘traditional’ girl people expected to come from the Shogun but you were a warrior. You wanted to live and strived to learn more. 

Sukuna continues to stare and say nothing, not until he hands you a small bowl packed with rice and chopsticks laid atop. You take it in both your hands, and as if on autopilot you bow your head in deep thanks. Sukuna’s hands freeze midway returning to his lap, and you remain awkwardly staring down at the rice in your hands. 

Blinking slowly out of your stupor, or perhaps it was mortification that you showed a monster like Sukuna any sort of respect. You say nothing after that, choosing to keep silent instead of coaxing Sukuna into mocking you for using such a traditional method of thanking him — like you would thank a husband. 

The rice is still hot against your tongue, perfectly cooked and you wonder if Sukuna had cooked it. You didn’t see any women around here during your brief walk through the temple unless they were stowed away in the darkest corner of the temple, and you doubted the black-haired lady would cook for anyone. 

You risk a glance towards Sukuna, and he seems to be preoccupied with leaning his chin against one fist with all of his eyes closed. It gives you a quick chance to look over his relaxed features, you couldn’t deny that he was most definitely a handsome man. You figured he might’ve been quite the catch before he had modified his body — though, a sneaky part of you thinks that it only adds to his image. 

Before Sukuna can scold you for looking at him again, you lower your now empty rice bowl to the tray and look at what else he had brought you. A slice of crown melon and a tangerine, both of them look beautiful. Ripe. You reach for both the slice of melon and the tangerine, the crown melon looks like it was recently harvested. Its brilliant yellow inside was juicy, seedless too you noted – did Sukuna take care to remove the seeds?

A glance at the tangerine, and you do something you could’ve never imagined yourself doing.

“Master Sukuna?” you speak into the quietness of the room, immediately Sukuna’s eyes open to look down at you. You swallow the lump in your throat before offering up your palm for him, your fingers uncurling from around the tangerine. 

“You should eat it.” He says to your offering, but he doesn’t outright refuse as he continues to stare at you. 

“I find fruit is more enjoyable to eat whilst in the company of others.” 

His face screws up for half a second, like he couldn’t quite understand the idea of enjoying something as trivial as another person’s company. And yet, he takes the tangerine from your hand with care. His claws are careful to not pierce the peel and instead used to slowly open the soft outer shell to get to the fruit itself.

“Thank you,” you smile when he snaps his eyes back to you, a squinty look to them as if he’s trying to figure out what you were up to. 

You turn your attention away from the man and instead to the melon slice in your hand. It was rare to see a crown melon at any time of the year, they were exceptionally hard to come by and even more expensive to buy. They were a gift meant for royalty, for the Emperor. 

It warmed a part of your chest to know that Sukuna had been generous enough to offer you a slice of such a delicacy. You had only hoped he saw your tangerine offering in a similar light, it was something your father had taught you when you were a child. 

To offer someone a tangerine was to show gratitude and appreciation. 

You wouldn’t outright thank him for healing your legs, nor would you thank him for wrapping your hand with care. Instead, you would show him your gratitude in hopes he would see that you weren’t ungrateful for his efforts.

It’s not until after the both of you had eaten your respective fruits and are warmed by the lit fire that Sukuna finally decides to speak. 

“I decided to give you one more chance.” Your eyes quickly shift to look at his own, he’s already watching you with narrowed eyes. “I should’ve killed you yesterday for your insolence. However, I will allow it, just this once.”

You swallow the pit forming in your throat, “But?”

His face cracks into a grin that you’ve sadly become accustomed to. “But if you fail again. I will skin you alive before I decide to take pity on you and eat what’s left.” 

“When do we start?” You ask instead of dwelling on the notion of him carving you apart like you were a deer.

“Hm, today. Let's go.” 

You blanche when he’s suddenly standing up, brushing down the front of his own kimono and making no move to help you up from your kneeling position. He wanted to train today? But your hand was still injured, surely that would be detrimental to your learning—

“Now. Do not make me ask you again.” 

You push yourself up from the floor, your kimono felt too rigid to do anything properly in. How did he expect you to be able to train in something like this? Was he setting you up for failure because he wanted to finally get rid of you? That theory was becoming more and more likely by the second. 

Sukuna leads you through the door you had entered last night after the bath in the hot spring, it’s blindingly bright outside with the coat of white that paints the entire courtyard. Instead of going towards the hot spring, he walks along the wooden engawa; a porch that lined the outside portion of the temple it would seem. 

Your mind runs far too quickly for you to comprehend, what did lessons with Sukuna actually entail? He was a brutal fighter, an even more violent curse user, his lessons were most likely going to be a fight between life and death. He wanted you strong, he said, and he wasn’t going to do a sloppy job of achieving that either. 

The binding vow would ensure that much. He wasn’t going to fail his end of the deal and you were hoping to not fail your end.

Eventually, Sukuna leads you away from the main building of the temple, along a snow-covered stone set of stairs that lead downwards towards a gigantic red tree. Its leaves are a violently stark difference in colour, like blood splatter on snow, it’s impossible to look away from. You wonder how it’s even surviving so far into the mountains with nothing but a cold climate.

The area that Sukuna has led to you is like a round arena, with individual statues that might’ve once resembled Jizo Bosatsu statues — except they were all beheaded. A clear sign that Sukuna did not appreciate their ‘protection’. 

Leaves crunch beneath your feet until you both come to a standstill, the wind no longer howls in the air and it’s unnervingly silent. It feels like you’ve been plunged into another world, a world with just you, Sukuna and the red maple tree overhead that continues to shed its red coat.

“Do you remember what I said about control?” Sukuna asks, his head tilted up to look at the large tree.

You follow his gaze for a moment, recalling the moments leading up to the large explosion of energy. “That I should learn to spread it throughout my body, to delay the flow of cursed energy.” 

“Good.” Sukuna meanders his way to the other side of the large circle-shaped arena, finally turning to face you with a bored look on his face. “Now do it, and try to hit me.”

The look you give Sukuna is nothing short of incredulous, he expected you to not only figure out how to control your cursed energy properly but also land a hit on him? Whilst wearing a kimono? He was ridiculous, idiotic, and he dared to call you a fool. 

“What’s that look for? You got something on the tip of your tongue? Don’t hold back your poison now.” 

“I think you want me to fail.” You spit back, and Sukuna has the gaul to crack a grin at the fact you listened to him. 

Sukuna then clicks his tongue, staring down the bridge of his nose at you in a half-sneer. “You’re ridiculous. Already throwing a tantrum like an infant child, look at you. Pathetic.”

It’s instantaneous, the rage that consumes you whole. It burns deep in your chest before it flares up into your throat, bubbles your blood to absolute boiling point. Sukuna laughs loudly at your inner turmoil, a mocking type of laugh that does absolutely nothing to quell the red-tint that hypothetically washes over your vision.

You move much faster than you anticipated, even in your restrictive clothes, and Sukuna raises his eyebrows at how quickly you appear before him. But he doesn’t stop laughing, snickering when you draw back an arm to throw your fist at him. His multiple arms make it much easier for him to bat away your attempts of punching him directly.

“Channel it. Control it.” Sukuna comments after he smacks away another oncoming punch before slamming his lower left fist directly into your stomach. It has you thrown across the arena in a flurry of disturbed white snow, the ground crumbles beneath you from just how much force he put behind that single punch.

The air you swallow greedily burns at your lungs, your chest expanding painfully. He most definitely broke something, or ruptured some sort of organ. Maybe you’ll bleed out before you figure out a way to control your energy. 

“Aw, is that it? That's all you can handle? What happened to the Samurai who nearly cut my head off? Who nearly removed my heart?” 

“Give me a weapon and I’ll make sure your shoulders are free of that gigantic ego you carry around.” 

Sukuna’s face practically splits in half with the joy that overtakes him, a sick bloodlust type of joy that has his fingers flexing their long claws. “Oh.. there she is. How about this? You land a single hit on me and I’ll give you a weapon.” 

“Fine.” You accept his terms as you get up from the floor, you weren’t entirely useless without a blade per se, but you definitely preferred to have a weapon of some sort over bare fists. Though, that’s not to say you weren’t trained in hand-to-hand combat either. 

That was something your father had allowed before you were granted permission to wield a weapon. Kiso had been your instructor then too, a man double your size in every way had thrown you around the dojo as if you were nothing but a grain of rice. But it helped, it taught you valuable lessons if you were to be disarmed in battle.

Now was a great time to see if it would work out for you.

Control it, Sukuna said, control your cursed energy. Delay it’s spread throughout your body, don’t focus it into one area. Spread it evenly, calmly, and then you will be in total control. Your shoulders ease themselves from the hiked up position by your ears, you attempt to broaden your stance but the kimono restricts your legs once again.

In a moment of impulsivity, you lean down to the rip that had started to form from when Sukuna had launched you with a single punch. The aforementioned man watches in amusement when you dig your fingers into the hole and rip the material apart until the skin up to your mid thigh is exposed. 

“How impolite.” Sukuna laments, but it doesn’t sound like he’s upset by the fact you ripped such an expensive kimono. You choose to remain silent, shifting your feet just so to drop your body into a traditional ninjutsu stance. One arm close by your side, with your fist curled tightly and the other arm at a similar level to the other is pushed in front of your body. 

“Oh? So the dove does know how to fight. How amusing.” Sukuna drops into a similar stance to your own, albeit he looks much more intimidating with an extra set of arms. “I won’t hold back this time.”

“Neither will I.” 

Again, it is you who moves first. You ‘focus’ your cursed energy like Sukuna had told you to into your feet, the snow beneath you spirals upwards in a manmade gust of wind to fill the space you once occupied. Your body twists in the air, and you find yourself behind Sukuna with one leg extended out to deliver a swift kick to the side of his head.

It’s no surprise that one of his arms darts up to block the hit with his forearm, but even he could feel the amount of force you threw behind that kick. He lets out a low laugh to himself, ah, how long had it been again since someone dared to challenge him like this?

Sukuna’s body turns, his own leg coming up and around to deliver his own kick but you’re quick enough to push your body out of the way. The two of you separate, Sukuna now in the spot where you had initially started. With no more witty comments on his tongue, he decides the game has truly started and launches the next attack.

He’s across the empty space in the blink of an eye, one of his arms is drawn back and he strikes with no mercy. With a shift of your cursed energy, you redirect it into your forearm and deflect his punch enough to open up his chest to you. However, Sukuna immediately goes for another strike. 

The arm you had blocked withdraws in exchange for his arm on the opposite side to strike you in a similar punch, and it’s much easier now that you realise just how easy it is to shift your cursed energy about once you concentrate on it. Your forearm again blocks his punch, and Sukuna grins.

His body twists again, agile for a man of his stature, one long leg darts up in hopes of returning the kick you nearly hit him with earlier. But your body moves in tandem with his own, an easy arch of your back has you leaning out of the way. 

Sukuna moves far too fluidly as if his body was nothing but water, another kick and another dodge from you has your body retreating just slightly. He presses the attacks, keeping up the pressure to ensure it’s you who loses the fight. The air hisses around his fist with how quickly he’s throwing them at you, and each time you manage to move out of the way. 

“You do remember the terms of the agreement, correct? You can’t dodge forever.” He grits his teeth, snarling when another fist gets batted away by your own forearm. 

“I remember.” In the midst of his rising anger at how he’s being easily evaded, you twist on your foot and bring up your left leg in hopes of hitting him in the side. One arm raises effortlessly, a slap of skin on skin at just how much force was put behind it. 

Your next few moves come in quick succession, a series of kicks and punches that Kiso had shown you as a child. They weren’t as brutal as they are now, Sukuna can only defend himself with his bare forearms when you repeatedly attempt to strike him over the head with either your foot or fist. 

You find yourself once again across the small arena from Sukuna. The snow that had once littered the ground is nowhere to be seen from the amount of force and energy that had been thrown around between the two of you. You meet Sukuna’s gaze, and he falters for just a second at the grin that rests on your face.

It’s wide, not quite as manic as his own but it’s a grin nonetheless. You’re enjoying yourself. 

It pisses Sukuna off.

He vanishes practically into thin air with how quickly he darts towards you, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end and your stomach fills with untimely dread. He was going for the kill. There was no doubt about that. You blink, just as he appears in front of you, and you watch the snowflakes that fall around him in slow motion.

Even he was moving much slower than you anticipated, two of his arms are slowly drawing back and you swear you can see the darkened energy that starts to form around both of his fists in a furious fire-like image. You had to either move or block it, if you moved you were left in the open but if you managed to block it… you can throw him off guard.

Your arms come up to cross over each other in front of your chest and face, the air shifts again and time falls back into motion. The two fists coated in energy collide with your forearms hard enough to have you sliding back several paces, but you were unscathed. Relatively. Your arms weren’t broken, and when you look up to Sukuna… his eyes are wide. 

“There it is.” He smiles with sharpened fangs, as if he had been waiting for this to happen all along. “Now we can begin.”

The air feels immensely different. A shift had happened between the two of you, was it because you blocked his attack or was it because you moved much faster than Sukuna could see? Either way, you knew what he meant by the fight now beginning – everything before was just a warmup. 

It’s your turn to dash forward, your cursed energy ebbs and flows throughout your body and before Sukuna can blink you’re in front of him. A palm extends outwards and it lands flat against his chest, but there is no slap of skin. Instead there’s a resounding boom, a sound that disturbs the tree above you into shaking free some leaves and the mountains that surround you rumble with the threat of an avalanche. 

Both of you are too enthralled by the fight to realise that you have already won.

His retaliation comes instantly, a curled fist coated in that viscous black energy that you’ve come to recognise as Sukuna’s. You catch it in the flat of your free palm, and there’s another deafening boom followed by the whistling of wind from two unstoppable forces colliding. 

The wind cuts at the ground, fissures forming in the stone that look something like slash marks. Sukuna’s four eyes are wide in a mixture of amazement and bloodlust, he seems truly enticed by the fight that had unfolded. 

Those punches and deflects came repeatedly, each of them met with a resistance of equally matched energy. It was baffling to both yourself and Sukuna at just how easily you had managed to get a handle of your cursed energy but then to also match it to his own to successfully defend hits that would surely kill if you were anyone else. 

Your ankle meets his own when you both twist to deliver a high kick, the mountains once again rumble with their deathly threat of raining down the snow that had settled atop their caps. Without a doubt, anyone within the vicinity of the temple could too feel the vicious vibrations and force that was coming from the attacks.

Once again, the two of you are at the opposite ends of the now partially destroyed arena. Again the air shifts and this time you’re ready for it, Sukuna’s stance shifts to a similar one that he had adopted at the start of the fight but this time you’re able to see his entire body is set alight in a black aura that shrouds him like a cloak of death.

He was going to throw all of his cursed energy at you to see if you could withstand even that.

You had only one choice. You try to mimic it, your own energy bubbles at the surface of your skin before it hisses against the cold midwinter air. Sukuna seems delighted at the display, his features seeming more demonic with the darkness that shrouds him. 

“Fascinating.” He muses from his position across the yard, still holding his stance as he watches your cursed energy build and build until you too have a similar aura that shrouds you completely. Where his energy is pure black, yours is a deep shade of crimson red. It laps at your skin, coating you until you feel the pressure of it wrapped tightly around your body.

The both of you move at the exact same time, like a spring ready to launch. There’s a brief moment as you’re advancing on Sukuna where you think that this clash of energy will result in death, that what he was about to hit you with would collide with your own with a deadly backlash no doubt. 

But there is no time to ponder if this was a mistake. Your fist meets his own, and the boom that follows is much different this time. It’s more of an explosion than anything, your energy smashes into his with such velocity that they mingle momentarily, tugging you closer and closer to Sukuna—to the source of all his cursed energy, before it repels the both of you back from each other. 

Your body is flung much too fast to stop it from happening, you hit solid rock and feel it cave in around your body. The energy you had coated yourself in dissipates slowly, seeping back into your battered and bruised body as you lay in the you-sized hole in the side of the mountain.

You were alive, however, you could tell that much. Even if your ribs felt like they were puncturing your lungs, and the back of your skull stung something fierce — you were alive. Your vision is tinted red as you stare up at the sky above you from your resting place, the snow continues to fall in thick flurries to only melt into your heated skin. 

Alive but at what cost? Your entire body felt like it was completely empty, drained of all it was worth, your bones felt like rubber and your heart was beating so languidly in your chest. 

“And you dare to tell me you needed a weapon to wound me.” A voice speaks from the rim of the crater, Sukuna stands there looking down at you — you expect him to be sneering, mocking you for being thrown so harshly but it seems he’s in no better shape.

His skin is bruised, blood sullying his once pristine skin and the slash marks that litter his skin are deep enough that you think you can see the muscle. The kimono he was fighting in is in a similar state of disarray to your own, it’s ripped completely from his upper body. The remnants of it lay hanging loosely at his waist. 

You don’t fight him when he reaches down for you, large hands grabbing at your waist and your shoulders to drag you to safety. You stand just mere centimetres from him, the smell of blood sticks to your tongue with each deep inhale you force your body to take.

One of those large hands supporting you comes up to cup your chin, tilting your head up so you can get a good look at him. One of his lower eyes looks like a blood vessel had popped, there’s a cut on his bottom lip and yet he still has that all-knowing grin on his face.

“I’m going to make you unstoppable.” He confesses so closely to your face, his warm breath brushes against your own in an open invitation. “No one will ever be able to stop you when the time comes.”

You want to ask what he means by that, but your brain is fuzzy with how hard you had hit it against the mountain. Sukuna seems to take note of the distant look in your eye, the blood that continues to build in the waterline before it overflows to roll down your cheek. 

A large hand moves to cup the back of your head, thick fingers looping through your dishevelled hair until you feel the warmth of his fingertips against your scalp. A soothing warmth washes across the back of your head, curling gently beneath the skin of your face and along the bridge of your nose. 

“You did well.” Sukuna praises unexpectedly, his voice lowered as he continued to let his energy seep into the back of your head to help ease whatever pain was bothering you. “You certainly bypassed my expectations.” 

Slowly you bring your lips up into a smile, and you watch how his eyes dart down to watch your lips carefully. “I imagine… I’m also the only person alive to say I beat Ryoumen Sukuna in a fight.”

You feel the hitch of his breath in his throat before it’s replaced with a huff of laughter, “For once, you’re right.”

He doesn’t budge when you half-heartedly push at his chest to get him away after his sly attempt to get under your skin again. Instead he jostles you in his arms until you’re pressed much too close to him, his forehead is against your own and his fingers curl a little more aggressively against your head.

The energy he continues to pour into you and your wounds is exhausting to try and endure, it feels like it’s weighing you down the longer you stand there and let it happen. Is this why he did it previously when you were asleep? 

Sukuna keeps his eyes closed as he embraces you into his own body, and you want to know what he’s thinking. What he could possibly be plotting for the future. 

“Did you feel it?” He eventually fills the silence, leaning back just enough to look you directly in the eye whilst still holding you pinned to his exposed chest. “When we clashed, did you feel it?”

“I… I felt like I was being pulled into you.” You recall the feeling, it felt like the very core of your cursed energy was being pulled aggressively towards his, as if he had his own gravitational pull. He nods his head, lips parting as if he were about to agree with you but instead his face twists into a scowl.

He leans away from you, the warmth of his energy disappears from the back of your head as does the warmth of his body when he lets go. “Go back to the temple. Stay in the room, if I find you left it, I’ll ensure you never hold a weapon again.”

And just like that, he’s marching away from you. His energy darkening around him with each step further and further he takes from you, and all it does is leave you feeling rather empty and alone in the aftermath of that training lesson. 

The snow settles against the top of your head, against your exposed skin that’s no longer bleeding nor bruised. He had healed you completely, but then ripped himself away from you after he attempted to open up. It twinges painfully in your chest when you think of the momentary hurt that filled your gut when he flipped the switch on his personality.

Did he not mean to compliment how well you did? Did he not mean to heal you and allow his body close to your own? Sukuna didn’t seem like a man who would hold himself back and yet, he did just then.

Despite the predictable threat from Sukuna, you turn away from the steps he had just transcended and instead look across the expanse of mountains and trees just beyond the temple walls. The clouds are low, just covering the sun from coating you in its warmth directly. It’s tranquil. The aftermath of the battle was no doubt contributing to this but there was something else — deep inside of you.

Something felt very different. Something had awoken amidst your fight with Sukuna and you’re unsure if it’s for better or for worse.

‣‣ Main Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[erinelliotc]

Which dub you likes better? Portuguese or english?

Oh, I loved getting this question! I have a lot to say on this subject because I really like talking about dubbing.

Sit down kids, and get ready for a little infodump about the Brazilian/Portuguese dubbing of Ed, Edd n Eddy! (the show has never been dubbed in Portugal. The only Portuguese dub is the Brazilian one, so referring to this EEnE dubbing as "Brazilian" or "Portuguese" is the same thing, same dub).

** I edited this post to make some additions. They're highlighted in purple **

Brazilian adaptation

First of all, it's important to say that here in Brazil, "Ed, Edd n Eddy" is "Du, Dudu e Edu". I already explained it here, but I'll explain it again. The Brazilian/Portuguese version of Edward is Eduardo, and the common nicknames are Dudu and Edu, so they just had to create the nickname "Du" (at least I've never seen someone called Eduardo being called Du) and there you go, we have the perfect adaptation! We lost the "Double D" nickname as we didn't have the issue of "Ed" and "Edd" sounding the same, so they just didn't see the need to keep it. So every time he's called "Double D" they just dub it as "Dudu" too. To me it's one of the best adaptations because it wouldn't sound very natural to call them "Edward/Eds" and it makes a lot of sense:

Ed = Du (1 D) Edd = Dudu (2 D's) Eddy = Edu ("Ed" with a sound at the end)

They even solved the issue of Ed and Edd sounding the same (even though I think Double D is a great and cute nickname and I really like this addition and miss it in the Brazilian dub, but I assume the reason it was added was in order to solve this issue).

Some funny things:

In the first episode (The Ed-Touchables) there's a dubbing error in a scene where Eddy calls Ed by his original name instead of "Du". I don't know how this went unnoticed because he calls him "Du" at all other times. It's only in the scene where Eddy says "Ed! Don't move! And stop giggling!".

There are also some errors in other episodes where they mix up the Eds (it only happens in the first season(s) if I remember correctly). There is, for example, a scene in "Who, What, Where, Ed" (season 1, episode 21) in which Lee in the Brazilian dub mistakenly refers to Eddy by Edd's Brazilian name (Dudu), and this scene kinda pisses me off because of the error but it's so freaking funny because besides them mistaking Eddy for Double D, they also changed her line to something that would only make sense if she was referring to Eddy. She says "Eddy's such a weasel", and they dubbed it as "O Dudu é o mais gostoso" ("Double D's the hottest [of them]"), which doesn't make any sense since Eddy's her crush and it just cracks me up, both for the error and for the unexpectedly somewhat inappropriate line for a kid's show (I think that here in Brazil calling someone "hot" may be a little more inappropriate than in English, at least I guess...?).

Another important adaptation I forgot to mention: since jawbreakers are a sweet that doesn't exist in Brazil (we have a sweet called "quebra-queixo" ("jawbreaker") but it's different, it's just another name for our "pé de moleque" ("kid's foot")), for some reason, they decided to translate it as "balas de caramelo" ("caramel candies"). I have no idea why, but I like that name.

Brazilian dub

The Brazilian dub has a very special place in my heart because it was the one I grew up with, so it gives me a lot of nostalgia, and honestly it's a very good dub in general (I think Brazilian voice actors do an excellent job besides the errors because they're great at making dubs with a lot of emotion and naturalness).

There are even some scenes that I find funnier in the Brazilian dub because the voice intonation is stronger/more dramatic/has more emotion, or because they changed the lines to something funnier (I'm not a fan of changing lines, but I don't mind changes if it's just to make the line stronger and the original meaning and essence of what was said is maintained). Some examples:

"A Glass of Warm Ed" (season 1, episode 19) - Double D saying "Oh dear. An intruder. Eating all the food out of my refrigerator. In bare feet!" in Portuguese sounds funnier to me because his voice intonation in "In bare feet!" seems a little more terrified. This scene always gets me because of the way he talks. I love Double D’s concept of things escalating from bad to worse. Like: An intruder = oh how inconvenient Eating all my food = oh no, that’s terrible! In bare feet! = good lord! that’s TOO MUCH! COMPLETELY UNACCEPTABLE!!!

"Eds-Aggerate" (season 1, episode 23) - As I said, Kevin's Brazilian voice sounds much funnier to me, so I'll give just one of the countless examples of this because otherwise I'd have to mention all of his lines. Kevin says "Mucky... boys?" — which was dubbed here as "Garotos primatas" ("Primate boys") — and "Baloney!" — which was dubbed here as "Mentira!" ("Lies!/You're lying!") —, and I just love the way it sounds in Portuguese.

"Avast Ye Eds" (season 1, episode 26) - Eddy's line in Portuguese sounds funnier to me because his voice intonation and line seem ruder, more impatient and more tired. In the original dub he says "Hey kid, I'm on my break. Do you mind?", and it was dubbed as "Ô garoto, eu tô de folga. Não enche o saco" ("Hey kid, I'm on a break. Get off my back/Get out of my face/Don't piss me off" [I don't know which one is the best way to translate it]).

"Knock, Knock, Who's Ed?" (season 2, episode 3) - This is one of the best examples I can give of line change that just makes it funnier without losing its original meaning. In the scene where Ed offers a candy stuck to his leg and says "I got this one for Christmas", it was dubbed as "Essa tá aqui desde que eu era bebê" ("This one's been here since I was a baby"). The fun of this line is to express that the candy has been stored on his leg for a very long time, so this change just amplified this, increasing the time the candy would be there and making the line much more absurd and funny.

"One + One = Ed" (season 2, episode 4) - Double D's line in Portuguese sounds much funnier to me because they changed the line to something more direct and less soft (even though Double D's a gentle, delicate and polite character, he's also brutally honest and sometimes says some unexpected harsh things quite bluntly, so I don't think it was out of character for him). In the original dub he says "I best tend to his medical needs. Excuse me", and it was dubbed as "Eu vou ver o que sobrou do Edu, tá? Um instante" ("I'm going to see what's left of Eddy, okay? Just a moment"). This line makes me imagine him literally picking up the pieces of Eddy. I don't know, I'm a very visual and literal person, so this line sounds really funny to me, especially with him saying it with a smile.

"Floss Your Ed" (season 2, episode 8) - Double D saying "Plain butter?" in Portuguese sounds much funnier to me because his voice intonation seems more terrified. In the original dub he just sounds confused and speechless to me, whereas in Portuguese he seems more disconcerted, shocked, perplexed, astonished, intrigued and disturbed that Rolf would suggest that Ed eat plain butter. I like this because Double D's a character who's easily impressed and shocked by things and tends to have strong reactions to absurd situations or even situations that aren't considered absurd to others. To me it makes perfect sense that he'd be terrified and have a reaction that highlights the absurdity of the act of eating plain butter. To me it's like it went from "Plain… butter? 😶" to "Plain butter!? 😨".

"Honor Thy Ed" (season 2, episode 17) - I was a little disappointed when I watched the original episode because I really thought Eddy said what he said in the Brazilian dub and I really liked that line, but then I found out it was actually a line change. Ed says "You scared Double D, Eddy" and Eddy says "I did, didn't I? C'mon, I got an idea", and it was dubbed as: Ed: "Assustou o magricela" ("You scared the skinny guy") / Eddy: "Ah, eu sei disso, Du. Adoro deixar ele nervoso" ("Oh, I know that, Ed. I love making him nervous"). It sounded so teasing, a bit EddEddy, I really loved it and I was totally convinced it was the original line because it sounded so much like something Eddy would say.

"Jingle Jingle Jangle" (Christmas Special episode) - Okay, so let's talk about really inappropriate dubbing. There's a scene where Rolf originally says "You have pulled Rolf's eggplant, half-man, half-woman Ed boy", and it was dubbed as "Impressionou o órgão em formato de berinjela do Rolf, Edu" ("You impressed Rolf's eggplant-shaped organ, Eddy"). I think it's so funny how explicit that line got, but it kinda saddens me that they cut out the "half-man, half-woman" part.

Kevin's Brazilian voice is one of the funniest to me. I'd say Alexandre Moreno is one of the most famous Brazilian voice actors with one of the most memorable voices. He dubs Adam Sandler (the work for which he's best known), dubbed Ben Stiller, Steve Carell, Antonio Banderas, Josh Duhamel, Martin Freeman, dubbed Puss in Boots from Shrek, Alex from Madagascar, Syndrome from The Incredibles, Dracula from Hotel Transylvania, Flapjack, Flint from Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs, Denzel Crocker from The Fairly OddParents, Adam from Bee Movie, Numbuh 9 from Kids Next Door, Krusty from The Simpsons, and many others. Even though I love Kevin's original voice (and especially his laugh, which I particularly prefer in the original voice), I think the Brazilian one sounds funnier and more informal.

Sarah's Brazilian voice actress did many important and memorable voices too. Iara Riça was the main voice actress for Harley Quinn, Brenda Song, Tara Strong, dubbed Tails, Blossom from Powerpuff Girls, Frankie from Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends, Cree from Kids Next Door, Fionna from Adventure Time, Tecna from Winx Club, Courtney from Total Drama, Charlotte from The Princess and the Frog, Princess Su from Mulan 2, Yumi from Hi Hi Puffy AmiYumi, and many others). She was one of my favorite voice actresses, but she unfortunately passed away on April 27, 2021. I think her voice was perfect for Sarah. She was able to do annoying and striking voices just right.

Eddy's Brazilian voice is quite different, but in the end I think it suits him because it's a very strong and chaotic voice too. Ricardo Juarez dubbed Will Ferrell, Taz, Johnny Bravo, Kratos from God of War, Melman from Madagascar, Barney from The Simpsons, Fuzzy from Powerpuff Girls, and some others.

Lee's Brazilian voice was also a voice that I think was really great for her. Nádia Carvalho was a famous and remarkable Brazilian actress and voice actress. She dubbed Bette Midler, Queen Latifah, Miranda Richardson, Edna from The Incredibles, Dexter's mom from Dexter's Laboratory, and many others. She also unfortunately passed away on July 11, 2022.

Fun facts:

Double D and Rolf share the same Brazilian voice actor and I think he did a great job with both of them. His voice makes Double D sound a little hoarse, something that I think suits the character and contributes to making some lines funnier and stronger/more dramatic. Luiz Sérgio Vieira dubbed Static from Static Shock, Matsuda from Death Note, Numbuh 4 from Kids Next Door, Bloo from Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends, Timmy from The Fairly OddParents, Jonathan from Stranger Things, Plagg from Miraculous Ladybug, Ralph from The Simpsons, Gibby from iCarly, and many others.

Nazz's first Brazilian voice actress is a mystery. We have no information on who she was, and she dubbed her for like, almost half of the show (I still need to check if it's correct, but according to the wiki she dubbed her in: season 1, season 2, the first half of season 3 and one episode from season 4), being replaced by Sylvia Salustti, another memorable voice (she dubbed Tweety from Looney Tunes, Pearl from Steven Universe, Rapunzel from Tangled, Eva from Wall-E, Foxy from Chicken Little, Ring Ring from Pucca, Amy from The Big Bang Theory, Rachel from Glee, Phoebe from Friends, and many others).

English/original dub x Brazilian dub

However, I prefer the original dub. I really love the original voices, especially Eddy's (God bless Tony Sampson). Most of Eddy's scenes are always funny to me just because of his voice tone, everything he says is funny to me because of the exaggerated, loud and chaotic way he talks. A voice that I think is much better in the original dub is Jonny's. I don't dislike the Brazilian voice, but it's just too... normal. Jonny's original voice suits his personality very well because it shows how nuts and lunatic he is. Jimmy's original voice also sounds a little more, well... gay.

I think the EEnE crew did an excellent job and I'm so grateful that Danny Antonucci was the pain-in-the-ass perfectionist guy telling them to repeat their lines until it was good enough because we really got a show with wonderful and memorable lines. I really love it when people are genuinely passionate about things and really care about making them perfect in an obsessive way. I'm very much like that... and of course Antonucci is too, that's his Double D side. I also love how this is reflected in the fandom. I see that this fandom is full of people who don't like the show in a simple and shallow way, but in an obsessed and passionate way (it's one of my reasons for thinking that EEnE is a show that primarily appeals to neurodivergent people. We just hyperfixate on things, in this case EEnE, and cling to them like they're the most important and amazing thing in the world to us).

I'd say the only voice that leaves me torn about which one I think is better is Kevin's. But apart from him, I think all the original voices are better, but please don't get me wrong. As I said, I love the Brazilian dub, I just prefer the original one, that's all. I'd say that the original dub is 10/10 and the Brazilian dub is like 8/10.

Things in the Brazilian dub that I don't like

There are some things that aren't necessarily bad, it's just something that I personally don't like for particular reasons and personal preferences.

One of my biggest complaints about the Brazilian dub is something very specific: Ed's dub. I'm a perfectionist, very obsessive, so I like dubbing being as close as possible to the original one and suffering the less changes as possible (I think changes when translating a show/movie/series/book/game/etc are welcome for the reasons I previously explained, and also to adapt to our context and culture, such as changing the names of the Eds), and that's why I tend to prefer watching everything in the original dub, and even when it's dubbed in Portuguese I like to watch it with subtitles (for this same reason, and also because I have a hard time just listening to things because I probably have Central Auditory Processing Disorder. I wish I could turn on subtitles in real life too xD). Ed must be the character who has undergone the most line changes, I believe intending to make him more goofy and dumb, but at the same time I don't understand the need because his original lines were already very random and strange. Apparently, this happened due to the voice actor's own personal decision (I want to make it clear that I think the voice actor is really great and remarkable, but in this particular work I don't agree with his choices for the lines). Clécio Souto is a famous Brazilian actor, voice actor and announcer. He dubbed Chris Evans, Andy Samberg, James Franco, Jared Leto, Kel from Kenan & Kel, Castiel from Supernatural, Banana Joe from The Amazing World of Gumball, Lenny from Shark Tale, and many others. He created 3 catchphrases for Ed that he used very often in place of the original lines, which I genuinely can't understand because Ed already had catchphrases, so why not just keep them? According to him they wouldn't be funny to us, but I don't understand why he thinks so. Well, so in the Brazilian dub, Ed loses his original catchphrases. He no longer talks all the time about buttered toast and gravy, and his lines about chickens remained, but were changed to "galinha com quiabo" ("chicken with okra") (a Brazilian dish), which I really dislike because to me the point is that he likes chickens themselves, as animals, alive, and not as food. Him saying "Who's there?" was also replaced by one of his new catchphrases, "Nem doeu" ("It didn't hurt").

Here's a video of him talking about it:

Translation of what he says in the video:

The character became known for the 3 line changes that I invented. Exactly, this one, Ed. I said "I love chicken with okra!". It didn't have that in the original. I don't remember [what he said in the original]. I change lines so much... I already look and say "I'm not gonna say that because it won't be funny to us. I'm gonna say something else", then "I love chicken with okra". Every time he bumped into something, he said something stupid or didn't even speak and had his back turned, I said "It didn't hurt!". A line change of mine too, "It didn't hurt". It became a catchphrase. And the other one was "Cute/pretty" [I don't know a proper way to translate it]. "Aw, I'm cute/pretty!", which was his too and didn't exist [in the original]. All line changes, all line changes.

There are so many line changes that I won't be able to mention them all, so here are a few examples, but keep in mind that there were A LOT of line changes in every episode:

"An Ed Too Many" (season 1, episode 11) - Instead of saying "And she's a good speller", Ed was dubbed saying "Ele vai ter um fim desgraçado" ("He's gonna have a disgraceful end"). The voice actor thought it'd be funnier to have Ed respond like a jealous older brother trying to protect his younger sister, and I must admit I found it very funny, especially because he speaks in a very normal way and not with an angry voice tone.

"Look Into My Eds" (season 1, episode 13) - Instead of saying "book" and "buttered toast" when Double D asks what he sees in the images, he says "meleca" ("booger") and "salsicha estragada" ("spoiled sausage"). And in the scene where Eddy asks about the hypnotizing wheel and Ed says it was "buttered toast", it was dubbed as "a black lollipop".

"A Boy and his Ed" (season 1, episode 16) - Instead of Eddy saying "Be Kevin's friends? We'd have a better chance of Ed growing a chin" and Ed saying "I wish I had 4 stomachs", it was dubbed as: Eddy: "Ser amigo do Kevin? Seria muito mais fácil se o Du deixasse crescer uma barba" ("Be Kevin's friend? It'd be much easier for Ed to grow a beard") / Ed: "Será que eu ia ficar bonitinho de barba?" ("I wonder if I'd look cute/pretty with a beard"). I really dislike this line change because they cut out the joke about Ed not having a chin, and removed him having a completely random line that has no connection with what Eddy said, something that's part of his character since he's supposed to be the distracted one, and thus, have nonsense lines and random thoughts.

"One + One = Ed" (season 2, episode 4) = At the end of the episode, instead of referencing the events that occurred previously by saying "Jimmy! You got your line back! Is it on wrong?", "Baby sister! Take your mouth off again" and "It's stuck", he was dubbed saying "Jimmy! Você sentou ao contrário. É pra lá, bobão" ("Jimmy! You sat backwards. It's that way, silly"), "E aí, maninha chata. Vamos brincar?" ("What's up, annoying sister. Let's play?") and "Ih, engasgou" ("Sheesh, she choked"). I honestly don't understand why the voice actor changed these lines. It just makes Ed look like he's being completely nonsensical not only to the other kids but to us too, because the fun of that scene was that he seemed crazy to the kids because they don't know the context of the things he's doing and saying, and not him being really random.

"Stop, Look and Ed" (season 2, episode 16) - Instead of saying "Why's Double D wearing pantyhose on his head?", Ed was dubbed saying "Tá parecendo o coelhinho da páscoa!" ("He looks like the Easter Bunny!"), which was very creative indeed.

"Your Ed Here" (season 4, episode 13) - Ed's classic line after the classic kiss scene "One is a lonely number, Double D" was dubbed as "O 1 é um número só, não é, Dudu?" ("1 is a single number, isn’t it, Double D?"). The biggest change was in the intonation of his voice, so instead of it being a sad statement, it turned into Ed just asking a random and stupid question. "One is a lonely number" may sound strange at first glance, but it's clear he means he felt left out.

The feeling I have is as if in the moments when Ed should have random lines they turned into lines with more sense, and in the lines with more sense they turned into random lines. Anyway, enough talking about Ed's dub. Despite everything I've pointed out, I don't consider it a bad dub. As I said, it's just a matter of my personal preference. The voice actor just wanted to give the character a boost, a little bit of his special touch, and I respect that.

Kevin had a second voice actor in some episodes (Duda Espinoza), which bothered me because I usually don't like voice actor changes, especially if the other voice sounded much better to me (I mean, it was fucking Alexandre Moreno. It sucks to just take away a remarkable voice like his), but at least it was only in a few episodes, so it didn't bother me that much. The change in Nazz's voice actress didn't bother me because both voices suited her to me.

I really love all the Brazilian voices (some more than others), I think they all suit the characters, even the ones that aren't so similar to the original voices. But there's a voice that was one of the worst choices I've ever seen in dubbing: Eddy's brother's voice. Honestly, this was their only really BAD choice in choosing a voice actor. Bro's literally an adult and in the Brazilian dub he sounds like a kid/teenager, because he was in fact dubbed by one! @eenedump already talked about it on Twitter, and it's true. Nothing against the guy, Luciano Monteiro is a great voice actor and did and does amazing dubbing (like Finn from Adventure Time, Freddie from iCarly, Zack and Cody, Lewis from Meet the Robinsons, Baljeet from Phineas and Ferb, and many others), but he just wasn't a good choice for Bro. He was a literal kid/teen at the time! 14 years old! Even the characters that are actually kids are dubbed by adults, so why would they choose someone who's actually a kid and sounds like a kid (if he at least sounded like an adult, age wouldn't be an issue) to dub the only adult who appears in the show? I can't see any explanation for this decision.

Now, a thing that REALLY haunted me in the Brazilian dub, disturbed me even more than Bro's voice, was in the Valentine's special episode "Hanky Panky Hullabaloo". The strangest, most disconcerting and unexplainable thing happened when I was watching it and it made me very confused, uncomfortable and concerned for the rest of the episode: Marie and May's voice actresses simply swapped places. I honestly can't think of any reason for that happening. Like, I hate when voice actors change, but I understand that it can happen because for some reason the first one can't voice the character anymore or just can't in some episodes. But this!? This is completely nonsense. What happened? Did everyone, including themselves, forget which Kanker they dubbed? There's no logical explanation and I've never seen this happening before in any other dub. Seriously, imagine watching Ed, Edd n Eddy almost in its entirety, with two characters having the same voices from the beginning, and suddenly you're hearing May's voice coming out of Marie's mouth and Marie's voice coming out of May's mouth. There's no other way to describe this occurrence other than Double D's classic line in "3 Squares and an Ed" (season 3, episode 6): "That's disturbing". I felt like I was in an alternate reality.

And in "May I Have This Ed?" (season 6, episode 1), Marie's voice actress dubbed May in the scene where she says "How about you get your claws off my man, boyfriend-stealer!", but in the previous scene when May says "Hey!" she seems to have been dubbed by the right voice actress. Again, disturbing.

There are some other minor things in the Brazilian dub that kinda bother me:

Double D sounds a little less formal, especially in the first seasons. A problem that happened in the Brazilian dub is that many words that Double D says in English that would be excessively formal are actually common words in Portuguese (to get around this and maintain the character's characteristic of having a sophisticated vocabulary, I'd try as much as possible to replace the words that Double D originally used with more unknown and difficult synonyms in Portuguese). There are times when Ed or Eddy shouldn't understand what he said or should get it wrong, but to us it wouldn't make sense that they wouldn't understand because Double D didn't say anything difficult to understand. I already gave an example of this in a post about the classic "Eddy, I fear they're becoming amorous!" line from "Home Cooked Eds" (season 2, episode 11). "Amorous" (amoroso(s) / amorosa(s)) is a very common word in Portuguese with a very normal meaning, not related to anything sexual at all, just meaning someone who's affectionate or sweet. For this reason, I made a line change to another word that would be more formal and carry a sexual meaning (in the Brazilian dub he just uses the word "amorosas"). Another example is in "Who Let the Ed In?" (season 2, episode 10), when Double D says "I'm at quite a quandary" and Eddy says "Forget your laundry". In English there are both the words "quandary" and "dilemma", but in Portuguese we only have the word "dilema", which is also a common word and which I still haven't been able to think of how to adapt to rhyme with something that Eddy would get wrong (in the Brazilian dub there's no joke with him getting it wrong, Eddy just understands what Double D says). And another example is in "Shoo Ed" (season 2, episode 20), when Eddy uses the word "provoke" and Double D's impressed that he knows that word. Again, a completely common word in Portuguese since we don't have the word "teasing", we only have "provocar".

Something unfortunately inevitable in all dubbings and adaptations but which bothers me anyway is the jokes that only make sense in English. As I'm subtitling the episodes, I'm coming across a very large number of jokes that I have no idea how to adapt into Portuguese. A good example of this problem is the classic "I'd swear, but standards won't let me" joke from "Ed Overboard" (season 4, episode 7). The fun of this joke is centered on exploring the dubious and ambiguous meaning of the word "swear", which can mean either "promise" or "express anger in a very rude and inappropriate way", something that doesn't exist in Portuguese, we just have different words for each of that. Since there was no way to adapt it, it was dubbed as "Até faria, mas não tô afim não" ("I'd do it, but I don't feel like it").

Something similar to the previous problem is lines that should rhyme but the rhyme just can't happen. In "Nagged to Ed" (season 1, episode 2), Eddy says "Nice head, Ed" and he even highlights the fact that it rhymed, but in Portuguese the word "head" doesn't rhyme with Du or Ed, so the scene just seems like Eddy's being stupid and saying that something that doesn't rhyme does rhyme (which honestly isn't that out of character for him as he's shown to be quite stupid at times, but the loss of this rhyme particularly bothers me).

There are some errors every now and then, but the dub errors are not even close to being a big reason for my rating 8/10 because they're not that frequent. However, every time they happen it bothers me. An example is in "Mirror, Mirron, on the Ed" (season 2, episode 22) when Eddy says "Once upon an observation of this small rock, I have discovered it actually mutated from a big rock", and it was dubbed as "Após a observação desta pequena pedra, eu descobri que na verdade ela se transformou em uma grande pedra" ("After the observation of this small rock, I have discovered that it actually turned into a big rock"), like... what?

Anyway, that's what I had to say. I love both dubs, I love the Brazilian dub despite the things I mentioned, but in the end I think the original dub is better.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Jim! I forgot to say I ship you with Jim. He is your designated silly man ^^

JIM!! Thank you XD 💚💚💚

Oh, this made me realise I have been neglecting him a little while I've been hyperfocused on Callahan (I have already written 3 fics for him. It took me months to write the first for Jim 😅😅 Its just the teacher kink thing I swear, Jim will always be my favourite) and the Titanic!! So I had to write this XD I hope you like it too!

Jim Bickerman x Fem!Bartender!Reader || Drabble

Plot: You're just working your shift at the bar like usual, a regular Thursday night with Jim keeping you company on the other side of the bar, when someone you serve slips you something you didn't ask for back... Luckily Jim's got your back.

Warnings: Use of a date rape drug/roofie, talk of head achiness and a vomit mention. Also unedited.

Tagging: @masqueradeball

A glass slips from your fingers and smashes against the ground; cascading across the wood in every which direction. The heel of your hand moves heavily straight to knead your forehead and you groan,; closing your eyes. God, you suddenly have the worse headache... and you're so sleepy...

Did you really drink that much??... you think, trying to recall but struggling to even think through the fog in your brain. You usually drink a little bit with the customers, but not nearly enough to... ah... hurts...

"Fuck," You breath, breathing slowly. And you hear a familiar voice close by, but suddenly everything around you is starting to get blurry. The noises shift and slip away from you- moulding into one. A horrible throbbing inside your head.

Theirs a hand wrapping around your wrist, pulling you into the bar and another low voice speaking slowly to you. Something something... it's all going to be okay, something else... come on, I'll look after you. Vaguely you recognise it as a stranger, someone you don't know, suspicious- but you're not strong enough to pull your arm away from him. Somewhere in you theirs a voice screaming not but you give one slow nod anyway, giving the okay because you just want to get rid of this headache (A migraine??)- when another presence appears right by you on your side of the bar.

He's close enough that you recognise the rumbling voice of Jim and immediately relax a bit, leaning into his side to stay up on your feet- his voice is far too low for you to gather what he's saying, though. A moment after his voice disappears again- the strangers hand releases you.

His arm wraps around your waist to further hold you up, as your legs are starting to feel weaker and weaker (Or your body is getting heavier and heavier?? God you're so confused... ow... ) and when you turn to rest more securely against his chest he takes your jaw in his hand and guides your face upwards. "Open up your eyes there, sweetheart."

Now that, you heard. Forcing yourself, you manage to crack your eyelids open and see him frowning at you as he takes a glance at your pupils. His own jaw is set and looks really unhappy. "Jim I- I think ate somethin bad... " You mutter to him, confiding in him since he's here now- he'll look after you. You know it. You're safe now.

~

"Jim I- I think I ate somethin bad... " You mumble into his shoulder after he lets your face go and he shakes his head; feeling grim and pissed off as he watches darkly from under the brim of his hat as the weasel who had his hand on you slip right outta the bar- alive. (Of all the nights to not have a gun on me... )

"... Nup, that's not it, sugar." He tells you, glowering at the door now that the bastard is gone. Jim knows he isn't a gold class citizen himself - not by any means. He's done plenty he's not proud of and even more that he is proud of even though he shouldn't be, because he managed to see a pretty check from the deal, - but anyone who does somethin' like this actually deserves to be thrown to fucken crocs. "C'mon, lets getcha some water."

"Mmm, noo, I feel too sick... "

"Thats why you're gettin water, sweetheart. It tastes like junk, trust me I get it but I promise its good for ya."

Frowning like the cutest little drugged up girl, you crack your pretty eyes open again and look up to plead with him. Using up all your energy. "I'll throw up!"

He smirks, he cant help it- you're too sweet. "Little bit a' vomit ain't gonna scare me off. Lets findya a seat."

Taking a deep breath, you give a nod and then hide back in his shoulder- the lights in this bar are too bright and the world is spinning. And the music is too loud and everyone's voices are too loud and the other bartender still shaking up cocktails is too loud... ughhhh...

Jim guides you to a backroom in the bar, which is slightly quieter with the door closed, and sits you down in a ratty old couch before grabbing you a big glass of cold water for you to sip before stepping back- but you tug at his flannel when he tries to step away and he listens; sitting down beside you and letting you curl back into him. "Sweetheart I gotta call 911 now... "

"Do it here with me." Everything still hurts, everything still aches, and vaguely you're aware that this was done to you-- but Jim makes you feel safe, and his flannel is soft, and you need him. "Please."

Luckily he's more then happy to stick by you, nodding and sneaking your phone from your pocket (he doesn't have one) to use with his good hand; squeezing you comfortingly with his hook-arm. "Alright, ehem-- uh, what's the number again??... "

You don't need to look up to groan at him for that wrong-place-wrong-time joke, and his grin goes wider hearing it. (She's still in there, she's okay. She's fine.) "Jimmm... "

Quickly dialing (as fast as he can with one hand), he puts the phone to his ear and blows hair out his cheeks, nervously. Calling this number should be second nature at this point, but when its for you and not himself, the anxiety comes racin' back. (Goddamnit.) "I know sweetheart, I know. Hold on, it wont be long. We'll getcha help and you'll be jussst fine... "

('Miss Sheriff Reba' is gonna get a hell of a report in the morning, that's for fucken sure.)

[this-world-of-beautiful-monsters]

27. Witching hour, Loak & Rjake

Story also posted on ao3!

(tw violence, fuck-it awareness of vampire lore, self-esteem issues, creepy behavior, non-consensual touching, non-consensual kissing)

"It's late, you know." The creature's eyes flash yellow, almost, but not quite as bright as its wicked fangs. "Long past time for good little boys to be in bed."

"Shut the fuck up." Lo'ak tightens his grip on his stake, heart hammering, trying to drown out the alarm shrieking at the back of his skull: stupid stupid stupid. He knew he shouldn't have run out like that, he knew it, and now he's paying for his temper like he always fucking does.

"Language." The bloodsucker's tongue dances teasingly, but its voice is a chiding growl, and Lo'ak chokes down the sorry, sir crawling up his throat. It's not Dad, he snarls at himself. It's not Dad, you fucking moron.

Lo'ak shouldn't be nearly as thrown as he is. They'd already known that one of the vampires they were hunting came from Dad's branch of the family, a great-times-a-billion uncle or some shit, who'd somehow weaseled his way into being the vampire king's head boytoy.

He just--he just hadn't expected the vamp to look so much like Dad, that's all. To be a perfect copy, even, except a few decades younger (a few centuries older).

Except for the way those golden eyes are roving over Lo'ak's skin, looking him over in a way that makes heat stir ragged in his belly. It scares the shit out of him, and like most things that scare him, it pisses him off.

"Y'know, I'm feeling generous," he snarks, flipping the stake around in his hand. "I'll give you a head start. To the count of ten, that sound good?"

The vamp blinks at him for a second, looking almost surprised--and then it laughs, the kind of ringing belly laugh Dad hasn't made since Neteyam was killed. "Damn, kid," it chortles, "you really are a bonafide Sully, aintcha?"

"That makes one of us," Lo'ak growls. The vamp's jaw tightens for a heartbeat, so quick Lo'ak could have imagined it, and then its face smooths out again.

"Yeah," it says, almost to itself. "This is gonna be fun." Its muscles tense and Lo'ak braces himself--watch for the blur, be ready, he's taken down a ton of vamps before, he--

Its smile is a heartbeat away before he can even blink, faster than any vamp he's ever seen. Lo'ak lunges with a roar, but the vamp's fingers (Dad's fingers, skillful, deadly) wrap around the stake, grabbing treated wood that should have burned its skin. 

Lo'ak feels something scrape his palms as the stake is ripped away, and then the vampire's breaking it over its knee with a crack like shattered bone. It tosses the pieces across the ground and shrugs, mock-apologetic: oops.

"Didn't your daddy ever tell you?" it asks, lip curled. "All the big bad monsters are stronger at this time of night. Especially for tough old fucks like me."

Then it's lunging, slamming him so hard against the ground it knocks the wind out of him, air scraping uselessly in his lungs. The vamp straddles him, arms over his head, teeth bared, and Lo'ak waits for pain, for death, wonders if he'll finally get to meet Grandpa Eytukan and Aunt Sylwanin, if Neteyam will forgive him--

But instead of fangs, it's a warm mouth that presses his neck, closed-mouth lips gently tickling his skin. Sully sighs, nostrils flaring, tongue licking out as if he's lapping up Lo'ak's scent and liking what he tastes.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," he murmurs, soft and steady as Dad's reassurances. "I won't hurt a hair on your pretty little head. Sullys stick together, remember?"Fuck you, Lo'ak wants to scream, but the words are stopped up on his throat, strangled in his guts. When he tries to breathe, everything around him smells of death and blood and the endless, hungry night.

[mongccse]

Establishing tags.

Extra Clever • Headcanons.

Turn and Fight! • Rikki.

And I'll Split the Atom! • Gef.

We shan't tell you • Asks.

The obscured faces • Anonymous.

Nicer Homes • Threads.

The Other Freak • OOC.

The 5th Dimension • Promotionals.

Verse I • Merriment of Mongooses.

Verse II • The Chase Begins.

Chittering and Chattering • Interaction Call.

Words of the Wise Bring a Pen and Sword • Drabbles.

PISS WEASEL? • Crack.

Watching the crowds • Dash Commentary.

Send a Letter • Inbox.

A Word from Our Sponsors • Promotional Cards.

[red-ropes-of-avalon]

They Can Live In My New World Or Die In Their Old One- Chapter 9: But I Am

Summary: You are known among the kingdom as The Mad Queen, a ruthless woman with a large military. Seeking to take your rightful throne, nobody who has ever seen you has returned before, all thought to presumably be dead. Your strength is unequal. Ser Leon Kennedy is a knight sent by King Graham to ask for a temporary truce. Hordes of monsters and the undead rising, the kingdom couldn't fight two wars. But how does one reason with a Mad Queen?

Ada pushed you through the doors to the throne room before slamming the doors closed behind her. Blood was splayed over the floor and throne, coming from King Graham’s slashed throat. A middle-aged man with light brown hair and a beard was holding Leon. An old man with armor and glasses held a young girl with blonde hair. She was crying violently. “How good of you to join us Mad Queen, allow me to introduce us. I am Lord Simmons the Master of Whispers, and my companion is Lord Commander Wilson. We have served since your father’s time,” the brunette man spoke slowly eyes eating you up. You leveled a glare at the man, he seemed extremely confident. “We are glad to welcome back the rightful queen, however, we must say the company you keep is extremely poor. Ser Kennedy here, well he thought to end the war it would be best to slit the King’s throat on his own. I wouldn’t trust him, your grace.” 

“How interesting, because if I recall he said he’d be in the catacombs. Helping the innocents hide, so my army wouldn’t accidentally cause harm. How would he end up in the throne room alone with the king so he could slash his throat?” You paused looking uninterested, as your gaze flicked to the sigil windows. How tacky you thought. “Especially if he was marked a traitor since Ser Redfield and Ser Nivans saw him pledge himself to me last night. They rode for the kingdom to tell everyone of this coming siege and that Ser Leon here was a turncoat.” You picked at something under your nail, not even sparing the men a look. “Oh by the way, these windows are nothing short of tacky, ugly even, nothing like the majestic beasts that represent actual lords.” 

“He must have slipped in while the guards were changing posts,” Wilson tried to lie. 

“Then your guards must be rather awful. What do you suppose was the weapon, good lords? His sword and hands look rather clean if they were meant to have spilled blood from the king’s throat. Furthermore, he knows the forces I command, and he knew what sign we had for surrender.” Sure the last bit was a small lie, but you knew these kinds of men. Small men who think themselves far greater than they were. Eventually, they would crack, they were never as smart as they thought themselves to be. In a battle of wit, you keep them for a long while. Long enough for either your dragons to follow your voice to the throne room overlooking the great bay, or for Setanata to come join you. If they could weasel their way out of this question, questions of your father’s reign and murder would roll after. 

Setanta stood before his father, a father who wouldn’t even use his name. He was getting pissed at this point. His blade rose up and crashed against Lugh’s. As much as he hated the man for how he treated him, he could respect him as a Lord. A well-seasoned man, a man who survived many things, illnesses that could wipe his children, wars that could take a Lord Commander, none of that could get through Lugh mac Nessa. “Stand down boy! Our Queen is getting her throne, I just need to ensure you don’t go rabid, you mutt.” That just pissed him off more though.

“I’m not a rabid animal Lord mac Nessa! I’m your bastard son! If it doesn’t serve my Queen’s goals I won’t do it! I am her proud Lord Commander! How dare you call her our Queen! You stood by the bastard who kept with the institution that kept your power! Before her, I wasn’t worth anything! Your only child that survived everything and you still wouldn’t acknowledge me! You’d rather the family die than let me be legitimized!”

“You have never been fit to be an heir to me. The mac Nessa name is more of a chain than it is a crown. It binds you to an image, you would never be happy being. You were always wild, a wolf true and true, the sigil was the only part of the image you met. You would be far happier being my bastard and never bearing the responsibility of being tied to high society. Never having to play politics just to ensure that there was some balance. Holding awful knowledge but having to hold it tight to ensure nobody you cared for would be hurt by the despicable men power attracts.” Setanta lowered his sword and looked at his father’s deep eyes. He had never seen his father as anything other than a Puritan for the old ways, not a man aching for the new world, to be free from the political game he was thrown into from birth. The game played his wealth and name against the morals he wanted and wished to be able to express. 

Lugh lowered his own sword and patted Setanta on the back. Both men moved to sheath their swords, and Lugh sat back down in the pavilion. He patted the seat beside him, and Setanta obliged. “Lord Simmons, and Lord Commander Wilson, they had King (L/N) killed when he began to make decisions they were unhappy with. I suspect that they may have killed King Graham as well, go protect your Queen. You are a loyal Wolf, and if the old wolf dies, know that I am proud of you, Lord Commander Setanta mac Nessa.” Setanta took a deep inhale willing the small burst of tear back down.

“Thank you, Father,” and Setanta turned to walk into the castle. The sound of a knight’s feet clanking on the ground coming towards the pavilion had him hide behind the wall quickly. The knight walked toward Lugh, and sat beside him. Lugh seemed to be laughing as the knight looked on confused.

“What did the Lord Commander order? He must be rather nervous if my suspicions are true.” The knight spoke not a word, some nameless kid probably promised a high promotion and drew his sword. Lugh laughed once more hearty and no longer covering for some stupid political game, not the Master of Coin, or Lord mac Nessa, just Lugh laughing at his fate. The kid swiftly cut the old man’s head off and grabbed it off the floor. Taking off the way he came, and Setanta cursed under his breath. Twice Kingslayers, thrice fatherslayers. He followed the knight quietly on his feet, he didn’t know the palace. Better to keep the bastard with his father’s head in eyesight. 

You had succeeded in pissing off the Lords. You were too smart a woman for them, too clever, too sharp-tongued. “So in short, you expect me to believe, a useless drunk who was upset with a decision the king made, that didn’t even affect him, managed to get into the throne room here, murder my father, and all without a single guard, who you claimed to have posted at all times, noticing that a drunk as a skunk commoner had not only gotten into the castle during high tide via the bay entrance to the catacombs but also murdered their king?” Leon watched with pointed interest. You were way too good at pissing them off, keeping them talking, and ignorant of the surroundings. He had heard the soft sounds of the dragons moving along the walls, positioning themselves outside the awful metal sigils. 

“I suppose we could be wrong about some details. But your Grace, the throne is yours now. What do you suppose we should do with these miscreants? The Kingslayer and his brat.” Wilson responded trying to ignore the uneasy feeling welling up. 

“I think you and I both know, this good and honorable man is no kingslayer. But you two, you’re seasoned kingslayers by now.” You shot the men a dark look and dragged a finger up to the middle of your lips, hushing the two who now had dark faces. “See I can tell you, that man while he may have done the act, didn’t make the plan. See as much as it pains me to think this way, he was simply too drunk to even form a cognizant thought, much less manage to plan to kill a king. See I think my father started to displease you, so you decided he needed to go. But like the small small men you are, you couldn’t do it yourselves. So you got a scapegoat, who you could blame instead, and take your fall. And whenever anyone looked too deep into it, you had them killed, or you Master of Whispers, you took their tongue. Oh, I know all about that, yes a few of my girls were once victims of yours. You really are a small man, Simmons, you don’t even deserve the title of Lord. Now it looks like you did it all over again because you two fools thought a woman like myself would be easy to fool. So I will tell you now, release these two and you may not be granted a cruel death.” Soft claps were heard from the side and in a small corridor, Setanta stood leaning against the wall, a freshly decapitated head in one hand and in the other Lugh’s. 

“You are so brilliant your grace. Well deducted my Queen! These men, they even had my father killed for figuring it out. So release the pretty boy and the girl, your little charade it’s up.” Simmons removed his hands from Leon, pushing him towards the door. You caught him, spinning, causing your back to face the men. Wilson released Sherry towards you as well. You brushed your hand over Leon’s face to check for injuries. Simmons's hands reached for the dagger once more, grasping it and steadily moving towards your back. Setanta’s eyes flicked towards the hidden hand and his stomach dropped. He moved quickly to block your back, and the dagger ended up embedded in his shoulder, the pain dropping him to the ground. You spun quickly, eyes gleaming with hatred. 

“I’ve had enough of you, you old fool,” you removed one of the long sharp spines from the dragon scales on your shoulder. Simmons was caught off guard and in that brief moment, you dug it into the side of his ribs. He doubled over in pain, and Wilson raised his hands. Even in armor, he wasn't going to win against you, the only person to ever outsmart Simmons. “Leon help bring them to the dungeon. I’ll stay with Setanta until the forces return. They will be a demonstration, the old regime of these disgusting men is over, and my reign, a good and just reign will begin.” Onraxes and Moonfyre let out giant roars from the top of the castle. You had won, and the rule of the dragons would begin once more. 

“My dear subjects, many of you do not know me. The real me, I am no Mad Queen, those are rumors propagated by these two Kingslayers. My father was the late King (L/N), and I am Queen (Y/N) (L/N), the Unbowed and Unbroken, and the Empress of Dragons. The men before me had my father killed, and now have killed your king, King Graham. These two shall answer for the injustice they have done, to all of us. I am here to break the cycle, for too long men who have high names have used it to oppress others, the commoners specifically. That ends with me, never again will an evil man like these two use that as a way to oppress the small folk. I will always champion you, for what is a ruler without love for her people and the love of her people? Today I would like to bring you all into our tradition, my dragons here are dispensers of justice. Today we begin the sacred cinder lands here, before the castle. Ashes are sacred and cleansing, the cinder lands are our celebration. I do not need you to accept it but I would be overjoyed if you did.” You turned from the citizens who had gathered and now faced the bound men. “Former Lord Simmons, Former Lord Commander Wilson, you are charged with treason on three accounts- one for my father, one for King Graham, and one for me. You are charged with murder on three accounts- one for my father, one for King Graham, and the final one is for Lord Lugh mac Nessa. There are numerous others, however, these charges are enough. I sentence you to die,” your fist gripped tight. Moonfyre and Onraxes opened their maws and flames spewed on the land they stood scorching the bodies. Despite the hesitancy of many knights, there was an overwhelming cheer from the citizens, your citizens.

[brucenorris007]

l'âme d'un cuisinier chapter 1

Summary: Zeff doesn’t remember teaching Sanji how to make broth; Sanji doesn’t remember how he came to wake up back at Baratie. Thankfully neither of them are prone to getting hung up on that sort of thing.

2155 words

Zeff stomped back into the restaurant, sweeping an assessing gaze over the dining room. He clicked his tongue; half of his lily-livered so-called sea cooks jumped ship at the first sign of trouble. Looking around at the bums loitering at the tables, he’d lose another half of what staff were left before tomorrow morning. Slinking out quietly in some effort to preserve dignity.

Finding men with any kind of iron in their stomachs was hard.

The Navy usually didn’t bother him anymore. Not since that first time some big shot showed up to check the legitimacy of his retirement from piracy. The dregs of his reputation as Red Leg still attracted the odd band of weasels, though; most of them working under the assumption that Zeff hung up the crossbones because he couldn’t hack it in a fight anymore.

A stupid, sorely mistaken assumption that nonetheless ate up Zeff’s time and scared off customers.

He made his way toward the back, mind already at work figuring out how another day’s lost business would affect the budget for the month. The ship might’ve been paid for, but he couldn’t reel in alcohol with a lure and line; and Baratie would be a piss poor restaurant if he only offered unseasoned fish on the menu.

He knew the business wouldn’t be an easy thing; after buying the ship, he’d only had enough money to get a few fistfuls of flyers printed. The rest of whatever foothold he managed to claim would come from word of mouth about his cooking and the novelty of a fully functional restaurant on the water. Gaining enough traction to get regular customers would take about a year.

He didn’t put on the chef’s hat for the sake of profits, but he did need to break even to get fresh supplies and ingredients, let alone stay afloat.

The smell of the stoves burning drew him out of his head.

“Eggplant!”

Sanji, working with a dutch oven and at least half a dozen plates gathered from the dining room that he’d arranged around the burners, threw a glance over his shoulder.

“Hah?”

That the brat looked so comfortable and at ease despite needing a stool to see everything in the dutch oven; that he seemed so relaxed despite Zeff raising his voice. It briefly snagged the chef’s attention.

He dismissed it before it could take form as a thought, though, scuffing the floor with his peg leg as he made his way to the stove.

“Hell’re you doing?” He asked.

“Making the most of leftovers,” Sanji said, already focused back on the burner. “The scraps should make a passable broth. Haven’t decided what to do after that.”

Zeff looked over the eggplant’s work, ready and expecting to make multiple corrections; he came up empty for comment, though, even as the water began to boil and Sanji smoothly adjusted the heat. Having nothing to add, he chose to let the kid do what he wanted; he’d intervene if things somehow took a turn for the inedible. He latched onto the distraction from finances in front of him, mulling over what he might do with chicken and bones.

Sanji leaned sideways, reaching to pull the salt and peppercorn into his workspace.

“…!”

Zeff frowned, zeroing in on the wince that Sanji tried and failed to hide.

“Oi, look here.” Zeff said.

“I’m fine.” Sanji said with a flip of his hand.

“Look here.” He insisted, grabbing the brat’s jaw and turning his head to face him.

Sanji rolled his eye, acting put-upon.

“It’s just a cracked rib.” He said, annoyed and flippant.

Zeff pressed a palm against Sanji’s side gently; blood leaked out of the corner of the kid’s mouth.

‘What the fuck?’

Zeff hadn’t realized Sanji had even been in the fight out on deck.

“Fine,” Sanji amended. “A cracked rib and a busted lip.” He swatted at Zeff’s hand. “I didn’t get any blood in the broth, don’t worry.”

“How do you know that?” Zeff demanded.

Sanji wrinkled his nose.

“I do wash my hands and pay attention when I’m working, shitty g”

“Brat,” Zeff said. “How do you know what a cracked rib feels like?”

Sanji blinked. Twice. He shrugged.

He shrugged, too naturally and casually to be the bravado of a nine-year-old.

‘What the fuck?’

Zeff sent the brat to his room, against the expected indignant protests.

“You need to let your bones knit, brat.”

“It’s not even that serious, ch–!”

Zeff shoved the eggplant off the stool, answering the brat’s clicking tongue with a scowl.

“I’ll finish the broth and bring some up in a few hours.”

Sanji’s fight and gusto suddenly stalled out. Zeff huffed.

“I told ya,” he said, pitching his tone low; he didn’t need any of the yellow-bellied bums on board hearing him. “So long as you’re on this ship, you’ll have food whenever you’re hungry.”

Sanji blinked.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “You did.”

He turned and shuffled out of the kitchen.

—————

Sanji seemed… different. Not in any readily quantifiable way, yet between one day and the next, it felt as though the air around the eggplant had changed. Nothing was wrong, exactly; he’d already put back on a healthy bit of weight since they were found stranded, and his rib put itself back together just fine. The brat was no more addled in the head than Zeff or any of the other crooks that frequented Baratie.

And yet, at times the way Sanji carried himself seemed smoother, incongruous with a guppy who hadn’t even smelled puberty. No more scampering around the ship trying to match Zeff’s stride; his movements were more fluid, insofar as one could describe a nine-year-olds movements that way. Sanji had always been almost alarmingly skilled at taking up less space than he really needed, but Zeff hadn’t heard one of the usual complaints about the brat being underfoot in weeks.

Granted, putting up with the eggplant was one of Zeff’s unspoken requirements for working at his restaurant. Word might have gotten around about the last bum he’d punted overboard, broken-nose-first.

More than simply not getting in the way, the eggplant was suddenly all but immune to fluster and embarrassment; the bastards who showed up in answer to Zeff’s Help Wanted posters were prone to shooting the shit while they worked, no topic off-limits.

Sanji, without missing a beat, effortlessly fired off shots of his own:

“I call bullshit that you’ve ever spoken to a lady.”

“I have to put up with your shitty breath but you don’t hear me whining.”

“There isn’t enough chocolate in the world to get you laid.”

His delivery and timing were tailored for maximum impact; hearing raunchiness in his prepubescent tones was hilarious, but it was as if he’d either been tutored or else picked up ten years practice at being rude in the space of a night. Never mind that he apparently knew how to make chicken broth out of table scraps, despite only being a junior chef by virtue of being Baratie’s first hire.

And yet there were moments when Sanji looked every bit the petulant, stubborn brat Zeff had given his leg for; when the eggplant insisted on getting cigarettes, he coughed for fifteen minutes before he finished his first stick and glowered at the carton afterwards.

Zeff wasn’t sure if the shift was all in his head or not; no one else on board had really been around long enough to say one way or the other if his suspicions held any water.

Speaking of the staff, while the turnover rate had dropped a lot after the first month or so, there were still more vacant positions than there were actual cooks on board. It left Zeff doing the job of head chef, purchasing manager and at least two station chefs in the kitchen. Sanji helped with the food prep, but it still meant Zeff didn’t get much spare time to plan out menus.

“Shitty geezer.” Sanji said, appearing in the doorway to his office.

“Eggplant.” Zeff answered, matching the precocious brat’s tone.

“Pair of shitheads pulled up to the restaurant,” Sanji said, jerking his head back toward the kitchen. He glanced down that direction. “One’s got pork chops for forearms and the other has a rat tail sticking out of his head.”

Zeff snorted; he heard not a few barks of laughter from the kitchen, along with one shout.

“WHAT’D YOU SAY?!”

“And?” Zeff asked, getting up from his desk.

“They want a job,” Sanji said, with an odd urgency in his voice as he shifted his weight. “Hire them.”

He ran off before the newcomer crooks could catch him, leaving Rat tail glowering after him outside Zeff’s office. Pork chop stepped in and looked around with a critical eye.

“You Red Leg Zeff?” He asked.

“You the bums who wanna work?”

Rat tail and Pork chop traded looks; they nodded.

“Uniforms are down the hall,” Zeff said, gesturing with his thumb. “Toss ‘em on and find an empty station in the kitchen.”

—————

“Quit being a fucking martyr!”

Sanji’s body seized, catapulting him back into the waking world. He gasped for air, scrubbing at his face and rolling out of bed to open his window; the smell of ocean and the sound of the waves eventually drowned out his pulse pounding between his ears.

More than a month had passed since he woke up back in this bed, back in East Blue. Perhaps some whim of fate, maybe some freak accident.

“Run, Sanji! Run, and don’t look back!”

Maybe he’d been saved. Again.

The how of coming back didn’t matter; only that he had, and he had work to do.

He reached under his mattress and retrieved a single sheet of paper; he pored over his map. His shitty, rudimentary, completely shoddy map with something like five locations in total; no accounting for an accurate representation of distance between them. A fish head for Baratie, a shitty triangle for Reverse Mountain, and only names in bold print to differentiate between the circles he used to mark what islands he knew. That he’d lived so many years of his life exclusively on board Baratie was all too apparent in his ignorance of East Blue’s geography.

The mediocrity of his work didn’t bother him; the lack of artistry and personality, however, the absence of finesse and grace in each line…

It punctuated the hole in his heart where his nakama belonged.

(“USOPP!”

“I didn’t do it!”

“Calm down, I’m not mad; is this a Sea King?”

“Ah, based on my expert opinion, having fought a half dozen before I was”

“Yeah, yeah. Can you draw another?”

“R-really?”

“By some miracle, you didn’t obscure anything important. And I think it adds something to the map.”)

“Fuck.” Sanji muttered, swiping at burning eyes with the back of his hand.

He shoved the memories back into the recesses of his mind and frowned. He’d never been the one to make plans. He knew a thing or three about how to sabotage the best laid plans, but he’d always been much more dreamer than schemer. He had ten years before his captain came calling; yet only a paltry two to figure out a way to save Nami’s mother.

Sanji was sick of dead mothers.

He had no bearing on where to go save the general direction of Cocoyashi from Baratie, no way to traverse the sea save his own body, and a body sorely untrained and only months out of recovery from near-starvation.

His greatest boons were his yet-intact Haki and that he’d already developed his own black leg fighting style off what he’d inherited from Zeff. The impact his younger, weaker body could handle would be an obstacle, but at least he wasn’t starting from zero.

He stepped outside onto his balcony, eyed innocuous clouds. He looked down at his feet; flexed his toes. Canted his weight sideways and stretched what meager muscles he had. Breathed in, and…

Sor­–!

He faceplanted onto the wooden planks, hissing between clenched teeth against the burning agony in his legs.

He’d managed three of the necessary ten consecutive kicks.

“Shit.” He grunted, thumping his fist against his thigh.

The groan of floorboards had him going still; he listened through Haki to the restaurant, holding his breath.

A minute without movement from the floor below and he exhaled.

He closed his eyes. For a moment, he wondered how long it would take to build his body back up for even one of those shitty assassin’s techniques.

One of the many, countless bittersweet echoes living in his mind that he treasured and dreaded in equal measure came forward as if in answer.

“Sanji; fly!”

He opened his eyes to the moon; pressed the heel of his palm against the wood beneath him, clutched at the banister in front of his balcony.

“Roger,” he whispered, pulling himself onto legs screaming in protest. “Captain.”

[scariercnidaria]

long post incoming

idk i just think it's significant knowing like the detail gone in the costuming in this show (black cravat) that when izzy is introduced, theres a little crack in his armour as he goes about his business. little patch of tender skin visible at his throat, bisected by the ring. and its not just like, cause it's hot. he's got the glove on the whole episode as well.

me getting crotch shots out of providing image examples was not intentional i promite you

there was a way in. there was a little sliver of an opening, an alternate universe where con o'neill got his tits out and all of this was avoided. but izzy got struck up where he wears his bond around his throat like a collar when stede ambushed him. what does he call it but "unprofessional"? what's more important to izzy than a deal honoured? give me the hostages and i'll pay you. kill your dog or i'll kill him for you. give him to me and i'll give you stede bonnet. rules are to be obeyed, procedure is to be followed, authority is to be respected. promise me your right hand and i'll be the only person you can trust.

cause a ring is a bond, traditionally. and what is stede bonnet good at if not screwing over and encroaching on bonds? he's going back on his word constantly: in his marriage, in his promise to ed, in the social contract set out by society as a prerequisite for living inside it.

stede flouts bonds; no wonder izzy hates him from the start. the first thing izzy sees stede do is interfere with a transaction rightly made. lose your hostages? they're not your hostages. finder's keeper's, bitch. stede, idiot, catches him unawares and makes a fool and a liar out of him. in return, izzy buttons closed the possibility of ever reaching a compromise with stede, who cannot be held to his word. nevermind that it was izzy's fault, that he forgot the only rule is kill or be killed, that he was cocky and showed his throat, ring a shining target about his neck. he doesnt show it again.

what bond is the most important to izzy but blackbeard? a ring is a marriage, izzy is mary's foil, want to know the story with the ring? you do the maths (this is all leading up to my conspiracy theory that ed and iz got married on a piss-up 25 years ago and ed has no idea about this because izzy is insane and doesnt talk to him). loyalty to this bond is the only reason izzy's alive, because he's a snivelling little weasel of a man and everyone who meets him rightfully tries to kill him as soon as ed isn't around to hide behind.

it protects him from blackbeard, too; if edward's chasing the sun and izzy clings to his shadow then he's never in line of sight. but izzy stalks up to him in full view of the window and makes edward an ultimatum: promise me blackbeard, or i leave. i break our bond. and where does edward go for but the throat?

izzy covers skin with skin. i am human, he reminds ed. feel the only place i am vulnerable and remember.

you know what happens when edward isn't around? izzy gets murdered. edward isn't the one who needs to watch his back.

and what a tremendous weight that must be for ed. ed, who doesn't kill people, has found himself a first mate so universally hated that without continual measure he would inevitably be responsible for his murder by inaction.

in that moment he's gripping izzy by his bond. edward could kill izzy, physically, if he chose to; if he's not blackbeard then he's still ed, but izzy is fundamentally nothing. he's stubborn and complacent and too arrogant for his own good. he's got the ring around his neck and he strokes ed's face cause he knows that ed won't.

because izzy is so comically smug and stupid, that very same night he rocks the foundation of the only bond keeping him alive, he shucks his leathers. belly up, throat exposed; there's no ring around his throat. no contract, cause he broke it, no reminder there to stop edward coming for him now.

even then he doesn't go for the neck, at least not immediately. can't go over it, can't go under it, so he has to go through. if izzy wants to hold it over his head then edward will take the worst parts of him and shove his own toxic bullshit back down his throat. if izzy wants to be his first mate, he'll be his first mate whether he's in dress or smalls. there will be no night-time. there will be no reprieve. edward can't escape this bond, so izzy won't either. he'll feed him poisonous body and izzy will call it communion.

izzy puts the ring back on pretty fucking quickly after that

literally. it's a bit dark so i outlined the parts but it's pretty clear he put his clothes on in a hurry. his tie is askew, the ring is so dull and ungleaming that i struggled to tell if he was actually wearing it in this scene or not. his collar is rumpled, and his shirt's not even buttoned all the way up.

there's a crack in his armour again.

[cycle-verse]

Tw: Overdose, implied rape

Nightmare slammed his books down, eyes wide, “Holy shit! Killer!”

Killer was nearby, and looked at Night, a little bewildered.

“I think I’ve figured it out!”

"You did?" Killer was obviously surprised, but fairly excited.

“I did! Oh god, this could be it! I just need to-“ and then Night’s face twisted in horror. “Nononono! Killer, I need you to tell him the truth and hurt him. If he hurts people, run, please!”

"No, n-no, please don't go!" Killer moved to hug Nightmare, wanting him to stay.

“I'm fighting I swear. Kills I love you so much… I promise I’ll come back, I won’t let him hurt you anymore, or Dust or Horror! I won’t!”

Killer nodded, "I l-love you too-"

“When he comes back-“ Night crumbled more and took deep breaths, “Kills, warn everyone you can!”

Killer nodded, "I-I will, I will Night-"

Night's hands shook and he stumbled away from Killer.

“I don’t want him to come back-“ he sobbed, sounding so defeated.

"I know- I know-" Killer wished he could comfort Night, but knew that it could lead to himself getting hurt, or worse.

“I love you,” Night whispered before his body went limp, head rolling back as his knees buckled underneath him

"I love you too-" Killer let out a sob before quickly going to find Horror and Dust.

Malevolence just lay on the ground. Night had certainly tired him out enough to give Killer time to get away.

Killer was more focused on finding and warning Horror and Dust that Malevolence had returned, so neither of them slipped up.

Horror and Dust were both upset but it only got worse when Malevolence finally got up.

“I’m going out! We’ll continue our discussion from before once I’m back!”

"Where are you going?" Killer obviously wanted to make sure it wasn't to bother Ink and Error.

“I’ve been gone for what, a week? Two? I want to see how the little birdy is doing,”

"Why don't you just leave them alone for a bit-"

“Because I can! I can bother them and I will!”

Killer swallowed a bit, knowing that saying what he was about to *again* was a risk, "Even if I was pregnant? You'd rather fuck around with them?!"

“We’ll I can’t fuck around with you anymore! That little dog has made it obvious!”

"Then just fucking *stop* for a minute," At that point, Killer was getting more pissed than anything, which tended to be dangerous with how strong he could be normally.

“No. You have NO right to tell me what to do!” Malevolence lashed his tentacle out and it landed right beside Killer's head. It would have killed Killer if it had been any closer.

Killer barely flinched, still pissed as he watched Malevolence go.

“I’m leaving,” Malevolence opened a portal and stepped through

~~~~~

By the time Malevolence had come back, Killer had just decided to hide in his room, not wanting to look at Malevolence or anything with what he was doing.

Dust came running to him a while later.

“He took Error,” his voice cracked.

Killer sighed slightly from where he was curled up in bed, "Damn it-"

“Killer… he’s… he’s gonna really hurt him. He’s bragging downstairs… I don’t know what to do… it’s not just hitting him either, he’s gonna…”

Killer quickly stood up at that, "I'll see what I can do."

“Just umm… Errors old room isn’t soundproof… just a warning,” it was obvious Dust had heard something before he’d run to Killer.

Killer nodded, leaving his room to go confront Malevolence, even more pissed than earlier.

There was yelling the closer he’d get to Error’s room, alongside sobbing and threats.  Malevolence, luckily, hadn’t seemed to have done anything yet.

Killer didn't seem to care, slamming the door open and looking straight at Malevolence.

Malevolence turned from Error and sighed. “I should have known you’d try to weasel your way into making a mess,”

"You're the one that started the mess. Leave him alone," Killer decided a smart thing to do was to summon a gaster blaster behind Malevolence, hopefully above Error.

Malevolence snarled.

“I’m not afraid to hurt you Killer, or your brat-“ he tensed up and sighed. “Okay so threatening the soul I apparently can’t do, but I WILL do what I need to to keep you out of the way,”

"Then let him go."

“No chance,” Malevolence sighed and left Errors side, wrapping Killer up in tentacles, squeezing tight enough to warn him

At that point, Killer set off the blaster, not caring much if he hurt himself in the process.

Malevolence, who had picked up Killer fully by then, stumbled and dropped Killer before catching him by his arm.

“Pesky little shit,” he hissed and began to march back down the hall

Killer tried to get away once he was let go, even with a fall, but it was obviously to no avail, and he instead tried to struggle against Malevolence's hold.

Malevolence grinned and kissed his head before throwing Killer into his room.

“I’ll have one of the other pests bring you food,” he said before slamming Killer’s door shut and locking it.

Killer didn't bother moving for a minute once the door was locked but ended up curling up.

It was obvious Malevolence left again, he didn’t pay Killer another thought

After quite a while, Killer decided to get up and tend to whatever injuries Malevolence had caused.

Malevolence had definitely caused a few although he left Killer’s abdomen and stomach untouched

Killer was glad about that, and afterward, curled up again, still on the floor, but in a different spot.

A few hours later there was a knock on the door and then it unlocked and a plate was slid in before it was locked again.

“He’s not letting us go in… but I brought you a book too… something to do,” Dust whispered

Killer nodded slightly, which Dust obviously couldn't hear or see, before letting out a soft sob.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Dust asked

"P-Painkillers..."

“I can get those,” and Dust did, coming back with them a little while later.

"Th-Thank you..."

“Of course,”

Killer managed to get himself over to the little pile of stuff, working on eating the food first.

At some point, Malevolence was heard in the hall but he never came too close to Killer's room

After eating, Killer pushed the plate more toward the door, taking the painkillers and the book to sit against the wall next to said door.

The hallway sounded busy, which mostly meant Horror and Dust were just walking around

Killer didn't mind them, their presence was just a little comforting, but he ended up opening the painkillers and dumping a few into his hand, which was too many for him.

No one outside knew that but they’d easily be alerted if he needed anything.

Killer decided to down what was in his hand, which wasn't a good idea, and closed the bottle before opening the book, hoping what he did would work how he wanted.

At some point Malevolence passed by the room, and by then, Killer could barely keep his eyes open, and Malevolence could sense that he wasn't holding up well after his overdose.

It caused Malevolence opened the door in a hurry

Killer was semi-responsive, though not as much as he should be. The souling was alright though, his body doing what it could to keep it alive.

Malevolence cursed and scooped Killer up, “Shit,”

The cause was easy to figure out, with the bottle of painKiller's on the floor next to him, and Killer couldn't really hold himself up in Malevolence's arms.

Malevolence stared at it and then at Killer, “Shit.”

He had no idea what to do

Of course, it was hard to know what to do, especially since Killer was the only person with enough medical knowledge to fix such a thing, and also the supplies...

Malevolence looked around for anything he might find to help solve this.

It wasn't hard to find a few notebooks, with a few different titles on the front, along with some medical supplies hidden in his nightstand. One of the notebooks was basically filled with all types of medications and what they did. The second page explained overdoses and how to fix them and gave a page number for what needed to be administered.

Malevolence flipped through all of that and then looked for what he needed to fix it.

Luckily, it wasn't hard to find. Everything was actually well labeled, and some syringes were in a little box for safekeeping.

Malevolence sighed in relief and moved to administer it to Killer.

It wasn't long after that Killer's breathing started to stabilize and get stronger, and he clenched his fists.

Malevolence sighed and hunched over.

“Damn it… stay down,” he hissed to himself.

Killer made a slight noise, starting to get more responsive.

Malevolence sat on the floor, holding his head

After a minute, Killer sat up... kind of. He wasn't exactly the most stable, with his magic now depleted, but he also didn't care.

Malevolence was arguing with himself, although it was actually with Night.

Killer ended up managing to dig through his nightstand, soon pulling out a bottle of magic boosters and squinting at the label.

“No…”

He looked at Nightmare/Malevolence, "Hmm...?"

“No… you can’t keep-“

“But I’m in control. You agreed to keep me in control if I let your three live their lives mostly fine. I let horror eat and dust sleep and you don’t fight me-“

“Hurting Error wasn’t part of the agreement-“ Night was breaking through with Malevolence.

Killer half listened, but went back to squinting at the label of the bottle he was holding, though slowly leaning to rest himself against the bed.

Eventually, Malevolence stood. “Are you better now, dear?”

Killer had started to shake a little, "I don't... r-remember... how many to t-take..."

He definitely needed the magic boosters, but he was struggling to see, or do anything other than lean against the bed.

“Let’s start with one while I read this okay? One to start and I’ll figure it out,”

Killer nodded, managing to open it and take one before offering Malevolence the bottle to look at.

Malevolence read it for how much and handed him whatever he still needed to take.

Killer took that too and let out a breath after.

Malevolence sighed.

“Don’t do that again or the dog will kill me,” he grumbled. “And not literally before you get fucking hopeful.”

"I w-won't... that fucking-" Killer suddenly gagged and moved to cover his mouth for a second. "S-Sucked..."

“Yea, that’s expected.”

Killer nodded before moving to lay on the ground, "J-Just gonna... stay here f-for a bit..."

“Sounds good dear,”

Killer nodded again, closing his eyes as he lay there.

Malevolence sighed. “If I let you wander, you can’t do shit or I will lock you up whenever I’m busy,”

Killer didn't respond, more tired than anything else after all that.

Malevolence scoffed and walked out of the room.

Killer didn't move for a few hours, which was probably a little concerning, but everything seemed alright with him otherwise.

Dust at some point has come to sit with him

For once, he was relatively peaceful, which was helped by his not quite being asleep, and didn't really notice Dust come in.

Dust just kinda sat at the foot of the bed.

After a while, Killer moved a bit, turning from his side to his back.

Dust stared at him and sighed, moving to help him onto the bed to be more comfortable

Killer quickly grabbed the front of his shirt to stop him, "Don't... d-don't..."

“Hey… hey what’s up?”

"I am n-not up... for being m-moved..."

“Okay. Do you wanna a pillow? Make you more comfortable?”

Killer nodded slightly.

Dust moved to pull down the pillow from his bed

Killer let him, lifting his head enough for the pillow to be tucked under.

Dust sighed and tucked it under before sitting next to him.

"Th-Thank you..."

“Of course…”

"I am... s-so tired... but I c-can't sleep..."

“That’s okay… I know…”

Killer nodded slightly, moving to rub at his face with his hands.

Dust just stayed beside him.

After a minute, he opened his eyes to stare up at the ceiling, still a little dazed.

Dust watched him quietly

Killer didn't say or really do anything, seeming lost in thought.

Dust didn’t mind, he felt safer here than he did in the halls.

"Maybe I should... k-keep looking over m-mental illnesses..." In his spare time, Killer liked to learn anything medical, and his recent thing had been mental illnesses and such, and ways to help treat them.

“I don’t know you’re good to be studying right now,”

"I'll c-close my eyes if I'm n-not... just... let m-me try..."

“Okay,”

"Grab me a... a book, p-please...?"

Dust moved to do just that.

Killer waited patiently, taking it once Dust offered it to him.

Dust sat beside him again once he did.

Killer opened the book to quietly look through it, pulling out a notebook from nearby to take notes in.

Dust still sat nearby.

Killer didn't seem to mind, preferring the company as he quickly read and wrote.

Eventually, Killer closed the book and his eyes.

Dust didn’t mind

Killer sighed softly afterward, "Maybe I should try to sleep..."

“Sleep if you want, I’m here and you’re safe

Killer nodded slightly, "Thank you again..."

“Of course,”

Killer set his book and notebook aside as he lay there, and after a while, he seemed to be asleep.

Dust smiled and pulled a blanket over him

Killer didn't seem to mind, surprisingly sound while he slept.

Dust smiled and sunk back to sleep where he sat too, almost guarding Killer

At some point Horror had walked in and fallen asleep near the door.

Killer woke up again a couple of hours later and glanced around.

Both were still asleep, and Killer didn't mind, picking up his book and notebook again to get back to it.

The boys were both sleepy but the second there were footsteps outside, they woke themselves up.

Killer turned to look at the source of the footsteps.

Malevolence stood in the doorway.

“I’m here for medical equipment,” he hissed.

“Oh no! What did you do to poor Error,” Dust hissed

"That's a good question, so I know what equipment..." Killer moved to set his stuff aside and sit up.

“It’s nothing big, it’s more for me, he ripped off a tentacle and scratched my arms,”

“And well deserved.”

"Do you need stitches...?"

“No, but he might if he’s not fucking careful.”

Killer sighed and pointed to his closet, "Grab yourself some bandages..."

Malevolence nodded and sighed, “Oh, and I probably injured some part of Error, but he wouldn’t let me see-“

“Probably because of what you did! He just got married you asshole, you sent me to clean him up after the first time and all he wants is to be with his husband and kids,” Horror snapped

"All of you shut it..." Killer rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "He doesn't trust you with any of his injuries..."

“I know but you took too many fucking drugs to be of any help didn’t you?” He sighed.

"I can try, at least... I just don't know what kind of injury it is..."

“Well, neither do fucking I-“

“Maybe it's because you, I don’t know, force yourself on him you fucking dick!” Dust snarled.

"What did I just say...?" Killer sighed.

“Sorry Kills it’s just… I hate this.”

Killer looked back at Malevolence, "Do you want me to try and do an examination...?"

“Sure, knock yourself out.”

Killer nodded, using the bed to help himself stand up, though he was a little wobbly.

They would have quietly watched him, Dust moving to help him if needed

Killer did need help, likely to fall otherwise, but managed to get to the room Error was in with said assistance.

Error was curled in the corner of his room, dressed, fortunately, although very shabby. “Killer?”

"Hey... you hurt...?"

“Killer he… he…” he started to sob and started to drag himself towards Killer, not really moving his legs

"I know, I know..." Killer quickly moved to kneel next to Error so Error didn't have to move. "Where are you hurt...?"

Error looked up and then looked down. He didn’t want to say where. “It hurts…”

“No! Nonononono!”

"I can't help if I don't know..." Killer offered a comforting hand.

Error started to cry.

“No… no you can’t… you can’t see it,” he whispered. “Just take me out of here, please.”

"I want to... I really do... I'm so sorry..."

“I need to get home… I have a toddler, Pic… please…” he was shaking and there was a fracture visible on his leg but it was likely that wasn’t his only injury.

"I know- I know, but he'd probably kill all of us- including you..."

Ink suddenly opened the door and yelled, “Ruru!”

Error looked up, “Inky?”

“Gotcha!” Ink was suddenly grabbed by Malevolence.

[peacefulwarriorep]

Invention #001

The Timberland Tea Cosy

with built in tea-strainer.

(Not to be confused with the tease trainer which might be in tomorrow’s world)

Up cycled sock with benefits.

Ode to the lair

The best form of defence is defending the heights; the walls the flight path of dragons and sprites.

The highway the my way the road to salvation. The nation with hills valleys rivers un-damned-nations. Wales prevails with clean waters sweet for the cleanliness reeks of the sweat of the labourers proud who don’t falter to shower in proudly unfiltered water we oughta known that private is public latrine on the scene. The Angloside sold their solutions to queen. She was foolish or toolish or ghoulish delight now the egrets and herons are forced to make flight cos the waterways tarnished with factory smoke. The otters are hotter, on thick weed they choke. The grimy and slimey result of a payoff. The capital greed leads to sickness and chaos. But walk upstream back to the waters of gods. Earth filtered through forests and fields of peat sods. Atlantical rain clouds all gathered in mist rise up over Ireland, where they are all pissed off but still buying mountains of butter with glee whilst the ham sham and Welsh lamb are practically free.

As her shadow wanes once more the moon into darkness, the mood changes nightfall and pressure falls, larks nest and owls roost cos they know the dark nights are coming and the fox and the weasel and stout have a plan. No torches for poachers in wilderness life. The hunters are hunted by no farmer’s wife. The farmer himself dares not venture these days, cos his mind it has changed, he forgot the old ways. Lamping rabbits and hares, no one dares to step out of the comfort of home while the throne’s left un-sat-on. Unlike Saturn whose moons carry loons, seven spoons away. The dish of that mission led a war of attrition - not gypos v yids but ship-ho on skids. Cassini on Titan, the might of the crusade - a space age attack to see what might come back - but no life were detected, Huygens disinfected by probing the heat, plutonium beat. Twenty years of data. Don’t hate her 4 billion that might’ve lifted humans from poverty, you see, we know that the bow of then was knowledge and power to the steeple, the people forgotten and rotten enslaved but at least we now know there’s hexagonal beauty found northerly pole, seven moons, seven spoons, seven years to get there. We’re gonna need a faster racket. Pack it in before we begin. So much banter about net zero. Heroes of course may refrain in due course from short haul extraction but fractional distillation of aforementioned revenue streams and dreams of a brighter future comes with nationalised water, mud bricks not mortar. Small fields yield larger. Scattered homesteads commune faster and last longer than developers lego making thin walls, foundations designed to crack and fail at the slightest incursion from roots a diversion from truth and stability, the pillars of inhabitability - a house in a Forest, a village in a thicket , a town on a plain, a city in the rain. Cathedrals were once made by rivers in canyons and people gazed up to the stalactite yup they found beauty in nature and bowed down to worship the earth’s natural beauty, connected reflected in water not mirrors. Rivers, lakes, ponds, streams, now green not blue. Algae we see you. The inheritance stagnated left long and unpainted by masters and mistresses - indomitable misses… near miss or a master who plasters the walls, covers cracks with thick paint, I could faint at the vividness. But hell. Must not dwell on the now or the past, built to last is what’s needed. This country’s conceded lang ago to tyrannical power, we cowered to money and numbers and attacks while we slumbered. It’s time to wake up what lies there in the slopes where the droplets condense, make some sense boy, this fence of defence seems to lack a sure footed attack but the wings have a number awakening slumber, a puff from the nose holes, clagged up by the slaves who made waves and retreated long enough to now puff a little smoke from those portals and mortals might shudder to know that the throes of life are returning to the dragons lair.

[thedrifter143]

Between Employees (A Cuphead OC short write)

“Well, hi-de-ho! What brings you to the casino, Miss? I ain't seen your face around here before.” The smaller figure looked at dice in confusion, removing their hood. Despite the several years it had been, now that Dice got a look at them, he indeed did know her. Shards. One of the Devil's enforcers from off Inkwell. A cup lady with a series of golden cracks along her face and handle. “Well well well! The former right-hand lady from the big man himself has finally decided to show her ugly mug in these parts, eh? Now, I ain't one to judge a book by the cover, but I'd like to know whether this book is a horror story - or a comedy... And what brings here to a high-profile establishment such as this? Care to enlighten me? I'd quite fancy a good laugh here, before I go ahead and kick ya back to the streets... for old time's sake - and some payback to boot…”

"I'm here to talk to the Devil." Shards replied, her eye twitching as she removed her coat and hung it up. "He asked to speak to me. You know. That thing he never does to you?" She shot back coldly. These two had had a long term rivalry. One that had always been sparked from both being ambitious and hardheaded, as well as a deal self centered.

“Oooooh, you got some nerve there, missy. You really got some nerve.” The Dicehead seethed softly. “You might be a former employee of mine, former being the word of emphasis here. But don't think that your reputation goes unchecked, I've heard tales from my boss man - and a couple of his high-roller buddies - of a certain 'Cup Lady' with some kind of a twisted grudge against me, who seems to have it out for a certain, oh I dunno... King Dice. And I didn't get to where I am today by being a pushover.”

Shards chuckled derisively and kicked the dirt off her shoes. "No you got here by being a little bitch." She snarked. "But if you wish to defy the Devil's direct orders....your funeral Kingsy."

“Now, now. Is that any way to speak to your former superior?” She rolled her eyes and attempted to elbow past him, only to be stopped by a gloved hand. “As for defiance, I merely have to ask you one thing: Are you absolutely sure The Devil told you that himself, or did some other, uh... source pass that along to you? You know, for all I know, you could just be trying to weasel your way into some kind of revenge on your former employer. And I won't have it.”

"For fuck's sake you over polished piece of cheap acrylic!" She shouted, fishing a piece of familiar paper from her jacket. "I may no longer be a Casino employee, but I am still one of the Devil's enforcers of contracts and debts. I have no interest in you whatsoever. I have a job to do. So move." Shards was not magically inclined like Dice. She relied on force and her personality, so her shouting drew eyes from every corner of the Casino that could be seen.

“Over-polished? Over-polished?!?” The Devil’s right hand man was also shouting now, which drew even more attention as King Dice never raised his voice within the Casino…or ever as far as many were aware. “That's it, Missy!! How dare you go around insulting the King like this!?!? You think I'm gonna tolerate someone calling me things such as over-polished??? I'm not afraid of doing some damage, you know, and I think you're really pushing your luck here... I am King Dice, dammit!!! You do not talk to me this way without any consequences!!!”

That familiar cackle from the cup woman said she wasn't taking Dice seriously whatsoever. "Dice. I have fought bigger and tackier people than you. Move so I can go talk to the boss-" Shards once again attempted to brute force her way past Dice, which while Dice was nowhere near her level physically…he outmatched her in terms of demonic magic. A solid wall of force hit the cup squarely in the nose, sending a resounding pain through her cracked face and handle, which only proceeded to piss her off more as Dice began speaking again.

“Bigger and tackier? Bigger... and tackier?” His eyes flashed the same lavender as his suit, before quickly turning to a more poisonous purple.  “You think I'm some common thug? Some measly goon? I am King Dice, the Devil's Right-Hand Man. I'll show you "bigger and tackier" - you think I'm all guff and no bite? Well I'm the real thing, and more! Now, you've had your chance, it's time for me to show you who's the boss...”

The shorter woman was about to start shouting-when the power cut and the Casino fell into uneasy silence. Shards and Dice both felt the sickening sensation of being teleported via demonic magic...until the movement stopped...and both King Dice and Shards now stood in the Devil's seemingly empty throne room.

"Good job, Dice." Shards said lowly. "Now we're both gonna get it." Anyone who worked for the Devil had a healthy fear of his throne room...Dice and Shards especially did...Shards was a lot less charismatic about her fear, while Dice's face went pale, all of the arrogance that he had been sporting moments earlier completely gone. In a matter of moments, what was going through his head was a combination of panic and dread…

“Which one of you would like to explain why you were fighting in my Casino?" The Devil's voice echoed from somewhere unseen, but both employees tensed noticeably. Shards was the first one to speak.

"Your Lordship, I just want one thing to be clear..." She made eye contact with Dice, before looking away. "It was King Dice's fault!”

“WHAT???” He shouted, grabbing his coworker by the collar. “Listen here you cracked little brat- I am NOT the bad guy here! Last time you stepped foot in this Casino chaos ensued and I was NOT letting that happen again-”

“Wah wah wah.” She mocked, rolling her eyes and giving him a glare as the taller man tightened his grip-the poisonous color returning to his eyes.

“You... you... you little, slimy, lying slug!!! Who do you think you are, you little-! I know your type, lady - I've dealt with people like you my entire career. Arrogant, overconfident, thinks they can get away with anything - they always get their comeuppance in the end.” The sickly purple turned green, and Shards flinched slightly…before he lowered her and dusted his hands on his vest. “I am going to-...No. No... I will not stoop to her level.”

“Pussy.” Shards said bluntly. Aaand that was the lynch pin. Spells came first and then the crack of Shards punching Dice in the chest came next…before a rush of fire had both frozen in place due to the reflexive terror of both employees as the Devil appeared before them. The King of Darkness had seen better days; one of his horns snapped at the base, his arm in a sling and his opposite leg in a cast with a shiny black(er than normal) eye to add insult to injury. Both Dice and Shards felt a white hot pain surge through their muscles and both were forced to drop to their knees due to the pain of the Devil’s own dark powers.

“Enough.” The Devil stated, and the pain subsided, but neither made to stand. Both remained on the floor, facing the tiles so as to not incur their boss’ rage further. “Now. You both making a further mockery of this Casino aside…I have summoned Shards from off island today for a special mission you will be assisting her with Dice.”

This caught them both off guard; exchanging a look between the two before they both faced the Devil. “Both of us sir?” Dice asked, confused. “But-what about the Casino? Who will run that while you recover?”

“I’ll be closing down the Casino in the meanwhile. I can’t keep it up thanks to what that miserable cup did…” He growled, tapping his claws on the arms of his throne. 

“U-understood sir.” Shards spoke up, looking at the Devil. “What is the mission sir?”

“My nephew Darwin.” He said plainly, as a fiery mirror appeared before the two employees. A young devil boy who looked alarmingly similar to the Devil himself appeared, playing with a ball in an empty house. “I was supposed to watch him but in my current state I fear I can’t keep up with the boy’s energy. You two are to watch him.”

“I-Sir, babysitting?” Shards asked incredulously, Dice’s expression sharing the sentiment. “Sir-I am not a people person I enforce rules and debts and your will-unflinching and unhesitating-I don’t do kids sir-”

“Well now you do. Both of you do. Darwin is the heir to my throne as I have no children of my own and do not desire any. You two are going to watch Darwin for me, and make sure he is protected at all costs.” The Devil stated firmly. “And when I check on Darwin, if I that you two have done nothing but bicker and argue the entire time-I will send your souls both to the Fox King-Do you both understand?”

Shards remained silent as the grave, holding her hand over her frantically struggling heart as Dice nodded in confirmation. “Yes sir-of course sir-”

“Excellent,” The Devil said slyly, and that nauseating sense of being pulled elsewhere occurred. “Your things have already been sent Darwin’s way…enjoy your duties you two…or else.” Darwin, The Fox King- @wittycranberry

[aftermathworld]

Your room dosent even look like a kids room it looks like a gifted kids class room

AK: * signs* I like my room

*meanwhile*

Laurel: don’t you feel better now after you relaxed

Tord:… yeah

Laurel: so need to tell me about anything

Tord:…* signs* look laurel I been-

*upstairs*

AK: * writing, hears a loud crash and yelling, puts his pencil down*……* puts on his headphones and continues*

*downstais*

Laurel: ILL FUCKING MURDER YOU!

Tord: WAIT WAIT WAIT!! * gets punched*

Laurel: YOU FUCK!

Tord: * weasels free, runs* oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck* gets slammed into a wall* ACK

Laurel: * choking him*

Tord: * struggling* I can explain

Laurel: * glares, let’s go* you have 10 seconds to tell me what the fuck is going on

Tord: * catching his breath* god what the fuck are you made out of!?, look yeah I been low key experimenting on AKs blood but not AK! All it is with him is getting blood for testing, because I have Tom in my lab so I can cure him or at least make what the old red leader gave him better but because Tom has healing capabilities if I can find out what let’s him heal himself and use that to make probably a cure for fucking anything I could help out a l o t of people including AK, me and anyone in pain ok

Laurel:…

Tord:… laurel?

Laurel: and you chose not to say a god dame thing to me why?

Tord:… I mean I’m like 40% sure you did just crack the back of my skull

Laurel: is this way you been in your lab none stop

Tord: yeah I’m making a type of medicine to slowly get rid of what Tom had I’m just figuring out the kinks and

Laurel: -you fucking realize I have a doctorate in medicine right???

Tord:….. oh my god

Laurel: -_-

*a few hours later*

Laurel: this should work but it’s definitely going to be painful with some side effects

Tord: we might not have time to make a no painful no side effects version toms the only one we can test this on and he kinda seems one foot in the grave to begin with

Laurel: looks like we don’t have a choice * grabs the paper work* now get your ass in the fucking car

*later*

Laurel: poor guy

Tom: * shivering mumbling*

Laurel: why the fuck is he in a lab

Tord:… for safety I’m going to make a batch of this stuff keep him company * leaves*

Laurel: *still really pissed off*

Laurel is available for asks