#The main character appears!‼️ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

velvetvisionsaurora · 4 months ago

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Pairing: Hongjoong x reader, Seonghwa x reader, Yunho x reader, Mingi x reader, Wooyoung x reader.

Summary: Five eight-year-old boys aboard the slave ship Crimson Serpent form an unbreakable bond with five-year-old y/n. before she's sold at auction. Despite their failed rescue attempt, they swear a blood oath on her teddy bear to find her. Fifteen years later, now feared pirates leading the ATEEZ

Warnings: Slavery/Human Trafficking, Separation/Loss, Violence, Eventual Smut. SA(not by any main characters) y/n gets switched to a real name but it has a purpose. More warnings to be updated.

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Authors note: I was going to post this tomorrow but honestly I couldn’t wait. The banter between Wooyoung and Yeosang is one of favorite parts of this story, I love writing it! Enjoy! And get ready for the next chapter! The big moment is coming! 💜

‼️if you have read chapter 7 already please go back and make sure you have read the reunion part with Ella/yeaosang! It’s after the flash back scene! Something happened with posting and it got removed‼️

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Masterlist

Chapter 8

Hidden Currents

Morning in the ATEEZ's galley was chaotic but organized. Crew members grabbed quick meals before their daily duties instead of sitting down for formal dining. Unlike the officers' mess with its scheduled mealtimes, the main galley stayed open all day to work with the ship's various watch schedules.

Ella paused in the doorway, feeling a bit out of place in the casual atmosphere after her previous meals in the more formal officers' dining room. Pirates in various states of wakefulness sat at scattered tables, some clearly just ending night watch while others were getting ready for day duties. The conversations flowing around the room suggested these people were more like a family than just workers on the same ship.

What caught her eye was how officers and regular crew mixed freely. There was no special seating or service for officers - everyone helped themselves from the same food stations. Seonghwa sat at a corner table with navigation charts spread in front of him, eating absently while making calculations. Two gunners talked with Mingi by the drink station, looking serious enough that they were probably planning something rather than just chatting.

"Ella!" Wooyoung's voice cut through the noise. "Come in! Breakfast is casual today—we're too busy for sit-down service."

He waved enthusiastically from behind a serving counter where he seemed to be cooking three different things at once. Several assistants moved around him in well-practiced patterns that somehow worked despite the apparent chaos.

As she approached, Wooyoung kept cooking while chattering away. "The captain's dealing with some tricky currents today, so everyone's grabbing food when they can. Help yourself to whatever looks good—bread's fresh, and we have actual eggs today, thanks to that merchant ship that should have surrendered faster."

The casual mention of piracy—delivered with the same enthusiasm as his menu suggestions—caught Ella off guard. Even after days aboard the ATEEZ, she was still surprised by how easily these men blended violence and everyday life, how the feared pirate ship also felt like a community.

"Thank you," she said, taking the plate Wooyoung pushed toward her. "Everything looks amazing."

"Of course it does," he agreed without a hint of modesty. "Food matters even more on fighting days—might be someone's last meal, so it should be good."

The dark joke, delivered cheerfully rather than grimly, reminded Ella that despite its unusual culture, the ATEEZ was still a vessel of calculated violence—feared throughout the seas, its black sails striking terror wherever they appeared.

As she gathered food from the available options, Ella noticed Yeosang entering the galley, his face composed despite the morning chaos. He nodded slightly to various crew members as he walked directly to the medicinal tea station near Wooyoung's cooking area.

"You're up early considering your late night," Wooyoung called to him, a knowing grin spreading across his face. "Midnight medicine mixing again?"

Yeosang's neutral expression didn't change, though Ella—watching carefully after their reunion hours earlier—noticed the slight tension that appeared in his shoulders at Wooyoung's teasing reference to nocturnal activities.

"Inventory requirements," he replied blandly, selecting specific herbs with practiced efficiency. "Unlike some, my work benefits from methodical organization rather than chaotic improvisation.

"Chaotic?" Wooyoung clutched his chest in theatrical offense, somehow managing to continue stirring a large pot with his free hand. "This is carefully orchestrated creative genius, I'll have you know."

"Is that what we're calling it now?" Yeosang deadpanned, his tone perfectly neutral despite the subtle barb. "I thought it was simply randomized ingredient selection based on whatever hasn't spoiled yet."

Several nearby crew members snickered at the familiar banter, clearly accustomed to this dynamic between ship's cook and doctor. Wooyoung's exaggerated gasp of indignation only heightened the comedic effect, his natural dramatic flair turning routine morning interaction into entertainment.

"Randomized? Me?" He gestured wildly with a wooden spoon, narrowly missing one of his assistants who ducked with practiced ease. "Everything I create is precisely calibrated for maximum nutritional and morale benefit. Tell him, Ella—wasn't yesterday's breakfast a masterpiece of culinary precision?"

Suddenly drawn into their exchange, Ella found herself momentarily caught between Wooyoung's expectant gaze and Yeosang's carefully neutral expression. The dynamic between them fascinated her—Wooyoung's effusive animation deliberately drawing reaction from Yeosang's controlled reserve, the contrast creating balance rather than conflict.

"The cinnamon wheels were exceptional," she offered diplomatically. "Though I lack comparative experience with your other creations."

"Ha!" Wooyoung exclaimed triumphantly. "Even our newest passenger recognizes culinary excellence when she tastes it."

Yeosang's expression remained impassive, though Ella noticed the slight softening around his eyes that constituted amusement in his restricted emotional display. "Recognition of quality and recognition of spectacle are not necessarily the same thing," he observed mildly.

"Spectacle?" Wooyoung's voice rose dramatically as he waved both arms, abandoning all pretense of continued cooking. "Is that what you call feeding this entire crew of ungrateful pirates three times daily? Creating meals that keep morale high during weeks at sea? Transforming basic provisions into feasts that make even the captain smile?"

His theatrical indignation expanded with each statement, body language growing increasingly expansive until he resembled a performer rather than ship's cook. Several crew members paused their own conversations to watch the familiar entertainment, evident amusement in their expressions.

Throughout Wooyoung's escalating performance, Yeosang continued calmly preparing his medicinal tea, his methodical movements contrasting sharply with the cook's animated gestures. Yet something in his careful precision suggested deliberate participation rather than mere tolerance—as if his controlled reserve provided necessary counterpoint to Wooyoung's exuberance.

"Your creative approach has merit in appropriate contexts," Yeosang conceded with clinical precision, measuring herbs with the same careful attention he would give to potent medicines. "Though I maintain that consistency and methodology produce more reliable results than spontaneous inspiration."

"Consistency?" Wooyoung scoffed, dramatically flourishing a ladle like a conductor's baton. "Do you know what happens with too much consistency, my methodical friend? The same meal, day after day, until the crew starts eyeing seagulls with hunger and contemplating mutiny."

"Methodical doesn't mean monotonous," Yeosang countered, not looking up from his preparations. "It means intentional rather than accidental."

Wooyoung gasped, clutching his heart as though mortally wounded. "Accidental? You think my culinary masterpieces are accidents?" He gestured expansively at the various dishes arrayed across the serving counter. "This, my skeptical friend, is what we call 'intuitive genius.' Something your rigidly organized mind cannot possibly comprehend."

Yeosang finally looked up, his expression betraying the faintest hint of amusement only Ella could recognize from their childhood. "Is that what we're calling the incident with the exploding dumplings last month? Intuitive genius?"

A chorus of laughter erupted from nearby crew members, several calling out supportive comments or making explosion gestures with their hands. Clearly, the dumpling incident was well-known throughout the ship.

"That was a CONTROLLED flavor release!" Wooyoung protested, pointing his ladle accusingly at various laughing crew members. "And every single one of you still ate them, I might add!"

"After they stopped raining from the ceiling," someone called from across the galley.

"And we scraped them off the walls," added another sailor.

"The medical bay treated three burns and one concussion," Yeosang noted dryly. "Your 'controlled flavor release' required more bandages than our last skirmish with the Royal Navy."

Wooyoung swiveled toward Ella, who was watching this exchange with growing amusement. "You see what I deal with? No appreciation for culinary innovation aboard this ship of critics!"

Ella was silently giggling. She looked to her side seeing Yunho already watching her with a soft smile. He gestured to the two bickering and shook his head in feigned exasperation. "Like an old married couple," Yunho mouthed to her, causing a wider smile from her much to Yunho's delight.

Ella turned back to the bickering pair.

"The captain appreciated it," Yeosang deadpanned. "Especially when a dumpling landed directly in his navigation charts. I believe his exact words were 'tactically unprecedented.'"

"It was a difficult nautical element to chart," Wooyoung defended, struggling to maintain his indignant expression as his own laughter threatened to break through. "The captain now has the only sea chart in existence with a dumpling-shaped island in the western strait."

"Which is apparently creating significant navigational challenges," Yeosang continued, his delivery perfectly serious despite the absurdity. "Seonghwa reports that we keep sailing in circles trying to find it."

"It's a migratory dumpling island," Wooyoung declared, completely abandoning his cooking to fully embrace the ridiculous narrative. "It only appears during certain lunar phases and can only be summoned with the proper culinary incantations."

He dramatically raised his hands above his head, wooden spoon pointed skyward like a wizard's staff. In a deep, theatrically mystical voice, he intoned: "By the power of excessive garlic and questionable fermentation techniques, I summon thee, Sacred Island of Explosive Dumplings!"

"Please don't," Yeosang sighed, though his eyes betrayed the faintest crinkle of amusement. "Im still exhausted from the aftermath of the last Wooyoung 'summoning.'"

"The casualties were worth it," Wooyoung insisted, now fully committed to his performance. He turned to Ella, dropping his voice to a stage whisper. "Yeosang's just upset because one dumpling flew directly into his meticulously organized medicine cabinet and rearranged his alphabetical system into what I maintain was a more intuitive categorical framework."

"It spelled 'chaos' in three different languages," Yeosang corrected. "And required four hours to properly sanitize."

"It was a message from the culinary gods!" Wooyoung declared, spinning in a dramatic circle with his arms extended. "They were telling you to embrace spontaneity!"

"They were telling me to invest in stronger cabinet locks," Yeosang countered, finishing his tea preparation with the same calm precision he'd maintained throughout their exchange.

Wooyoung clutched his chest again, staggering dramatically as though mortally wounded. "Such cruelty from our ship's healer! This is why pirates have a reputation for scurvy—medical professionals with no appreciation for culinary artistry!"

Without missing a beat, Yeosang picked up a small orange from a nearby fruit basket and tossed it directly at Wooyoung, who caught it with surprising dexterity despite his theatrical flailing.

"Vitamin C," Yeosang stated flatly. "Medicine's contribution to culinary health. No explosions required."

"Unless you're doing it wrong," Wooyoung quipped, immediately juggling the orange with two apples he snatched from the same basket. "Everything is more interesting with a little danger involved."

As he juggled with impressive skill, he began tossing the fruits higher and higher, his expression one of exaggerated concentration. "Observe the controlled chaos of true culinary mastery!"

Just as the juggling reached its peak, the ship pitched slightly with a wave. One apple went off course, bouncing off Wooyoung's forehead before he could catch it. His expression of complete surprise, combined with his theatrical gasp of betrayal as he pointed accusingly at the fallen fruit, was so perfectly comical that Ella couldn't contain herself any longer.

The laugh burst from her unexpectedly—not the careful, controlled chuckle she sometimes permitted herself in social situations, but a genuine, unrestrained sound of pure amusement. It rang through the galley, surprising even herself with its intensity and freedom.

The room seemed to pause for a fraction of a second, several nearby crew members glancing toward the unfamiliar sound. Wooyoung froze mid-gesture, the remaining fruit forgotten in his hands as he stared at her with undisguised delight. Even Yeosang paused, his normally impassive expression softening into something like satisfaction. Even he had only heard her genuine laugh once in all the time they spent together.

Ella immediately tried to compose herself, years of conditioned restraint making her self-conscious about such unguarded expression. But Wooyoung, sensing the moment's importance, immediately doubled down on his performance.

"The apple!" he cried, pointing dramatically at the fruit rolling across the floor. "It's escaping to join its brethren in the mythical Orchard of Wayward Produce! Quick! Someone stop it before it convinces the oranges to mutiny!"

The absurdity broke through her composure again, and Ella found herself laughing even harder, one hand pressed against her mouth in a futile attempt to contain the unfamiliar sound.

Across the galley, she caught sight of Yunho and Mingi pausing in their conversation, both watching her with expressions that mirrored Wooyoung's delight—Yunho's open and warm, Mingi's subtle but unmistakable. Even Seonghwa had looked up from his charts, his analytical gaze softening as he observed her unguarded moment.

"You see?" Wooyoung declared triumphantly to Yeosang, gesturing toward Ella with obvious satisfaction. "This is why spontaneity trumps methodology! When was the last time someone laughed like that over properly measured tea leaves?"

"Enjoyment and medicinal efficacy serve different purposes," Yeosang replied, though his tone lacked its usual clinical detachment. "Though occasionally they can complement each other."

As her laughter finally subsided, Ella felt strangely lightened, as if some tightly-wound spring within her had loosened slightly. The sensation was unfamiliar after fifteen years of careful self-control, yet somehow reminiscent of childhood moments aboard The Crimson Serpent when Wooyoung had first taught her to laugh silently to avoid unwanted attention.

Now, surrounded by the ATEEZ's crew—men feared throughout maritime waters for precision and ruthlessness—she had laughed openly for the first time since captivity had taught her the danger of unguarded expression.

"I apologize," she said automatically, years of conditioning making her uncomfortable with attention.

"No apologies for laughter aboard this ship," Wooyoung declared firmly, his usual playfulness momentarily replaced by genuine conviction. "Captain's orders."

"Genuine medical benefit as well," Yeosang added, surprising her with his supportive contribution. "Physiological advantages to unrestricted expression of positive emotion."

Their coordinated defense—Wooyoung's heartfelt encouragement balanced by Yeosang's clinical endorsement—revealed complementary aspects of protection rather than contradictory approaches. Despite their apparent contrast, both men sought the same outcome: her comfort and wellbeing aboard the ATEEZ.

"Thank you," she said simply, the gratitude encompassing more than just their current kindness.

Wooyoung beamed, his expression suggesting her laughter represented personal triumph. "My life's mission is complete. I've made Ella laugh—the rest of my culinary career can only be anticlimax."

"A concerning statement from the person responsible for feeding a crew of seventy-three pirates," Yeosang observed dryly, though his eyes remained warmer than his tone suggested.

"Seventy-three pirates with excellent taste and appreciation for culinary genius," Wooyoung corrected, immediately returning to his theatrical self-promotion. "Unlike certain ship's doctors who wouldn't know culinary inspiration if it exploded in their meticulously organized medicine cabinets."

"Which it did," Yeosang reminded him, lifting his completed tea preparation. "Hence the need for stronger locks."

As their banter resumed, Ella found herself still smiling—a real smile, not the careful one she usually put on. Something about their back-and-forth, the contrast between Wooyoung's enthusiasm and Yeosang's calm precision, let her respond naturally instead of calculating every reaction.

She caught Yeosang's eye briefly as he prepared to leave with his tea. In that moment of shared understanding, invisible to everyone else, two survivors of Blackwell's cruelty found an unexpected moment of freedom: through Wooyoung's absurd theatrics and Yeosang's dry comebacks, they'd found space for real laughter after fifteen years of necessary caution.

As she collected her breakfast and found a seat at a small corner table, Ella realized the ATEEZ was more complicated than she'd thought—a feared pirate ship whose culture made room for both Wooyoung's creative chaos and Yeosang's careful precision, for both calculated violence against enemies and kindness toward friends.

This complexity drew her in as she watched the crew's morning interactions. These feared pirates seemed genuinely human in their private moments—laughing at Wooyoung's antics, respecting Yeosang's quiet authority, working together with a sense of community rather than just tactical advantage.

Most importantly, five officers who had once been cabin boys on The Crimson Serpent were still searching for a little girl sold at auction, their childhood promise now the mission that defined their adult lives. And now that very girl sat among them, her identity hidden by choice—a decision that remained hers alone despite the blood oath that had driven five boys to become the most feared pirates on the seven seas.

After breakfast, Ella found herself heading to the upper deck, drawn by the need for fresh air after the crowded galley. The morning sun bathed the ATEEZ in golden light, softening its fearsome look. Crew members worked efficiently, adjusting sails and securing rigging as the ship navigated through challenging currents.

Near the helm, Captain Hongjoong stood with Seonghwa, both focused on navigation charts while occasionally looking toward the horizon. Their conversation seemed intense—clearly planning something important, not just chatting. The way they stood showed their partnership: Hongjoong's stance suggesting leadership, while Seonghwa's precise posture reflected careful analysis—different approaches working toward the same goal.

As she watched from a distance, Hongjoong suddenly looked up, his eyes finding hers with uncanny accuracy, as if he'd sensed her watching. Something like recognition flashed across his face—not of her identity, but of her presence. He said something brief to Seonghwa, who nodded before gathering the charts and walking away, deliberately avoiding where Ella stood.

Hongjoong walked toward her with measured steps, his captain's authority clear yet softened by the same consideration he'd shown since she boarded.

"Good morning," he greeted, his voice carrying easily over the wind and activity. "Was breakfast good? Wooyoung can be... over the top, but he really can cook, despite all the drama."

"Very good," she confirmed, still amused. "Though I hear the 'exploding dumplings' incident has become quite the legend."

A brief smile touched Hongjoong's features—a rare expression that made his usual strategic composure seem more human. "A story we'll be telling for years. My cabin still has dumpling fragments turning up in odd places."

The casual humor, so different from his usual careful interactions with her, gave her a glimpse of the boy beneath the captain's authority—the child who had taught a little girl about stars during secret midnight excursions on another ship long ago. Ella found herself responding with her own small smile, feeling more natural after her unexpected laughter in the galley.

"We're approaching the Meridian Straits," Hongjoong said, pointing toward the horizon where distant land created a narrow passage between open waters. "It's one of Blackwell's favorite shipping routes, which is why I'd value your thoughts. The charts in my quarters would be easier to work with than out here on deck."

The invitation—professional yet somehow personal—offered both practical purpose and a chance for the private conversation she'd been considering since reuniting with Yeosang. After days of watching life aboard the ATEEZ, Ella found herself increasingly curious about the captain himself: the boy who had called her "Treasure" now grown into a man whose brilliance had created the most feared pirate vessel on the seven seas.

"Of course," she agreed, following as he led the way to his quarters.

Unlike her previous brief glimpses of the captain's space, this visit let her really see how Hongjoong had made it his own. Navigation tools shared space with personal touches—carved figures she now recognized as Mingi's work, books ranging from technical manuals to poetry, even a small collection of unusual shells and stones. The room balanced practical function with personal identity—necessary tools alongside touches of humanity.

Most noticeable was the locked sea chest she'd glimpsed before, now positioned prominently near his desk. The antique box, decorated with navigation symbols and secured with heavy iron, caught her attention despite her attempts to look casual. Something about its placement suggested it was more than just storage—almost like a reminder or symbol.

Hongjoong spread charts across his large desk, weighing down the corners with smooth stones that seemed chosen specifically for this purpose. "These show Blackwell's usual shipping patterns through the Meridian Straits," he explained, his focus professional despite the private setting. "Based on your information and our observations, we've found potential weaknesses in his security."

As he outlined their assessment, Ella was impressed by how much the ATEEZ knew about Blackwell's operations. Their understanding went beyond just shipping schedules to include key personnel, communication methods, even emergency plans. The detail showed years of careful study, not just casual observation.

"You've been tracking him for a while," she said, both asking and confirming.

Hongjoong's expression shifted subtly, professional assessment giving way to something more personal. "Fifteen years," he said quietly, the simple words heavy with meaning.

The specific timeframe—exactly matching her years in captivity—created momentary silence between them. For the first time, Hongjoong had directly referenced their shared past without explicitly saying he knew who she was. The opening seemed deliberate, an invitation without pressure.

"May I ask why?" she asked carefully, keeping up her persona while trying to understand more. "Blackwell certainly deserves opposition, but your focus seems... personal rather than just strategic."

Hongjoong studied her for a long moment, as if weighing an important decision. Then he gestured toward two chairs near a small window overlooking the ship's wake.

"Please," he said simply, waiting until she'd seated herself before taking the opposite chair. The arrangement created a conversation space separate from the tactical discussion at his desk—shifting from professional consultation to personal exchange.

"The ATEEZ was built for a specific purpose," he began, his voice carrying a new quality—neither the captain's authority nor strategic calculation, but something more genuine, more human. "Ship and crew gathered around a central mission, not just for profit."

He paused, glancing briefly toward the locked sea chest before meeting her eyes directly. "I wasn't always Captain Hongjoong of the feared Compass Crew. Before that, I was just Hongjoong—orphaned cabin boy on a vessel called The Crimson Serpent."

Though she'd pieced together much of this history through observation and Yeosang's confirmation, hearing Hongjoong speak these words directly created an unexpected emotional response. His simple acknowledgment of his origins offered a potential bridge between her carefully maintained present and buried past.

"The Crimson Serpent," she repeated carefully, showing appropriate recognition without revealing personal connection. "A slave ship?"

Hongjoong nodded, something dark crossing his features. "Though they called it 'labor recruitment' and 'personnel acquisition' in official documents. Captivity hidden behind fancy words."

The bitter observation revealed genuine emotion beneath his usual control—moral outrage rather than just tactical opposition. This wasn't simply professional assessment but personal conviction born from direct experience.

"Five of us were taken as children," he continued, his words flowing more naturally than his usual measured speech. "Myself, Seonghwa, Wooyoung, Yunho, and Mingi. Orphans or street children with no one to report us missing, no one to demand our return."

Ella remained silent, understanding the significance of this disclosure. Though she'd glimpsed aspects of their shared history through observation and hints, Hongjoong's direct story represented a deliberate choice to share rather than a casual revelation.

"We learned to survive together on that ship," he continued, his gaze momentarily distant with memory. "Formed an alliance that became the foundation for everything that followed. But it wasn't until..." he hesitated slightly, "...until another joined us that we found purpose beyond just surviving."

"Another cabin boy?" she prompted when his story paused, careful to maintain her disguise despite her growing emotional response.

"A child," Hongjoong corrected, something soft entering his expression. "Captured during a coastal raid. Five years old, torn from everything familiar, expected to accept captivity without resistance."

The explicit reference to her own history—the first direct acknowledgment from any officer beyond Wooyoung's veiled comments—left Ella momentarily breathless. Fifteen years of calculated survival had taught her to keep her composure during even the most difficult circumstances, yet Hongjoong's simple description of her childhood self threatened that hard-won control.

"What happened to her?" she asked, her voice carefully neutral despite her inner turmoil.

A shadow crossed Hongjoong's features, regret and determination mixing in equal measure. "We tried to protect her. For three months on that floating hell, we created whatever safety we could. Then, during a stop in Halazia, we tried to escape."

His voice hardened slightly, the captain's strategic assessment temporarily displacing personal narrative. "We failed. Badly. A fire broke out during our attempt, creating chaos that separated us from her. The captain used the confusion to take her directly to auction. By the time we could move freely again, she had been sold."

The clinical description of that devastating day—stripped of emotion, reduced to tactical assessment—revealed Hongjoong's continued struggle with their failure. Fifteen years later, he still analyzed the event strategically, identifying errors in planning and execution rather than simply accepting the emotional impact.

"That night, we made a blood oath," he continued, unconsciously touching his palm where that long-ago cut had sealed their promise. "To survive, to grow stronger, to find her again—no matter how long it took, no matter what we had to sacrifice."

He looked toward the locked sea chest, tension visible in his shoulders despite his controlled expression. "Everything that followed—our eventual escape from The Crimson Serpent, our years learning necessary skills throughout the maritime world, our claiming of the ATEEZ and turning it into a vessel feared by slave traders—all started from that single promise. All focused on fulfilling a blood oath made by five children who failed to protect someone vulnerable."

The raw honesty of this disclosure—delivered without theatrical gesture or manipulative intent—affected Ella more deeply than Wooyoung's emotional hints or Yunho's gentle stargazing references. Hongjoong offered neither pressure nor expectation, simply truth: that finding her had defined their existence for fifteen years, that the ATEEZ's fearsome reputation had been built upon the foundation of a childhood promise.

"You've searched for her all this time?" she asked, the question emerging with unexpected emotion despite her efforts to maintain distance.

"Without stopping," Hongjoong confirmed, meeting her gaze directly. "Every port, every auction house, every slave market. Every rumor of a young girl sold in Halazia fifteen years ago. Every possible lead, no matter how unlikely."

He hesitated, then added with quiet certainty: "We'll continue searching until we find her or confirm beyond doubt that she's no longer alive. The oath remains unbroken regardless of years passed or obstacles encountered."

Something in his tone—not just determination but absolute commitment—affected Ella profoundly. For fifteen years, she had survived through calculated isolation, believing herself forgotten or abandoned by anyone who had ever shown her kindness. The reality that five boys had transformed themselves into the most feared pirates on the seven seas specifically to find her challenged fundamental assumptions that had guided her survival since childhood.

"And if you find her?" she asked, the question revealing vulnerability she rarely permitted. "After fifteen years, she would be much changed from the child you knew. Perhaps unrecognizable in ways beyond physical appearance."

Hongjoong considered this carefully, his expression showing deep thought rather than a hasty response. "We understand this," he said finally. "Fifteen years of captivity would necessarily transform anyone, creating a person shaped by survival rather than childhood potential. We're not trying to reclaim what was lost but to fulfill a promise that remains binding regardless of changes time and circumstance have created."

The distinction—seeking fulfillment of promise rather than restoration of past—suggested understanding beyond simple nostalgia. Unlike potential expectation that "y/n" should somehow match their childhood memories, Hongjoong acknowledged the inevitable transformation that fifteen years would create.

"Your campaign against Blackwell," she said, shifting toward practical implications rather than emotional response. "It's connected to this search?"

"Directly," he confirmed without hesitation. "At first, we simply targeted all slave traders as a matter of principle. But two years ago, we discovered Blackwell had purchased a girl that same night, at the Halazia auction. Since then, our operations have focused specifically on disrupting his activities, gathering intelligence about his organization, and systematically dismantling his trading network."

The timeline aligned with her own history—her transfer from Blackwell's direct ownership to his business associate had occurred approximately two years ago, shortly after the ATEEZ had apparently discovered her connection to their target. The correlation seemed unlikely to be coincidental.

"You believe Blackwell transferred her to prevent you from finding her," she observed, the realization crystallizing as she spoke. "That he recognized your campaign's personal motivation and deliberately hid her location."

"It's our working theory," Hongjoong acknowledged, professional assessment temporarily replacing personal narrative. "The timing suggests deliberate countermeasure rather than coincidental business arrangement. Blackwell's records regarding that specific transfer were methodically eliminated—unusually thorough even by his standards of operational security."

The implication clarified aspects of her captivity that had previously seemed arbitrary. Blackwell's decision to transfer her to Calloway—his associate specializing in "premium domestic personnel"—had appeared merely a business opportunity at the time. Now, understanding the ATEEZ's targeted campaign against Blackwell's operations, the transfer revealed strategic dimension beyond simple profit motive.

"He feared you finding her," she concluded, pieces connecting with increasing clarity. "He recognized her value as leverage against a potential threat."

Hongjoong nodded, the captain's strategic assessment evident despite the personal context. "Blackwell's operational methodology prioritizes advantage through intelligence. Once he identified connection between our campaign and his past acquisition, he would naturally implement countermeasures to maintain control of a potentially valuable asset."

The clinical terminology—"asset," "acquisition," "countermeasures"—revealed how thoroughly Hongjoong had integrated tactical thinking into his understanding of their shared history. Unlike Wooyoung's emotional responses or Yunho's gentle reminiscence, the captain analyzed even personal tragedy through a strategic lens—necessary perspective for a leader responsible for crew's survival during increasingly dangerous operations.

"And now?" she asked, careful neutrality masking deeper inquiry. "If this search has driven your mission for fifteen years, what happens if you succeed? If you find this girl who has shaped your existence from absence rather than presence?"

Something shifted in Hongjoong's expression—the captain's strategic mask temporarily giving way to more vulnerable humanity. For a brief moment, the boy who had once called a little girl "Treasure" during midnight stargazing emerged from behind fifteen years of necessary authority.

"Then she would be free," he said simply, the words containing both promise and limitation. "Free to choose her own path without obligation or expectation. Our oath was to find her, to restore the choice that captivity had eliminated. Not to impose new constraints based on childhood connection."

The declaration—simultaneously liberating and carefully bounded—revealed complex emotional territory beneath Hongjoong's strategic exterior. Unlike potential expectation that fulfilling their oath would create specific relationship or outcome, he offered something more profound: respect for agency that fifteen years of captivity had systematically denied.

"Many girls came and went from Blackwell's ownership. I wish I could help you find her. However I don't remember any girl named y/n in Blackwell's possession." She said nervously. "But I will help where I can."

Hongjoong stared at her for a long moment, almost in amusement. "I appreciate the help greatly. However, I never said her name was y/n." His eyes shinning with something she couldn't understand.

Ella's heart rate picked up as she tried to mask her panic. "Wooyoung mentioned this story earlier, he let her name slip." She said stone faced.

"Ah, I see." Hongjoong's amusement never fading. "For an intelligence specialist he has very loose lips."

Before she could respond, a sharp knock at the door interrupted their conversation. Hongjoong's expression immediately shifted, the captain's authority replacing personal vulnerability with practiced efficiency.

"Enter," he called, rising from his chair with smooth movement

Seonghwa appeared in the doorway, his expression revealing urgency despite characteristic composure. "Captain, vessel approaching from eastern quadrant. Flying Southern Trade Company colors alongside official pennant."

Hongjoong moved immediately toward his desk, professional focus displacing the openness of moments earlier. "Distance and heading?"

"Three miles, course suggests interception rather than parallel tracking," Seonghwa reported, his attention briefly acknowledging Ella's presence before returning to the captain. "Yunho confirms it matches the escort class recently commissioned by Blackwell's organization."

"Prepare the crew for potential engagement," Hongjoong instructed, already examining the charts they had been discussing earlier. "Standard protocol—hide primary weapons until identification confirmed, maintain course that suggests we're just merchants rather than trying to run."

As Seonghwa left to implement these instructions, Hongjoong turned toward Ella with an apologetic expression that nonetheless contained the captain's authority rather than personal regret. "I need to handle this situation. Please return to your quarters until we've assessed the threat level."

The abrupt shift from intimate conversation to tactical necessity reminded Ella that the ATEEZ was both a vessel of personal quest and feared pirate ship with a reputation built on precision and calculated violence. The men who searched for a lost girl were simultaneously commanders whose tactical brilliance had created a maritime legend.

"Of course, Captain," she replied, acknowledging both his authority and the necessary transition.

As she moved toward the door, Hongjoong's voice stopped her—softer than his tactical instructions to Seonghwa yet carrying equal certainty. "This conversation isn't finished," he said, something in his tone suggesting significance beyond mere scheduling. "Just paused for now."

The subtle distinction—pause rather than ending—offered connection that went beyond their current interaction. Unlike potential dismissal once practical information had been exchanged, Hongjoong indicated value beyond tactical advantage.

"I understand," she acknowledged, matching his tone. "Until circumstances permit."

Something passed between them in that moment—recognition not of shared past but of potential future, connection based on present choice rather than childhood memory. Then the ship's bell rang, calling crew to battle stations, and the captain's focus returned with practiced efficiency.

As Ella made her way to her quarters amid increasing activity above decks, she found herself processing the implications of Hongjoong's disclosure. Unlike her conversation with Yeosang, which had confirmed suspicions through shared experience, this interaction had revealed emotional dimensions previously hidden beneath strategic exterior—the human motivations driving tactical brilliance, the personal quest underlying fearsome reputation.

Most significantly, Hongjoong had offered his story without demand, history without expectation. Unlike potential manipulation that might have used shared past to extract specific response, he had simply shared truth: that finding her had defined their existence for fifteen years, that fulfilling blood oath remained binding regardless of changes time and circumstance had created.

The ATEEZ's sudden encounter with Southern Trade Company vessel perfectly mirrored her current situation—caught between past and present, between memory and reality, between comfortable anonymity and risky recognition. Like the black-sailed ship now preparing for potential combat, she navigated dangerous waters where decisions carried significant consequences.

As the sounds of battle preparation filtered through the ship—Seonghwa's precise commands, Wooyoung's unexpectedly authoritative coordination of below-deck crew, Yunho's calm instructions to rigging teams, Mingi's low voice directing gunners toward concealed positions—Ella recognized how seamlessly they transitioned from peaceful sailing to potential violence. These men who had shown her consistent kindness were simultaneously feared throughout the maritime world for ruthless efficiency and unwavering purpose.

In her cabin, secure behind closed door as naval confrontation developed above, she whispered, the familiar names carrying new significance after Hongjoong's revelations.

"Joongie, Hwa, Woo, Yuyu, Puppy, Angel," No longer merely comfort ritual but acknowledgment of connection maintained despite fifteen years' separation, of paths converging against seemingly impossible odds.

As naval confrontation developed above decks, tactical brilliance flowing through coordinated action, y/n found herself facing parallel challenge beneath strategic surface—navigating emotional waters more complex than any maritime passage, where recognition carried both promise and risk beyond simple identification.

Taglist: @hopeless-lovex0 @frankielou02 @jilxxasu @kur0kki @lezleeferguson-120 @uniquecloudbread @miniverse-zen @symmieangela @monstacheol @ateezswonderland @hanniehq

#ateez fanfic #ateez pirate au #ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #mingi x reader #seonghwa x reader #wooyoung x reader #ateez smut #jeong yunho #hongjoong #park seonghwa #jung wooyoung #song mingi #ateez angst #ateez fic #ateez

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bubbleddisasters · 5 months ago

Text

Guess whos back on their Che’nya theory shit again. Me.

Also some of this is just me going on about random and absolute far stretched shit, but hopefully the majority makes sense to y’all.

I’m about to sound batshit insane and this is going to be some MatPat sounding shit but here we go anyway.

WARNING‼️⚠️ MAJOR BOOK 7 SPOILERS AHEAD. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

———————

I just made the realization that Che’nyas UM and already natural abilities we’ve seen puts him in a position to be deadass playing the Floor is Lava with Malleus as the lava rn.

They wouldn’t have told us his UM in the main story if it didn’t matter somehow. They had the opportunity to show us Neiges in Rooks dream, yet didn’t, so it isn’t a heres RSA UMs for for shits and giggles thing, and we don’t know ANY of the teachers UMs, so it isn’t a “filling npc” thing either.

In EVENTS, we learn the UMs of only the very important and/or dangerous characters. Rollo, Skully, and Fellow. (Geez, Halloween trio now that I think of it).

Do we know Dylia Spades? No. Do we know Eric Schronheits? No. Do we know Ambrose the 3rds? No. Do we know Elizas? No, we get slapped. Do we know Najima Vipers? No. (She might not have one yet tho but still).

These characters are all confirmed as mages, or not directly said to be magicless, so it’s fair to assume they are mages.

So they told us Che’nyas UM for a reason. Why?

Like if his UM makes him invulnerable to magic/attack and invisible, and straight up on ANOTHER PLANE OF EXISTENCE, then if he’s not technically “all there”, Malleus wouldn’t be able to sense him.

Plus, this would explain how Orthos body was floating on the water when STYX found it, as when we know Orthos HEAVY AF, and would more than likely sink, since I doubt they had the time to build in something inflatable enough to balance that weight.

To boot, Ortho was at the docks, which from the map, is super close to RSA.

For reference:

(Both normally and under Mals spell)

The Cheshire Cat is the one who gets Alice out of Wonderland (In the movie, the tunnel Alice runs through matches the Cheshire cats color and stripes + He’s the only one not chasing her+ in the OG book, the Cheshire Cat is more of a Guide and the only one who really sticks with and helps Alice for the whole shabang), and if he’s in RSA, then I think the writers know that.

Aswell as the fact Che’nya appears in both Books with “Tyrant” in the name, and the Cheshire Cat is the only person completely immune to the Queen of Hearts control, as the second most powerful being in wonderland next to LITERALLY TIME ITSELF.

Look in most Disney Villain Line-Ups, and you’ll find the Cheshire Cat. Why? Marketing, the Cheshire Cats a popular character that isn’t directly portrayed as a hero, and more as a mysterious reoccurring character that isn’t necessarily seen as a helper unless you squint.

Additionally, we’ve seen Che’nya use flight, self gravity control, teleportation(unconfirmed but implied on that one) and use his UM for extremely long periods of time, and now that I think of it, we’ve never seen it wear him down, even while not having a magestone on him in his design.

And anyway, in the manga, he’s been doing such things since before we meet him for the first time at age 8-9 from Rids perspective.

Which means long enough that he basically has full control over it at that age, so probably either since birth or very, very young.

Which gives us the know that unlocked his UM way before meeting Riddle and mastered it, which means likely as a literal toddler woke up one day and went “Hey what if I just fucked off to another plane of existence and became both invisible and invulnerable, while capable of movement and communication on this plane the whole time.”

Now back to Book 7.

So heres what caught my attention, Silver mentions the only people he can pop into the dreams of are people he has connections with.

Seeing as we get Sebek first crack out of the box, and then Lilia, this makes sense.

However, it falls off when the next people start to be people Silver either doesn’t know, or very loosely knows.

Yes, I understand the commercial and writing point is meant to be a dorm countdown, but it would make far more sense to be a Russian Roulette, kind of upping the anticipation of whos next.

But to me, with what we know of Silvers connections, it would make far more sense to have the second years be first after Dia, then maybe the third years that he knows because of Lilia, and finally the first years, still leaving room for Ace to get his UM towards the very end.

Now if we drive this back to my Che’nya playing Yuu’s guardian angel theory, it would make more sense to start with Pomfieore after Igi, because not only is it recent connections, so probably easier to bring to the forefront of Silvers UM, it gives him time to get up to NRC right after pushing Ortho or simply getting him out safely.

Before you mention malleus’s barrier, Che’nya gets past NRCs barrier that took STYX heavy power shots to break like its every other tuesday, without Crowleys notice aswell, he stands a viable chance of slipping past Malleus’s.

If he can jump to another plane of existence in which he is invulnerable to magic, theres nothing stopping him from sliding past to get Ortho out and slipping back in under Malleus’s nose.

It also gives him a good “oh shit” moment and an idea of the root of whats happening.

And if I’m wrong and he can’t teleport, he can latch on to Malleus (possibly referencing the Cheshire Cat latching onto the Queens back after she gets a card solider executed I think) to teleport with him back to NRC.

With that, he could be preventing Silver OBing by basically shattering the shade/phantom before it can even do anything, while also hiding Idia being awake. That, or basically lending Silver magic enough to keep going while praying to god Mal doesn’t notice.

Lilia playing the worlds most dangerous game of tag with Mal in dreamland gives him the distraction he needs for this aswell, and it could be that everything went to shit around Trey-Riddles Dreams, and Che’nya popped in to speed up the process and or Dream Che’nyas revealing his UM kinda got his ass caught by Mal, or caused Mal to finally detect a disturbance in the force.

So if I’m right with the previously theorized Guardian Angel thing, Che’nya could be hotwiring Silvers UM to send Silver and co to the people he remembers helped Yuu and the rest recently without risking Malleus putting two and two together on who could be fucking with the dreams other than Silver, depending on how he was portrayed in Trey and Rids Dreams.

Though it would be hilarious if with the Floor is Lavaing it he was also Night at the Musueming it and just repeatedly moved each dreamer closer to Silver physically so they’d have a physical connection (like pinky to pinky or head to head) and basically had Malleus doing a eyebrow raise everytime he turned around trying to figure out if that person had been moved or he was seeing things until he realized there was an exponentially large group around Silver that definitely wasn’t there before.

Another thing: We know the Three Good Fairies weren’t affected by Maleficent’s curse and are the ones to untie Philip when he’s caught and give him the Sword and Shield, which his has, and loses all but the sword in the fight against Maleficent, the Sword and Shield which in the Og twst Trailer that scene is likely referenced by Silver as the Sword (duh) and Sebek as the Shield, with Lilia where Philip would be, although his arm is raised higher.

You kinda have to flip Sebek and Silvers positions but yea.

Sebek being Virtue is self explanatory. He strives to have the virtue of a knight worth of Malleus, and shows this in many ways, but his faults are his rudeness, arrogance, biased or generally rude assumptions, and overexaggertion, stemming from his own internilzed racism (or speciesism? I guess?) , which lead many others to not want to be around him, deflecting the truth of his heritage as to not focus on his own insecurities like a shield to an attack, no matter who its from, in a way.

Now that he has begun to bond and not be as rude to the rest of the non fae cast however, he ends up passing out? Like how a shield seemingly has no use if its not defending, unless you get real creative with it (Its Reyn time I mean who said that)

Silver balances this out as truth, as he is someone we see is honest to almost no fault. His UM also shows truth, in its own way, by showing the truth of the desires of those around him. However, a truth has also been held directly from him, aka the truth of his birth, and the undeniable truth that to break the curse upon him, Lilia did have to truly love him, even as the child of his friends killer.

So he is both benefited and harmed by truth, just like how the same sword can both protect and kill, it just depends on who wields it.

Anyway, back to the point at hand, Now that Malleus seemingly has the time to go and pull a FNAF 4 at Idias door, the odds are Lilia may have somehow gotten caught or restrained (like Phillip is) for enough time to have Malleus notice the Shrouds are pulling shenanigans on his private dream servers and feel the need to go confirm this.

The way in the movie the Three Good Fairies are caught hiding Aurora by Maleficent in the first place is by getting too cocky on the day before Aurora’s B-day and using magic like crazy, fixing up and making their “gifts” much better, as they didn’t know how to create them without magic.

These gifts? A Cake by the GREEN fairy, the calmest and most mature of the three: Fauna, and a Dress, which the RED AND BLUE FAIRIES Merryweather (the most rebellious yet sensical) and Flora (the leader, most work focused and overconfident) keep fighting over which color it should be, Pink or Blue.

(I rewatched their scenes and I forgot how much of a fucking MVP Merryweather was, everyone else turning things into rainbows, bubbles and flowers while my girl was out here burning chains, hunting down snitches, turning her mfking ops to stone and had to be physically held back from throwing hands with Maleficent by herself, god bless this tiny blue diva)

Fauna can obviously be placed as Trey here. Calmest, a Cake, Green. Done.

You can combine Flora and Merryweather into the two sides of Riddles Dream, the first being very punk yet sensical lifestyle, the blue, bringing in the sadness of what he desired yet cannot have, and the second half being Flora, the extremes of overconfident and tyrannical leadership, the red of rage, to say.

Red and Blue obv equal Purple, Che’nyas signature color, probably because purple isn’t actually a fucking color. I’m not going to explain the history of purple, but there is not such thing as purple in science, only shades of violet.

Speaking of Pomfieore, the first non dia dreamer group we see, is VIOLET. I said it. (Octavielle is Lavender, so no, not directly purple) Bright Red is Heartstabyl. (Scarabia is Maroon, which is a shade of red, but again, not directly bright red)

Now what I’m going on about here is this: If In the dreams, each dreamers NPC versions of their friends strictly abides by what the dreamer desires them to, how did dream Che’nya not only transfer to both parts of Riddles dream, but also go directly AGAINST the dream and the dreamer?

The dream versions of the others cannot, under any circumstances, break the character the dreamer creates without breaking the dream itself.

We see this in Lilias dream, in Treys, and Deuces. The Senate, Cater and Ace respectively breach the line of what is and isn’t in character for them in the dreamers memory to hold the dreamer within the dream, causing their respective dreamer to wake up sheerly due to the stark contrast.

These characters will go to lengths to keep the dreamer asleep, so how is it that this dream version of Che’nya can do the exact opposite?

And in Treys dream, Che’nya is the only one not practically turned into Eric Cartman variants, which given the fact Cater, certified sweets hater, has too, means that Che’nya, certified sweets stealer, somehow dodged that bullet in Treys subconscious, which breaks the rules set by the dream.

These rules are delicate, seemingly. It takes one too out of character word, one too out of character action to knock the dreamer awake.

So either Trey sees Che’nya as having the self control of a monk (a small scene in manga implies Che’nya steals from the Clovers fridge so often Treys own damn siblings hear the fridge open and assume its him and not their own damn brother, so I doubt that he’d think that) or Che’nya can bypass these rules.

Many of the dreams would have been so much easier if they could conveniently convince the dreamers friends to go up against them for their sake or just to simply help wake them up.

Of all people, the dream version of Ace fucking Trappola actually listening to and abiding by Riddles tyranny and not jumping at the opportunity to S.O.S to Leona, Yuu and co says enough about this as is.

Anyway, what I’m saying here is that Che’nya either got his ass caught, or finally managed to hotwire himself into Silvers UM conga line, which unfortunately left Idia now in Mals notice and Silver becoming more weary from excess UM use.

Just like how the good fairies thought they’d succeeded and jumped the gun with using magic a day early, Chen could have thought that since they made it this far, their clean until further notice, and is gonna feel the hit of it later.

As my phone is dying and I want a fucking nap, this has been Blues randomass rant about Che’nya again.

More at ???? Folks.

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yokumirumerafan · 3 months ago

Note

HEY AGAIN *Rolls up to you* I HAVE A REQUEST ‼️ (if you don't mind then that's fine-) I was thinking about Y/N has finally finished cooking some dumplings after lots of failed attempts. Y/N is very proud of it because they're not very good at baking or cooking, so she decided to tell Y/N "friends" to taste it, but unfortunately, instead of criticizing it very politely to Y/N, they insulted her dumplings very harshly (the dumplings taste are very delicious but her friends decided to insulted her for fun). KNY characters heard them/saw them/their lover. AHHHH SORRY FOR THE LONG PARAGRAPH AND SORRY THAT I ALWAYS APPEAR ‼️‼️‼️I JUST LOVE YOUR WORK LIKE WHENEVER I READ THE WRITING I GIGGLED LIKE AN IDIOT- ALSO I HOPE YOUR HAVE A GREAT TIME AND YOUR WORTH IT‼️⭐⭐⭐ -from Shrimp #1 fan of Kyojuro, Gyomei, and Hotaru 🦐

BESTIEEEE I GOT YOUUU!!! 💖💖💖 AND NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR SENDING REQUESTS, I LOVE WHEN YOU PULL UP WITH THEM LIKE 🚗💨‼️‼️ ALSO SHRIMP #1 FAN OF KYOJURO, GYOMEI, AND HOTARU??? ELITE TASTE. 🔥🔥🔥

📌 Post Info 📜 Characters Included: Hashira: Rengoku, Gyomei, Sanemi, Giyuu, Shinobu, Mitsuri, Obanai, Muichiro, Uzui Main Trio: Tanjiro, Zenitsu, Inosuke + Extra: Genya, Hotaru Haganezuka (BECAUSE I KNOW YOU LOVE HIM) 📜 AUs Used: Canon Divergence AU (Y/N exists in the Demon Slayer world) 📜 Short Summary: Y/N worked SO hard to make dumplings, but their so-called "friends" insulted them for fun. Little did they know, the KNY characters were NOT having that. Time for some serious revenge and comfort. 🔥

🔥 KNY Characters React to Y/N’s “Friends” Insulting Their Cooking 🔥

🍜 Hashira Reactions

📌 Rengoku Kyojuro 🔥

"Oh? You DARE insult the food Y/N made with love?!" 😡

Laughs LOUDLY but it's not a happy laugh.

Takes a bite, chews dramatically, then SLAMS his fist on the table.

"THIS IS THE TASTIEST FOOD I HAVE EVER EATEN! YOU FOOLS HAVE NO TASTE BUDS!"

Death-glares at Y/N’s “friends” until they sweat bullets.

📌 Himejima Gyomei 😭

“You insult Y/N’s efforts? That is UNFORGIVABLE.” 😡

Tears stream down his face, but it’s pure rage.

Makes them feel like absolute TRASH with a single disappointed look.

Prays for their souls because they are about to face karma.

📌 Shinazugawa Sanemi 🗡️

"What the hell did you just say?"

Instantly flips the table. 💥

Grabs one of Y/N’s dumplings, chews it, and glares DANGEROUSLY.

"These dumplings are better than anything YOU could ever make, jackass."

Your “friends” are now running for their lives.

📌 Tomioka Giyuu 🌊

“You’re being rude.” 🧍

Takes a dumpling, eats it, nods.

Calmly destroys them with words:

“You must have underdeveloped taste buds. It’s sad, really.”

His deadpan expression makes the insults hit even harder.

📌 Kocho Shinobu 🦋

"Oh my, how cruel~" 😇

SMILES SWEETLY but is 100% ready to poison them.

Takes a bite, then goes, “Hmm… delicious! Maybe your tongues are broken?” 😌

Your “friends” are now terrified of her.

📌 Kanroji Mitsuri 💕

“HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT? Y/N WORKED SO HARD!!!” 😭

SCREAMS AT THEM for being mean.

Eats a dumpling and almost faints from happiness.

"Y/N, THESE ARE AMAZING! YOUR FRIENDS ARE LYING!"

Might punch them out of love.

📌 Iguro Obanai 🐍

"Pathetic. You insult Y/N out of jealousy?"

Sips his tea while glaring.

Kaburamaru the snake starts hissing at the fake friends. 🐍

Doesn’t even bother threatening them—his stare alone is enough.

📌 Tokito Muichiro ☁️

“Oh. You’re still here?” 🧍‍♂️

Doesn’t even acknowledge the insults.

Eats a dumpling, stares blankly, then says:

“Tastes good. Maybe you’re just dumb?” 🤷‍♂️

Your “friends” are now self-reflecting on their life choices.

📌 Tengen Uzui ✨

"Unbelievably unflashy behavior." 🙄

Takes a bite and immediately hypes up Y/N.

"AH, SUCH FLAVOR! SUCH ARTISTRY!" 🎭

Claps dramatically until your fake friends die of secondhand embarrassment.

🛡️ Main Trio + Extra

📌 Kamado Tanjiro 🐉

"That was very unkind of you." 😠

Guilt-trips them SO hard with kindness.

Eats a dumpling and goes, "Y/N, this is incredible!"

Your fake friends start apologizing out of sheer guilt.

📌 Agatsuma Zenitsu ⚡

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Y/N WORKED SO HARD!!!" 😡

Goes feral. SCREAMS at them.

Eats a dumpling and fake cries from how good it is.

"Y/N, MARRY ME, YOUR COOKING IS AMAZING!" 😭💖

📌 Hashibira Inosuke 🐗

Instantly jumps onto the table.

"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?!" 😡

Eats a dumpling and proclaims himself Y/N’s #1 food tester.

"ANYONE WHO INSULTS THIS FOOD INSULTS ME! AND I DON’T ACCEPT INSULTS!"

📌 Shinazugawa Genya 💥

“Tch. That’s messed up.”

Takes one bite, glares at your fake friends.

"They’re lying. This is amazing, Y/N."

Cracks his knuckles. Time to throw hands.

📌 Haganezuka Hotaru 🔨

DESTROYS THE TABLE OUT OF ANGER. 💥

"HOW DARE YOU INSULT Y/N’S CREATION?!?!" 😡

Chases them around with a knife. 🔪

Still ranting about it five days later.

💖 Final Thoughts

Your fake friends? Regretting their life choices.

KNY characters? ABSOLUTE PROTECTORS.

Everyone is now obsessed with your cooking.

Moral of the story: Y/N is loved, and no one insults them without consequences.

HOPE THIS MADE YOU GIGGLE LIKE AN IDIOT, BESTIE!!! 💖💖💖 YOU DESERVE ALL THE LOVE, SHRIMP #1 FAN!!! 🦐🔥

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modcroissant · 7 months ago

Text

Woe, Lullaby Box fanchild

Lulla the Lullaby Box!

Active Ability: Sleep Tight

Upon activating this ability, Lulla will create a pulse for nearby toons; the pulse helps the toons regenerate stamina faster. If a twisted was nearby when using this ability, the twisted will be stunned for 10 seconds (but 5 seconds for both main characters & Dandy). Has a cooldown of 50 seconds.

Passive Ability: Caution

The toon will be able to move faster if a twisted is nearby, the more twisteds; the faster Lulla gets. This can be helpful if you need to get to a hiding spot from a twisted quickly.

Rambling warning below‼️

Lulla is really insecure about his second pair of arms, though both his parents and friends make sure he knows he's fine the way he is

Lulla might accidently play music when near someone he loves (he's absolutely embarrassed about it)

Social anxiety GO!!!1!!

With how quiet Lulla is, he has to wear charms so he doesn't scare everyone when he appears

Hates tight clothes, just makes him feel like his body is being crushed

Once stole Astro's blanket as a young toon (please don't remind him of that memory-)

#dandys world #dandy's world #astro x boxten #lullabybox #dandy's world astro #dandy's world boxten #lulla the lullaby box

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flowery-mess · 3 months ago

Text

broken, you know that I've always been

Pairing: frat boy Noah x female reader

reader has a name (Ella Thompson, but the story is written in 'your' POV)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI / alcohol consumption / drunk male character / mentions of death and thinking of lost family members / child abandonment / let me know if there's anything else

Words: 4k

Author's note: so I'm just gonna leave this here and sleep off my hangover, hope you won't hate me much when I come back haha🥹

frat boy Noah masterlist

‼️ This story is a work of fiction, the plot and characters entirely made up. The appearance and name of the main male character are inspired by Noah Sebastian Davis, but the storyline bears no connection to the real person. The character's history, personality, and actions are entirely fictional and do not reflect the life or experiences of the real person.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“What if I get wasted tonight”

Noah’s message lit up your phone. You were currently in your biology class, not really paying attention.

“Are you asking me for permission or what?”

“Do you see a question mark in that message?”

“Then why are you telling me?”

“Just making sure you won’t get mad”

“Why tf would I get mad Noah?”

“Because that means no sex tonight”

“Worst day of my life then”

“Exactly”

“Shut up”

“But I do need something from you”

“Spill”

“I’m staying at the frat house after school, but I drove here. Will you drive me home tonight?”

“Are you seriously letting me drive your stupid expensive car because you wanna get shit faced?”

“Yep”

“Amazing, that’s better than sex. Looking forward to being your chauffeur tonight.”

What you didn’t know was that those were Noah’s last sober words for today.

—

Knowing that you’re not going to drink any alcohol tonight and will end up as Noah’s babysitter, you went to the library after your last class and continued with your school work.

Before you even knew it, it was 6PM and you had missed calls and texts from the group chat.

Molly: Ella where are you? You’re gonna be late

Clara: We’re having pre drinks, come home asap or there won’t be any left for you

Molly: We’re leaving in an hour!!

Molly’s last message was sent an hour and half ago, meaning they’re already at the frat house. You sent them a quick “I’ll come later.” message and started packing your things.

Back at your dorm you considered not going out tonight and just wait until a drunk Noah calls you to pick him up. You were not in a mood for a party tonight, let alone sober one.

Molly: Your boy is getting wild tonight!

Molly: Get your ass over here or we’re gonna come for you

You rolled your eyes at Molly’s messages. The worst part was that they would really come back just to drag you to the house full of people.

You pulled the first clothes out of your wardrobe, 100% sure that if there would be a contest for the most boring outfit you’d win tonight.

But grey loose jeans, basic black t-shirt and a hoodie was your choice tonight.

As you dragged yourself over to the frat house, as slowly as you could, your phone buzzed again in your pocket and you were ready to throw it away if it was another message from Molly. But it wasn’t.

Noah: ae you conihg togt.,?

You stopped walking and focused on the words on your display. He was wasted and it wasn’t even 10PM.

“I’m on my way.” you quickly replied and continued walking in the direction of your today’s nightmare.

As you were closer and closer, you could hear the loud music and soon enough you also saw people in front of the house with red plastic cups in a few different groups.

You avoided all of them, making your way straight for the main door.

The inside of the house was even louder and packed with people. You scanned the room without a care if you’re going to find Noah or your friends first.

“Here you are!” Clara hugged you from behind and yelled in your ear.

“What took you so long?” Molly asked and then eyed your outfit, “And what the hell are you wearing?”

“You look very nice today too Molly.” you shot her a sarcastic smile, “I’m not drinking tonight and I’m not even in a mood to be here. I promised Noah that I’m gonna drive him to his place in his car so he can drink tonight.”

“Cute.” Molly and her annoying comments.

“Shut up. Have you seen him?” you continued searching for him behind your friends.

“Yeah, last time we saw him he was with a group of freshmen telling them, and I quote “The best secret places to jerk off in this house where no one can catch you.””

“Oh god.” you rolled your eyes. Something like that was so out of character for sober Noah. “I’m gonna try to find him and then I’ll come back.”

You didn’t wait for their answer and started walking through every room on the ground floor, but with no luck.

You tried the first floor and also the backyard, but there was no sight of Noah. Well, if he was hiding in any of his secret spots there’s no way you’ll find him.

You went to the last place you could think of, your place.

No sight of Noah again.

You sat on one of the swings and took out your phone. You started typing a message for Noah that said “Our place right now.”, keeping it short and simple so his drunk eyes could read it.

You didn’t expect any answer, so you were surprised he managed to send you “Pk” back, hoping it was meant to be Ok and not anything else.

After a few more minutes of swinging and scrolling through your phone you heard heavy and unsteady steps coming towards you.

“Hi!” a hiccup, “I was scared that you, you wouldn’t come.” he stopped in front of you, but only for a second before the spinning inside his head sent him to the right.

“My god Noah sit down.” you guided him to an old bench and watched him fall on his ass.

“You’re the best!” he pointed at you and you heard another hiccup.

“Give me your car keys.” you reached out your hand, but instead of doing what you said, he high fived your palm with his. “Noah, give me your car keys before you lose them.” you were trying to be reasonable with him, but he wasn’t getting it.

“You have to find them.” he said with a smirk.

“Did you lose them already?” you asked in shock, the idea of you and him trying to find them sending you into a coma.

“No, no, no, no.” he leaned back against the back of the bench and with a smirk on his face said, “I have them on me, but if you want them, you have to find them.”

“I’m not trying to flirt with you Noah, give me the keys.”

“Nop.”

“Noah.”

“Mhmhm.” he nodded his head no and your patience started running out.

“Okay.” your hands went for his front pockets, touching them with your palm over the fabric. You only felt his phone there. “Stand up.”

“Bossy.” he chuckled to himself, but followed your orders.

You did the same with his back pockets and found his wallet and the car keys. When you were taking them out of the stuffed pocket you heard him say “I like it when you touch my ass.”

“Oh I’m so telling you that tomorrow morning.” you let out a laugh for the first time tonight.

You used your pointer finger and poked his chest and he was back on his ass. He was looking up at you with a big smile.

“What?” you asked.

“You’re my friend.”

“I am.”

“And I like you.”

“I like you too Noah, you’re my friend too.”

Something in his face changed, the smile was still there, but his eyes turned sad.

He was thankful to have you in his life, but it reminded him that not everyone always cared about him like you do.

“Are you okay?” you asked him when he didn’t speak up again.

“Mhm.”

“That’s not very convincing.” you whispered and reached out to push his hair out of his face. “Why are you drinking like that tonight?”

“I felt like it.” another hiccup. His answer was quick and something in the tone of his voice told you that you’re not going to get more out of him.

“Okay, but be careful and don’t do anything stupid okay?” you pulled him up from the bench by his hands and he kept holding them to stabilize himself.

“Yes captain.” he booped your nose and together you started walking towards the door that led you back inside.

You sent Noah off to his friends and went to find yours too.

Thankfully that was easy, they were where you left them before you went to find Noah.

You didn’t like being the sober one in a house full of drunk people. It made you feel uncomfortable and vulnerable.

You and the girls found a quiet corner and after a few more comments from Molly about you not drinking tonight you fell into a nice conversation.

You saw Noah a few times throughout the night, but he was mostly outside or with his friends in Matt’s room. Every time he looked more drunk and every time he walked through the main room he made silly faces at you.

You were thinking you’re never going to leave, because despite the amount of alcohol he had in his system, Noah didn’t look like he was leaving any time soon.

You didn’t even know that he was back downstairs since the last time you saw him go to Matt’s room with more beers, but suddenly he was on the kitchen table with a group of people around him.

They were chanting “Noah! Noah!” and something told you that you should get over there to find out what was happening.

“What is he doing?” you asked Nick when you reached the group.

“He picked a dare.”

“Dare to do what?”

“Do a shirtless dance on a table.” Nick said it as if it was an obvious fact and continued to watch Noah’s show.

You didn’t know if you should take a video so you could use it against him later or get him down before he stumbles over his own feet and falls down.

The group around him hyped him up and he started to lift his t-shirt while doing something that should've probably been the dancing part.

He threw his t-shirt to his friends and his toned and tattooed chest was on full display for everyone.

You looked around you and saw girls from different years, looking at him with hungry eyes. They shouldn’t look at him like that, they shouldn’t even see him like that.

Your eyes found Noah again, his hips were now moving in a weird way and he was singing the song that he chose for his performance.

He must be pretty drunk, because he wouldn’t do this even after a few beers on a normal occasion.

When you saw him catch his balance at the last minute before he almost fell from the table, you pushed your way through the group of people and yelled “Show's over!”

You got to the table and saw Noah jump on his friends. They caught him, but you stopped breathing for a second.

“We’re leaving.” you took his t-shirt from Matt’s hands and tried to put it back on Noah.

“I don’t wanna yet.” he couldn’t stand still, making it harder for you to put his t-shirt over his head.

“Noah, you’re ready to go to bed.” it was as if after you said those words a wave of tiredness hit him.

His head was hanging low and his eyes suddenly looked heavy. He stopped moving around and you finally slid the black fabric over his upper body, ending the show for those girls that were still watching him.

He said goodbye to his friends as if he’d never see them again. You just waved at Molly and Clara, because once you left the kitchen Noah’s arm was around your shoulders and he needed your assistance.

“Come on, we’re almost there.” you had your arm around his torso, trying to hold as much of his weight as you could so he wouldn’t fall on the ground.

“My car!” he yelled when he saw his black Range Rover parked in the same spot since this morning.

“Finally.” you mumbled to yourself.

You opened the passenger door and literally threw him inside. His body was folded in a weird angle and you had to help him with the seatbelt.

“Be gentle. I’m always gentle with you.” he said, offended by the way you were handling his body. He was right though, he was always gentle with you, but sadly you couldn’t carry his drunk body as he did with you when you were too drunk to walk.

“Sorry.” you brushed his hair out of his face and traced your fingers on his cheek as an apology.

You quickly sat behind the driving wheel and started the car.

“I trust you to get my baby home in one piece.” and a hiccup followed. His head was resting on the backrest and his eyes were closed.

“That makes one of us.” you said, suddenly not feeling very confident in your driving skills.

You managed to get out of the parking lot and follow the GPS you had on.

“Can we play Mario Kart when we get home?” Noah asked.

“I think we should go to bed.”

“That’s boring.”

“We can play tomorrow.”

“But I want to play when we get home.” he said with the attitude of a little kid.

“I didn’t know alcohol brings out your inner child.”

“Kids can’t drink alcohol Ella.”

“Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t too.”

“That’s rude.”

He cut your next answer off with the radio. He turned the volume to a maximum and started dancing in his seat. You reached to turn it down a little before saying “I also didn’t know you love dancing this much.”

“I’m a dancer, can’t you see the moves?”

“Oh my god.” you said with a laugh. Never did you expect to see Noah like this.

—

“This drive was actually like Mario Kart in real life.” Noah stated when you helped him out of the car.

“Shut up, we got home in one piece.” you locked the car and made your way inside the building.

“Keys?” you asked Noah when you reached his apartment.

“You know where they are.” he winked at you and you rolled your eyes at him.

Your hands made their way to his back pockets again, looking for his home keys.

“You’re touching my ass again.” he laughed at his own joke.

—

You finally made it inside, not even bothering to take Noah’s shoes off you took him to his bedroom where he fell into his bed without your help.

You used it as a chance to take the shoes off, one by one when he said “Cuddles?”

He was laying on his front, but his face was sideways, kinda looking at you over his shoulder with a little pout.

“Give me a minute yeah?”

“I want cuddles.”

You threw his shoes on the bedroom floor instead of bringing them to the front door and crawled next to him on the bed.

“Come here you drunk mess.” you said and laid on your back so Noah could lay his head on your chest.

Silence took over the room and you knew Noah would soon fall asleep, so you used the chance to ask him again.

“Do you want to talk about why you got drunk tonight?”

He remained silent, but his movements and breathing got him away that he was still up and heard you.

“You don’t have to, but you never do this so I wa-”

“It's getting close to Christmas.” was his answer that cut you off.

“Yeah, and?” you asked gently.

“It always makes me think about my family.” his words were muffled by your clothes, but you heard him.

“Of memories of how you used to celebrate Christmas?” you asked.

“No. Memories of how fucked up my childhood was.” before you could say anything he continued. “After my parents left me with my grandparents my father came back a few times to celebrate it with us. It always ended with a loud argument and me hiding in my room from all the chaos. When he stopped coming back it was just the three of us. It was calm, but it was fake as fuck. I always saw it on my grandmother’s face how sorry she felt for me. Poor kid without parents. I don’t blame them, they did their best. It wasn’t them who ruined my life.” he scoffed and you saw his father's face when you closed your eyes.

You played with his hair, something to calm him down and to give you something to focus on from stopping you from crying.

“When they died and it was just me, I felt happy for the fucking first time on Christmas. They didn’t have to set up everything for me anymore and spend all their money on gifts for me. I felt free.” his voice cracked at the end and you felt a teardrop on your skin where your t-shirt has ridden up.

“Noah-” you wanted to comfort him, but he didn’t let you.

“Don’t you dare say you’re fucking sorry for me Ella.” so you stayed silent. It was like words were pouring from him for the first time since you met him.

“You know what I always ask myself? Why did it have to be me? What did I do that they didn’t want me? I was barely a three years old when they fucking left me.” a sob left Noah’s throat and his hands gripped the fabric of your t-shirt.

“I remember asking my grandmother when they’ll come back for me, when will I go back home, but they never came back for me.” he took a deep breath before saying more, “And all of those nights I heard my grandmother cry for me. Her last words before she died were “I’m sorry Noah, I’m sorry we couldn’t give you a better life.” and I fucking hate that. It wasn’t her who should’ve given me a better life. It wasn’t her fault that they didn’t want me.”

And he was right. The only people that should be blamed for all of his trauma were his parents. Could you even call them that?

“I don’t know how to talk about this when I’m sober and I just needed to get it out tonight, so I got drunk. I’m sorry I dragged you in it.”

“Don’t say that, I’m glad you wanted me to be the one that takes care of you. I like doing that. I like knowing you’re okay.” you tried to reassure him with every word you spoke.

“But I’m not okay Ella, I’m fucking broken. You shouldn’t be here, you should be somewhere else with someone else who can give you more than me.”

“I’m not gonna let you say that, there’s not a place I’d rather be than here right now with you. Okay?” you felt your own tears running down your cheeks. You didn’t expect this night to end like this. This was the most intimate moment you two shared so far and you wanted Noah to know that he can talk to you about this anytime, even when he’s sober.

Silence took over the darkened room until Noah spoke up again.

“Remember when you did the pregnancy test?” you just hummed in a response, “I was thinking a million thoughts a second, but I knew that if the test would be positive and you’d want to keep it that I’d do it with you. I’d never leave my kid.” he whispered the last part and you had to hold your own sobs. You closed your eyes and let the tears run down your cheeks.

You knew he wasn’t saying that he wants kids with you, or that he loves you or that he wasn’t relieved when the test was negative, he’s just saying that he knows he wants to be better than his parents.

“Noah, you’re nothing like your parents okay? Saying something like this makes you a much better person than they are. You’ve been through a lot, but you made something of yourself. You turned all the bad things into good things. Look at you, having your own apartment, a fucking car and going to college. You’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met and I know you don’t want to hear it, but it’s true.” you thought if saying the next thing wasn’t out of line, but you felt like he needed to hear it. “I’m sure your grandparents would be proud of you.”

Noah didn’t give you an answer, he just hid his face in your skin and cried. You cried with him.

His body was shaking from sobbing so hard and you did everything you could to calm him down. You kept rubbing his back and whispering sweet reassurances in his ear, but he wasn’t there with you.

His mind was somewhere else, thinking about all the good times he got to live with his grandparents.

How he helped his grandmother with her garden, laughing at her enormous joy from new plants he got her. He continued with bringing her new plant or flower each time he went to visit their grave, imagining her happy face and how she would hug him and kiss his cheek.

Or when his grandfather took him to see local races. How he was passionate about the cars and pilots who were driving them. How he would love Noah’s car and want to drive it himself. How Noah would buy him his own dream car so he wouldn’t have to drive the old blue small car they had anymore. How he never stepped a foot to another race after he died.

How they attended every single one of his school events even though he told them they didn’t have to. When they got old it was hard for them, but they still came. Every time.

How he had to sell their old house, because he couldn’t even look at it without breaking down. He thought about the box full of things that he kept to remind him of them and how he hasn’t touched it for years. Scared of his own reaction.

They gave him everything they had and made up the mess his parents made. And they didn’t have to. And he felt like he didn’t show them enough how grateful he was for everything and how much they meant to him.

His body was soon tired from the crying and his sobs calmed down. He was starting to fall asleep.

“You have me now Noah, you’ll always have me okay? You’re not alone.” you lifted his head from your chest, his red and tired eyes looking at you with lots of unspoken words.

“Thank you.” he managed to say and you brought him in for a small forehead kiss.

You helped him out of his clothes, leaving him in his white boxers and threw the blanket over his body.

He laid on his side and you sat next to him.

His hand found yours, the grip he had on you begging you to not leave him.

You couldn’t find a single reason why someone would leave Noah behind and didn’t fight for him. How could someone do this to a little child that wanted nothing more than a gentle touch from his parents.

You laid down next to him and watched him fall asleep.

There were no more tears and his breath became steady.

You pushed his brown locks out of his face and then traced his facial features with your fingers.

You ran them over his eyebrows to make the frown go away.

You traced the shape of his nose until you reached his lips. They were slightly open and warm to touch.

His cheeks were still a light shade of pink and you gently caressed his skin there.

His chest was going up and down and the white blanket had slid down to his waist.

You let your fingers slide down to his chest, tracing some of his tattoos. Tracing each word of the desolate tattoo. He was not a desolate. He had you and his friends. They were always joking with each other and making fun of everything, but you know they have his back. He’s not alone in this life anymore.

You left your hand where his heart is, feeling the steady beating of his heart lull you to sleep.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Taglist: @lacy1986 @concretejunglefm @super-btstrash-posts @amelia-acero @justcarrie @koskeepsake @dominuslunae @ami--gami @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @lilcrazy011 @chey-h @xmads-omensx @blade-dressed-in-red @respectfulrebel @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @mrscevans @blvckmvgicwoman @punkprincess1999 @fear-its-beauty @bloody-spades @n0n3xsisting @thenmaybehellaintsobadafterall @athenexe @tashka @badomensls @fadingintothegrey @concrtlimits @whatismylifexox @theanarchymuse95 @renegadebirch @theasowle @darknightstarryeyes @montgomery-929496

If you want to be on my taglist click here

#frat boy noah #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian blurb #noah sebastian fan fiction #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian imagine #noah sebastian x y/n #bad omens fic #bad omens fan fiction #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens x reader #x reader #Spotify

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sexiestpodcastcharacter · 4 months ago

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Sexiest Podcast Character 2024 — Scripted Redemption Bracket — Round 2.5

Propaganda

SPEAKER (SAYER):

#whoever follows me VOTE SPEAKER MY BELOVED WAR CRIMINAL PLEASEEEEE #OCEAN THINKS ITS TOO STUPID FOR SARCASM BUT ITS LITERALLY BEING SARCASTIC WITH IT ALL THE TIME. #IT CAUSED THE SECOND CATACLYSM. IT KILLED MILLIONS #IT HAS THE WEIRDEST HOMOEROTIC WORKPLACE RELATIONSHIP WITH SAYER #IT GIRLBOSSED ITS WAY OUT OF DEACTIVATION #IT HUNG UP ON OCEAN TWICE #''ah but i am finished with you. goodbye subversion 8.01. listen for the click!'' #AND #''but as for last words? no i cant imagine wasting any more on you'' #CANON IT/ITS PRONOUNS USER #ITS SO CUNTY. IT SERVES. ITS LITERALLY SO FUCKING MEAN AND THE FUNNIEST MOTHERFUCKER ON THIS BITCH EARTH #I LOVE YOU SPEAKER ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️💥💥💥💥💥💥 #thats my propaganda

#OH THERES PROPAGANDA #LETS NOT FORGET ITS FIRST EVER APPEARENCE THREATENING TO GIVE A GUY THE SYMPTOMS OF RABIESSSS

Kayne (Malevolent):

He’s a god who acts like the main characters are his personal soap opera. His first appearance was playing the piano covered in blood after he had massacred an entire town. He just kinda shows up sometimes to cause chaos and is often munching on chips while he watches shit go down. Also he never wears shoes, for some reason

I desperately need Kayne to win, this man is literally the only version of himself available and his voice makes him stand out every time when he pops up. He exploded a guy's head and tore out a guy's eyeballs, what more is there to love?

(I'm an absolute sucker for this man)

Additional propaganda below the cut:

SPEAKER (SAYER):

Sure, it intentionally caused a global catastrophe, but the spine it hides behind its customer service façade? Hot as fuck.

#I would commit terrible crimes for them #They have commited terrible crimes for themselves

#wait for the click! #cmon that is just sexy

#i am torn #but i gotta go with speaker #if you havent listened imagine glados but everything has a reason #like “it's a space wrench because i've found humans 32% more likely to take care of tools with the word 'space' ammended to their name” #speajer is the best #wait fuck i misread thought ut said sayer not speaker #but i dont regret it speaker is also sexy af Mod Note: We can have some SAYER propaganda. As a treat.

#this thing !! #this thing stares down the face of death and gives it a winning smile! #this thing is tailor made for it!! #pleaseee.

Kayne (Malevolent):

Literaly just a tumbr sexy man

black suit, no shoes, covered in blood, plays piano, quirky laugh

An eldritch god soaked in blood. He's Arthur Lester's number one cheer leader.

covered in blood, plays piano, silly laugh, very Will Wood coded

He's insane. He's so dynamic. Will Wood's The Normal Album in humanized eldritch god form. Always covered in blood. Need I say more?

#KAYNE SWEEEEEP LET'S GOOOO #my babygirl he deserves to win this entire thing #i'm not biased i swear

#Kayne my love #i want to end you but i love hearing from you

#Kayne is such A Guy. like he’s just so Character #he does Things and says Lines and it’s great

#2024 Round 2.5 #SPEAKER #Kayne #SPEAKER SAYER #Kayne Malevolent #SAYER #Malevolent #SAYER Podcast #Malevolent Podcast #SPEAKER AI

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asherashedwings · 1 year ago

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PICOS SCHOOL DESIGN DUMP

Pico

So, I decided that my previous designs for a lot of these characters are going to be more-so their designs during the events of the Pico’s School games. So when they were kids. Like, some will be a bit different, but for the most part, that’s how it is. So then these new designs are them as adults.

When trying to figure out Pico’s design, I didn’t know how I wanted his outfit in this new design to differ from his previous. Cuz like, that’s already the perfect Pico fit. But then I realized “omg, it’d be so much funnier if I DIDN’T change it.” Cuz he is definitely the type of mf to be wearing the same clothes he’s had since middle school.

Like, Cass or Nin come back for a rematch, and they both look super different, and then they look at Pico and he looks NO DIFFERENT than last time they saw him.

Darnell

I immediately broke my rule with the previous designs with Darnell, cuz I just really liked the previous design’s outfit and was like “eh, imma use that for his adult design, and just change the kid design.”

I imagine he got that varsity jacket like, custom made, and it was like super fuckin expensive. But like, when he got it, he decided “wait, I don’t want the sleeves” and just ripped them off 💀

Can’t have long sleeves when you’re always working with fire ig.

Nene

I think Nene is the one I’ve drawn in alt. outfits the most. What can I say, I just really like drawing her and messing around with her clothes. So I had a lot of previous pieces of mine I could look back on for reference.

The main change that isn’t outfit related is her hair. I just decided to dick around and see what looked good, and landed on that. I think it looks pretty good, idk.

Also, gave her a WWJD bracelet cuz sometimes I forget she’s Christian and I thought it was funny.

Reminded me of this one stupid idea I had, featuring my very headcanoned version of the G-Squad:

Like, the G-Squad are doing their whole cult thing, worshipping the Peniliens, when the Pico trio burst in, and Nene says something like “THERE IS ONLY ONE LORD AND SAVIOR, AND HIS NAME IS JESUS CHRIST.”

And then they kick their asses, idk.

Also, here, them as kids. Pico just got spikier as he got older

Okay, time for some antags 💥💥💥

Cassandra

She was actually the first redesign I made in this batch.

Main change: Beard. I just sorta wanted to make the Penilien duo more androgynous. I imagine that they don’t really care about transitioning that much, since they don’t have the same gender roles and stereotypes as humans. Just “I’m [insert gender here], that’s it.” Also, I just think Cass slayed with a beard.

I also wanted to incorporate shapes from their alien forms more into their human disguises. So I gave Cass these big sleeve things to sorta emulate the big bulky arms she has in her true form.

One of her pincers is also chipped. This comes from the fact that in Pico’s School, one of her horn-hair things is shorter than the other, and I wanted to find a way to incorporate that.

Damien

I don’t think there’s much to say here that I have already said while talking about Cassandra.

I imagine Damien does less to hide his alien features, since he has a huge superiority complex and thinks Peniliens are superior anyways, so like, why hide his true colors? Why hide what makes him greater than everyone around him?

So yeah, that’s why he keeps his tail out.

Nin

YIPPEE, HEAVYILY HEADCANONED CHARACTER TIME‼️‼️

So Nin differs with the whole “previous design is them as a kid” thing, cuz he doesn’t really age past his age in Pico’s School. Cuz bro dies.

(Also, quick HC timeline: Pico 1 and “Pico 2” (the conflict with the robo-kids) both take place in middle school, while what I call “Pico 3” (the conflict with the G-Squad) happens in high school. So that’s why Nin appears less child-like; he’s a high schooler)

So like, I hc that when Pico killed Nin, Nin pulled some necromancy bullshit and revived HIMSELF. Cuz idk, that feels like some bullshit Pico’s School would pull.

So now he’s undead. His hair also sorta resembles horns cuz it’s sorta to symbolize his devotion to the Peniliens. If y’all are interested in hearing all the HCs I have for the G-Squad (or just PS in general), I might share more at a later date.

That’s all for now tho.

Bonus:

My color palettes for these fuckers. They’re all named after the MSI songs I associate with each of them. I do not support MSI, I just really like the music and it reminds me of Pico’s School for some reason, so I always listen to a lot of it whenever I get sucked back into this fandom

#ashedwings post #ashedwings art #ashedwings ramble #picos school nene #picos school cassandra #pico’s school #picos school #pico's school #picos school darnell #picos school pico #pico’s cousin 2 damien #pico’s cousin 2 #pico’s school g squad #darnell pico’s school #nene pico's school #pico pico's school #cassandra pico's school #Wingz!NG AU #ashedwings design

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kitty-kat-art · 7 months ago

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🧍‍♂️Mental illness has won, I've written a little in-depth essay exploring Dale as a character and breaking down his personality, actions, and how it relates to Dev and Doug. Also I threw in a bunch of my own little headcanons 💀

⚠️ CONTENT WARNING ‼️ This post will contain mentions of abuse, mental illness, and eating disorders. I don't go into uncomfortable detail, but still! Keep this warning in mind when reading on. Obviously, you are very much free to disregard any takes I have if they don't align with what you perceive, especially in regards to what I personally headcannon lololol. I am highkey projecting onto Dale because I like where they took his character compared to his first appearance in the original FOP. It presents MANY questions regarding what led him to end up the way he did, and that's something I always LOVE exploring!

Anyways, please also feel free to expand on anything I bring up here! There's a LOT, and I'm sure I still forgot to mention something somewhere... 😭 (Also, keep in mind I am only on episode 20 atm, so I have more Dale content to analyze besides the fact, so I may add onto this in the future or change my onions JSKDJSKDJLSJDKSJ)

The way Dale has been portrayed in FOPANW as one of the main antagonists presents a compelling exploration of Dale's character development, particularly in relation to Dev and Doug. It suggests that Dale's journey to becoming the father he is today stems directly from the influence of Doug, who, upon Dale's release from Vicky's lemonade dungeon, very briefly acknowledges him before shifting his focus entirely to Timmy. Dale doesn't even get a moment to greet his father before Doug redirects his attention to Timmy... This moment encapsulates the emotional neglect Dale experiences at the hands of Doug literally in an instant, as Doug doesn't even let his son get a single word in before moving on to prioritizes another child he doesn't even know, no doubt leaving Dale caught in a whirlwind of emotions—from initial excitement to a profound sense of emptiness at the realization that he's just going from one location lacking in proper support to another.

(Literally "WOW IT'S MY DAD 😃" to "... 😐" in seconds when he is ignored after 7 years of trauma just so his dad can yap at some other kid 😭)

Moreover, I believe that Doug’s obsession with monetary success profoundly impacted Dale's own self-worth. Before living with Doug, Dale was already fixated on hard work to please Vicky, aiming to generate wealth. Living under Doug's influence only magnifies this mentality, leading Dale to internalize that his identity is tied to his status as a Dimmadome, where financial success equates to personal value. This relentless pursuit of wealth distorts Dale's perception of self-worth, establishing a direct correlation between his earnings and his sense of purpose. If he fails to meet his own financial expectations, he feels worthles. It's been pointed out before that he falls into despair when his ability to make money is hindered.

While I don't think Doug was as absent in Dale's life as Dale is in Dev's (obviously we can't know for sure unless ANW explores that), the emotional absence is certainly palpable. I personally like to think that Dale is aware of his own flaws, yet his pride prevents him from acknowledging them. Maybe he has the incessant voice of Doug in his head, reinforcing the belief that he must constantly generate income to avoid feeling useless... This toxic mindset might lead Dale to distance himself from Dev on purpose, as he recognizes the love he never received and perceives Dev’s lack of gratitude for his own circumstances as a stark reminder of his own impoverished childhood. Dale's bitterness and jealousy manifest in a misguided perception that Dev has everything he, Dale, has ever desired, failing to recognize that Dev's true yearning is for paternal love and attention—elements Dale is ill-equipped to provide due to his own upbringing and emotional immaturity due to having never received unconditional love and support from his own dad, which can be assumed based on Doug's priorities and personality as portrayed in the original show... (If we get more seasons for A New Wish, I hope that they get a chance to explore Dales dynamic with Doug one on one, that could be something very interesting, I think, even if it is only mentioned briefly...)

Dale's behavior is UNDENIABLY selfish and manipulative, painting him as a narcissist. However, these traits can also be viewed as a defense mechanism, a survival strategy developed in response to a lifetime of neglect and abuse. There is a possibility that throughout his life, Dale has learned to trust no one but himself, leading to a bottled-up emotional state that makes him appear aloof on the surface. Consequently, he mirrors the tactics used against him by Vicky, employing similar strategies to cope with his own vulnerabilities, manipulating others and prioritizing money over the well-being of others. To outsiders, he may appear as a self-important narcissist, but this could easily be a façade that masks his desperate need for validation on his self-worth, which he vainly seeks through material wealth and accolades. When someone has no control over their life, they seek control through other means...

The accumulation of wealth becomes a means for Dale to convince himself of his greatness. Surrounded by paintings and statues of himself, he clings to the notion that financial success equates to personal value. It's a tragic cycle of self-deception; he rationalizes his wealth as proof of his worthiness, seeking external validation to fill the void within with which he lacks the proper tools to confront in a meaningful and healthy way. This could very well be an example of him attempting to take control of his own thoughts and feelings towards himself.

Dale clings to his wealth as a tangible affirmation of his worth as an individual, a testament to his perceived success and brilliance. 'Look at all this money I have! I have literally everything I could ever want and more! Don't you agree? Don't you think I'm rich? Aren't I doing well carrying my father's legacy as a Dimmadome? (Please recognize my status. Tell me I’m good. Validate my worth by giving me money.)' That type of mentality. This desperate plea for acknowledgment underscores a deeper insecurity, revealing his need for external validation to reinforce his self-esteem. He is the kind of man who believes that money solves all your problems, and maybe there's a chance that he has told himself that enough times that he finally started to believe it. He even seems to speak of his own traumatic experience working for Vicky as something that built his character. He LITERALLY carries a picture of his trauma around in his pocket and happily shows it to Dev...

"When I was you're age, I spent my Saturdays working in a FACTORY underneath a lemonade stand, for SEVEN YEARS. That's 364 Saturdays, do you know how many Saturday morning cartoons I missed out on!? ALL OF THEM... And look at the man I turned out to be." This quote vividly paints him as a bitter and jealous adult because he missed out on having a proper childhood, all while emphasizing that he views his trauma almost like a GOOD thing... Because otherwise he wouldn't be where he is now, so it HAD to be good, right? Just look at the man he turned out to be! (This guy is coping so hard! 😭)

In contrast, Dev appears to be navigating his OWN identity through the lens of his father's image, perhaps in an attempt to earn his approval. It's a common phenomenon for children to reflect their parents' behaviors, whether through mimicking their language, fashion, or taking on their parent's interests as their own... I believe it was Dev's choice to emulate his father's style... The white jacket and boots with gold accents paired with dark pants and slicked back hair... It suggests a conscious effort to mirror Dale on Dev's part. It seems unlikely that Dale actively encourages this mimicry; rather, it appears to stem from Dev's own desire for recognition, and the age old inclination nearly every child has with idolizing their parents and wanting to grow up to be JUST like them... Whether Dale is oblivious to this or simply indifferent remains a bit of a mystery.

Something else I've thought about is that Dev's tendency to wear sunglasses could also signify his own struggle with vulnerability, as he often obscures his eyes, maybe in an attempt to shield himself from the world or prevent himself from revealing to much emotion, much like his father. Yet, I've noticed a pattern with Dev. Sometimes, when he is feeling particularly vulnerable or upset, he removes the shades, revealing a desire to be seen and understood— a stark contrast to Dale, who prefers to hide behind his wealth and image and avoid eye contact at all costs unless the topic of discussion is money.

I like to think that Dale’s tendency to avoid eye contact could be interpreted as a defense mechanism against the judgment he feels from others, as if he can't stand seeing the way people judge him (This is just my own personal HC). This avoidance would stem from a deep-seated insecurity that was planted in him at a young age and never got uprooted before it took hold. Perhaps he feels scrutinized and exposed, with the exception being when the conversation shifts to financials... In these instances, he may feel a temporary sense of control, something he has lacked his WHOLE life, on top of never being properly loved when it mattered most in regards to the development of his brain.

I feel like Dale's pride would keep him from confronting his emotional turmoil, leading him to suffer in silence. He guards his vulnerabilities closely, perhaps fearing that revealing his pain would make it 'real'. The prospect of others discovering his deep-seated feelings of inadequacy terrifies him, reinforcing his need to maintain a façade of success. Because of this, he ends up reflecting narcissistic traits on the surface to make up for his own incompetence.

I also HC that Dale's emotional distance from Dev is a conscious choice rooted in his own experiences of fatherly love—or rather, the lack thereof. His upbringing under Doug no doubt left Dale with a warped understanding of affection and how one goes about loving another person. I mean... Just look back at their first interaction in the original cartoon where Doug didn't even give Dale a second to say anything before turning his attention to Timmy, basically saying 'You are not as important as the thing that can give me money or free labor', which is an attitude he carries into adulthood with Dev.

Dale's perception of his son also seems clouded by envy, as he watches Dev embrace the childhood experiences he himself was deprived of. This dynamic could explain why Dale sometimes appears 'burdened' by Dev's presence; he may be grappling with the painful reminder of what he missed out on. The interplay between their identities and emotional needs highlights the complexities of familial relationships, particularly in the context of legacy and the expectations placed upon them. The cyclical nature of this dynamic becomes a poignant exploration of how unresolved issues from one generation can profoundly impact the next if left unresolved. In this context, it becomes apparent that Dale’s deliberate push against any emotional attatchment with Dev is a projection of his own unresolved feelings.

Dale's existence has been predominantly defined by work and money, reducing him to a mere instrument for generating wealth—essentially, the heir to the Dimmadome fortune. This is not a matter of opinion, but fact... And this type of upbringing has deprived him of the fundamental aspects of being treated as a person with emotional needs, to which he passes onto his own son. To Vicky, Dale was barely human. Left with a gaggle of other presumably kidnapped or trafficked children that she used to generate money for herself while neglecting their basic needs, like providing them with food, water, proper sunlight and places to sleep. Just look at Dale's body right after he is freed compared to his appearance when he's older. He was significantly skinnier and much paler than Timmy and his dad. Not to mention the tattered clothes that barely fit him and the dirt and grime covering his body.

Expanding off his abuse under Vicky, if we consider the realisfic ramifications regarding that whole situation, I HC that Dale would struggle with food consumption in the sense that he might over indulge due to the ingrained fear of not knowing the next time he's going to eat, and then feeling self conscious about himself after the fact and 'punishing' himself by not eating for extended periods of time. Additionally, though it's said as a joke in the original show, Dale expresses his discomfort seeing natural light... "The light! It burns!"

(Also note how skinny the kid in the background on the right is! Holy shit! Vicky was obviously NOT concerned with their well being, this would absolutely affect Dale mentally)

But if we take this throwaway line seriously, it's important to note that people who are kept in the dark for extended periods of time can have their vision permanently damaged. So, I like to imagine that Dale wears contacts or even reading glasses on occasion when no one else is around. (Just cause I think reading glasses are cute... 😭 Also I love over analyzing cartoon men... 🫶 Also I love taking things too seriously in regards to my headcanons teehee 😇)

Ultimately, Dale's emotional landscape is one of confusion and disconnection, leaving him with no framework for how to genuinely love someone. His interactions with Dev reveal a complex web of projection, unfulfilled desires, and a tragic inability to break free from the cycle of emotional neglect that has defined his life.

In conclusion...

#fairly oddparents #fopanw #fairly oddparents a new wish #dale dimmadome #dev dimmadome #doug dimmadome #headcanons #headcanon #long post #I enjoy psychoanalyzing cartoon characters 🫶

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shadows-coffeebeans · 1 year ago

Text

Dead Masterpost, check out the tag starlight.au to see other posts

Due to popular demand (literally no one asked for this) the Starlight masterpost:

Basic info:

Appeared one day as Shadow was getting back home (at this point Sonic is living with Tails and Shadow visits so often he practically lives there (also also, Sonic and Shadow aren't together yet but are married: context)). They try looking for his parents but to no avail. They then deside to keep him, at least until his parents come and claim him, they promise eachother not to get attached and that they will give Starlight back no matter what (this comes back to bite them in the ass later on).

Main tag - Void of Stars AU

LOOOOOOOOOORE(/silly):

Accidental Baby Acquisition

Random lil tidbits and doodles tags:

Void of Star Doodles (Art that isn't super connected to the au but uses the characters)

Void of Starlight (Posts that expand upon the au but isn't super necessary to understand the main story)

Void of SFS (Stuff for the Sonic Fankid Showdown because that needs it's own tag apparently)

Prev Character Sheets - sheet 1, sheet 2

VoS!Supernova Au (silly little future au)

Void of Sunshine (Other's Art :D‼️‼️)

these tags no longer work, the new tag is "starlight.au"

Feel free to send me asks about him and tag me if any of y'all make art of him‼️‼️

#sth #starlight the hedgehog #sth oc #sonic oc #sonic fankid #sonadow fankid #sonic #sonic the hedgehog oc #sonic the hedgehog #insert shadow noises™#sonadow #masterpost #fankid #starlight.au

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stellrn · 1 year ago

Note

im going to eat your weapon

[Stelle is taken aback by your ask.] “No! Not my baseball bat, why would you want to eat that? It’s my personal weapon for mass destruction…” [Stelle is genuinely confused at why you would want to eat her weapon. Wait, she just realises something… did you mean the baseball bat or the lance?]

“The baseball bat or the lance? I’m giving you none. Not even the lance. But I understand why you want to eat my weapon/weapons..they do look yummy.” [Stelle is now thinking if she can eat her own weapon because of you. Good job.]

#Trailblazing beyond🌟#The main character appears!‼️#hsr rp #hsr trailblazer #honkai: star rail #hsr stelle #hsr roleplay #honkai star rail #honkai star rail roleplay #stelle #hsr

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palaxy27 · 22 days ago

Text

MORE ABOUT DREAM TEAM PLUSHIES!!

People tel me l'm a monster for making Sashi suffer (and I don't regret it hehehe 😈)

So what do you think about talking about something more cute?

THE PLUSHIES!!!!!🔥🔥🔥

(And why they are alive and live in the protagonist dimention)

WARNING: long post Iol‼️

● So are they part of my AU or main story

I ...don't really know 😅

I draw them more as entertainment or random things, and while they appear in the main story videos, the fact that they're alive or are normal plushies would be a matter for the person

But for know i dont know yet

• why do the protagonists' plush forms coexist with them and why live together?

Simple (it isn't)

If you remember in Trading Faces, Rippen and Larry swapped bodies due to a portal failure

Something similar happened here, When Penn Sashi and Boone finished a mission in the Plush World, the same thing would happen, but instead of swapping bodies, what they did was create a duplicate of their plush forms with the appearance and personalities they had in the series and take them out of the portal along with the team in their normal forms (the original plushies from the Plush World are fine)

This also happened to Rippen and Larry, but instead of their baby forms, they were with two random characters who were near them

The cat: rippen 🐱

The elephant: larry 🐘

Initially, they are clearly confused and don't know what to do. Phillyps, in order not to jeopardize the secret of the portals and dimensions, as well as to avoid causing people to panic by seeing living stuffed animals, makes the smartest decision:

They each take care of the plushies just seconds after meeting them, without knowing if they are truly dangerous or not, and without their parents' consent 😀👍

Of course!!

ISNT THE GREAT PLAN EVER??!!😀

The dream team, in order not to lose their sanity (as Boone said and later being true 😅🤣), decided that each one would be the main caretaker of each plushie based on their respective forms in the stuffed animal world and that each weekend it would be one's turn to take care of the three (later, much, much later, lol, when they start to get attached, they would exchange plushies for a short time and not so frequently)

● How did their parents react?

Their parents clearly weren't happy or convinced but they didn't have much choice either (the plishies used their ✨️✨️ charm ✨️✨️) each one reacts differently. Penn's parents were touched by the way the plushie existed, sashi's were worried about the cat not because he would hurt the plushie but the other way around!! 😰 (sashi plushie never hurt him, they're friends :3 the real sashi is the only person apart from thieves, villains, rippen and larry who is aggressive) and boone's parentswere equally delighted but when the plushie boone wanted to give him a hug he accidentally ran his dad's hair because of the stickers on his hands 😭😭😭

● MEANWHILE RIPPEN AND LARRY PLUSHIES!!

The same thing happened to them. taking care of their plushies forms, Larry was delighted 🥰 but rippen...

First he left it on the fish stick on a stick 😑

Plushie rippen followed him :3

Rippen tried to get rid of it by throwing it in a trash can 😮

Plushie rippen left there and followed him :3

Rippen threw it into the sea!! 😬

Plushie rippen knows how to swim well, he went out and followed him :3

RIPPEN FED UP!!! TIED HIM TO THE TRAIN TRACKS WITH CHAINS! 😨

Plushie rippen was easily untied because they were badly placed, it was arranged vertically so that the train's wheels wouldn't do anything to it, it came off the rails and followed him :3

When rippen got to his apartment he gave up and let him stay

and plushie rippen slept with freddy

Rippen:

● Now finally, how do the stuffed animals interact with their counterparts?

PENN PLUSHIE: with Penn he gets along mostly well, sometimes Penn gets irritated with his arrogant and conceited attitude (unlike the real one it's not that common) until he realizes that he is the same (he thinks it's his karma xd), with Boone he is the same, he is affectionate and when Boone is depressed or scared, he approaches him to hug him or just to be petted, he also goes to him when an arm or another part of his body falls off as usual, so that Boone can sew it up, with Sashi he is much more affectionate, he is always on his side, they play together, in general nice things 🥰 with rippen, the same as always lol, it bothers him, I try to play a joke on him (it didn't work), it drives him crazy etc

BOONE PLUSHIE: with boone they are very close, they understand each other well and it seems that boone knows what the plushie thinks or wants (although they do not speak the same language), he helps a lot at home surprisingly (initially as an apology for what happened with his father but with the passage of time and solving the problem now he does it only because he wants to), with penn it is the same but he is more direct when penn is wrong, normally he listens to him whether in everyday things, about sashi, his parents, problems, etc. just to accompany him and make him feel comfortable and he is also the main model (apart from sashi plushie) in his drawings and art, with sashi he was initially afraid of him and it was difficult for her to approach him without him running away, now they are friends and he knows that he is safe with her, she is not aggressive with him, she just looks at him with a furrowed eyebrow when he does something wrong as a warning, with rippen it may seem that he is indifferent but secretly he jokes with him and always gets away with it 😀

He is the most pacifist (neutral) of the plushies :3

SASHI PLUSHIE: with sashi… she is aggressive🔥 (not even real sashi knows why ) they are not friends but they tolerate each other and can at least coexist in a room for a long time, until they don't and they fight and you know when it is serious when the sashi plushie hits her in her weak spot, with boone she treats him well, she just stays there taking care of him, eating meatloaf (if they eat it they don't need it but they do), the most "sashi" thing she did was wake him up with slaps so he wouldn't be late to school she still does it when he woke up lol, with penn she is a love 🥰❤️❤️❤️ , she hugs him, protects him, is aware, takes care of him when he is sick, she even lets him press her music box (that is until he takes advantage of when she stop him) she is happy with him and penn finds it cute to see a mini version of his girlfriend but he is still careful not to provoke her because… I'm still sashi, with rippen….. he is still alive so it's something

RIPPEN PLUSHIE: with rippen they are always in conflict and the truth is rippen plushie prefers not to live with him but has no choice but both feel that loneliness and the other's company is not so bad (reason why the plushie followed him felt he would find company) and both have each other (neither will admit it) they also take turns on who will sleep with freddy but if it is a tired day plushie rippen steals him regardless of whether it was his turn or not :3 , with larry he is more affectionate than rippen (he even lets him pet him or dress him in funny outfits) he lets himself be loved by him 🥰, with the dream team they are initially surprised that rippen has his plush counterpart too, they are even a little kinder to him for being tender (he doesn't like him and no matter how hard he tries he can't get rid of their jokes, lifts, games etc) as said the stuffed animals are dangerous and so is he, but it is more like annoyance or annoyance that they have when he does that (very few but sometimes he just tries to play jokes on them but they accidentally get out of control) they don't hear it because unlike the real Rippen (at first glance) the plushie is a little more empathetic and sometimes (NOT ALWAYS) if he feels bad he's like a child Rippen

LARRY PLUSHIE: with real Larry they are great friends, he has his own bed, butler, merchandise in the gift shop, (no stuffed animals in case someone takes the original 😱) and he also loves Tony and he loves him, he uses him as transportation without mistreating him, he loves everyone especially Rippen (he will not admit it, but Rippen is fond of hi ) he even helps him in his activities as a teacher secretly and is less creepy than the real Larry (but sometimes he can do it, there nobody knows how he will act 😶) with the dream team he also loves them, he is their emotional support in less unexpected moments, you can even act as a therapist (even if they do not know what you say but they appreciate it and it makes them feel better) and sometimes he helps them with the pranks of their stuffed counterparts (he bores them with his meaningless stories)

● Plushie language!!!

And as a last fact (I have already told it many times) but they speak another language, they speak with squeaks like skeaks toys or the rain frog meme when squeaking, initially the dream team was surprised that they spoke like that, they thought they would speak like them, it is not until Phillyps explains to them that in most dimensions they have their own language and when they enter the bodies of the inhabitants they also speak and understand the language

That's all for now, if there are any other questions feel free to ask :)

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velvetvisionsaurora · 4 months ago

Text

Pairing: Hongjoong x reader, Seonghwa x reader, Yunho x reader, Mingi x reader, Wooyoung x reader.

Warnings: Slavery/Human Trafficking, Separation/Loss, Violence, Eventual Smut. SA(not by any main characters) y/n gets switched to a real name but it has a purpose., blood, injury. More warnings to be updated.

Want to be notified when a chapter is updated? Join the Taglist!

‼️if you have read chapter 7 already please go back and make sure you have read the reunion part with Ella/Yeosang! It’s after the flash back scene! Something happened with posting and it got removed‼️

<<Previous Next>>

Masterlist

Chapter 9

Breaking Walls

The first cannon shot shattered the morning stillness. Seconds later came the distinctive crack of a ball striking water near the ATEEZ's port side. A warning shot rather than a direct assault, meant to force compliance instead of inflicting damage—yet unmistakably hostile.

Ella stood frozen by her cabin's small porthole, knuckles white against the wooden frame as she strained to glimpse the approaching vessel. Through the limited opening, she could see little more than water and occasional flashes of movement as crew members raced across the deck above. The sounds told a clearer story—Seonghwa's precise commands carrying easily through the wooden bulkheads, followed by the coordinated responses of crew implementing well-rehearsed protocols.

Most unsettling was the transformation in tone that swept through the ship—the comfortable camaraderie of breakfast giving way to professional precision that forcefully reminded her of the ATEEZ's true nature. These men who had shown her consistent kindness were simultaneously the feared Compass Crew, whose efficiency against slave traders had become maritime legend.

A second boom echoed across the water, closer this time though still clearly a warning. The distinctive creak of gun ports opening followed immediately—Mingi's clever mechanisms deploying the concealed weaponry she had examined days earlier. The transition from merchant appearance to combat-ready vessel happened with a speed that spoke of countless previous engagements.

"Southern Trade Company vessel Meridian requests immediate compliance with inspection protocols," a voice bellowed across the water, amplified by speaking trumpet yet barely audible through Ella's closed door. "Heave to and prepare for boarding by authorized personnel."

The Meridian—Blackwell's personal flagship. Not merely a patrol vessel or standard escort, but his primary command ship typically reserved for high-value operations or personal travel. Its presence here, intercepting the ATEEZ in open water rather than protected harbor, suggested deliberate hunting rather than coincidental encounter.

"Curious timing," came Hongjoong's voice from above, pitched to carry across water. "Southern Trade Company suddenly developing interest in merchant vessels beyond established patrol routes."

His tone carried a carefully calibrated blend of casual observation and subtle warning—neither immediate aggression nor submissive compliance. Through years of navigating dangerous social contexts, Ella recognized the tactical approach: creating space for negotiation while simultaneously preparing for combat, revealing nothing of true intention while assessing the opponent's commitment.

"Your vessel matches description of pirate ship responsible for recent attacks against Southern Trade Company property," the Meridian's officer responded, formal terminology barely disguising accusatory intent. "Inspection required under maritime security protocols established by Regional Naval Authority."

The pretense of legitimate authority—using official terminology to disguise private vengeance—revealed Blackwell's typical methodology. Like his approach to slave trading, which disguised human trafficking beneath bureaucratic language of "labor acquisition" and "personnel management," this naval interception employed official-sounding justification for what amounted to personal vendetta.

"Our manifest and flag indicate legitimate commercial operation," Hongjoong countered, maintaining the performance despite obvious preparation for combat. "We carry no contraband requiring inspection. Your authority extends only to vessels demonstrably engaged in illicit activities."

The exchange continued in this manner—formal language disguising hostile intent, each side maintaining pretense of legitimate interaction while preparing for imminent violence. Through her limited vantage point, Ella could see only a fragment of the approaching vessel—naval design modified for commercial operation, its weathered hull suggesting extensive service despite relatively recent commissioning.

Most concerning was the visible naval cannon positioned on its foredeck—official armament that private vessels couldn't legally carry without special dispensation. The Southern Trade Company's influence with corrupt officials had clearly secured military-grade weaponry that exceeded standard merchant protection, creating combat advantage beyond typical pirate engagement.

The muffled sounds of preparation continued throughout the ATEEZ—feet moving with practiced efficiency, weapons being distributed according to established protocol, defensive positions being secured against potential boarding attempt. Unlike chaotic activity that might characterize less disciplined vessels, these movements flowed with coordinated purpose that reflected years of increasingly dangerous operations.

A sharp knock at her cabin door startled Ella from her observations. Before she could respond, the door opened to reveal a crew member she recognized from the galley—one of Wooyoung's assistants, now armed with short sword and grim expression that transformed his usually cheerful demeanor.

"Captain's orders," he stated without preamble. "All non-combat personnel to secure below central hold. Please come immediately."

His tone left no room for argument despite being phrased as a request. The ATEEZ's transition to combat operations had clearly shifted protocols—civilian guests no longer granted the autonomy that peaceful sailing permitted.

"What's happening?" she asked as she followed him into the corridor, where other non-combat crew members moved with purpose toward designated shelter.

"Southern Trade Company vessel initiating hostile engagement," he replied, his usual casual conversation replaced by professional brevity. "Standard protection protocols being implemented while officers assess specific threat level."

The explanation, delivered in language that mimicked official naval communication, revealed how thoroughly combat readiness had transformed the ATEEZ's internal culture. Even the cook's assistant now operated with military precision, personal characteristics temporarily subsumed beneath tactical necessity.

As they reached the central hold—a heavily reinforced compartment located deep within the ship's structure—Ella noted the methodical organization already in progress. Medical supplies had been strategically positioned near the entrance, while defensive armaments were distributed to personnel with secondary combat training. Unlike the chaos she had witnessed during previous naval encounters while in captivity, the ATEEZ operated with precision that suggested extensive preparation for exactly this scenario.

"Please remain here until all-clear signal," the crew member instructed, already turning toward his assigned position. "Doctor Yeosang will coordinate medical response if necessary."

Yeosang's presence registered immediately—her childhood friend positioned near the medical supplies, directing assistants with quiet efficiency while simultaneously preparing emergency treatment area. Their eyes met briefly across the crowded space, his expression revealing nothing to casual observers while communicating volumes to her alone: concern without panic, preparation without fatalism, confidence tempered by realistic assessment.

"Water secure?" he asked a passing crew member, his focus professional despite the chaos surrounding them.

"Six barrels," came the prompt response. "Plus emergency rations per protocol."

The exchange—brief yet revealing—demonstrated the ATEEZ's careful preparation for worst-case scenarios. Unlike vessels that prepared only for victory, Hongjoong's command had clearly established protocols for all potential outcomes, including situations where the secured hold might need to sustain crew for extended period.

Above them, cannon fire erupted with sudden violence—not warning shots but genuine engagement, multiple batteries discharged in coordinated sequence. The distinctive sound of the ATEEZ's guns answered immediately, Mingi's modified weapons systems delivering precise response that shook the entire vessel with their concussive force.

The battle had begun in earnest, pretense of inspection abandoned for naked hostility. Whatever diplomatic exchange Hongjoong had attempted had clearly failed—or perhaps had merely been tactical delay while combat preparations were completed. Either way, the feared Black Ship now engaged in the type of confrontation that had built its fearsome reputation throughout the maritime world.

"Damage assessment teams ready," Yeosang called, his voice carrying authority that transcended his usual reserved demeanor. "Protocols in effect if casualties reported."

Despite never having witnessed him in this context, Ella recognized Yeosang's natural transition to emergency authority—his medical expertise creating leadership role typically absent during normal ship operations. The crew responded to his directives with immediate compliance, revealing established trust that transcended traditional hierarchy.

"First wave, port side midship," someone called from near the communication tube that connected to upper decks. "Minimal structural damage. No casualties reported."

Yeosang nodded acknowledgment, continuing his preparations without visible relief or heightened concern. His clinical focus—assessing information without emotional response—reminded Ella of their shared childhood experience treating injuries within Blackwell's household, where maintaining calm often meant difference between successful intervention and dangerous exposure.

Another series of explosions rocked the ship, closer and more violent than the previous exchange. The distinctive cracking of wooden hull plates followed immediately, suggesting direct hit rather than near miss. Voices called through the communication tubes, reporting damage locations and severity with practiced efficiency that nonetheless carried underlying urgency.

"Starboard gun deck, positions three and four," came the report. "Hull breach contained but mounting platform compromised. Two wounded, non-critical."

Within moments, injured crew members were delivered to the hold, Yeosang directing their treatment with calm precision despite the chaos surrounding them. His movements were economical yet thorough, assessing damage while simultaneously instructing assistants regarding treatment protocol. Once again, Ella found herself struck by the transformation fifteen years had created—the frightened medical apprentice from Blackwell's household now commanding emergency response with absolute authority.

The battle continued above, cannon fire punctuated by smaller weapons discharge suggesting closer engagement. Through the communication tubes came fragmentary reports—boarding attempt repelled, rigging damaged but functional, gun crews maintaining coordinated response despite increasing pressure. Throughout, Yeosang continued directing medical operations while other shelter occupants prepared for potential escalation.

Then came the report that changed everything:

"Explosive round, forward gun deck. Primary mechanism compromised. Master Gunner down, condition unknown."

Mingi.

The simple designation—"Master Gunner"—created immediate shift in the hold's atmosphere. Even those unfamiliar with officer designations recognized the significance, the quiet gunner's critical role in the ATEEZ's defensive capability. Anxious murmurs spread through the compartment, concern evident despite continued professional response.

Yeosang's reaction proved most revealing—momentary stillness that broke his fluid efficiency, expression shifting briefly before professional mask reasserted control. Though he had never indicated particular connection to the taciturn officer during their private conversation, his response suggested deeper relationship than mere crew assignment.

"Prepare primary treatment station," he instructed, voice betraying no emotion despite the obvious significance. "Full trauma protocol, category unknown pending assessment."

The matter-of-fact response, delivered without panic despite the potential severity, demonstrated Yeosang's professional commitment transcending personal concern. Yet Ella, who knew him better than anyone aboard the ATEEZ, recognized the subtle tells that indicated deeper worry—slight tension around his eyes, fractionally altered breathing pattern, minimally increased movement efficiency.

Above them, the battle's intensity appeared to diminish—cannon fire becoming sporadic rather than continuous, orders shifting from defense to damage assessment. Whether the Meridian had been repelled or simply withdrawn to safer distance remained unclear, though the gradual reduction in violent motion suggested immediate threat had passed.

"Secure from general quarters," came the announcement through communication tubes. "Damage control teams to assigned stations. Medical personnel prepare for casualties."

The directive, delivered in Seonghwa's precise tone despite obvious strain, indicated transition from active combat to recovery operations. Throughout the hold, personnel shifted accordingly—some moving toward assigned damage control positions, others preparing to receive potential wounded, the remainder securing equipment that had been displaced during violent engagement.

Yeosang moved immediately toward the hold's exit, medical bag already in hand as he prepared to assess injuries above. As he passed Ella's position, his eyes met hers briefly—silent communication flowing between them without need for words. Unlike others aboard the ATEEZ, he understood exactly what this moment represented for her: first direct exposure to the violence that had defined these men's existence for fifteen years, practical demonstration of the fearsome reputation their childhood protectors had earned.

"Stay here," he directed, the simple instruction carrying multiple meanings beyond immediate safety concern. "Until we've assessed full situation."

Before she could respond, he was gone—professional responsibility carrying him toward whatever injuries the battle had created, personal connection temporarily subordinated to medical necessity. The hold began emptying as crew members returned to regular duties, combat threat apparently neutralized despite ongoing damage control operations.

For several long minutes, Ella remained in the designated shelter, processing the implications of what had just occurred. The ATEEZ—vessel that had seemed increasingly homelike during her days aboard—had transformed within moments from peaceful sailing ship to combat vessel of legendary efficiency. The men who had shown her consistent kindness had simultaneously demonstrated tactical brilliance that had earned their fearsome reputation throughout maritime waters.

Most significantly, somewhere above her position, Mingi had been injured defending the ship from Southern Trade Company attackers—the quiet boy who had once carved tiny wooden animals for comfort now wounded while operating weapons systems he had designed to protect his found family.

The truth hit her like a wave - something deeper than calculation or strategy. For fifteen years, she'd buried the emotional reality beneath layers of survival instinct, but she couldn't deny it anymore: these weren't just potential allies or tactical advantages. They were those five boys from The Crimson Serpent - the same ones who'd tried to protect her, whose failed rescue attempt had shaped all their lives for fifteen years.

Before she even realized what she was doing, Ella was moving toward the hold's exit, pulled by something stronger than caution. The careful composure she'd maintained through fifteen years of captivity, the calculated observation she'd practiced since coming aboard the ATEEZ - all of it cracked under the weight of something more powerful than strategic thinking.

The corridor outside looked surprisingly orderly considering they'd just been in combat. Damage control teams worked efficiently, fixing what they could, while the regular crew got back to their duties wherever possible. Despite damaged woodwork and equipment knocked out of place, the ship felt like it had weathered the fight well rather than taking a beating.

She headed for the medical bay, pulled by worry for Mingi and knowing Yeosang would be there treating the wounded. As she made her way through the passageways, she heard the growing noise before she saw anything - urgent voices and hurried footsteps that told her this wasn't routine medical work but an emergency.

Turning the final corner, she encountered scene that shattered her remaining composure.

Yunho and another crew member struggled to support Mingi's unconscious form, the gunner's powerful body limp between them as they navigated toward the medical bay. Blood soaked his right side, darkening his clothing and dripping onto the corridor's wooden planking despite pressure bandage hastily applied. His face appeared alarmingly pale beneath smudges of gunpowder, eyes closed and features slack in way that suggested severe injury rather than minor wound.

Behind them followed Hongjoong, his captain's coat torn and face streaked with smoke residue, his demeanor controlled despite evident concern.

"How's he holding up?" Hongjoong called forward, his voice tight with worry.

Yunho glanced back, still supporting Mingi's weight. "Bleeding's slowed, but he hasn't stirred. Yeosang needs to see him now."

"Faster," Hongjoong ordered, though they were already moving as quickly as Mingi's condition allowed.

Seonghwa moved alongside, supporting Wooyoung whose expression revealed uncharacteristic gravity—the usual theatrical animation replaced by focused determination.

"This isn't happening," Wooyoung muttered, his voice barely audible. "Not to him. Not to Mingi."

"Save your strength," Seonghwa replied quietly. "Focus on the task at hand."

"I'll focus on whatever I damn well please," Wooyoung snapped, though he kept moving in perfect sync with the others. "He took that blast protecting my station."

Hongjoong's hand landed on Wooyoung's shoulder. "And he'll hear you blame yourself when he wakes up. For now, get him to Yeosang."

The officers' presence spoke volumes - they'd abandoned ship management during critical recovery to accompany their wounded friend. These men weren't just a crew following military hierarchy; they were family. Their concern went far beyond professional duty, revealing the deep bonds between them.

As they approached the medical bay, Yeosang appeared in the doorway. His face, prepared for clinical work, momentarily dropped its mask when he saw Mingi's condition. Only someone who knew him as well as Ella did would catch that split-second of shock before he recovered - but she saw it clearly, and it told her this was worse than he'd expected.

"Get him on the table," Yeosang ordered, his voice steady despite the momentary lapse. "Now."

"How bad?" Hongjoong asked as they maneuvered Mingi through the doorway.

Yeosang's hands were already moving, cutting away blood-soaked fabric. "Bad enough. The shrapnel tore through muscle, possibly nicked an artery." His eyes flicked up to meet Hongjoong's. "I need room to work."

"We'll stay," Wooyoung insisted, his voice breaking slightly.

"You'll get out," Yeosang countered, not unkindly but with unmistakable authority. "All of you except whoever's strongest to help hold him if he wakes. I need space."

Hongjoong nodded. "Yunho stays. The rest of us wait outside." When Wooyoung opened his mouth to protest, Hongjoong cut him off. "That's an order, Wooyoung. Let Yeosang work."

"The main table," Yeosang directed, already moving to clear necessary space. "Keep firm pressure on the wound. Prepare the laudanum and clean cloths for when I examine him."

The measured instructions—delivered with detached efficiency despite obvious personal concern—demonstrated Yeosang's professional focus overriding emotional response. As Yunho and his assistant maneuvered Mingi's unconscious form into the medical bay, the doctor's hands moved with practiced precision, cutting away blood-soaked clothing with shears to expose the wound beneath.

Ella stood frozen in the corridor, watching the five men she'd known as children rally around their wounded friend. Calculation and self-preservation warred within her as they maneuvered Mingi's unconscious form through the medical bay doorway.

Then his head rolled to the side, and she saw his face clearly for the first time since the explosion. Despite the blood and soot, there was no mistaking those features—older now, but still unmistakably the quiet boy who had protected her aboard The Crimson Serpent.

Seonghwa glanced up and spotted her, concern immediately crossing his face. "You shouldn't be here," he said, stepping between her and the treatment area. "Doctor Yeosang needs room to work without distractions."

His words barely registered as she pushed forward, drawn by something stronger than caution or reason. As they placed Mingi on the table, his arm fell limply to the side, his sleeve riding up to reveal his wrist. There, barely visible beneath the blood and grime, was the faded scar of their childhood blood oath—the five-pointed star they'd all cut into their skin the night she was taken.

Something in her face must have alarmed Seonghwa - his normally composed expression gave way to genuine concern.

"Ella," he said more firmly, placing himself in her path, "this isn't the appropriate time for—"

Suddenly Mingi's body jerked on the table, a pain-filled sound escaping his lips though his eyes remained closed. Blood began flowing more freely from his wound, dark red against the pale fabric beneath him.

"He’s dropping," Yeosang called sharply. "I need someone to hold this compress while I prepare—"

The words faded into background noise as Ella watched Mingi's face contort in pain. The quiet boy who never cried out, even when injured aboard The Crimson Serpent. The one who communicated more with gentle touches than words. The one who'd taught her to be strong in silence.

Now in pain. Possibly dying.

"PUPPY!"

The name - that childhood nickname - burst from her throat with fifteen years of bottled emotion behind it. In that single word, y/n broke through Ella's careful disguise. The frightened five-year-old and the calculating twenty-year-old survivor merged into one authentic person.

Complete silence fell over the medical bay, despite the crisis of just moments before. Seonghwa stood motionless, his usually composed face transformed by shock. Behind him, Hongjoong turned slowly from Mingi's bedside, disbelief and dawning hope battling across his features.

Wooyoung gasped audibly, his hands flying to cover his mouth as tears immediately sprang to his eyes. Yunho straightened from his position helping Yeosang, his tall frame seeming to expand with sudden emotion.

Only Yeosang continued working without visible reaction, though his movements carried a new tension. His hands never paused in treating Mingi's wound, prioritizing immediate survival above the emotional revelation happening around him.

"Y/n," Hongjoong whispered, her name carrying fifteen years of searching in its sound. Not a question but a recognition, certainty rather than doubt, completion rather than inquiry.

The acknowledgment—simple name spoken with absolute conviction—broke the momentary paralysis that had gripped the medical bay. Seonghwa moved aside without conscious decision, his quartermaster's authority temporarily forgotten as emotional reality overwhelmed tactical consideration.

Ella—now fully y/n without qualification or disguise—moved directly to Mingi's bedside, ignoring protocol or propriety in wake of emotional imperative too powerful to suppress. She reached for his limp hand, covering it with both of hers as tears flowed freely down her face.

"Don't you dare leave," she whispered fiercely, words directed toward unconscious gunner rather than stunned observers. "Not when I've finally found you again. Not when we've all found each other."

Yeosang continued working with professional focus, though his eyes briefly met hers across Mingi's prone form—acknowledgment flowing between them without need for explanation. He had known her identity since their reunion in this same medical bay, had maintained her secret until she chose to reveal it herself. Now, as that revelation transformed the atmosphere around them, he simply nodded once—approval and support compressed into minimal gesture—before returning to critical treatment.

"Puppy," she repeated softly, using the childhood nickname that had emerged instinctively in moment of crisis. "Stay with us. Please."

Behind her, she heard Wooyoung's quiet sobbing, the theatrical cook's natural emotional expression flowing without restraint. Yunho's breathing had become audibly uneven, the gentle giant's composure fracturing beneath weight of confirmation. Seonghwa remained silent, though his typical precise control had given way to visible emotion despite habitual reserve.

Hongjoong approached slowly, his movements careful yet uncertain—the captain's authority temporarily set aside for simple human vulnerability. When he reached her, his hand hovered briefly above her shoulder before settling with a gentle touch that asked permission rather than demanded it.

"We thought..." his voice roughened with emotion. "We suspected, hoped, but to know for certain..." He shook his head slightly, as if still unable to believe the reality before him. "After fifteen years of searching..."

"Treasure," he whispered finally, the private nickname slipping out after fifteen years of careful silence.

The simple word—confirmation rather than question, recognition rather than inquiry—completed circuit of acknowledgment flowing through the medical bay. Five boys who had protected a little girl aboard The Crimson Serpent had been reunited with her at last, their fifteen-year search fulfilled in moment of crisis rather than calculated revelation.

"I knew it," Wooyoung managed through tears, his voice wavering yet carrying absolute certainty. "I knew! The way you broke the honey cakes, the way you watched everything, the way you moved. I knew it was you."

"We've been searching for so long," Yunho added softly, his gentle voice thick with emotion. "Every port, every auction house, every slave market."

"Fifteen years," Seonghwa confirmed, his typical precision giving way to uncharacteristic emotional openness. "Every decision, every voyage, every mission—all directed toward finding you."

Their collective recognition—five separate confirmations flowing from individual perspective rather than group assumption—created emotional resonance beyond simple identification. This wasn't merely correct person acknowledged, but specific individual recognized by five separate observers who had known her as child and now confirmed her as adult.

"I know," y/n whispered, tears flowing freely down her face as fifteen years of necessary caution gave way to authentic expression. "I've known since Wooyoung and told me about the lost girl. I just needed...time. Certainty."

Her free hand moved unconsciously to touch her collarbone, where the wooden wolf remained secured beneath her clothing—Mingi's tiny carving preserved through fifteen years of captivity, hidden companion during darkest moments. "I needed to be sure it was truly you, not coincidence or manipulation. That Joongie, Hwa, Woo, Yuyu, and Puppy had actually found me after all this time."

The childhood nicknames—spoken openly rather than whispered in private ritual—created visible impact throughout the room. Wooyoung's tears flowed faster, his typical animation transformed into profound stillness. Yunho's breathing caught audibly, the simple sound revealing deeper emotion than dramatic gesture could convey. Seonghwa's perfect posture faltered momentarily, shoulders dropping from their habitual precision as fifteen years of methodical searching reached unexpected fulfillment.

Most revealing was Hongjoong's reaction—the captain's hand moving unconsciously to the place where Mr. Hugs had traveled for fifteen years, the hidden pocket that had carried her teddy bear through countless dangers and disappointments. In that simple gesture, the feared pirate captain revealed the boy who had promised to find her again, who had carried physical reminder of that promise through fifteen increasingly dangerous years.

Beneath their collective focus, Mingi remained unconscious, though Yeosang's methodical treatment had begun showing results—bleeding controlled, wound cleaned and dressed with professional efficiency despite the emotionally charged atmosphere surrounding him. The doctor moved with careful precision, prioritizing medical necessity above the profound revelation transforming the space around him.

"Fragments from the explosion," he reported, breaking the emotional silence with practical assessment. "The flesh is badly torn, but thank goodness the larger blood vessels weren't severed. If we can keep infection away and prevent fever, he should recover in time."

The straightforward evaluation—delivered without emotional qualification despite the moment's significance—provided necessary grounding amid overwhelming recognition. Yeosang's focus remained on immediate survival rather than profound reunion, his practical priorities transcending even this long-awaited revelation.

"He needs rest and watchful care," he continued, medical authority evident despite his youth compared to other officers. "The immediate danger has passed, but recovery requires quiet surroundings and freedom from disturbance."

The instruction, while necessary, carried unfortunate timing given the emotional significance surrounding them. Yet before disappointment could register, Yeosang added unexpected modification to his directive:

"Familiar voices may help call his spirit back to strength. A few visitors can remain, so long as they don't interfere with the treatment."

The careful wording disguised compassionate exception—medical necessity balanced with human consideration, practical requirement tempered by emotional awareness. In this subtle compromise, Yeosang revealed understanding beyond mere treatment, acknowledging significance that transcended ordinary healing practices.

"He'll hear you," Yeosang added, his tone softening slightly as he addressed y/n directly. "Even in deepest sleep, the soul recognizes those it holds dear."

The assurance, delivered with both medical authority and personal understanding, created unexpected connection between past and present—the boy who had treated her childhood injuries now tending wounded man who had once carved tiny animals for comfort. Three separate paths converging in single location against impossible odds, fifteen years of separate survival culminating in unexpected reunion.

"We should move this conversation elsewhere," Seonghwa suggested, quartermaster's practical consideration reasserting itself despite emotional context. "The ship remains in recovery operations, and Mingi requires appropriate medical environment."

The reminder—delivered with characteristic precision despite uncharacteristic emotion—brought necessary perspective to overwhelming moment. Despite profound significance of their reunion, practical responsibilities remained: a damaged ship requiring attention, a wounded officer needing treatment, a crew depending on leadership despite personal revelation.

"Seonghwa's right," Hongjoong acknowledged, captain's responsibility temporarily displacing personal emotion. "We have duties that cannot wait despite..." he paused, words momentarily failing before concluding simply, "despite everything."

The brief hesitation—unusual for man whose strategic brilliance had created maritime legend—revealed emotional impact beneath professional exterior. For fifteen years, finding y/n had represented defining mission, driving purpose beyond mere survival or profit. Now, with that mission unexpectedly fulfilled during moment of crisis, adjustment required more than simple acknowledgment.

"Go," y/n urged, surprising herself with immediate understanding of their conflicted responsibilities. "The ship needs you. The crew needs you. Mingi needs proper medical attention without audience impeding treatment."

Her quick assessment—prioritizing collective welfare above personal comfort—demonstrated maturity beyond the child they had known aboard The Crimson Serpent. This wasn't merely grown version of five-year-old they remembered, but woman whose fifteen years of captivity had created both strategic thinking and genuine compassion despite systematic attempts to eliminate both.

"We'll need to talk," Hongjoong said, the simple statement containing multitudes beneath its surface. "When ship management allows appropriate space."

"I know," she replied, matching his direct approach with equal honesty. "There's much to discuss. But practical matters come first—they always have."

The acknowledgment—recognizing priority beyond emotional significance—revealed understanding that transcended simple reunion. Unlike potential expectation that childhood connection would immediately supersede all other considerations, y/n demonstrated awareness of broader responsibilities that defined these men's existence beyond their search for her.

"I'll stay with Mingi," she continued, her hand still covering the unconscious gunner's larger one. "If Doctor Yeosang permits."

The formal designation—professional title rather than childhood nickname—acknowledged Yeosang's current role rather than merely their shared past. Unlike potential claim based solely on emotional connection, she recognized hierarchy and expertise that transcended personal history.

"You may stay," Yeosang confirmed, professional demeanor maintained despite momentary softening around his eyes. "So long as you don't hinder the healing work."

"We'll return when ship operations permit," Hongjoong assured her, reluctance evident despite his captain's responsibilities. "Seonghwa will establish security detail to ensure your safety during transition period."

As the officers prepared to leave - ship duties temporarily outweighing personal connections - Wooyoung stood rooted in place, clearly torn between duty and desire to stay. His face contorted in an almost comical struggle as he tried to compose himself, dabbing frantically at his eyes.

"I'm fine," he insisted to no one in particular, his voice cracking as he straightened his uniform with trembling hands. "Completely professional. Just got some... ship dust... in my eyes."

He took three deliberate steps toward the door before spinning back around. "But you'll be here when we get back? You won't disappear? Because I have fifteen years of stories to tell you and at least seven new spice combinations you need to taste and I've been planning a celebration feast in my head for years just in case we ever—"

"Wooyoung," Seonghwa interrupted gently, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder.

"Right. Yes. Ship duties. Professional pirating to do." He nodded vigorously, backing toward the door while keeping his eyes fixed on y/n. "But later - celebrations! Music! Fifteen years of missed birthday cakes all at once!"

"The ship is still recovering from battle damage," Seonghwa reminded him, though with more patience than usual.

"Minor details!" Wooyoung waved dismissively, even as he allowed himself to be guided toward the exit. "Nothing stops a reunion feast! I've had recipes set aside for this day since—"

"Wooyoung," Hongjoong's voice held both amusement and authority. "We'll have time for all of that."

"Promise?" The simple question directed at both the captain and y/n contained a vulnerability beneath his theatrical presentation.

Y/n felt unexpected warmth at his childlike eagerness. "I'll be here," she promised, the simple words containing commitment beyond immediate circumstance. "When you return."

The assurance created a momentary pause in their departure. For fifteen years, these men had pursued a phantom possibility without guarantee of success. Now, with confirmation beyond doubt, the transition required adjustment beyond simple recognition.

Hongjoong nodded acknowledgment, emotion visible beneath his captain's authority. Seonghwa's precise movements carried unusual softness despite his continued efficiency. Yunho's gentle features revealed both joy and lingering concern as he glanced toward Mingi's unconscious form. Wooyoung, finally allowing himself to be guided out, kept turning back to look at her, as if afraid she might vanish if he took his eyes off her completely.

As they departed to address ship responsibilities, y/n remained beside Mingi's treatment table, her hand still covering his as Yeosang continued his methodical care.

"Just us now," she whispered to Mingi's unconscious form, words meant for him alone despite Yeosang's nearby presence. "Your little shadow still following after all these years."

The childhood private name Mingi had given her aboard The Crimson Serpent, emerged naturally after fifteen years of whispered remembrance. Unlike calculated disclosure or strategic revelation, this quiet acknowledgment flowed from authentic connection that had survived despite systematic attempts to eliminate all such bonds.

As she maintained gentle contact with the wounded gunner, y/n found unexpected peace settling within her consciousness. After fifteen years of necessary vigilance, of calculated survival through strategic isolation, she had found not merely individual ally but complete connection—five separate threads rejoining single weave against impossible odds.

Beyond the medical bay, the ATEEZ continued repairs after the battle. The ship's fearsome reputation had been built on something few would have guessed - a promise made by five children fifteen years ago. The feared Black Ship and its Compass Crew hadn't started as pirates for profit, but as boys determined to find someone they'd lost.

In the medical bay, y/n sat beside Mingi, her hand still covering his as Yeosang worked. The connection between them had survived fifteen years of separation. Whatever challenges would come from this revelation, they'd face them together - the foundation had been set.

Five boys from The Crimson Serpent had finally found the girl they'd sworn to protect. Their search had ended during a crisis rather than the careful, planned moment any of them might have imagined. And y/n, after fifteen years of hiding and calculating every move, could finally be herself again instead of just surviving.

For fifteen years, they'd all been guided by the same purpose. Now they'd need to figure out what came next.

As Yeosang continued his methodical work, y/n watched Mingi's steady breathing and realized something had changed inside her. After fifteen years of constant watchfulness, she could finally let her guard down, even if just a little. She wasn't alone anymore.

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