#if he makes himself a shield; if he takes every blow so no one else has to -- he will never have to feel grief again and that's fine.

[appocalipse]

hello! can I please request "I really, really want to kiss you right now." with steve and our shy!reader friend?!

here you go my love! hope you like it ♥ 1.3 k

The rain catches the two of you by surprise.

It pours down relentlessly, the cold droplets stinging your skin as you and Steve hurry towards his car, sadly parked way too far away from the charming flea market you had somehow dragged him to earlier that afternoon. 

Well, not really dragged exactly — Steve himself had volunteered to give you a ride the moment he heard you telling Robin how much you wanted to go and see if you could find some new furniture for your apartment, maybe even some decorations. But you felt as if you had dragged him there because, c'mon, what kind of guy thinks walking around a flea market with a friend is any fun?

And to top it off, the summer rain had come out of nowhere, sending everyone desperately running for shelter somewhere. Some lucky vendors had their tents already set up when it started, others began trying to cover their wares with tarps or whatever else they had at hand. A good number of them simply started to pack up their things to leave though, as did most of the potential customers who had been taking a look around — you and Steve included.

He had left his BMW in the parking lot of a closed store. It had seemed much closer before than it does now, as you and him run through the rain, palms over your heads to try to shield your faces from the relentless water.

You accidentally step into a puddle. Water splashes around your ankle, wetting the bare skin all the way up to your calf. You mutter a curse under your breath, deeply resenting your decision of wearing a summer dress today. "Oh, great." 

Steve chuckles, looking over his shoulder to you. Then what you can only assume is instant karma happens, and he slips and falls into a larger puddle, splashing water all over his pants and shoes.

You try to hold back, you really do, but the laughter is already building up inside of you, threatening to come out. And besides, he makes no move to get up, sitting there on the ground all wet, looking up at you like an abandoned puppy.

You giggle, which makes him laugh as well. 

"Sure," he says, "go ahead and laugh."

"Sorry, I'm sorry!" you choke out, trying to hold back your laughter as you approach him, offering one hand to help him up. "Are you okay?"

But of course he is. Except for the blow to his ego, that is. And now, in addition to just being wet, his jeans are also partially stained with mud.

And the t-shirt — which is white, no less — starts to stick to his skin, giving you a view you didn't ask for but that's certainly hard to ignore.

Steve accepts your hand, but you use both hands and too much force to pull him up, so he almost collides with you when he finally stands, his face inches from yours. You both laugh, because it was supposed to be funny — his head almost bumps into yours — but he grabs your shoulders and the remnants of the laughter from before slowly die when you realize without a doubt that he's looking at your mouth.

And you at his. In the rain. Doesn't get any more romantic than this.

Except for the fact that Steve is Steve, the former King Steve, the boy who had a pretty girl on his arm every week, while you are...you.

You're not sure who pulls away first, who clears their throat, changes the subject. But before you know it, you're sitting in the passenger seat of Steve's car, staring at the dashboard as lightning cuts across the darkened sky in the distance, a storm clearly brewing.

And it's worse. This feeling you have whenever you look at him or he says your name or anyone mentions his…it's somehow worse like this, in this moment, inside this car.

As if that wasn't enough, he offers you a jacket that he takes from the backseat. His jacket.

"Thanks," you murmur, taking the jacket and putting it on. It's warm. You remember the last time you saw him wearing it and resist the urge to close your eyes for a moment, inhaling his scent that still clings to the fabric. It's like a mix of laundry detergent, soap, and something uniquely Steve.

You feel a blush creep up your neck, and you look away, trying to focus on something else. Anything else.

He hasn't started the car yet, you notice. Perhaps  he's considering waiting to see if the weather will get a little better? It doesn't look that bad that it's not safe to drive, you think.

“Sorry for dragging you here for nothing,” you say, when it’s clear he’s not going to say anything.

“You didn’t drag me,” Steve assures you, sitting half to the side to look at you. "And what do you mean, for nothing? You wanted to look at the furniture, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but we didn't buy anything and now you're all wet."

He chuckles so quietly you almost don't hear. "I didn't come here to buy furniture."

You think about asking what he actually came for, but that would be a stupid question, wouldn't it? A hope of hearing something that he probably won't say. He came so you could buy what you wanted. He's a good friend like that.

Still, when you turn your head to look at him, there's something different in the way he's looking back at you. You smile, hoping to God he doesn't notice the nervous edge behind it, "What?"

Steve opens his mouth. He's pretty sure he didn't give those words permission to come out, and yet they come out anyway,  hoarse and low, "I really, really want to kiss you right now."

You watch his lips move as he speaks, but it's like your mind can't process the words. 

And once you do, you blink, not quite sure what to say to that. Your heart feels like it's trying to escape your chest, a wild thing thumping against your ribs. But there's something else in there too. Something warm. Something you haven't felt in a long time.

The front seats are close enough, so Steve reaches out, cupping your cheek in his hand, his thumb brushing across your lips. "I've wanted to for a while now," he whispers, leaning in closer.

You feel hot all over, the air in the car suddenly too thick to breathe. 

Steve's fingers trail down your cheek, his thumb tracing the outline of your bottom lip, teasing you. It's a slow, deliberate movement, as if he's memorizing every inch of your face, every second of this moment. "Do you want me to?" he whispers, and the teasing tone in his voice makes your stomach flip over. 

Your mind is spinning, but somehow you manage to force out the words, "Yes." You mean it. God, you mean it.

Steve's smile grows in that charming, lopsided way he has when he's happy. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin as he leans in closer, closer…and then his lips are there, pressing softly against yours. Feather-light at first, like he's testing the waters, making sure this is what you want. But when you part your lips, letting him in, he deepens the kiss, his tongue dancing with yours in a slow, lazy rhythm, one of his hands coming up to cup the back of your head, holding you to him.

And then, all too soon, he pulls back, his forehead resting against yours as he catches his breath. "Was that…was that okay?"

You smile, leaning as close to him as you can without jumping over the gearshift.

"It was more than okay."

[join my 3k followers celebration! ♥]

[nat20composure]

Astarion and Agency- The Necessity of Discomfort to Self Discovery and the Infantilization of Victims

Minor Astarion discourse ahead that mentions the treatment of SA victims post-abuse:

I want to open this post up just with like. The statement that I don't think there is a correct way to enjoy media and that I LOVE to see individual head cannons and takes on characters in media. I think that is also, to a degree, an integral part of video games because of how unique the experience of playing a game will be to every person who plays it. But it has been making me feel so incredibly sad looking through fan content, art, or discourse for BG3 specifically because of how many people have taken the route of infantilizing Astarion.

I understand the instinct to shield or protect an individual that you love and care for. I also understand that because of the nature of the things that Astarion goes through, a lot of people also feel very deep emotional stakes in him. I'm one of the many fans of the character who is a victim of SA and CSA, I really do get it. That is also why for me personally it is so demoralizing to watch so many people treat him like he is a child who cannot make his own decisions or stand up for himself. Part of that frustration stems from it feeling like a media literacy issue, and the other part of that sense of defeat is just because it feels indicative of a broader attitude that people seem to hold towards victims of abuse, particularly those who are victims of SA.

To explain what I mean by people infantilizing him: I see so many people refuse to allow him the opportunity to be hurt, or to feel uncomfortable. They see this character who has been through an immensely horrible and traumatic experience, and their instinct is to try and shield him from anything else that has the potential to upset him. I get that the people who want that aren't doing it with malicious intent, but frankly it is not really...Helpful? To try and prevent victims from Experiencing Discomfort tm. I also think it kind of disregards the entire thesis of Astarion's character and arc.

When you go through something that robs you of your selfhood and agency, the world can become a crushingly terrifying place. In Astarion, that fear presents itself in a desperation for power, control, and at the core of both of these desires- Safety. One thing the game is clear about is that he has a right to kill his abuser. He has a right to escape his situation. A lot of Astarion's personal arc is centered around being able to finally do that. But the game doesn't just leave it off at getting him to safety. So much of it is also about him needing to take responsibility for himself and his actions, with needing to learn who he as a person is.

The inclusion of the Gur children and Sebastian as characters is a good example of ways in which the game gives Astarion the opportunity to take responsibility. I think that if the intention of the arc was meant to be that "Astarion should never ever have to deal with being afraid or uncomfortable again", then the Ascended arc wouldn't Come with such heavy moral ramifications, like sacrificing the other people just like him, killing the victims he lured in, literal child murder. The game infers that he doesn't deserve to die because of the things he Needed to do to survive, but it also makes it very clear that there is a difference between addressing an Active Threat and using your fear as an excuse to hurt others. Breaking that cycle of abuse when he finally gets the chance to is what separates Spawn Astarion from Cazador.

Taking responsibility for himself, and letting himself sit in the discomfort of vulnerability ultimately ends up being a thing that he is very proud of and cherishes. If you tell him you will make sure nothing like that ever again he himself says that he doesn't want you to be his protector. And so it blows my mind when people go into all of these discussions about Astarion with this...Weird moral high ground for never, ever making or letting him make choices that might hurt him?

I see this the most when it comes to discussions about the possible polyamorous relationship with Halsin and the interaction with the drow twins in the brothel. So many people are just...outright angry? At other people engaging with either of those options? And I feel like that anger is one) rooted in the projection of their Own feelings on non-monogamy and what a victim of SA can or cannot look like. and two) Relies on undermining the agency that Astarion BEGS you for at every turn.

When it comes to the drow twins, the game adapts Astarion's response to them based on where he is in his own personal development (a really cool thing imo). Obviously, if he still doesn't feel good or safe about engaging with sex he declines and says you can feel free, though he hopes you aren't just doing it because he hasn't had sex with you. I think this makes sense: He's just gotten out of a situation where his Safety and worth were directly tied to him having sex. I imagine he feels afraid that not wanting to have sex with you makes him replaceable or inadequate because at this point in the game, he feels like that's all he has to offer. The interaction is relatively the same if you ask him for a poly amorous relationship with Halsin: He just asks you to reassure him that you aren't only doing it because he hasn't had sex with you, and then tells you he isn't worried about it otherwise.

A lot of people have taken the expression of that insecurity in combination with him still allowing you to go forward and do these things as him just "sucking it up" because he's afraid of losing you. (I am aware Shadowheart says he wouldn't be able to handle it when you ask her if you can date both of them- But keep in mind, Astarion says she wouldn't be able to either, and THAT obviously isn't true of her. For the purposes of this discussion I'm only including interactions with Astarion as a judgement of his character.) I understand that concern, but I feel this take disregards so many other points of dialogue, and is also continually rooted in the baseline vilification of discomfort.

To further go into it, the way that he speaks about both of these interactions changes significantly if you speak to him about it once he is completely free from Cazador, and has had time to allow himself to start reconnecting with himself and his sexuality on his terms. He has absolutely No reservations about an open or poly relationship with Halsin, and says he trusts that things will be ok because he one) feels secure in Your relationship and two) Knows Halsin is experienced and trusts him to not be a messy bitch about it.

I think that shift, in combination with the in game explanation of why he isn't ok with being in that sort of relationship with the other Origin Characters (for Lae'zel and Wyll, he says they'd never agree to that. For Shadowheart, he says she's not experienced with open relationships and that he doesn't think it'd work out. For Karlach, that it would break her heart. And for Gale, he says you need standards.) is a pretty good indicator that he doesn't actually care about polyamory or monogamy. I think the vilification of that choice relies on you picking and choosing when you do or do not believe Astarion or just outright not liking non-monogamy in the first place. This interaction has more to do with the player's choice and comfort level, and so is not as important to the broader discussion I am trying to have in this post.

The interaction that is more pertinent to not Allowing him to make decisions is, I think, the drow twins. If you interact with the drow twins after the completion of the Cazador questline, he is outright giddy at the prospect of interacting with the Drow twins. Specifically stating that he is excited to see how he likes these sorts of things now that he's free.

NOW- I do NOT think that he enjoys the act. The game makes that abundantly clear, and I'm not arguing that he has a great time. He obviously does not, and dissociates during it. That being said, allowing this interaction to happen does not make a player evil or selfish. You are not playing the hero if you decide to moderate his choices just because you do not think he is ready for it. Once again, no one is evil for Not doing it either, and I am not saying anybody has to want to. I am just saying that treating this choice like it is an evil choice to make relies on completely disregarding what He wants to do.

Astarion says so many times in the game that he is anxious about finally having the freedom to find out what he wants to do, and I think that his excitement for the drow twin exchange is one of the opportunities the game gives him to make a choice. He makes that choice- And it sucks for him. He doesn't enjoy the act, and having done it he would be able to move forward knowing that. I think it's really cool and important that the game represents that facet of recovering as a victim. While you are trying to renavigate who you are, you are going to make a million new choices you never had before. And sometimes those choices are going to suck ass. It would be a different matter if he knew these things would hurt him and went ahead and did them anyway. But so many people expect him to move forward avoiding even the Potential of being hurt, and I think that is extremely reductive of his arc and who he is.

Beyond the matter of interpersonal relationships, the choice between Ascending or not Ascending Astarion is not a matter of choosing the lesser of two evils. It is a choice between his fear and his humanity. Between letting his trauma and his fear define him for the rest of his immortal life, and allowing him the vulnerability of deciding who he is when he isn't running from the world. When he's willing to listen to the parts of himself that want to do right, that wants meaningful connection, that wants to be proud of himself. That wants to meet himself. To confront who he is when someone else isn't deciding that for him.

Astarion as a character is extremely ambitious, inquisitive, and adventurous, three traits that only become more and more evident as he breaks free from letting his own fear dictate how he lives his life. I don't understand how so many people can see him and want to take the core of his character away from him, when he spends the entire game fighting desperately to take it back.

Victims are not casts of the abuse they have gone through. Their shapes may be changed by the hands of others, they may have to relearn how to be the person they want to be. But they are not broken or irreparable or fragile. They do not need to be freed from the grip of one person to be held tight in the grip of another. It is so fucking unfair and self-important to think that your hands will be the ones that fix them. That your hands know better than theirs. I think the kindest thing you can do for a person is to trust them with themselves, and to listen when they tell you who they are and what they want. Please listen to the voices that have only just learned to speak. It is the only way they can get better at doing it.

[harfanfare]

Unique Kisses: Diasomnia!

Heartslabyul || Savanaclaw || Octavinelle || Scarabia || Pomefiore|| Ignihyde || Diasomnia || Rollo, Che'nya, Neige || Honest Fellow

Malleus D. (classic kisses)

“Are you afraid of me?”

It's a question Malleus loves to ask. 

He doesn't get tired of your head movement when you look at him from under your lashes or the way you pout at him. Your answer hasn't changed since the first time he asked you. You don’t think it would ever change. You can’t imagine a situation that would make you fear him.

“No,” you reply, looking into his emerald eyes. These glow with delight, after that one word. “Why do you keep asking this, Malleus?”

A cold wind blows through your hair, and you look at the tree branches moving in the distance. Even from the roof, they seem tall, but they are all surpassed by the moon, which was high in the sky. It shines brightly, giving you and Malleus picturesque shadows.

His hair seems to have silver flashes as he puts a hand to his chin and ponders. 

“It’s very intriguing,” he says, laughing in his low voice. He narrows his eyes smugly and takes a step closer to you. You have to raise your head slightly to continue looking into his eyes. He smiles. “Not many people would dare say that to my face. Or is it just extraordinary bravado or thoughtlessness?”

“You're much harder to be afraid of since I met Gao-gao kun,'' you admit, lowering your gaze. You feel the weight of Malleus' hand gently trailing your hair. “And since you always come to my invitations... You know, you are a nice person. Sometimes old-fashioned, but it’s cool.”

Malleus laughs again.

“If not courage, then it's an enchantment,” he says in such a way that you don’t know if you should explain yourself to him. “Could it be that you have cast some spell on me that I don't know about?”

It is otherwise impossible for you to be so charming.

Yet you stand before him and he wants to keep you by his side. He would not have given you up for anyone else.

His hand find its way to your chin and gently lift your head. You have a full view of Malleus, who is smiling — although, when you think of it now, you had seen him happier and happier more often over the past few months.

You are only partly prepared for the moment when he leans over and kisses you.

…

Malleus hadn't had many opportunities to make friends and much fewer chances to meet potential lovers.

He shouldn't be able to kiss so well.

He is a quick learner. If you asked him how it was that (to his blunt satisfaction) every kiss takes the breath out of you, he would have replied that the secret lays in analysis and observation and that every time he bites your lip is another attempt to reach perfection.

Malleus likes to keep you close to him. You appreciate it, especially on cold evenings. Finally, he slides his fingers down until they stop at your back. He put his arms around you; Malleus himself isn’t warm to the touch, but you like to think that you are warmed by him and not by the clothes that protect you from the cold wind.

“Hm... Do you think I would be able to cast an enchantment spell on you?”

“Who knows? You are a great surprise, [Name]. Although I believe your charm is natural.”

Lilia V. (sneaky kisses)

Is there anything more exciting than knowing that someone is about to kiss you?

According to Lilia, there is such a thing, and it is the awareness that only you of the two people needed for the kiss, know that it will happen in seconds. 

But you need to be sneaky to do so. The way you approach the person is the best part, second only to the action itself.

You wouldn't have spotted him near the ceiling even if you were alert. He is hiding on the chandeliers, shielded by numerous candles in case, you were going to look dreamily at the top of the room. You wouldn't have heard the sound of his heels against the wall, which he gracefully pushed away from as you turned into the next corridor.

And finally, you wouldn't have expected him as you stand in front of the door of your room, when your boyfriend falls from the sky, blocking your passage so quickly as if he was a malicious mirage. His hallucination — of a warm breath and a steadying hand on your cheek — moves close to you.

You don’t have time to blink, let alone catch your breath - Lilia knows this. But he isn't going to sabotage you with a lack of breath; instead, he bites your lip. You gasp, realizing who is before you.

After that, he doesn’t receive any gesture or a sound, from you; you stand straight, with your arms down at your sides, waiting for Lilia to move away. You give him the blankest stare you can afford.

“Aw, what a lack of response!” He comments on your attitude with a laugh.

You cross your arms over your chest and sigh quietly.

“You’re tempting me to not give it to you.”

Lilia giggles again. He finally lets you through the door and follows you into your room. You put your book bag down by a desk and lay down on your bed.

“Fufu~ No need to be so cold~,” Lilia says cheerfully, sitting down next to you. His feet don’t touch the ground and he lightly flutters them in the air. He finally lays down next to you, hugging you from behind. “You have to face the fact that there will now be more attempts to finally get the reaction I want from you.”

“Is this revenge for a failed, filled with-no-unpredictability kiss?”

“Keep telling that to yourself.”

Silver (corner kisses)

“You don't have to get up.”

“No, I... I promised to spend this afternoon with you... So I shouldn't be sleeping now....”

You laugh softly as you run your fingers through his hair and watch it flow seamlessly through your hands. The strands fall with a grace of fluff, and Silver, along with them, descended again from his semi-reclining position onto the grass. You lay down next to him, smelling the pungent scent of the grass, which was surprisingly not prickly.

“Napping together is also a type of date,” you whisper.

“Hmm? Ah...” He sighs quietly. Silver raises his hand to touch a strand of your hair, and uses his fingertips to caress your cheek. You smile, and Silver wants to be fully awake now more than before. “You should be more demanding.”

You laugh quietly.

“Someday I will and you will regret those words.”

“I don't believe it,” he replies smoothly, rolling gently to the side. He reached into his bag, which was lying under the tree. “What time is it? ...We have another class in half an hour.”

“I'll wake you up,” you promise, watching Silver's weariness set in again; you had already learned to recognise it: how his eyes squinted softly, the timbre of his voice lowered by half a tone and he seemed even more fairy-tale than usual. “...I can even wake you up with a kiss if you want to. Like in that book we read recently.”

Silver nodded.

“Sure…” He finally takes his eyes off you and closes them. You would have been sure he is already asleep, in those few seconds, until he speaks up again. “...But do we have to wait until after I fall asleep?”

You chuckle in agreement.

“Who knows, maybe you're already dreaming,” you lean over him. “And you're talking to me in your sleep... Silver, are you asleep?”

“...Yes.”

You don’t feel that this kiss is stiff when you press your lips to his. Maybe because you are already used to sleepy kisses, or maybe because Silver's skin is very soft and warm. 

You are also convinced that the kiss is reciprocated — who knows, maybe even extended by him. Before you can lean back, Silver lifts his hands and intertwines them behind your head. With a gentle movement, he brings you even closer to him and places a slow kiss on the corner of your mouth.

He smiles as you lightly brush back his fringe.

And then he closes his eyes, his hands slowly dropping to the grass. Traces of the smile remain on his face.

As well as on yours.

“I'll wake you up in twenty minutes, then…~”

Sebek (how does one kiss what)

Sebek looks like a gentleman, but he's one only in half.

His gallantry disappears when he is upset or frustrated — you can easily press both buttons by standing too close to him and asking him for a kiss. Whether you tap your cheek on the signal or ask for it verbally, his composure will break down.

“N... No! What are you thinking!?”

You don't have to be very observant to notice how his voice breaks at his protests and his face heats up.

“Please...? Please very much? One kiss?” You are far too close. Your hands found their way to the nape of his neck, where you lightly hang on to pull him closer. He gasps quietly as soon as he notices that he couldn't resist the gesture. His hands refuse to obey him as he tries to lift them. Were all the forces of nature now working in favour of his annoying human?

“Ugh!! Just one!” He huffs as if this agreement made a stain on his honour. You smile broadly, and the bold gaze told him that you would have taken a kiss from him even without permission.

If he had initiated the kiss, it would certainly have been gentler; every time (with a kind of distaste, he notices that) he feels the need to hold you close, the thought of human frailty crosses his mind. Sebek knows you are strong. But it's really hard for him to remember that when you're short of breath and your knees are bowed by the strength of the hand that's on your back pulling you towards him.

Today you are the brave one. Sebek doesn't know how to behave when you're the one taking control, so he just stands motionlessly and fairly tries to reciprocate the kiss. Under your lips, you could feel the stiffness of his lips slowly starting to engage in the action.

When you finally notice that glint in his eye and the returning seriousness on his face, and his embrace stabilises, you know it's time to pull away. This is the moment when he starts to enjoy the kiss, but you can't stop the urge to break the kiss and confront him with a difficult choice: shall he beg his favourite human not to pull away, stand on his own with the use of force or magic or pretend carelessness?

That evening, he will surely try to ask you for a kiss.

You can't wait to tease him about it.

“Thank you very much!” You say, turning hastily from him. The big clock on the wall shows that you still have plenty of time before the next class, but you decide to say goodbye to Sebek and run away from him before he regains his full self-control. 

If he does that, teasing him later won’t be as fun.

Your lips twitch as you take your sit. 

Now you're just waiting for him to come to you himself.

[etheries1015]

So I was scrolling through tumblr and saw this, https://www.tumblr.com/helena-and-helena-meta/733034749628710912/anyone-ever-just-be-doing-something-normal-and

So I wanted to know if you could write a fic or some headcanons based off it. Also, how are you?

Angst isn't really my forte, but I shall give it a decent shot :]

A sacrifice worth making

Featuring: Malleus Draconia

general warnings: Gender neutral reader, angst, kind of short. Sorry

TW: Depictions of injuries (Not gore) If there is anything else I missed, please let me know and I shall update this section accordingly

He thought you would never wake up. Seeing your frail body riddled with burns not reacting to any of the healing magic from the medicinal mages had given him very little hope, his heart dropping into the pit of his stomach with a sour taste in his mouth he had never felt before. He hadn't felt this much agony in a very long time, how could he let it come to this? Allowing a human to shield him using their entire body, the prince of Briar Valley, the notion that the all-powerful fae wouldn't be able to save the one person most important to him further induced the dreadful thought he was not fit to rule at all.

He had not left your side, begs from Sebek or others had fallen upon deaf ears as he continued to try and have faith you would wake up. Every time he looked your way, he could not stop hearing your screams- those harrowing screams will haunt him for years to come. Every time he closed his eyes the scene played over and over, haunting him, forcing him to look as if his eyes were stapled open in a room of mirrors with no way of escape.

Nobody could have anticipated the creation of poison imbedded fire enough to kill off the prince of Briar Valley, and he knew if you were awake and he spoke of these worries to you, you would scold him saying it was not his fault and it was an unfortunate situation that had unavoidable circumstances and sacrifice. In the end, the potion that had been meant to hit Malleus- missed as you jumped in front of him and took the blow, your body bursting into flames as the deafening screams of pain escaped your mouth he watched your body drop to the floor. Although the poison that was laced within the flames was enough to kill a specific magic-induced fae, it should have had little to no effect on the average human.

Thus, It should have been an easy enough fix- you were to come into the best care that Malleus could possibly find you, and you were going to come back to them; smiling and speaking to him as you had always done. Yet as one day dragged on longer than the next, a week had passed and you showed no signs of awakening. Full of grief, Malleus had blamed himself more and more, until he could no longer take it. He could not find solace in the company of anyone else but you, the only person who treated him as his equal- you who would give him noteworthy advice, you who would speak your mind so freely and insisted he do the same. Although he felt a little silly and perhaps it was far too late, he took you up on opening his heart.

His long slender fingers traced your peacefully sleeping face, emerald eyes melancholy and longing to peer into your lively orbs once more.

"Your sacrifice," His voice was in a low whisper, "Will not...will not go unnoticed. Your bravery will be remembered all across Briar Valley," He choked up, feeling that same overwhelming feeling of grief.

"No, that...is not what I truly want to say," He pursed his lips, bending over to plant a soft kiss upon your forehead.

"I miss you, and... I'm sorry. I failed to protect you. Please, come back...I.." He couldn't find the words to describe the heavy feeling inside of his chest where his heart lay, it was the first time he had ever felt such strong emotions for another, much less a human. Their lives are far too fleeting, and he blamed himself for seemingly cutting yours short- and although time runs in the blink of an eye for Malleus- he could have sworn the time he spent waiting for you to wake up lasted ten lifetimes. A voice called to him from the doorway, and he knew it was that time of day to leave you once again. He gave you the promise of returning the next day as he had done every time he had to begrudgingly part from your sleeping form.

The Fae turned around to exit the room you stayed in, the same as he always had done after saying his goodbyes without as much of a farewell in return. However, what he did not notice this time, was the way your fingers moved ever so slightly- almost as if trying to reach him before the door closed and his shadow faded away...

~~~~

Masterlist

I hope that wasn't too bad. Thank you for the request <3

[livingsurreal]

What is it with Baldurs Gate 3, that this game has so many characters I completly obsess about? I am usually a "one-true-blorbo" kinda girl. Fenris, Solas, Garrus, Jaal. Those are my Bioware blorbos.

I might try to smooch some one else but it never really works out.

Now for some reason, in BG3 my brain makes blorbos out of half the cast.

Astarion is my No 1. He is a very angry feral cat and I will love him till I die. He is perfect and sweet and angry and deserves sunlight and hugs and sweet gentle kisses and patience and a fucking hero in shining armor who stands beside him, without expecting shit in return. Who is there and is his shield and voice of reason. Some one who doesn't save him but gives him the space and chance, so he can save himself.

But damn, there is Raphael who takes way to much space in my brain lately. Give me that pillow princess and I will make him so much better he forgets what contracts even are. This poor sweet devil prince who never experienced love or someone who truly cares about him. All he knows is terms and conditions and life is so much more than transaction. Such a shame that he cant be romanced ingame. He is just the best devil and damn he looks soo soo yum. (WHERE IS MY RAPHAEL ROMANCE)

Karlach who is the bestest ever and I want her to ride me into the ground, and I want to hug her and hold her hand and never let her go and tell her is is the best thing since the invention of icecream and she deserves EVERYTHING!

Gale, sweet Gale who deserves unconditional true love, kindness and so many kisses. Someone who tells him "you are enough" and just loves him and blows him till he sees stars.

Wyll who deserves someone loyal, and sweet, who stands beside him and doesn't throw him away and tells him he is perfect the way he is. Also dances in the moonlight yayyy!

Dammon with his cute smile and sweet voice who needs to be smooched very gently. (WHERE IS MY DAMMON ROMANCE? Also he and Karlach would be perfect for each other if not romanced)

Rolan with his snotty attitude who needs to be smooched very hard. Also he needs to be fucked against a wall. (WHERE IS MY ROLAN ROMANCE)

Zevlor who deserves all the hugs and love. Also he needs someone who grabs his horns while riding him into the ground. (WHERE IS MY ZEVLOR ROMANCE)

Lae'zel and Shadowheart are made for each other. They are my sweet angry baes who really need to take a room and fuck it out of their system. Sorry, I would love each one of them but I just don't dare to come between them. But I will be their cheerleader and be the most embarrassing friend when they finally stop being silly. How sad is it that our companions dont find each other if we dont romance them. They deserve love, and Tav/Durge cant kiss them all!

Halsin who gives the sweetest bear hugs and seems somehow lost in Act 3, and should be kissed and hugged and be given lots of little ducky plushies.

Jaheira who is just the coolest and a damn good friend and gives great (bad) advice and who would share a blunt and a bottle of wine and I would listen to her stories all day, I love her so much. We all should have a Jaheira in our life.

Minsc who also tells the best stories and if you want really good (bad) advice you would ask Boo. He would be the best (worst) wingman, and the no 1 person you go to when you have a bad day. He just makes everything better. When in doubt just go and do some asskicking and everything is good.

How can ONE (1) game have so many wonderful characters, where I want to band almost every single one of them.

[wherewritersgotodie-blog]

Workin’ Hands (pt. 2) (Kit Walker x Reader)

Pt. 1, Pt. 1.5, Pt. 2

“You should do whatever you want.”

“I don’t really know what I want,” you confess.

“Well, we can figure that out together. I’ll teach you whatever you wanna know.”

warnings: making out. smut. fluff? to smut. innocent!reader. parents?. fingering

You expected him to honk, or wait in his rusty blue convertible down the street— you’d walk down, your hand over your eyes, shielding your face from passersby, and quietly get in his car. He’d put his top up and drive off, putting his hand on your thigh without even saying hello.

Instead, he came to your door at five minutes to five. He knocked twice, whistling on your doorstep. Your mother opened the door. You were lucky— your father wasn’t home that evening, he was out drinking with friends from work.

“Good evening!” you could hear your mother say from your room upstairs. You were applying one last dusting of powder before your departure into whatever this odd night would be.

“Hello, Mrs. (Y/L/N). I’m Kit,” he held out his hand for her to shake.

She shook it loosely, then replied, “Nice to meet you, dear,” she’d said, her nose turned up slightly. She’d, like all the other mothers in town, heard of one Kit Walker, town womanizer and delinquent.

You came down the stairs in your skirt a few inches above the knee, a short-sleeved collared blouse tucked into it, a shiny belt around the meeting of the two pieces.

You didn’t say anything, just looked at your mother. You walked to the door slowly. He held a singular rose in a brown paper wrapping, a thin pink ribbon tied around it.

“Mrs. (Y/L/N), I’d love to take your daughter out on a date,” he said with an intense tone of earnest.

“Oh, my,” she said, furrowing her eyebrows, putting her hand on her chest. “Honey, you know I can’t say yes without your father.”

“Please, ma’am. I’ll have her back by nine,” he smiled. “Your daughter is a lovely girl. I have every intention of being a gentlemen,” he held her eye contact, then glanced at you. You saw a flicker of something else in his eyes, but your mother had looked out the window, a concerned expression on her face, so she missed this little addition.

“Alright. I want her back by eight, though,” she said, her fingertips pressed to her mouth, eyes wide, clearly distraught.

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you so much,” he smiled, offering you his arm. You wrapped yours around his and walked to his car.

“Oh, this is for you,” he smiled sweetly, handing you the rose in his hand.

You look up at him. “Thank you,” you put your nose to the bud, smiling.

He opened the passenger door for you, closing it as you situated yourself. Then, he walked to the drivers’ side, getting in the car next to you. He looked at you, staring until you met his eyes, as well, and he smiled, then looked to the road and drove away.

The wind blew in your hair, which was pulled half-up. His arm rested on the top of the door.

You watched him, periodically, and he’d turn and catch your gaze, and you’d look down at your lap. He would then stare at you as long as his driving allowed him, watching your cheeks flush pink.

About ten minutes into the drive, you rested your head on the top of the car door, the wind blowing your hair back. You stuck your arm out the window, feeling the harsh breeze of the moving car hit your skin. He looked over at you, getting flushed himself.

You drove down a tree-lined street, his eyes frequently flickering from the road over to you.

As you pulled up to a lakeside lot, parking atop the grass, he looked over at you.

“Where are we?” you ask.

“Ain’t never been to the lake before?” he asks, putting a toothpick in his mouth.

“Well, I’ve heard of it,” you flush. “But I heard it was where boys and girls go to… you know…” you tilt your head to the side, then back up.

He chuckles. “Aw, yeah, in the summers some late nights you got some couples out here in their cars, windows all foggy,” he shakes his head, “but mostly it’s just a nice place to sit, I think,” he pauses, then smirks, “Unless you wanted to… you know…” he mimics you.

You flush and frown slightly.

“Honey, I’m just kidding,” he says, putting his hand on your cheek. Then, he reaches to the back seat, grabbing a basket and pulling it to the front. “I brought sandwiches!” he beams.

You look inside the basket. There are two wrapped sandwiches, two apples, and two toffee candies.

“Not much of a dinner,” his Massachusetts accent was accentuated by the combination of words, “But you said you didn’t wanna be seen, so,” he shrugs.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you assure him, feeling somewhat guilty. “I swear it! I just… didn’t want people to get the wrong idea about me,” you fidget with your fingertips.

“I understand,” he says, taking the toothpick from his mouth and placing it in the pocket of the door.

“The food is lovely,” you reassure him. He smiles.

You sit and eat and chat about light topics— work, college, your families.

When you’re finished, he puts his trash back in the basket, taking yours as well, then puts the basket on the floor of his back seat.

“So, you really never been on a date before?” he smiles.

“Not once,” you say.

“Sure you’ve kissed someone before, though, right?” he asks curiously.

“No, I haven’t,” you smiled awkwardly.

That was all he had to know.

“I’d like to be your first kiss,” he says smoothly.

“Now?” you ask in a light, mousy tone.

“Only if you want that,” he lowers his face, looking at you from under his brow.

“I really don’t know how soon you’re supposed to kiss a guy…” you say. You both engage in a near-deadly eye contact.

“Honey, you’re not supposed to do anything. That’s all stuff your parents make you think,” he says. He puts his hand on your arm, rubbing it gently, his face a soft, encouraging smile, “You should do whatever you want.”

“I don’t really know what I want,” you confess.

“Well, we can figure that out together. I’ll teach you whatever you wanna know.”

“I think,” you pause, flushing a deep red, “I think I’d kiss you now,” you whisper sheepishly.

He stares at you for a moment, then puts his hand on your face. He leans into you, pausing a moment, feeling your warm breath on his lips. Then, he closed the gap, kissing you gently. It’s a still kiss, and it only lasts a few moments. He pulls away, eyes scanning your face once again.

You stare at him, gathering all of your will, then follow him back, pursuing his lips to kiss him once again. This kiss is more fiery, as he allows his mouth to work against yours. He moves the hand he had placed on your cheek back so his fingers became tangled in your hair, placing his other on the side of your waist.

When he realizes your hands are still on your lap, he reaches down, grabs them, placing them on each side of his neck. He inhales deeply, his lips growing momentarily harsher against yours. Those soft, small hands— he was tethered to them somehow.

He puts both of his hands back on each far side of your jawline, pulling your face towards his. Your kiss follows his in passion and movement, and you breathe in your proximity one last time before pulling away.

Your eyes flutter across each others’ faces, still inches away. You even smell sweet, he thinks to himself. Like cherries. He smiles at you.

He almost swallows his next question, afraid to ruin the moment, but he had to hear you say it. He had to hear it himself.

“So, you’re really a virgin?” he asks.

You pause, looking down at your lap. “I am,” you smile shyly.

He had heard about you around town.

A shame she’s a total smokeshow, boys would say when you walked into the diner, she’s a total prude. They called you stiff, stuck-up.

You were none of that. You were something completely different.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he muttered, lost in thought.

“You’re gorgeous,” you smile. Of course that’s what you would say.

He looked at you, raising his eyebrows, smiling, his dimples carving into his cheeks.

You breathe deeply, trying to re-center yourself. “I’ve never had this feeling with anyone else before,” you confess.

He smirks, leaning back, “Oh, yeah? How’s that?”

“I don’t know,” you pause, identifying all your current symptoms before speaking again, “You make my heart race and my cheeks feel tingly and sometimes my stomach will feel tight, and it’s almost like a nervous feeling, but it’s not exactly the same.”

“Honey,” he says smoothly, laughing a bit, “Am I… Am I turning you on?”

You’d heard the phrase, however you weren’t sure exactly what it meant. It felt right, though; you did feel as though he was flipping a switch inside you that hadn’t been flipped yet. “I don’t,” you pause, “I don’t know what that means exactly.”

He smiles. Of course you don’t. He leans into you, then says, “Well, it’s,” he collects his thoughts, trying to find the best way to describe it to you, “It’s what makes men and women… want to… touch each other.”

You place a hand to your chest, concerned about the tightness and heaviness with which your heart was pounding. “How do I know if that’s what I’m feeling?”

“Well,” he smirks. As smooth as anything’s ever been said, he looks into your eyes and asks, “Do you want me to touch you?”

It’s the way you know you need water when you’re parched or sleep when you’re tired or air when you’re lightheaded underwater. You think of him touching you and you feel in your bones that it’s what you need. “Yes.”

“Can you do me a favor, honey?” hey says, caramel laced in his tone.

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Can you get in the back seat for me, sweetheart?”

You pause, staring at him for a moment, processing his request. You realize you won’t say no to him no matter what you decide is the correct answer, so you simply nod and open the car door. He sprints around to the other side of the car, holding the back door open for you. Even in these circumstances, he’s ever the gentleman.

He waits until you are seated, then follows you in.

You look at him, flushed, a slight confusion set in your brow bone.

“I’m not taking your virginity, sweetheart, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he says, his one hand on your hip, the other brushing a piece of hair from your face.

You look into his eyes, cheeks flushed a bright pink.

He whispers, “Do you trust me?” he asks.

You nod without thinking twice on the question.

“Can you lay back for me?” he speaks in the most gentle tone he can, almost like speaking to a small, skittish animal.

You do as he asks, resting your head at the bottom of the car window.

He puts his two hands on the outside of your thighs.

Those big, calloused hands.

He kisses your knee tenderly. “Open your legs for me, please?” he asks, then adds, “It’s the last thing you have to do for me, okay? Promise,” he says.

You let your legs fall apart, and he kisses your other knee, whispering, “Good girl. Such a good girl for me.”

“Hmm,” you mumble, smiling, closing your eyes.

You look back up at him, biting your lip and fluttering your eyelashes as he traces the inside of your thighs with his fingertips.

You push your hips forward, straightening your back, his hand ending up a few inches farther up your thigh.

You let out a shaky breath, your voice caught in it momentarily, your eyes closed once again. Fuck, he thought, did you even know how lewd those sounds were? Did you even know what it could do to him if you didn’t stop?

He winces at the sudden rush of friction in his jeans. He’d have to cope with the discomfort for your sake.

“Sweetheart, look at me,” he said. Your eyes snapped up to meet his. So obedient, he thought. “Have you ever touched yourself?”

You cock your head to the side, not understanding what he meant.

Your naivety alone was enough to make him go rock solid.

“Have you ever touched yourself where other people haven’t so you could feel good?” he rephrases.

You shake your head, eyebrows knit together, lip between your teeth.

He begins to inch his hand up inside your thigh. You watch his face intently, and he doesn’t take his eyes off yours for an instant.

When his fingertips finally brush against the lacy fabric of your underwear, you let out a high-pitched whimper, eyelids fluttering closed.

He pulls back a moment, tracing the inside of your upper thigh, then makes contact again, this time placing the entire area of his fingers against you.

You exhale loudly, looking at the ceiling of the car. You are flushed down your chest a bright red.

“Look at me,” he whispers.

You almost believe you cannot, so shy under his hand now, but you know enough about him to know he means what he says.

You meet his eyes and, unexpectedly, he feels himself go weak for a second. Your otherworldly gorgeous face practically tore him inside out already, and now it was almost unbearable to look at you.

Almost.

His eyes scanned your features, taking all of you in.

He rubbed against the fabric, flipping between the flat of his fingers and the back of his knuckles, teasing you.

Then, he reached up with both of his hands, hooking his fingers around your underwear, pulling down over your legs, throwing them haphazardly onto the floor.

He leaned down, pressing his fingers against you again, his other arm now around your back, pulling you into his chest, crowding you with his heat. He maintains your eye contact.

He rubs your clit in circular motions, smirking as you struggle to keep your eyes open, letting out choked moans from your lips as you stare directly in his eyes.

He moves his fingers down, feeling all the wetness pooling at your entrance. He has to rest his head on your shoulder for a moment to recuperate. He’d never felt a girl this wet before.

“You are very wet,” he mumbles deeply into your ear, almost growling.

“Is- Is that a good thing?” you ask him.

“Yes.” He felt guilty for being almost frustrated with your innocence. You were torturing him, his dick relentlessly hardened against the seem of his pants.

He pushed one finger into you as gently as he could, slowly. “That okay, darlin’?” His accent grew thicker as the moments passed.

You winced in pain. You’d never had anything inside you before.

He nearly came just feeling how tight you were.

“Yes, sir,” you mumbled, relaxing as the pain resolved. You realized what you had said, “Kit,” you corrected.

“Mm, uh-uh. Sir is good,” he says breathlessly, pushing another finger into you.

You moan loudly, closing your eyes tightly.

“Eyes on me, sugar,” he orders.

Your eyes quickly return to his. “Yes, sir.”

He plays with you, moving his fingers up and back from circling your clit to pushing in and out of you.

You whimper at the strange combination of sensations, your heart pounding.

His eyes trail down your body. His hand up your skirt is the sexiest thing he’s ever seen, he resolves.

He begins to push his two fingers in and out of you, rubbing your clit with his thumb. It’s seems a difficult multitask, however he has clearly mastered it beautifully.

You feel a hot, tight sensation forming at the bottom of your stomach. He continues to manipulate your body with his long fingers, and you feel the tightness building.

He smirks as your face changes from pleasure to confusion, and whispers, “Breathe, baby.”

It’s like he can read your mind.

“I feel,” you mumble, “I…” you wrap your hand around his bicep, suddenly needing something to hold onto.

“Uh huh,” he smiles confidently.

Suddenly, a white hot sensation rushes over your body. You moan loudly, breathing heavily, squealing out a messy string of exclamation like, “Kit, oh my.”

He’s nearly gone lightheaded from the vision of your arched back, your soft hands wrapped around his bicep, your hips rolling against his hand up your skirt.

“It’s okay,” he comforts you, “It’s okay.”

After a moment of the intense, unfamiliar sensation, Kit kisses you, smiling into your lips.

“Kit, what did you do to me?” you pull away, whispering, a euphoric smile pushing up into your cheeks.

He grins back at you, putting his hand on the side of your face. “All you need to know is I never want to stop doing it,” he responds.

You finally pick your shoulders up off the door, looking to the dashboard of the car.

“Oh my God,” you say.

“What?” he asks with a dorky smile on his face, still reeling from watching you come undone below him.

“It’s eight thirty!”

[happyely2]

Pairing: Portuguese D. Ace x Fem!Reader

Rating: For everyone, even if there will be mentions of blood, physical and mental wounds, needles for stitching wounds and some small hints of cuddles (the right amount, because we like it that way). If you are sensitive to descriptions of blood or wounds skip the story. At times comical and at times a little sadder, I hope you enjoy this one as well as Cozy Autumn Prompts.

Summary: Being the girlfriend of Portgas D. Ace, the infamous pirate commander of Whitebeard's second fleet, isn't always easy. You know well that life as a pirate is a constant gamble, but every now and then you just want your man - and all the people you care about - to return to your room without wounds to patch up. It's fine that you're a scrupulous and attentive nurse, but damn these men don't have the slightest bit of restraint when they have to attack a ship or a new island, and Ace is the first to throw himself into the fray, but you love him so much that you are willing to always take care of him.

🪡Taking care of a lover’s injury 🪡

“Oh God, what happened?!” You whispered as you caught a bottle of alcohol that was about to fall to the floor. The ship had been shaken by a violent blow, it was as if someone had rammed into it and if someone had succeeded it must have been a very large ship.

“Put all glass bottles safely away and prepare emergency kits. I'm afraid we'll have twice as much work to do today!” You said to your colleagues as you adjusted your white shirt so that it wouldn't get in your way during the fight.

The New World was increasingly full of hotheads who aimed to become important pirates and to do so they targeted the ships of the big boys. Calm and tranquility were words unknown to Moby Dick.

"Goodmorning sweetheart! How was your morning?” Satch and the other men had set up a trench with the kitchen and dining room tables, you ducked to dodge the bullets and stood next to the commander of the fourth division, while the latter loaded a rifle with gunpowder to pass it to one of your companions.

“It could have been better! Who is attacking us?” You said as you opened your bag to get needle, thread and some alcohol, some of your people had been hit by bullets and needed to be treated immediately, quickly extract the bullets and stitch them up to avoid losing a limb or too much blood.

“A rookie, he has a stupid Mohawk. What poor taste.” Izo was next to you and in a short time he had fired three shots that all hit, but the enemies seemed to multiply. Meanwhile, you had finished stitching the leg of one of your companions who immediately picked up the rifle again and started shooting.

“Be careful, I just got the stitches!” You said while you were taking care of another wounded man, this time he had been hit under the cheekbone and almost lost his eye.

Luckily the barricades protected most of your comrades from even more serious injury, but the rifle fire continued to rage.

“We're running out of bullets here, we need to move on to strong weapons.” Satch was next to you, sooner or later the enemies would have to run out of cartridges you thought as you carefully looked at the enemy fence, those bastards were making excuses with thick metal shields.

“The main bridge? Do you have any news?" You asked quickly gathering your stuff inside your bag and placing it over your shoulder. Attacking the left flank where the kitchens and infirmary were located was a dirty diversion, your enemies were aiming for the main deck where Whitebeard generally remained to dictate orders, the left flank was less controlled than the others.

“None, they cut off communication, but everyone else is here, I don't think there will be any problems.” Izo said as he handed you a spare slugphone: “Try this one, it's another line.” He said as he continues shooting wounding five more enemies.

"Ready? This is the kitchen, main deck, can you hear me?”

“Main deck, we hear you loud and clear Miss.” Vista's voice made you breathe again, even though suspicious noises could be heard in the background.

“The Vista situation?” You asked without wasting any time, your other companions were arriving with more medical supplies, ready to follow you to the main deck.

“A bit bad, we have too many wounded among the new recruits. Nobody seems to be serious, Santa is organizing the boarding of the opposing ship." Vista replied as a sword blow could be heard cutting something in the background.

“Dad needs to rest dammit! Satch we have to pass now, there are injuries that need to be treated.” You said as you ended the conversation. Whitebeard may have been one of the most feared men in the New World, but at that time the treatments he was undergoing were so delicate that they could aggravate his physical situation.

Furthermore, the enemies had chosen a perfect day to attack, Marco had gone to deliver important messages to your allies, without the first commander you were at a disadvantage, his phoenix power was very useful in those situations and if Marco was missing it only meant a what: Ace was about to lead the boarding of the enemy ship.

The cook didn't have to be told twice and his entire division went on the attack while Izo's covered his back. It took some time before you and the other nurses made it to the command bridge safe and sound because neither Satch nor Izo would let anything happen to you, and once you got there you immediately started rescuing your crew.

Maybe Vista didn't want to alarm you, but the situation was quite inconvenient. You just hoped you wouldn't have to amputate any limbs.

“More enemies are coming!” Fossa, the captain of the fifteenth division, had raised the alarm. There was too many wounded who needed to be transported below deck, the infirmary would not have contained them all.

“Damn this was a trap.” You said as you approached the railing to check with your own eyes, the girls behind you were working to treat those who were at greater risk.

Four more enemy ships were arriving at great speed.

Your captain's laughter made you all spin. It was like him to laugh in those situations: “Let them come, they will only find defeat waiting for them.” Luckily Whitebeard wasn't injured, you breathed a sigh of relief and continued to move the injured below deck, so that they were safe and could be better cared for by the ship's doctor, you and your colleagues.

The cannon shots seemed to tickle your ship, but they were becoming closer and more precise.

Whitebeard had given the order to return fire and so all the men got busy.

“We need to get off that damned ship.” Satch said as he leaned out to see the damage, with the figurehead they had entered well into the side, destroying part of your house, you were with the fourth commander to understand the damage and to see if there were men to recover, they certainly were medical supplies have been affected.

“Ace comes here!” You said catching the second commander running across the bridge. Damn he was hurt! That idiot had gotten himself hurt and he had a Logia as a fruit of the sea.

“Love you are here! I didn't see you and I feared the worst. How is it going, do we have so many injured people?” He asked turning towards you and smiling warmly at you, she hugged you instinctively to check that you weren't hurt.

Either he was under the influence of a huge amount of adrenaline or Ace had such a high perception of pain that those injuries didn't bother him. This was a question you would never find the answer to.

“How the hell did they hit you? Ah, you're bleeding, stop here..." You looked at the long wound on his chest and the one on his right arm worriedly, his devil fruit made it difficult to stop the wound because the blood was too liquid due to the heat that his body was giving off.

“Some have Algamalotite weapons. They also resist my attacks which is why it took us longer.” He said Ace showing one of the weapons in question to the rest of the crew. He then explained how traps were scattered around the ship which had injured other people that his men were bringing on board.

Better and better.

“Where did they get them?” Asked Halta as he looked at her carefully, the workmanship of the sword was good, too good to have been made by any one person.

“We'll deal with this later. We need to free the ship and sort out the ones that are coming.” You said taking a needle and thread to saturate Ace's wounds, but your girlfriend stopped you in time and after placing his hair on her head he headed towards the Strider: "I can block them if I move now."

“ACE COME BACK HERE NOW!” You shouted trying to follow him but were quickly stopped by Izo before you jumped off the ship to chase him.

“Don't worry, he is not alone.” He told you looking up at the sky, Marco was back and was following Ace to give him back up.

“I swear that as soon as he comes back I'll sew him up properly!” You said the same as you watched the two commanders strike at the opposing ships. Whitebeard laughed loudly, commenting that you young people were so carefree that he envied you a little.

You sighed and turned towards the main deck, there were less serious injuries waiting to be treated and recovery operations to be carried out, so you rolled up your sleeves and started patching up your companions while who was still all entire effort was made to free the ship.

A couple of explosions followed one another in the following hours, marking the end of the fight. Ace and Marco had laid waste to the enemy ships and were returning, the strider was going slower than its normal speed and Marco was flying too low for his standards.

“Go on and check that everything is in one piece, big sister, we'll take care of it here.” Said one of your colleagues while you finished stitching a wound. You left the final directions and grabbed a new medical kit before heading to the main deck.

As soon as you arrived you immediately noticed the two commanders surrounded by the others who were asking for details of everything and more.

“Before you ask for anything, let me patch them up.” You said as you opened your bag and took out everything you needed, no one dared to argue. Marco had been wounded by the same weapons that had hit Ace, but his devil fruit was already taking effect so you fixed a couple of bandages and disinfected the wounds well, until you noticed a deeper one on his shoulder and that's when you cursed.

Ace was worse than a rag, lying on the ground and with his head spinning, he was kept conscious by Satch and Izo. He had lost too much blood, that imbecile.

You breathed in and out to calm yourself down and started lecturing them both, while everyone else laughed out loud.

“ESPECIALLY YOU ACE! IDIOT!" You said as you took the bottle of alcohol and opened it to clean the wound on your arm, it was deep, but it hadn't severed the nerves or any important blood vessels, Marco meanwhile was rearranging his shirt and was careful not to damage the stitches you had put.

“Stop squirming Ace!” You told him while using alcohol.

“That stuff bothers me.” Your boyfriend said with a grimace, then he told what had happened on one of the ships, that he had found other Algamalotite weapons, which now lay on the bottom of the sea and which all bore the same symbol, a skull with a sword that it pierced him in half.

There had been no need for anesthetic, the adrenaline was doing his job.

A couple of sutures later and you had completed the job, while Ace had finished his report: "I don't like this." You said as you put your tools back, everyone agreeing with you, it wasn't a normal Jolly Roger, it looked more like an anti-piracy symbol.

Ace leaned on your shoulder and held you close to him for reassurance, you all suspected that a fight like that was something premeditated and thought out down to the smallest detail, it was no coincidence that they attacked you at such a time. Marco's absence and the fact that we were without your other ships must have studied you for a very long time.

And if they had done something like this, none of you could rule out the possibility that they had thoroughly studied every single member of the crew.

“Daddy have you taken your medicine?” You asked turning to your captain. Ace was worried about that question too, because he knew how meticulous you were about reminding old Whitebeard about his medications.

“I hadn't gotten them yet. Are you afraid of something?” The man replied, then taking his favorite bottle of sake. Sooner or later you would have had to lock him up.

“It was too strange an attack dad, they hit us knowing our weak points too well.” He said Ace sensing your thoughts, thinking about it now, ramming the Moby Dick with a large ship on which traps and strong men were positioned was a diversion that didn't convince any of you.

Marco meanwhile was taking note of everything that needed to be repaired while with one ear he paid attention to the direction the conversation was taking.

“Attack or not, we should be more careful, anyone who can walk come and repair the ship, or at least let's try to fix it to get to the next island. Little sister tries to fix as many men as possible and give me an inventory of the medicines we lost." The first commander said, starting to give orders, conspiracies and suspicions would wait for the evening, for now you had to fix the damage suffered.

"See you this evening." She said Ace in your ear and leaving you his hat.

“Don't overdo it too much as the stitches might pop out and no devil fruit Ace.” You told him as you watched him run towards the hole to be repaired together with all the other men. You then gave the medicine to Father, because you always kept a reserve supply in case he didn't take it, and you said goodbye to both him and Marco to go below deck.

You had men to stitch up and put back together, and many of them.

“How bad is it?” You asked Satch in the late afternoon when you went to see how the men were doing, who as soon as they had been stitched up and treated had rushed to repair the ship, without even receiving the green light. And Ace was among them, not only had he rushed to free the ship, but due to the injuries he had suffered and the loss of blood he had also fallen into the sea and Satch and Izo had jumped in to save him.

Now your boyfriend was sleeping blissfully on top of your legs, covered in bandages from head to toe.

“It could have been worse, luckily the ship is repaired and thanks to you girls the men are back in shape immediately, or at least all of them and there is no one missing.” He said the cook as he took off his yellow handkerchief to wipe away the sweat. They had taken all the surviving crates of food and placed them safely on the other side of the ship.

“I hate how Ace put himself in situations like these.” You said while stroking his black hair rocking him to sleep, you knew him well, he had squeezed out every last crumb of his fire, he had saved many of your companions but this would have put him out of action for quite a while in the days to follow.

Satch laughed heartily and then helped you carry Ace into his cabin, you checked on him one last time and went out leaving him a note on the bedside table, in which you warned him that you would be back later.

You continued your tour with your colleagues, you had distributed medicines and painkillers to the men and then you went downstairs to take inventory of the medicines. By writing everything down meticulously, you realized that the situation wasn't the best.

“We've lost more than half of them Marco, and I can't ration the supplies we have because they don't even cover a third of the crew.” You said as you handed him the report you had made.

The first commander read the numbers you had collected, despite everything he remained apparently calm.

“We have to grit our teeth for a while, we have two days of sailing to the next island, with the ship in these conditions. We will have to work miracles." Phoenix said as he put down the book and checked the route she had chosen. Under normal conditions the Moby Dick would have arrived in less than half a day, but the ship risked taking on water and one of her engines was showing signs of failure.

Resisting for two days in those conditions, with the adverse weather of the New World would not have been so easy.

“Don't worry about my shoulder it's already recovering, go see Ace.” He told you immediately afterwards with a hint of a smile to reassure you, Marco had seen Ace fight and had confided in you that his health conditions worried him a bit.

“Okay, see you later Marco.” You replied, but not before leaving him a couple of painkillers. You quickly left the door and went towards Ace's room, the dining room was destroyed, so the fourth division would have brought food to everyone else and many accommodations were in bad shape, the men had organized themselves as best they could with mattresses, bunks and hammocks in the corridor.

You went to the infirmary to see if there was any news but your "little sisters" reassured you that everything was fine, you still said to call you in any case. They would have slept in the infirmary, because your rooms had also been hit.

When you entered Ace's room you didn't expect to see him already standing, you sighed and closed the door behind you joining him.

“Hey Love!” He greeted you with his usual smile, as if nothing had happened, you huffed but also smiled, luckily Ace seemed to be indestructible.

“You should stay in bed and rest.” You told him as you checked his bandages, they needed to be changed and surely a few stitches had popped off.

So you didn't waste any time and made him lie down on the bed, not without some protests.

“Wounds like this take longer to heal Ace.” You told him as you sutured him again, you had given him a shot of anesthetic, at least to not make him feel pain but his devil fruit quickly burned what was injected into his body, it was no small problem.

Ace was trying not to say a word or let out a single cry of pain, he was trying to hold on so as not to worry you further.

“I know it hurts, honey, I promise it's just for a few more seconds.” You said, better fixing the last stitch that had opened and then bandaging everything with a thicker and tighter bandage, at least in this way the stitches would have to hold up for the night.

Ace threw himself on you, complaining a little about the rest of his body hurting, so you asked to show you where he hurt. You discovered that he had at least a dozen bruises scattered here and there.

So you rolled up your sleeves and took some lotion from your bag to sober them up it can be absorbed more quickly.

“What is it Love?” Ace asked you as he ran his hand through your hair to caress you, he could see that you were tense.

“I hate seeing you in pain.” You responded, leaning against one of the pillows on Ace's bed. You had rubbed lotion on him and now you were lying next to each other. You traced the outline of his abs with your fingertips and with a light touch so as not to hurt him.

“One sleep and I'll be as good as new.” He said Ace smiling at you and kissing the tip of your nose, then your cheeks and finally his lips. He was an incurable romantic.

“If everyone were like you. We have two days of travel ahead of us, said Marco, supplies of food and medicines must be heavily rationed, but luckily no one has lost their lives." You said caressing his face and lingering more on his cheeks to play with their softness.

“It'll be fine, you'll see, we've faced worse and Marco will have chosen a fairly calm route.” Your boyfriend had taken your hands to bring them close to his lips to kiss them. He then slowly went up until he reached your neckline where he rested without asking your permission: "You're an excellent pillow and I'll recover faster this way." Ace had started purring like a cat rubbing against you and you had laughed, not chasing him away but holding him tighter to you.

“Are you still thinking about the symbol you saw?” You asked after a while, noticing the serious look that Ace had made while looking at the sea from the porthole of your cabin.

“Yes, I don't know why but I have a strange feeling.” And that strange feeling more simply translated into trouble ahead.

“They could hang up on us but they know that at this point Dad might intervene with his devil fruit.” You said playing with the locks of his hair, they had grown a little more, he would have to cut them soon.

“You know his power is so strong that it would wipe out the continent, and then I don't think it would be good for his health.” Ace had started drawing invisible circles on your back, slowly and in an almost hypnotic manner.

“Someone here doesn't want to sleep…” You whispered in his ear making your lover smirk.

“Come on Love, so I can heal faster.” Ace breathed on your neck allowing a rush of shivers to travel down your spine.

“You are recovering.” You insisted, standing up and straddling him.

“In fact, I won't make any movements, you will do everything, are you my personal nurse or not, Love?” Ace's warm hands ran along your sides rubbing against the bones of your pelvis, he knew that was a delicate spot of yours and that you loved when he squeezed it like that.

You held back a moan, just to not give him satisfaction, but the blush on your face made him smirk again.

“So I have full control? Can I start this visit?” You asked as you unhooked the clasp of your bra and Ace helped you take it off throwing it away on the floor of his room.

You wore a white top that tied in a bow at the back of your neck, it was Ace's favorite.

“Of course Love.” Ace had settled in better, he loved it when you took control in bed, it was a shame you weren't wearing a uniform.

You didn't have to be told twice and you gave him a kiss on the lips, then moving down to his chin, to his neck where you bit a little harder, drawing a small sigh of satisfaction from him, and then continuing your descent of kisses on his his abdomen.

Here you were a little more careful not to bite too hard and you helped yourself with your hands to tease him a little more. You traced the grooves of his muscles with your fingertips and went down to the V carved on his groin and dared to bite a little harder.

You smiled as you saw Ace's gaze starting to become full of lust.

You wasted no time fiddling with his belt, you knew it too well by now and knew how to remove it quickly.

“So far the control seems to be going well.” You said while playing with the elastic of his boxers.

"You say? I keep feeling something isn't right." He had said, caressing your cheek with his warm palm which you rubbed against.

You were about to continue, wanting to give him more pleasure, until the alarm went off all over the deck of the ship and made you freeze on the spot.

“Fuck.” He cursed Ace as you quickly got dressed to go check. You rushed out of his cabin to find yourself in a critical situation.

They were attacking you.

“I thought we were past the bad part.” She said Ace as you two reached the main deck. The sound of bombs hitting near the ship.

“These people here don't intend to give in, they attacked us waiting for us halfway.” Satch had arrived before you and handed you the binoculars to get a better look.

“That's ten ships! But what do they think they are doing!” You said as Ace grabbed your waist and quickly lowered you to avoid a cannon shot, he had grazed your head.

“They have the same symbol as the others, they must be allies.” Izo said taking cover as well.

“There's only one thing left to do, let's attack them.” Ace was about to come out, the Moby Dick was surrounded, Marco stopped him in time.

“It's not the right time yet.” The first commander had said, the ships were not within range, the snail near us had started to ring incessantly.

“This is the infirmary, where is the big sister?”

“I'm here, what's happening?”

“They hit us and we are seriously injured, come help us quickly.”

Damn, that's all you needed, more serious injuries to operate on in a situation like this.

"I am coming." You said, closing the conversation and turning to Ace: “Don't bullshit honey.” You told him and he smiled back at you.

“Go save our comrades.”

You ran downstairs to find yourself in total chaos, you quickly rinsed your hands and immediately put on gloves, there wasn't a second of time to waste.

“The situation upstairs?” One of your companions asked, handing you the tools to remove the pieces of wood that had stuck inside the body of one of your shipmates.

“Quieter than ours. The commanders were pissed off." You responded by starting to extract the largest pieces and immediately moving on to disinfecting and suturing.

The roars of some cannon shots or the sound of swords being drawn did not distract any of you while you operated.

You had lives to save and no one would die on your ship.

Twelve hours later the infirmary was a mess of needles, bottles of painkillers, scalpels, various instruments and blood. But fortunately all the most critical patients were stable, even those who had injured themselves on the command bridge and had been rushed to the infirmary.

The battle above had ended with the explosion of the enemy ships and Whitebeard had also played his part, he had regulated his power but this had cost him his health.

“Don't you dare lie. I can see it hurts.” You said as you set up his new IVs and increased the dose of antibiotic and painkiller to make him feel better.

“Enough is enough.” He replied, placing a hand on your shoulder: “You did a great job, you and the girls.” He added, looking at each member of his crew covered in bandages and painkillers.

You smiled, forcing yourself a little, the adrenaline in your body was starting to decrease: “Thanks dad.” Ace was next to you, his bandages stained with blood, but he was well enough to stand and support you. The fight had burdened him and despite this he also had responsibilities as a commander, he had to grit his teeth and set a good example for all your men.

Marco examined the nautical charts, the ship had suffered further damage and navigation would become more difficult, the island you wanted to reach was too far away.

“Hey…but that's an island!” You couldn't believe your colleagues' words, the girls were leaning over the bridge to get a better look.

In the end they were right, an island had appeared on your horizon.

“Marco please there is an island we can go to.” You had talked to the other girls, and all of you had introduced yourself to the first commander to convince him to go down to the island that you had spotted that morning at the first light of dawn when the smoke from the other ships had cleared.

Ace had tried to dissuade you, but he had no say in the matter.

“It is not part of our territories.” The first commander said while drinking his cup of bitter coffee.

“And whose would it be?” You asked for all your colleagues as Ace tried to calm you down. The island was only two hours away from you, you could have stopped to stock up on food, repair the ship and treat the wounded better.

“Del Rosso.” Marco replied, cursing himself for having taught us girls to navigate and knowing how to read a map and he cursed himself even more for having answered, the girls and you, hearing that name, had headed to Whitebeard to tell him to dock on the island immediately.

“They don't have a shred of restraint.” Satch had said, understanding well that landing on an island belonging to another emperor was not something prudent.

“It's Shanks the Red, of all people it's the best guess that could have happened to us.” Ace said, your boyfriend hadn't moved an inch after you glared at him, as if to say either you're on my side or I'll kill you. You could have a civil discussion with him, but it was still a risk.

“The problem is that knowing them they would face it without even thinking about it. Especially your girlfriend Ace.” He had said Izo, adjusting his Kimono to hide a bandage.

“Don't tell me anything, I have no say in the matter.” She said Ace, resigning herself to the fact that when you set your mind to something you managed to get it done. The boys started laughing heartily, your fervent spirit had brought back some joy to the crew.

In the end however, partly due to everyone's tiredness and partly because it was urgent to repair the ship, you had prevailed and for this reason you headed towards the island.

You could have expected anything when you got off, but not to find the Red's crew on dry land.

“Hey Whitebeard!” He had greeted the emperor with his usual smile that you couldn't identify. It was an idiotic smile. That's what the only explanation was.

"Red."

“Please, no fights.” You said, placing yourself between the two and glaring at both of them. You were sick of a lot of clashes and battles. The deathmatch for the sake of the good old days could wait.

No displays of Haki, no weapons being drawn. You breathed a sigh of relief and left the two emperors chatting while Marcus began supervising the construction of a camp. The redhead's crew also helped you, Ace was right to say that of all the emperors Shanks was the best case that could have happened to you.

Six hours later you were finally leaving the infirmary you had set up to get some fresh air. You had rechecked all your patients, fixed and splinted broken legs, destroyed wrists and sprained arms, all injuries that the men had hidden from you and for which they had received a severe lecture.

“The injured, even the serious ones, fortunately, they are all stable. Two days and they'll be as good as new.” You reported to your captain, explaining who the most critical ones were and what medicines needed to be taken as soon as possible.

“The ship has suffered quite a bit of damage, we should stop here for at least a week.” Marco said, listing the damage suffered, and it was quite a bit, but luckily it could be repaired.

The meeting was going to last late and Ace noticed the bags under your eyes and the fact that you couldn't pay attention. The lack of sleep was making itself felt.

“You should rest.” She had told you, making you sit on him. Nobody had said anything, in fact the discussions had continued.

“I will rest when I need it.” You said, trying to continue listening, even though the warmth of her body was an invitation to sleep, you had to resist. Three hours later, in the late afternoon you had emerged from the meeting room tent. From what had emerged, Red and his men had also been attacked in a similar manner a few days earlier and from the rumors circulating, an alliance seemed to have formed to eliminate the old emperors.

Better and better. If this was true you would have expected a clash in the days when you set sail again.

It was better to go and stock up on medicines.

“Let's go get the medicines from the village and come back.” You had told Ace leaving a kiss on his cheek. You had quickly changed by borrowing one of his shirts.

“Are you sure I don't have to come with you?” Ace didn't want to let you wander around alone, ok you were with your colleagues but he still preferred you to avoid it, despite everything there were bounties hanging on your heads that would have attracted many bounty hunters, but the sooner you went to get the medicine the sooner you could go back to him you answered him.

“Sure, just think about regaining your strength.” Ace had collapsed a few seconds after you had left the meeting room, sleep, narcolepsy and the wounds that had not healed had drained him of his last strength and carrying him to his tent had been a titanic undertaking.

“We'll be back in three hours.” You reassured him and left the tent, going to the girls and walking towards the nearest town.

Three hours later you returned as you promised and the whole crew breathed a sigh of relief that had not gone unnoticed by any of us.

“What do you want me to tell you, our nurses are known to be quite troublesome.” You could finally treat Ace with the right dose of painkillers and antibiotics, one that she would only wear off the next evening.

“We troublemakers?” You laughed as you took some cotton and soaked it in alcohol, you had to clean the wound on his chest and Ace was already glaring at you.

“Don't be such a baby, it's just rubbing alcohol.” You said placing it on his chest and pressing softly. Luckily the stitches hadn't broken in the previous clash.

“I never liked that thing.” Ace said glaring at the new cotton ball that was getting closer to his wound.

He was a child.

You gave him a kiss on the cheek to distract him and it happened.

“Big sister!” One of your girls had entered the tent: “Did I interrupt something?” She asked then noticing how you looked. You sitting on Ace's lap in a position that couldn't be misunderstood.

“No don't worry dear, tell me everything.” You responded, taking the gauze and starting to bandage it. Ace's torso, your boyfriend wanted to say otherwise but he held back.

“We found some natural hot springs, you have to come and bathe with us now! Commander Ace I'm commandeering our head nurse for the next two hours.” Your subordinate had said, grabbing you by the shoulders and dragging you out of the tent.

"HEY!" Ace was following you ready to catch you but the other girls prevented him: "This evening will be all for you, but for now we want to be with the big sister."

Luckily Izo and Satch had grabbed Ace by the shoulders and carried him to the other side to distract him. Telling him that it was right to leave some space for us girls.

“You are impossible, I don't even have a costume!” You said as the two of you arrived at the shores of the Hot Springs.

“Who said you need a swimsuit, we are all women!”

After all, they were right, but you regretted not spending time with Ace, you had been interrupted a few too many times for your liking in those hectic days, the only thing you wanted was to spend some intimate time with the your boyfriend.

But the thermal water was a panacea for your nerves that you would regret in the next few days. Only you girls, no man nearby and a lot of calm interrupted here and there by some otters that came close to smell you, were the inhabitants of that place and we had taken a liking to you.

There was so much calm that at a certain point you couldn't stand it anymore. You kind of missed the chaotic life that was with your sailing companions, but you missed Ace so much, you wanted to go and hug him, lock yourself in his tent and stay with him all night.

The spa had only partially dissipated the stress you had accumulated during those days, you knew well how to dispose of the remaining part with your fiery boyfriend.

“I'd say we go back to camp.” You said as you walked out and put on your underwear and white top. The cold air of the evening went perfectly with the feeling of warmth that the spa had left in you and this had made you even more nostalgic for Ace, usually he was the one who created that sensation that you liked so much.

"Already? But can't we stay a little longer?”

“It's been more than two hours, they'll be worried about us.” You replied as you looked around for your shorts and trying not to fall on the otter pups that must have been spinning around frantically. What naughty little brats.

“But boss, we're not enjoying this calm!”

“That's right and men can be alone, what could happen?”

You looked at each of your friends and just your look was enough to convince them that it was best to go back. You could already imagine what could happen to that rowdy gang of Pirates with the absence of you girls.

“We will come here more times in the next few days.” You finally said making the others laugh, they all agreed to go back to having some relaxation: "They took my shorts!" You added as you weaved through the vegetation to look for them.

The girls also noticed that a couple of their clothes were missing, but the otters that had kept you company were starting to get restless and seemed to want to tell you to forget about it and go back.

"That have?" You asked yourselves, not understanding the sudden agitation.

A sudden movement of air above your heads made you suddenly spin.

“Damn I didn't get them!” About ten men had appeared on the other side of the baths. A shiver ran down your spine as you slowly approached the others, that symbol they carried with them, a skull with a knife dividing it in two, were the men who had attacked you in the previous days.

“It's okay, just come here.” She tried to say one of them with a dodgy face, yellow teeth and some missing, his face marred by scars.

You remained f trying not to make any rash moves, you couldn't escape because they were surrounding you and you were disarming.

"Damnation." You said as the girls pressed closer to you. How long were they watching you? Had they come to you before? Did they know about the camp? Had they already attacked him? How was Ace?

It seemed to be a nightmare that didn't want to end, those men possessed Algamalotite weapons, Ace possessed a devil fruit and risked being seriously injured, he even risked his life.

You couldn't allow something like that.

Another blow forced you to duck to avoid a scythe hitting you, only then did you notice a scalpel on the ground, how it ended up there didn't interest you that much, it was always something to defend yourself with.

You took it without hesitation, hiding it inside your hand.

It was the seven of you against more than a dozen armed men.

You had to play smart.

And while the men surrounded you starting to list the worst things to do to you you tried to find a way to escape, the main path was out of the question, if they were intelligent they had put some men to guard it.

The forest seemed like the only way out, but it was characterized by such dense vegetation that it would only hinder you.

But it was the only option available.

“At my signal, run as fast as you can, no one looks back, let's be clear.” You said as one of the enemies approached you. If they had captured you you would have become a dangerous medium of exchange. You knew Santa so well that he would have done anything to bring you home safely, not to mention Ace, oh god if only he had found out about the danger you were in.

You couldn't let your boyfriend risk his life with the injuries he had. No, you would never forgive yourself.

“Big sister…” The man was a few steps away from you and the girls.

You inhaled deeply and only when he was one step away from you did you use the scalpel to hit him in the jugular. Blood splattered everywhere but you didn't care.

Some of the girls screamed at what had happened. The men in front of you were stunned. It was just what you needed.

“Leave now!” You shouted grabbing one of your little sisters and starting to run, you had the element of shock on your side and you had to make the most of it. The camp wasn't too far away, once you reached it you could have notified everyone.

Two gunshots made your blood run cold. Warning shots, they wanted to capture you without doing too much damage.

They wanted to avoid the wrath of your captain and his commanders.

“No one was hit. Let's run boss."

“In the vegetation! Hurry and don't scream, not even if a shot passes by you!” You immersed yourself in the forest among brambles and branches that hurt you every time you passed, your wounds burned and your muscles ached, but you had to keep running, soon the gunshots would no longer be a warning.

You were just thankful that you and your classmates had been through so much that you weren't scared so easily. The oxen and the silence were your best allies at that moment, but the voices of your opponents were too close, they seemed to have grown louder to boot.

And the camp fire still seemed to be so far away.

“Hold on, we're almost there!” You said as you saw Whitebeard's flag along with Red's flag waving in the night. Driven by a new spirit you overcame the last obstacles by starting to shout to attract attention, to hell with not getting caught,

“ACEEEE” You screamed seeing your boyfriend's hair near the fire.

The dark-haired man turned around looking for you until he saw you and he became alarmed along with the others. Ace started running in your direction without wasting time, without waiting for the others.

“Take them!” The men chasing you had increased and the shots were not sent as a warning but were trying to hit you.

“Run, don't turn around.” You said as you jumped over a log and helped one of your classmates up after she fell to the ground.

“Come on, come on!” you said starting to run again hearing Ace call your name.

Ace was running towards you, everyone was coming.

Then a gunshot and your world became darker. You fell to your knees as you tried to pack the wound on your pelvis. The blow was so strong that it knocked the bullet out and your body stopped reacting the moment your knees hit the ground.

“Run you fools!” You said trying to send the girls away but no one moved petrified of what had happened.

You felt the blood flow out of the wound, hot and thick and spilling onto the ground.

Ace stood in front of you motionless as if he was trying to act but he couldn't, but in his eyes you could see a fire you had never seen before.

He caught you before you fell to the ground and held you close to her: "Don't worry love, I'm here." He said standing up and facing the enemy.

There were few who had seen Ace's true anger when someone dear to him was attacked or hurt, and there were still few who had survived to tell the tale.

You felt Ace hand you over to someone else, you couldn't keep your eyes open from all the blood you were losing, but you felt Ace place his hair on you and tell you to hold on.

Then he went all dark and muffled and a white light covered your vision.

Waking up wasn't the best, you heard the sound of the machines you had in the infirmary intermittently and you couldn't focus on what was around you.

Breathing hurt, and the oxygen mask you wore scratched your cheeks. Only then did you notice a mass of black hair leaning on the same mattress as you and an orange hair, which you knew well, resting on top of you.

Ace was sleeping, he knew how long you had been unconscious or if he had been struck by an attack of narcolepsy.

You stroked his hair, lulling him to sleep and observing his expressions, until he opened his eyes.

“Hi Ace.” You greeted with a smile.

“Well woken up Love” He replied, leaving a kiss on your forehead and caressing your face and staring at you for endless minutes.

"What happened?" You asked trying to get up but being stopped by Ace.

“You pay attention to the points.” The brunette said as she helped you up without you trying too hard.

“She woke up! You woke up sweetie!” Satch's voice said as she walked in with a tray full of lots of breakfast things. Immediately afterwards she entered half the world into the infirmary.

“Big sister you recovered!” The girls did nothing but cry loudly, while the men tried to comfort them and make them calm down, they were full of bandages and plasters, only superficial wounds fortunately. Each one told how difficult it had been to operate because of the blood you had lost and that they hadn't stopped until dawn. Red Shanks' doctor had also come to help you.

The girls continued to cry and you were moved by that reaction and you also tried to calm them down, but they started crying more.

“You should have seen Ace after they took you and then the girls didn't let us get closer even with threats!” She had said Izo sitting on a stool near the bed and Ace had turned red with embarrassment.

“Not only did he knock out all the enemies who were chasing you, but this wretch here went straight to their camp, burning everything and everyone, without waiting for us.” Marco continued, hitting your boyfriend on the head with a newspaper.

“Ace!” You said, turning to him, “Stupid, you don't have to face so many enemies alone.” You grabbed him by the cheeks.

“Come on Love, they hurt you, I had to punish them properly.” The dark-haired man said, freeing his cheeks and squeezing your hands.

"Unconscious." You said with tears in your eyes.

God you nearly lost him, because if he had been injured you wouldn't have been able to treat him in those conditions.

“Commander Ace don't make big sister cry!”

A small argument had developed between Ace and the girls, Izo had promptly pulled you out to prevent your health from worsening while the others tried to calm the two parties down.

It was your captain's voice that called your attention: "Let her rest, Ace, keep an eye on her." So everyone had slowly left the infirmary and the two of you alone, the girls had first relieved you of all the devices and drips to which you were attached and now you felt freer.

They made sure Ace didn't do any harm and were very direct in saying in no uncertain terms that I shouldn't force myself in any way and then they left.

“Come close to me Ace.” Ace didn't have to be told twice and got into the infirmary bed with you, you were a little tight but feeling him so close made you feel good.

“Aren't the girls going to hang me somewhere?” He had asked as he kissed your cheeks.

“Don't worry, I'll stop him.” You said touching his bandage and looking when she was covered in blood.

“Ace…” You whispered, trying to get a better look.

“It's not mine…it's yours…” Ace said rubbing your back with his warm hands to calm you down. You could only imagine the pain Ace had felt seeing you lose all that blood.

“I didn't know how to fix this.” He whispered looking at your bandage and slowly caressing the area: "I was very scared, they held it down like you told me to do, but you kept bleeding and I..." Ace's eyes were shiny, you knew him well that yes he would have stopped himself from crying, but he needed it right now.

You held him tightly to you, hiding his face in your breast and whispering in his ear: "Love, I'm here, safe and sound, Grace and you, if you want to cry, do it, I'm sorry for having made you worry so much." Ed Ace had held you close to him and salty tears had started streaming down his face.

He had told you what he had felt in that moment, so much fear. His flames had become uncontrollable due to those emotions and he was grateful to be alone at that moment.

“Actually there was Marco who turned me off just in time.” He added as you wiped the tears from his cheeks. You couldn't see him in that condition, Ace never cried - the only time he did was when he told you who he really was and about his past.

"Unconscious." You whispered, kissing him lightly: "You can't do these things if I'm not there to take care of you." You added, kissing him again.

“I don't like that the roles have been reversed.” Ace had said as he kissed you back.

“For once we can take a few days to ourselves.” You told him, kissing him again and biting his lower lip.

A pang had suddenly taken you from his side all the way down to his stomach. Ace had noticed this and immediately put himself in a different position, raising your torso slightly even though you said you were fine.

“You're clearly in pain! Please, just help me.” He said checking your bandage, luckily everything seemed to be fine.

“Ace don't worry.” You tried to reassure him, in a couple of days and some painkillers they would have you back on your feet.

“Don't you want to go back to work right away?!” Ace had placed you on top of him, you were now leaning against his chest and the tray full of Satch's food rested on your legs.

“How long has it been since you ate?” He asked then taking a grape and bringing it to your lips.

“How long has it been since you ate?” You responded with the same question by cutting a slice of meat and giving it to your boyfriend.

“For once I can take care of you.” He said to, Ace exasperated and leaving kisses on your neck. You laughed and then you continued breakfast, during which Ace told you what had happened at the camp, Redhair had already left the island and there had been no farewell fights or anything like that.

You chatted and exchanged small outpourings of love until the doctor came in and decreed that you could leave the infirmary but that you absolutely had to rest.

“Losing a girl like you! I really don't think about it, Ace don't make her get too tired please." The doctor said, giving another direct and blunt lecture.

“But why is everyone like this?!” Ace was carrying you in his arms, he had been adamant, he wouldn't make you so tired. You laughed and hugged him. Only you knew the delicacy that Ace put into every gesture that concerned you, even when you made love, no one would have ever said it but Ace - in addition to being fiery and passionate - was extremely sweet and kind. He cared a lot about making sure he didn't hurt you and making sure he respected your every need.

Yet you were happy to only know this sweet and delicate aspect of him.

“Ace let me change your bandages.” You said, getting up from the bed and grabbing the medical kit you had brought with you.

“I should be the one to change them for you. My wounds have already healed.” Your boyfriend had said stopping you from grabbing something and double checking your bandages, they were still clean and perfect.

A suspicious noise had made you freeze on the spot, voices calling for help and the nurses had reached your ears.

“Oh God, not again…” You said ready to leave to go see the situation.

"Do not even think about it." Ace said taking you back to bed and snickering.

“Ace but what if someone is hurt?” You protested once on the mattress, you tried to get up, but there was no way Ace would die.

“The girls are here, you absolutely need to rest.” Your boyfriend said, kissing you between your collarbones and slowly unbuttoning the shirt you were wearing at the time.

No other alarming voices had arrived from outside so the situation was under control.

“Will you take care of me?” You asked, settling yourself better on the pillows and waiting for your boyfriend to come closer.

“I will be your personal doctor.”

He kissed you, a kiss full of passion and tension accumulated in the previous days, a kiss that only tasted of so much love that you absolutely wanted to give him to heal those wounds that had remained in the soul and not in the flesh of both of you.

You kissed him back as his hands came down to cup your hips.

At that moment only the two of you existed and nothing else.

[adrift-in-thyme]

Whumptober Day 7: Alleyway

Read on Ao3

- Warriors & Hyrule

- Summary: a group of ex-soldiers corner Warriors in an alleyway

CW for blood and injury, a character getting beaten, drugging, and vomiting

——————————————-

The laughter is deafening.

Warriors winces as it echoes in his head, increasing the incessant pound to a fever pitch. The lights of Castle Town certainly aren’t helping either. They are especially bright tonight. They bleed through the slits of his swollen eyes, blinding him, piercing his skull like shards of glass.

“Getting tired yet?”

A foot connects with his jaw. The crunch of breaking bones sounds in time with the annunciation of the last taunting word.

His head snaps back. Blood fills his mouth. Stars crackle before his eyes and a nauseating rush of heat zips up his spine, cascading through the back of his neck and head. He has already been sick – the disgusting stuff is splattered upon the cobblestones before him – but he’s dreadfully certain he’s going to do so again.

He’s an idiot, he decides, running his tongue over teeth coated in blood. Waltzing about Castle Town at night. Anyone else’s might’ve been fine, but his? He knows better.

Or he should.

But he should also know better than to do what he does next.

Lifting a head heavy with pain and the strange fuzziness of near unconsciousness, he grins. The faces of his assailants waver before his eyes, so blurry he can hardly make out their features.

“Nope,” he slurs. “Why…y’ guys gettin tired?”

One of them – the largest from what he can see – grasps the front of his scarf and hauls him upward. The ground tips as Warriors’ feet leave it and his stomach somersaults.

The man leans in, breath hot and rancid with the scent of cheap alcohol.

“Still smirkin, are ya? Well, we’ll fix that attitude right up. You’ll be cryin like a babe by the time we’re done with you.”

A chorus of agreement erupts from behind him and the man grins, leeringly. Warriors has a split second to brace himself before he reels back and hurls him at the stone wall of the alleyway. He hits the ground with a dull thud. Pain explodes so abruptly that it takes his breath away. For a moment he can only lie there, bracing himself on trembling arms, struggling against the wave of darkness that tries to drag him away.

“Who’s laughin now?”

A boot connects with his side and Warriors topples sideways. There had been a time, not so long ago, when he had tried to evade their kicks and punches. At the start of all this, he had even fought back. But whatever they had slipped into his drink had been strong. Even the little bit he had ingested before realizing his mistake was enough to make the world hazy and his steps unsteady. And once they had managed to corner him, that had been the end of it.

His sword is long gone now, flown somewhere out of sight and reach. His shield has disappeared along with it. He only has his battered limbs for protection, as the blows rain down faster than he can predict them.

A fist connects with his abdomen and he chokes on a mouthful of blood. The dark liquid colors the path before him, spreading like spilled paint.

“Look at you. Captain of the Royal Army. Hero.”

Another hit, this one knocking his head against the alleyway wall. His protesting stomach finally clenches. Warriors gags, tasting iron and bile.

“Hah! Murderer’s more like it!”

“You think you can cause an entire war and then walk around like you own the world?”

A hand fists in his hair, yanking him upward. Warriors slumps in their agonizing grip. The edges of his vision are tinged with gray now. His breath rattled in his chest, every inhale like drawing air beneath the water.

Punctured lung, more than likely, he thinks, dazedly. Oh, joy.

A laugh bubbles up in him at the thought, born of the remnant of drugs still coursing through his veins, the wounds making him dangerously dizzy. He chokes on it as it erupts. The hoarse sound is hardly recognizable for what it is. But they recognize it anyway.

“You little…”

He blinks and his vision clears just enough that he can make out a pair of fury-filled eyes.

Another chuckle hiccups out of him.

“Still not crying.”

His attacker flings him down so hard his teeth clack together. If his tongue was an inch closer to them, he would have bit it off.

He’s making a bad situation worse — he knows that. But in this light-headed, pain-drunk state, he can’t bring himself to really care.

Still, that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t tense, preparing himself for the next, dreaded hit.

…the hit that never comes.

Instead, a new voice joins the jumble of taunting truths.

“Hey! Get off him!”

That horrible laughter bounces around in his skull again and Warriors grits his teeth against the pain of it.

“Oh, lookit that. There’s another one! What’d you think boys? We can take him, right?”

The newcomer doesn’t answer. There is the muffled pounding of feet at a run, then a grunt of pain. Someone hits the ground beside him so heavily that Warriors is certain it shakes.

The telltale noises of a fight erupt – groans and grunts and the sound of bone connecting with flesh.

Slowly, he raises his head. It’s difficult to see past the static prickling before his eyes, but he can just make out the shadowy forms of his assailants and the small body weaving skillfully in and out from between them. And though he can’t be completely certain – not in this state of near-consciousness – he can’t help thinking that the person looks an awful lot like…

“Rulie?”

It’s a hoarse croak and nothing more. He dares not raise his voice too loud, dares not hope someone has truly come to his aid. But then, between one agonized breath and the next, he finds himself staring up into the familiar face of the traveler.

“It’s okay,” he says, a bit breathless. Blood dribbles down from his bottom lip and nose. He wipes briskly at the dark stream as he reaches into his pouch. “I’m here.”

Warriors tries to say something, but all that comes out is a hacking, wet cough.

“Take it easy. You’re really bad off, captain.”

Warriors chokes out something resembling a chuckle and immediately regrets it. His body screams in protest, stealing the very breath from his lungs. He blinks rapidly, trying to keep Hyrule’s face in focus.

“Think I lost,” he mutters.

Hyrule shakes his head. “Yeah, yeah I think you did.”

Gentle hands cup his head and suddenly he is looking at the traveler upside down. Cool glass touches his lips.

“Drink.”

Dutifully, he swallows the warm liquid that courses down his throat. He can feel the rush of magic, flowing through his veins, seeking to mend his many wounds. The effect is small but instantaneous.

Breathing comes a bit easier, his mind is less foggy, and the pain less intense. But he still feels as though he has been knocked around by a hoard of stampeding bokoblins. And when Hyrule moves to return the bottle to his pouch, he can’t hold back a groan.

“Sorry.” He can hear the wince in the traveler’s voice. “I know that didn’t help much. But I can’t do anything more here. We’re too exposed.”

He casts a quick glance over his shoulder, then turns back to Warriors.

“Can you walk? It’s not that far to the inn.”

Warriors nods.

“Good. I’ll support you okay? And we’ll take it slow.”

Neither Hyrule’s support nor their sluggish pace make the journey much easier. Getting up off of the ground is a near-impossible task in and of itself. And walking even more so. By the time they make it to the inn – by some miracle, to be sure – he has come dangerously close to passing out more times than he can count.

It is only Hyrule’s aid that keeps him from toppling before they ever reach their room.

The traveler breathes a sigh of relief once they’ve entered the room and shut the door behind them.

“I should be able to patch you up now,” he says, as Warriors collapses in a tangle of aching, bloodied limbs upon the bed. Even the silken softness of the duvet seems like sand in his wounds.

He hardly notices it as Hyrule sets out gauze and bandages, barely comprehends the instructions to move a little here or there to help him peel off his bloodied garments. But when the chilled air collides with his newly exposed chest, he sucks in a breath, jolted awake by the white-hot agony.

“It’s alright,” comes Hyrule’s voice, soft and gentle as his touch when he begins to dab at his wounds with a damp cloth. Magic begins to flow through his other hand to Warriors’ body. “I know it hurts, but I’ve got you. You’re gonna be just fine, you hear me? You’re gonna pull through, cap.”

Warriors drags in another rattling breath. The ceiling looks smudgy now, as though someone has taken a dry paintbrush and rubbed it across it.

A low curse sounds from beside him. “Why’d they do this to you?”

Warriors’ eyes slide closed. There’s no reason to keep them open when he teeters on the edge of unconsciousness anyway. One more little push and he will plummet into blessed darkness.

“Angry ‘bout the war,” he mumurs. The question had been directed back at Hyrule more than him, but he feels the need to answer it anyway. The least he can do for the traveler is explain a bit.

“Well, I don’t care what they believe about you. It’s wrong. And no one deserves this, least of all you.”

There is a fire in his tone, the same one that always makes an appearance when he is gearing up for a fight. Any other time, perhaps, Warriors might have made it one, if only in his own mind. But today he is too tired, too hurt. And so he remains quiet, floating in the strange half-state, as Hyrule wipes the blood from his body.

Until he loses that battle too and consciousness slips from his grasp.

[vivelarevolution13]

hi, your fic “moving like a river of trouble crossing” kinda resonated with my soul and maybe even changed my life just a little bit, and i thought you deserved a better comment than my inarticulate ranting in the reblog tags yesterday.

the idea of shield hiring a therapist that looks like an older version of steve’s mother is unbelievably fucked up. the psychological warfare at play there is insane. and i love the parallel drawn to him first waking up from the ice and them trying to play this trick on him. he’s so much smarter than they give him credit for, everyone’s constantly underestimating him. i think that’s my favorite theme throughout this story; everyone is commodifying him in their own way, trying to stuff him in the box that they already made for him inside their heads.

the phrase “are you awake yet?” repeating over and over is so many different kinds of powerful. firstly, the way that it ties back to him waking up from the ice and his feelings of displacement in the world. secondly, that hazy, detached feeling that comes with depression, like you’re half-sleepwalking through your entire life, and no matter how hard you try to snap out of it and wake up, you can’t. i know that feeling well, and it emanates viscerally from this entire story. thirdly, it feels like a metaphor for the fact that he’s just drifting through life, doing what he’s told, following orders because he doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to do with himself.

obsessed with lina’s comment of “wrong place, wrong time” after the date. she’s right on so many levels, more right than she knows. each and every line of this story has so many layers, all of the characters feel three-dimensional, and the vibe is distinct and consistent.

the entire section following “pain, steve knows on an intimate level,” him cataloguing all of the hurt throughout his life, is a masterpiece. this story belongs in a museum. long sections of introspection like that are always hardest for me to write, and this is like poetry. i was searching for a handful of favorite lines to pick out to quote back at you but i can’t even pick.

all the symbolism in the movie that he’s watching (is this a real movie that you’re quoting from? if so that makes it so much better) tying into his memories of his mom dying, of becca and peggy and bucky and the line “steve was only ever as strong as the people propping him up.” 😭😭😭 i have no words for how deeply i can feel his pain and loss. he’s sitting there thinking about how he was never really alone when he was lonely back then, but now he is really alone, and there’s nothing to soothe the ache in his soul.

Rumlow communicating through riddles and insults and violence is everything to me. this actually may be my favorite iteration of him that i’ve ever read; he almost mirrors natasha in the way that he says everything but what he really means, pushing limits and pushing into people’s lives like a creeping vine. pushing himself right into steve’s space, nearly pushing steve over the edge.

i’m picking up on some desperate, hopeless undertones of the little scene with steve riding his motorcycle, risking his life senselessly just to feel something, trying to convince himself he’s grateful for this second chance at life. there’s so much powerful character development in such a short scene, this is masterful.

the way that the fight between steve and rumlow is practically a proxy for intimacy is everything i love about their dynamic in one scene. the way that rumlow talks shit snd fights dirty and likes hurting steve just a little more than is strictly necessary. i know despite everything, rumlow’s gonna be thinking about this night for a long time. steve’s just a sadist’s dream, mind and body designed specifically to take brutality, and he has enough guilt and self-hatred built up to put himself in situations like this for the sake of blowing off steam. they’re a match made in hell, really.

this story deserves to be up there with the big names in stucky fic and i would die on that hill. i’m sorry this is so long, if there’s one thing about me it’s that i love writing insanely long comments 🤩 but um yea i’m so glad you decided to share this with the world bc !!! it got even better on my second read-through to write this comment this morning.

Omg hi! First of all, thank you so much for the generous kind words and for the detailed message. I am always so delighted when people engage with the stuff that I post in any way whatsover, but especially when they're willing to share their impressions, so you never need to apologize for it getting long. I love talking about this stuff. (if anything, I'm just sorry I couldn't get around to responding sooner!) I'm really glad the theme of everyone's different attempts to "place" Steve came through. That might be one of my favourite conflicts when it comes to his character, actually - especially because it's very workable both in-universe (we get to see people project their personal definition of what Cap is supposed to be onto Steve in the comics over and over, as well as in the movies but to a lesser extent) and as meta, considering the wildly different interpretations different canon writers as well as parts of the fandom have voiced for years now (hell, decades) - many of which, in my personal opinion, just completely ignore his background and defining traits/experiences in favor of, again, what their personal idea of what Cap (read: the USA) should value, prioritize, and represent. I just think the idea of a regular man - one with very specific life circumstances that produced a pretty rigid, strong-willed set of morals for that matter - thrown headfirst into being a myth and a propaganda tool, and by virtue of that being manhandled by the government and the public and pretty much everyone he meets almost constantly, to be very interesting. Also honestly I'll take just about any opportunity I can get to shit on intelligence agencies and all the psychological warfare (as you very aptly put it) they entail. And I love Steve's relationship with Sarah as well as that idea of everyone constantly underestimating him so this felt like a good, if painfully fucked up way to introduce that.

I could talk about my love for CATWS' nods to Steve's grief and extremely internalized way of dealing with things but I'm not going to because then we'd be here all day, so I'll just say this: I think about his whole subdued demeanor at the start of that movie coupled with those Avengers deleted scenes of him just kind of aimlessly wandering around New York looking like the epitomy of Sad Man with No Plan at least once a goddamn week. That exchange with Sam at the VA also just wrecks me every time, simply because it's so quiet and unassuming but says a lot. I'd say I'm glad my writing could get you to relate to that sense of dissociation so strongly, but having experienced it myself one too many times I'll just say it fucking sucks and I'm sorry it's so familar. Again, interesting to write about, though, especially when you're writing about a guy who's not only clearly been used to keeping this shit under lock and key his whole life, but who has only had maybe like three and a half people that he could on rare occasions allow himself to confide in, all of whom have gone and died on him or are getting there. Not to mention the survivor's guilt involved - I kept thinking that I can't imagine how badly just about anyone would react to these kinds of feelings if they were feeling guilty about being alive in the first place on top of everything else, and then guilty about feeling that way instead of grateful, like some kind of hellish positive feedback loop. Happy the "wrong place, wrong time" comment went over well! It felt a little heavy handed while I was writing it, but that may just be because I spent a good few days just overthinking that segment. That said I do have a whole background for Lina I have to figure out what to do with now, lol. I've gotten too attached. The movie he's watching is in fact real! It's called Mikey and Nicky and I can't recommend it enough to anyone who might be interested in a slightly experimental, character study-esque '70s crime flick that's really more a thoughtful story about love and death and devotion and lifelong friendship ultimately not surviving the test of time, differing life choices and disillusionment. Themes of childhood and loss and remembrance just kill me in general, especially in the scene I included, and especially because my brain kept going "haha but what if we made this about stucky" on repeat until I had to sit down at write this. Tbh that segment might be my favourite, the fact I had to take several breaks while writing bc I got too sad notwithstanding. And finally: ah, Rumlow. That motherfucker. Hate that guy's guts, love writing him. I cannot tell you how much I'm glad that Natasha parallel came through for you, because I think I did initially conceive of them as mirrors. My thinking was that Steve probably wouldn't fully trust either of them, especially in that lockdown survival mode and just having come into the whole paranoid toxic environment that is SHIELD which he already doesn't really trust, either. That said, I think on that surface level he might latch onto Rumlow more simply because he kind of highkey screams DOWN TO EARTH SOLDIER more than spy which might be more familar, and because Steve's well aware Natasha owes her allegiance to Fury in a pretty established way and is showing a personal interest in his life, which could come across as suspect. And it definitely is to an extent, but I think in the way that for Natasha at this point the slowly budding care she is developing for Steve as one of her own is still very much inseperable from her need to possess information and have control over the situation, which clashes with Steve's equally distrustful nature and desire to keep something for himself. Of course, we know that she's well-meaning and just acting on habit, while Rumlow is...well, Rumlow.

I tried to write Steve as being attracted primarily to that familiarity/comfort of having someone very competent and dogged and seemingly loyal on his side as well as Rumlow as a whole - his experience, his skill, this more level, borderline challenging approach he takes with Steve, even that rougher side to him; despite also being somewhat aware of and at moments even put off by the dubious nature of it all (not necessarily the fascist dogwhistles, but just those moments where that "just one of the guys" front crosses a line into something murkier) but eventually always ending up shutting that feeling down as dismissible because he doesn't have the energy to process it, and prob because there's a certain degree of shame coloring the whole thing. He doesn't want to think about why he's attracted to Rumlow including the violent side of him, about why he's drawing unwilling parallels to Bucky, about what he's subconsciously looking to get from Rumlow while in this self-destructive spiral, and so he inevitably just goes along with it. For Rumlow's part, I think he's definitely got that "moth to a flame" attraction to Steve, and might even respect (big, gigantic fucked up quotation marks around that) him in his own way, or at least he respects what Steve could do if he just wasn't so...well, Steve. I imagine the whole projection of Cap the Symbol (remember when I mentioned that like 2000 words ago?) as well as many of the things we all love about Steve the Man probably rub Rumlow the wrong way, if for no other reason because they're an unwittingly glaring call to his conscience, which I figure would just unnerve and piss him off more and make him turn even more punishing on instinct just to justify himself to himself. In any case, he definitely gets a kick out of being near Steve in the same way people get a kick out of proximity to powerful people in general. I don't think it's a HYDRA honeypot thing or some straight-up evil plan behind it or even a fully conscious thing for him necessarily, just that he's aware Steve's very, very strong and very, very closed off and very, very good while also being pretty fucking vulnerable, and gets a kick out of being able to exploit that and push his buttons and ultimately more or less subdue him in a way that has as much, if not more, to do with power as it does with sex and attraction. So violence as a proxy for intimacy is a perfect way of putting what I was going for, thank you for that!

What I ultimately find the most interesting about writing this version of Rumlow in relation to this version of Steve is that Rumlow is very much a hateable character to me precisely because on the surface he could be just any other alright guy, if he weren't, well.... Rumlow, if he didn't repeatedly decide to give in to the same sadistic instinct because it's easier than the rest of it, if he didn't make the same morally wrong choice over and over despite initially seeming reedemable, despite getting every opportunity to choose differently; same as Steve repeatedly chooses to be good despite his own flaws, despite the opportunity to just give up, despite his own inner turmoil.

So, y'know: very much fuck that guy. They should've dropped more than one building on him. Hell of an interesting dynamic to write, though. Match made in hell indeed.

*claps hands together* ANYWAY! JESUS CHRIST THIS GOT LONG, I'm so sorry to you and anyone seeing this. This wasn't meant to turn into my own personal verbose meta playground, and yet it did. Thank you so much again for the lovely comment and for taking the time out to come talk to me about your impressions, it's been a pleasure!<3

[thelustybraavosimaid]

Needleheart Winter 2022: Protecting the Weak

JON

Thorne smiled. "The Bastard wishes to defend his lady love, so we shall make an exercise of it. Rat, Pimple, help our Stone Head here." Rast and Albett moved to join Halder. "Three of you ought to be sufficient to make Lady Piggy squeal. All you need do is get past the Bastard."

"Stay behind me," Jon said to the fat boy. Ser Alliser had often sent two foes against him, but never three. He knew he would likely go to sleep bruised and bloody tonight. He braced himself for the assault.

--

"Go inside the tent and stay with Dalla. It's not safe out here." It wouldn't be a great deal safer inside, but she didn't need to hear that.

"I need to find the midwife," Val said.

"You're the midwife. I'll stay here until Mance comes back." [...] A few of them gave Jon dark looks but Longclaw was in his hand, and no one troubled him. (Jon X, ASoS)

--

"I know what I swore." Jon said the words. "I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. Were those the same words you said when you took your vows?"

"They were. As the lord commander knows."

"Are you certain that I have not forgotten some? The ones about the king and his laws, and how we must defend every foot of his land and cling to each ruined castle? How does that part go?" Jon waited for an answer. None came. "I am the shield that guards the realms of men. Those are the words. So tell me, my lord—what are these wildlings, if not men?" (Jon XI, ADwD)

ARYA

Sansa slid off her mare, but she was too slow. Arya swung with both hands. There was a loud crack as the wood split against the back of the prince's head, and then everything happened at once before Sansa's horrified eyes. Joffrey staggered and whirled around, roaring curses. Mycah ran for the trees as fast as his legs would take him. Arya swung at the prince again, but this time Joffrey caught the blow on Lion's Tooth and sent her broken stick flying from her hands. (Sansa I, AGoT)

--

"I'm sick of carrying him, and I'm sick of all his talk about yielding too. If he could stand up, I'd knock his teeth in. Lommy's no use to anyone. That crying girl's no use either."

"You leave Weasel alone, she's just scared and hungry is all." Arya glanced back, but the girl was not following for once. Hot Pie must have grabbed her, like Gendry had told him. (Arya V, ACoK)

--

"He has no coin," mocked the fair-haired bravo. His dark-haired friend grinned and said something in Braavosi. "My friend Terro is chilly. Be our good fat friend and give him your cloak."

"Don't do that either," said the barrow girl, "or else they'll ask for your boots next, and before long you'll be naked."

"Little cats who howl too loud get drowned in the canals," warned the fair-haired bravo.

"Not if they have claws." And suddenly there was a knife in the girl's left hand, a blade as skinny as she was. The one called Terro said something to his fair-haired friend and the two of them moved off, chuckling at one another.

"Thank you," Sam told the girl when they were gone. (Samwell III, AFfC)

[acourtofsnakes]

Susulur - Rogue, Chapter 38 | The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive!F!Reader

gif: @coredrive

Summary: After Din inevitably finds you, the pair of you come to blows over your path to self-destruction.

Words: 5.2k+

Warnings: Please note, there may be potentially triggering things in this chapter: self-hate, isolation, pain, threads of depression and anxiety attacks; swearing, violence, blood, swords, punching, angst, bit of fluff at the end

A/N: Thank you to @ghostwiththemostbitch for giving this a read over for me 🥰And ooooOOo who's that at the beginning, hmmm👀

Permanent Crew: @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal @mypedrom @undiscovered-misunderstood @kaylee-krystal @queenofthefaceless @gallowsjoker @kirsteng42 @rosiefridayrogersunday @salome-c @amywritesthings @meganlpie @sgt-morgan

Din tags: @snipskixandbeskar @weirdowithnobeardo @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @kenoobiwan @sarahjkl82-blog @seninjakitey @boomtowngirl @what-iwish-you-knew @greeneyedblondie44 @itsnottilly @welcometothepedroverse @xgoldenjenny @heyitsjaybird @amyk-37 @mikariell95 @justdrawings101 @roxypeanut @drebi-san @quicksilvermad @sweetdayme4427

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Mando'a Translation: Susulur - To hear; to listen

He knew the pitch black of night, but this was different.

This darkness didn’t feel the same as before, didn’t have the same whisper that echoed in his mind.

The darkness that created him had slipped in gradually, flowed through his golden veins like ink. It had shaped him in its own image to create a prince of shadows that even Hell wouldn’t take back.

It had given him the starting blocks to make a name for himself, to trade in the title of prince, for a crown and a throne that dripped with blood and fear, to become the King of Shadows and Death.

But this darkness… This was something else.

It felt like her.

Like power and honour, edged with the wickedly sharp cut of the creature that prowled in her blood.

This darkness was hungry, eager for revenge in a way most ingenious and dangerous.

It wanted to take back what had once belonged to her.

It spread through his veins like before, but this time instead of bestowing power… It drank from him. Pulled out the threads of his very being and the husk of his soul.

The phantom claws dragged over his skin, taking his metaphorical armour away piece by piece until he was raw and exposed.

And then it pounced.

It found the centre of his power and latched on, draining him and snapping that tether that allowed him to rise above the carnage he created.

It tried to drown it, to twist it into something he could no longer control. Something that would eventually kill him and stamp out the shadows once and for all.

And it very nearly won.

But he had been born in darkness. He had died in darkness.

He hadn’t earned his name by allowing his legacy to be taken so easily.

Sure, he now bore new scars, and his power might not be entirely his own anymore… But that just served to make him more dangerous. More deadly.

After all, you can’t kill Death.

Only run from it.

“That’s enough.”

Din’s voice cut through you like your own blade had cut through the Twi-lek’s skin.

It seared through every single wall and barrier you’d crafted since you left, and it embedded itself deep in your heart.

A month and a half apart had done nothing to diminish the reaction you’d always have to him.

Tall. Imposing. Face shielded and giving nothing away, only the offering of a reflection to his enemies before he ended them.

He filled the space of the cantina door, the hard glints of his armour like individual blades trying to break through the walls that contained the pain inside your chest.

Yet you knew the softness underneath. The man that had created new robes for his son, who had wiped away your tears in the middle of the night, who had opened up his greatest secret to you.

He’d found you. Of course he had.

Not only was he arguably one of the best hunters there were, he knew you. He’d seen you at your near lowest, seen the darkness that lived inside, and he hadn’t run from you.

But he hadn’t seen this. Whatever Din thought he knew; it was nowhere near close to what hummed in your blood now.

You rose slowly to your feet, the movement fluid and feline, slick as a shadow and you watched him evenly, “What are you doing here?”

Thankfully, your voice was even and almost bored, which hid the maelstrom of emotion that was flying through your chest and head right now.

Your heart cried out for him, that rock solid comfort and support that had pulled you out of the dark so many times now, and never ever let go. You wanted to tell him how scared you were, how you felt like you’d come so far only to fall back down to the ground back where you started.

You wanted to tell him how you swore you heard whispers in a silken voice, words you couldn’t make out, but you knew who they belonged to. Even in death, even after you had conquered him, he haunted you.

But most of all, you wanted him. His love. His laughter. The way he looked at the world and had encouraged you to change your own view to something that bought more peace.

This past month and a half, you were lost. Not just to this power, but because you didn’t have your partner with you. No glinting armour at your side, no jumping in front of each other first in the face of danger – no Din.

He was your fiancé, and your soulmate, quite literally. Darasuum. Eternal. Forever.

And you tore that promise in half in a cloud of red light you still didn’t understand.

But then came that snide voice. The one that made you leave in the first place.

What if you killed the very thing you loved most in the world? What if you hurt him beyond saving. What if you killed Grogu?

The nightmares you’d been having flashed all too real in your mind, and you forced it to harden your heart as you faced him.

People began to back away, like they sensed the storm about to wreak havoc in the room and quite possibly take everyone with it.

Din stalked into the room, each step even and prowling, a warrior readying for inevitable battle, “You know why I’m here.”

You felt his gaze on you, felt the brush of him against your mind, “I’ve come to take you home.”

Those knives twisted in your heart, and you willed your face not to show that because he would pick up on it instantly, “I’m not coming back with you, Mando. Leave, I don’t need your help.” Lies. You needed it more than ever, you just couldn’t bear to take that risk.

You couldn’t be a monster, not again.

Din walked closer, not caring to look at any of the surrounding rabble, that predators gaze was fixed solely on you, and you alone, “Don’t do this, sweetheart.” He said quietly, knowing you would still be able to hear him, “Please don’t do this to us.”

The tightening of your throat was becoming too much to bear, and you shifted on your feet, yanking your knives free from the other body, “You need to leave.” Your voice wobbled just slightly, threatening those tears to fall down your cheeks, and that scarlet manifestation swarmed in you, partially opening your senses further than what you tried to reduce it to.

You could almost taste every individual emotion of the inhabitants still watching, but most of all, you could feel the anguish rolling off of your beloved fiancé.

Confusion and pain, guilt, love as always but… There was a trace of anger there too. Misguided anger, like he didn’t want to direct it at you, but he didn’t know to express it. And when you refused him, every emotion pulsed.

Din’s gloved hand suddenly shut round your wrist, startling you. You’d forgotten how quickly and silently he could move, almost bleeding into thin air when he needed to. “I’m not leaving without you.” The tension of the moment, the emotion at seeing you after so long, seeing you like this – it made the rasp of his voice rougher, and for once, you were glad you couldn’t see that beautiful face, because one look of the pain in those chocolate eyes and you’d be gone.

You took a deep, uneven breath and you pitched your voice low, “If I come with you, there’s a good chance I’ll end up killing you, the kid, and everyone else I love. So, I’m sorry if that messes with your plan, but I’m not coming.”

If you didn’t get out of this building right now, there was a high chance you were going to blow it to pieces. There was a pressure building inside your chest, spreading out to every single limb and demanding release.

Din squeezed your wrist gently, lowering his head like he could better look at your expression, brain working to figure out how to get through to you, how to break through that wall and get you home, where you belonged, and you were loved. Where you didn’t have to be alone.

Then he found it. “I’m not taking no for an answer, sweetheart. Either come with me on your own two feet, or I’ll carry you out.” His voice hardened just a little, that anger stepping forward just a bit more now.

Your head snapped up, looking at him like you hadn’t heard him right. He was seriously threatening to carry you out of here?

He wasn’t listening, was he?

How could he not see that you were trying to save him?

The air in the room tightened, like the few moments before an impending lightning strike and you yanked your hand free of Din’s wrist, “Clearly, we’ve gone back to a time where you don’t listen to me. I’m trying to tell you that bringing me home is signing both your death warrants.” Your hands curled into fists, the words cleaving your heart as they left your lips, “I’m not coming back. Leave without me, now.” The faintest flashes of lightning danced over your knuckles, a blink-and-you-miss-it moment.

Silent murmurs rose from the crowd that was trying to press into the walls, to back away from the pair of you.

Let them think whatever they wanted. It was nothing new to you, anyway.

Din lowered his hand to his hip, assessing you and then with a voice like burnt honey, “Yes. You are.” A second later, a deep hum resounding through the room as he activated the Darksaber.

You’d forgotten how darkly beautiful it was, with its ebony blade and crackling white edges that were like leashed lightning.

And you’d forgotten how Din’s natural impression of power increased ten-fold with that glow bouncing off his armour and humming in his hand.

There was a single beat of silence, like the very galaxy was holding its breath.

He was testing you.

Would you give in, come with him without trouble, knowing you were in a room full of people who would sell your secrets for a handful of credits?

Or were you that far gone, that you would reveal who you were, out of sheer stubbornness in believing he was safer without you?

You stared him down in that beat of silence, and then you reached into your cloak, behind your back and drew forward the twin hilts of your sabers, the beloved gifts from Ahsoka that seemed like a lifetime ago.

The whispers grew into a frenzy when you activated the blades, both a faint blue that was near white, just like Ahsoka’s. You’d given up trying to predict what colour they’d glow next.

You tried not to let that twist another dagger in your heart, how she hadn’t wanted you to fall down the same path as her Master had, yet it seemed like you were tiptoeing down it more and more lately.

Din’s shoulders slumped slightly when he saw how little you cared for your own safety, knowing himself that as soon as the pair of you were gone, at least half of this cantina would be calling in sightings of a Jedi in their backwater planet, about to face down with her Mandalorian.

He rolled his shoulders anyway, figuring this had to be the only way, “You really want to do this, sweetheart?”

You shrugged, your face cast in the white aura of your sabers as you lifted them into position, highlighting the pain in your eyes that you’d never be able to hide from him, “You seem determined not to listen, so I guess we are.” A spin of your wrist to twirl the sabers into the reversed grip sent the crowd jittering again, and you wasted no time in launching an attack on your fiancé.

Din must have been doing more training in your absence, because his skill with the Darksaber was cleaner and tighter than before, despite it still appearing heavy. He swung the blade up to block the blow of your own, planting his feet for balance, “Please don’t make us do this. Just talk to me. Come home, please.”

You tried to block him out, sweeping a foot round his ankles to break that balance, “For the love of the Maker, shut up. You started this; you deal with it.” Quickly, you danced back, then brought your foot up to kick his torso and send him stumbling back a few steps.

He growled softly in his throat, the Darksaber slipping momentarily like it had doubled in weight but then he had control again, “I wouldn’t have had to have started this if you’d just come home!” He grunted, parrying your next blow with the armour on his forearm, sending sparks flying, “You say I’m stubborn, but you’re just as bad.”

The eyeroll you gave him probably only served to infuriate him more as you leaned into your lightsabers, the sparks spitting everywhere as his armour began to glow, “You’re pulling your advances already, and we’ve only just begun. Too afraid to hit your fiancé?”

Din noticed your centre of gravity had shifted, and he jumped to the side, sending you falling forward, “You want me to hit you, don’t you? You want this.” His voice had flattened, like he’d realised you really were locked in that pit of self-destruction.

You staggered forward and caught your jaw on the edge of a nearby table, biting your lip which only added to the blood running down your face. Huh. You hadn’t expected that.

Lifting your sleeve to your mouth haphazardly, you laughed, back still to him, “That’s the first correct thing you’ve said since you got here.”

If he was bothered by the injury he’d caused, the fresh blood running down your chin, he didn’t show it. In fact, he’d suddenly turned incredibly silent.

You knew that silence.

It was the silence where his brain rocked over, deciding the best course of action and the possible consequences.

It was the silence that calculated risk and outcome… And then he moved just as you turned to face him once more.

He came at you, Darksaber swinging straight toward your head, and you lifted your own sabers almost a beat too late, crossing them over to stop him cleaving you in half.

You stared up at his face in the stark glow, the visor of his helmet different, imposing this time.

He wasn’t pulling his attacks anymore.

This was the Hunter. The Mandalorian that had chased you through the forest what seemed like forever ago.

This was real.

It all flashed through your head in an instant, and you snarled slightly, ducking to bring his Darksaber down and you leapt back, up onto a chair and then a table, flinging a hand to send him flying across the floor.

You didn’t give him a chance to recover, running across the rickety stone tables, smashing cups and plates and you leapt over the heads of the bystanders onto his shoulders, wrapping your legs round his neck to cut off his air.

Admittedly, it was an effort. The plates of his armour dug into your skin, but you didn’t let up.

He was giving you the fight you asked for, and a part of you thrived in the routine you two had always danced so well.

Din grunted, shifting to your weight on him and he quickly ran backwards, slamming your back into the wall and pushing your legs from his throat.

Asshole.

You choked, your broken ribs fiercely protesting the blow to them, and it stunned you for a few seconds with a sensation like glass churning in your chest.

Din had already spun, punching your ribs again with a blow that took you to your knees with a sharp cry of agony.

He really wasn’t holding back, was he?

Little did you know, the sounds of your pain tore straight through him, ripping deep claws into heart and whispering horrible comments into his ear - but it was the only way he knew he could get through to you.

As soon as you went down, sabers disarming on the way, he kicked them from your grip, levelling the ebony blade of the Darksaber to the side of your throat, “Give up, cyar'ika. Just come home.” His voice broke on the end of the word, a plea for you to stop hurting each other, to stop hurting yourself.

You stared at him, panting shallowly to try and get a breath in through the bands round your ribs and the flashes in your vision.

Silence prevailed, seconds ticking by as everyone watched and waited to see what you’d do.

You slowly rose back to your feet, keenly aware of the softly vibrating blade inches from your throat.

Eyes still on Din, you slipped your cloak from your shoulders, ignoring the pulses of agony in your body.

You didn’t just take Haran’s power that night.

You wanted something to remember, a physical loss he’d feel as badly as his diminished abilities.

Reaching over your shoulder, you curled your bloody fingers around the golden hilt, and drew the previously hidden sword.

As soon as you freed it from its sheath, the engraved blade sucked up every drop of light from its immediate vicinity, including the pulsing glow of the Darksaber.

You felt your own Force link shimmer in warning at the ancient blade, said to steal the Force energy of any living being it sliced through.

Din flinched imperceptibly, his grip wavering and you could see the fight in his arm to keep the saber held up, “You took his sword.” His voice was quiet, stunned.

You gave him a smile that didn’t reach your eyes, the tip of that sword level with his own throat now, “He took everything from my childhood. It’s only fair I take something else that belongs to him in return.”

His head tilted ever so slightly, and you knew the frown that would have settled over those dark eyes, “Something else?” You could hear it in the gruffness of his voice, the undertone of alertness. This was a vital piece of information you’d just given him, something that might answer his worries.

For the first time, you truly felt hesitation.

What if you just told him? Told him the thought that had been sneaking around the back of your head since you’d escaped the ship?

It would all be over, you could go home, you could escape this cage you had to make.

But what if you hurt them?

A careless shrug lifted your shoulders, looking a lot more casual than it truly was, “This attempt at distraction won’t work, Lori.” Each breath still felt like glass, each second in his presence chipping away at your resolve. You had to wrap this up quick, or you wouldn’t be able to control yourself much longer.

You swung the sword toward him again, at the exact same time he swung for you and the resulting clash of the plasma blade on Haran’s sword sent reverberations up your arm, with a noise like a thunderclap.

It was like a pulse of pure energy erupted from that point of contact, flinging you backward into the tables, and Din against the bar.

The bartender seemed to have regained a spine since you started the brawl with the males, because he leapt up onto the bar, brandishing a blaster, “Enough!!! No more, out with you! Destroy my cantina anymore and you’ll be paying the damages.” He levelled his blaster directly at you, but his hand trembled.

You looked over your shoulder, grinning at him with your bloodstained teeth, so it looked like more of a snarl, “Try it, I dare you.” You twirled the ancient sword in one hand, raising the other and you twitched your fingers, sending a little wave of Force energy into him, enough that he almost stumbled off the bar.

Unfortunately, that distraction cost you.

Because Din had suddenly regained his footing from the ruined barstools, and then his arms were wrapping round you, sweeping you into his arms. “We’re done here.”

You yelped, more surprised than anything, “For the love of – Put me down!!” You kicked and punched at his body, aiming toward the uncovered parts of your body but he just held you in such a way that you couldn’t reach him. 

He stooped to scoop up your sabers, attaching them to his belt and then stalked from the cantina and out into the mysteriously quiet night, “No. You’re a danger to yourself, and to others. You need to calm down.” That flat voice was back, impassive, almost cold.

“What did you just say?”

Din didn’t even flinch, he just carried on walking in the general direction of the Razor Crest, “You heard me. If I hadn’t stopped you, you would have ripped apart everyone in that bar. And you might think I don’t know you anymore, but I know you wouldn’t be able to live with killing those people.”

Your jaw locked up as his words cut a little too close, “Stop, Din.” There was no one around, so using his name was safe. “Enough.”

He merely shifted you slightly over his shoulder, his arm held firm on the backs of your knees, ‘You think you’re saving everyone by going on this solo mission of self-destruction, but all you’re doing is hurting yourself.” He turned a corner, “Tell me, have you slept at all the last month and a half?”

Now, you flinched. You pushed at his back, trying to shift your weight to slide down his front, “Have you?” Deflecting, anything to stop the maelstrom about to burst forth from your chest.

But Din was relentless as always, knowing he’d find his way in, “You promised me you wouldn’t leave. That you would stay with us.” He paused, like he was debating whether or not to say the next sentence, but he did, his voice lowering, “You’re not him.”

You snarled again, having had enough. You sucked in a breath, brow furrowing, and you pushed at him with the Force this time, making him trip and subsequently move his hands to protect your head in the downfall, just like you knew he would.

You were out of his grip before he even hit the ground, jumping to your feet and you pointed that sword at him once more, “Don’t you dare say anything like that again. Don’t even put my name and his in the same sentence.” Fury pulsed hot in your veins, overriding the impending breakdown and you didn’t even feel the pain in your ribs anymore.

Din rose slowly to his knees, legs slightly parted as he rested back on his feet and he stared up at you, completely at your mercy for the time being, “Why? You think you’re like him, don’t you? You think this power, this energy, it’s turning you into him. The thoughts in your head, the reason you’ve been away.”

Now he rose, voice getting stronger even though his heart was pounding, and he felt physically sick.

The sword tremored in your hand, breathing getting even quicker, coming in faster, more staccato pants, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” The bite to your words was vicious, but even you could hear the waver.

Din pounced on that weakness like the skilled hunter he was, moving towards you, “I’m right, aren’t I? That’s why you disappeared. You think you’ll hurt us, that you could even kill us.”

Your body moved before your brain caught up, dropping the sword into the dusty ground and pounding his chest with your fists, not even bothering to find the fleshy parts, “Stop it. Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up!!!” Fresh blood bloomed from your already raw knuckles, spreading across the chest plate of his armour and it filled your vision, red like your power, red like the blood you’d spilt over and over.

He stood there and took it, holding rigid against your pummelling, “Just open up to me, please. Please, mesh’la. Everything we’ve been through, everything we’ve faced together… Don’t shut me out. I love you, no matter what. No matter what happened, what you’ve done. I could never not love you.” He lowered his voice to that tone that always cut through your bullshit and your defences, “Let me in. Let me help you.”

One second.

Two seconds.

Three.

And then the fight went out of your body, that final part of you shattering and a frustrated, anguished sob broke free of your chest, “You have no idea what I’ve been going through, Din.”

You stopped fighting him, going limp against his torso, “You saw that forest I decimated on your way here. I did that. I did that with this stupid power I don’t understand, and I don’t want. I destroyed all of it because I couldn’t get it under control. I killed everyone on that Cruiser.”

You lifted your hands to your face, resting them on the front of Din’s shoulder, “All I do is hurt people… And I don’t want to be alone anymore. I don’t want to be this monster anymore.” You whispered the last line, your sobs overcoming you and it all just hurt too much.

Too much confusion, too much raging emotion, too much of everything. You’d destroyed it all, everything you’d worked so hard to build and now you hated yourself more than anything.

Din’s hands gently guided you further into him, until your body was pressed irrevocably close to his. However, he didn’t stop there, like he knew you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself up, so instead he sunk to the ground and brought you with him.

He cradled you into the cold press of his armour, wrapping his arms around you and resting his head on yours, even though you were mere metres from the ramp of his ship.

You curled over, trying to burrow your way into his armour like it would shield you from yourself, “I worked so hard. I tried so hard to get to a place where I was happy with myself, where I knew I wouldn’t hurt anyone and now I’m right back where I started. I have a power I don’t understand and can’t control, I could hurt you or Grogu or anyone just by looking at you, and…” You cut yourself off, unsure how to explain the next bit without sounding… Well. Crazy.

Din was a solid force of nature beneath you, standing strong in the storm no matter what, “And?” His voice was soft, gently encouraging you with one hand gently resting over your broken ribs, and the other stroking through your tangled hair. “Say it, sweetheart… Whatever it is.”

The lump in your throat was still there, even when you swallowed but you forced the words out around it, even though they tasted bitter and confusing, “I killed him.” It was quiet at first.

“Haran?”

You nodded slightly, “He… Even though back then his words were vile, what they made me nearly do… He was there from the moment I lost my family. However dark he was, whatever his motivations… He was still there.” You tensed, hating the way these next words would sound, “He understood better than anyone what this, this thing is inside me. And now…”

Din nodded softly, slowly working out your tangles, “Now you don’t know how to explain it. You feel like… Because he was neither Dark or Light, you could explain to him how it made you feel and there would be no judgment from it.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he gave your hair a gentle tug, “Stop. I know what you’re going to say and that’s not what I meant. I don’t believe for once second that you doubt our trust in you, it’s just that it’s easier to explain dark thoughts to someone who’s done even darker things… Right?”

Huh.

That was everything you’d been trying to say, summed up in a few words by the Mandalorian. By your Din.  

“Yeah… Yeah, that’s exactly it.” You slowly lifted your head from his neck, gazing up into the visor, picturing his eyes beneath and you cupped the edge of it, “How did you manage to put all of that into words, and I couldn’t?”

Din chuckled softly, that husky, soft laugh and he took his hand from your hair in order to brush away your tears with the back of his finger, “You forgot, sweetheart. I know you. All of you.” He tilted his head slightly, tracing his knuckle along your jawline and then rested his hand where your neck met your shoulder.

A bone-deep shudder ran down your spine at the brush of the worn leather gloves, the weight of his hand on your skin. You hadn’t been warm since you ran, and just that single press of his hand, the body against yours… You were just starting to feel warm again.

He watched you as you settled yourself, fingers absently trailing over his armour and then he coaxed gently, “Ahsoka told me about Order Sixty-Six, and about the fall of her Master. I won’t pretend to know exactly how those Jedi must have felt, how you’ve felt your whole life… I’ve never done that. I never could understand it like that but… You’re not alone in that feeling, cyar'ika. You always have me, but you have Ahsoka too. She was right there when it all happened, and I know she’ll never think any less of you for it.”

Tears pricked the backs of your eyes again as you listened to his words, his ever-present willingness to understand and support you, and remind you how loved you were.

For a man who said nothing when you first met him, you’d learned over time then what he did say was always thought out. Always meaningful.

You took a breath, leaning into his touch, “I know… And I’ll never be able to explain how grateful I am for you, for everyone. I guess I just… Still thought that me not being there would keep you safe.” You slid your hand up to his wrist, brushing your fingertips over the patch of skin over his pulse, “I’m still terrified of hurting you.”

Din hummed softly, leaning in to rest his forehead on yours, “You never could, sweetheart. You could never hurt me.” Then it was like you felt his lips twitch, “Besides, I could take you easily.”

You gasped playfully, pulling your head back and you raised an eyebrow at him, “So not true!! Did you forget the fight we just had there?”

He raised his head again, that cocky tone in his voice, “Oh, you mean the fight were I sent you to the floor multiple times?” He brushed his knuckle just under your split lip again, “I am sorry about this, by the way.”

You nipped the tip of his gloved finger, “Yeah, yeah. You can make it up to me by giving me a massage later.” An innocent, goofy smile lifted your lips and you beamed at him.

Din stared at you, then gave that achingly familiar long-suffering sigh, “You’re lucky I love you, you know that?” He helped you up, looping an arm around your shoulders, “Let’s get you fixed up, there’s someone who’s about to break out in a rash if he doesn’t get to see you soon.” There was an underlying urgency to his tone, that you needed to get out of here now, considering you’d both broadcasted who you were to a bunch of criminals who had most likely already called it in.

You walked up the ramp with Din, something easing in your chest now as you heard Grogu’s impatient but happy coos. And then, when you were promptly attacked by a tiny body, sticky fingers and floppy ears, you felt like you were home once again, and maybe you hadn’t slipped so far after all. You could come back from this.

Right?

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[pigeonwit]

for the fic title:

“stitching loose threads in my soul (in the morning, i’m bulletproof)”

i love noah kahan and long fic titles so here ya go <33 have fun !!

- @we-are-inevitable ✨

... okay look i know the majority of people are here for newsies and i do love newsies very much but oh my god this is so david frances coded. it really is. i can't help it i'm sorry-

in my head i'm thinking of this like a 5+1 - 5 times david had to force himself to be brave + 1 time he didn't need to be. the first time is right before 'confederate fag', when david arrives late and needs to hype himself up before going back to school after his suicide attempt. he's been outside school for way too long, he tries texting brody to no response, and he looks up to see that fucking flag waving above him like it's mocking him - so he tears it right down and spray-paints it, because it's his now, and his life is his now and everyone who has a problem with it can get fucked.

the second time takes place with the group at the creek before billie and brody find them all; peaches and david are talking about the plan to move to LA while mouse makes daisy crowns. david obviously wants to get the fuck out of winchester creek, but his whole life has been stuck in this fucking town for years, and i do think there'd be a piece of him beneath the idealism that's scared the whole world is just one big winchester creek with no place for him in it. but then billie and brody show up, tell him about their plan on how to keep brody from getting outed, and wow, it turns out the jock who spent his whole life in the closet and the cheerleader who's never taken a stand in her life are braver than he is. billie shows him how to shoot the gun - he's scared, of course he is, because he knows how dangerous this thing is, but he can't help but be enamoured by it. and he's anxious to shoot it, laughing awkwardly when he gets it wrong. but billie's guiding him around the trigger and showing him how to shoot straight, and he can do it. he can. and then all their phones start blowing up, especially brody's - and he's terrified, because everything that happened to him is happening all over again. but billie's handing him the gun and saying 'this keeps us safe', and he has to believe it's true.

the third time is after mouse gets attacked. brody's been outed, david's been thrown under the bus, the money's gone, billie's in jail and mouse is hurt. mouse, his friend, his brother, the little kid he watched grow up and swore would never be as scared as david was to exist. and it's all closing in - their escape plan is gone, they're all stuck here in danger forever with no way out, brody's information was given to a conversion camp, everyone is even more furious and hateful towards all of them and none of them can do anything as mouse gets attacked in broad daylight. and david wants so badly to be scared, to break down and cry, but he can't. because he's the dreamer, and he's always failed them once. so when mouse says their piece about it being 'a hard rite of passage for weird boys in small towns', david wants to be proud of them - but he's just furious with himself that he's let another weird boy get beaten. so he's going to do something about it. he has to.

the fourth time is his thought process before and after 'saint david', starting with him on his knees in front of ms banks as she asks him how can he expect anything else than what he got when he insists on rocking the boat. he has to have something wrong with him that makes him thrive on people hating him. he has to. and she's telling him it won't last, that someday he's going to look at himself in shame and hide himself all over again, and he can't let that be true. so he forces himself to be brave, to be a saint, to martyr himself if it means shielding every other queer kid in town from what he went through. so he takes billie's gun and he goes to find kelly, because what other choice does he have? he has to be brave now. for him and everyone else.

the fifth time is during the standoff, when he's holding the gun at kelly and feeling power for the first time. he could actually save someone here. kelly's the ringleader, she's the one who keeps them tormented. if she's gone, it's safer. people know they can't just push them around anymore. mouse won't get beaten up in the hallways. maybe billie will still be able to go to college. he can do this. but then billie's there, begging him not to do it, telling him there's no reason to, and all he can do is scream at her to shut up, just shut up, because he knows. he knows there's no reason to kill kelly. he knows it won't solve anything. but he is so tired. he's so fucking tired. he can't take this anymore. but billie's taking his hand, telling him that this won't end anything for him, that he deserves to live his life as beautiful or as ugly as he wants - and david's so scared of that, of never getting that life even when he tries for it, of the thought that there really, truly is something wrong with him that he can never get away from. but he listens. he puts the gun down. he has to keep trying. trying to be brave. trying to believe his life is worth living.

and then the time david doesn't have to be brave at all; this would be after the events of the show, including the final scene at the pride parade. the group is all back at the creek, breaking their 'once a year, anytime, anyplace, anywhere but winchester creek' rule for the first time. david's just walked through his shitty home town in a skirt and a t-shirt that reads 'gay-boy' and he's still kind of reeling over it. billie's passed the bar. peaches is sleeping on her girlfriend's shoulder, because she can actually sleep now. brody, the jock he used to fucking despise, is wearing a shirt that says 'himbo' on it. and mouse is twenty-two, four years into testosterone and still making little crowns out of daisies. and they tie that crown on david's head, and it's like they're kids again, except not, because mouse has a rat-stache that they absolutely refuse to shave and the scars on david's wrists are pale pink instead of angry red and there's nothing in his head except for the sound of frogs and a crown of daisies and he's fine. he's totally fine. he doesn't need to be brave anymore. because he's fine.

... i think the post you made said 'SHORT synopsis' jac but. i don't care this is my blog and i am god here. sorry it's not newsies, i just really love billie the kid with all my heart and i want to write something for it SO bad and when i saw the quote the ideas just started coming and wouldn't stop. but if you want to send in another or have me re-do this for newsies just let me know and i can!!!

[vanvelding]

Star Trek: Picard Final Spoilers

Below the cut

Who had "Jack Crusher with the power of love" in the pool?

.***.

Borg Queen: "Watch. Your future's end."

.***.

The Enterprise-D is fucking cash money for such an "antiquated old ship":

-Immediately finds the Borg super-cube in Jupiter when every ship passing through Sol for YEARS couldn't.

-Takes out the point defenses of the Borg super-cube in one volley (remember when The Borg had tractor beams?)

-Star Trek XIV: Jupiter Drift

.***.

Worf didn't die. I thought for a moment, but they didn't. They just made him more badass. If nothing else, this season treated Worf with the disrespect we expect of TNG, but otherwise pretty fucking well.

.***.

"What did you do to him?" Motherfucker, she did the one thing Borg do to him.

.***.

"Man, it's easy to reverse assimilation by killing the Borg Queen." I know; it's a new type of assimilation except for when Picard jammed an assimilation tube into himself--which I guess is a thing now--and then when Jack took it out he...deassimilated himself.

.***.

Data: "The Borg super-cube has powered down its weapons and lowered its shields."

Picard: "That's an invitation."

Borg communication: "To the approaching vessel, if Will Riker is on board, we surrender. Otherwise, resistance is futile."

.***.

Lrrr, of Omicron Persei 8: "Why does the Queen not simply destroy the ship and crew which have stymied the Borg at every turn?"

.***.

I talk a lot of shit about this show, but Shaw's "The rules she breaks were probably broken anyway..." Actually good television. I'm not sure when he recorded that, but I choose to believe it's before they left spacedock.

.***.

We didn't get the Worf versus Borg Elnor fight. I...I didn't realize how much I was anticipating that.

.***.

I can't get over how this show uses blood and death and trauma to pose as mature, but erects a protective field around its main characters that would make a golden age comic blush. It's elitist trash at its core, especially when it goes all-in on making the Gary Stu that dwarfs Wesley Crusher and Picard II into the captain's assistant and Q's most special boy.

.***.

I thought for a moment, "It would be stupid and lazy and so unoriginal if they gave us an MCU-style teaser at the end of--OH GOD THAT'S Q THOSE IDIOTS DID FINALLY DID IT. DAMN YOU ALL TO HELL!"

.***.

The thing with Seven and the Titan finding a way to buy time cleverly integrated so many things that had been set up in the series. It was legitimately enjoyable to watch and well-executed. The cloak didn't even fail first, which it usually does.

.***.

No Janeway. I thought we'd get Janeway. I don't have any strong feelings about this one way or the other.

.***.

Was joking about Chekov showing up (or Chekov's son? Grandson? I'm not really sure what was up with that except it was cringeworthy fanservice). I'm happy Walter was cut a check and finally canonized into the TNG-era.

.***.

This isn't a comment on the show, but Geordi if you're going to order a woman to blow up the core of a ship which is going to her kill son and baby-daddy, maybe...just do it yourself. Be graceful dude.

.***.

When I talk about "jerking off until your dick falls off," I mean going straight to the Enterprise-G when we just saw the Enterprise-F. Why show the Enterprise-F when it's going to get immediately sidelined and replaced.

Also, renaming the Titan to Enterprise erases the accomplishments and history of the Titan. I don't even care about the Titan, but that's fucked.

.***.

So what the fuck is wrong with me???

.***.

.***.

It's cute how we end on a poker scene reminding us that we've ended up exactly where we were 30 years ago, except Picard has a son. We get these huge stakes and then...poof it's like none of it ever happened. I wouldn't care if the stakes weren't so pretentiously, pointlessly high.

This is why I quit reading comics. World changing stakes once a year that...get referenced but culturally forgotten pretty soon. None of it really matters because we're computer-generating a Borg cube bigger than the last one to convince you simpletons this story is better than the last one because the odds against our heroes are larger. How could they ever get out of--they got out of it again with no consequence and no lasting effects. Status quo antebellum.

[machinesandman]

Mirror Mirror

Everything had been culminating together, slowly at first, but then speed had begun to pick up and twist together far more violently. Now so many events and things were starting to come into a head. Blues had expected as much might start happening. While it had taken a lot longer of a time for things to actually start falling apart, history has a way of repeating it’s self. Even if people learn from it, there are still certain factors that will play a role.

He needed to blow off steam, as someone might tell him. But he also wanted information. And how better to gather that than by taking extreme measures.

The eldest of the Robot Masters huffed too himself, having been working some of this frustration out on poor bastards of Mavericks. Taking them out before they even had a chance to become a problem, efficient. All the while hacking each and every one of them wirelessly, taking bits and pieces of information. More than enough.

They were always so damn messy, these new age robotics. Reploids. Oil and coolant everywhere from the simplest injuries. Too close akin for humanlike in his opinion. But they were not as usually spry, not so energized. Usually these sorts of things would have more of a fight in them and last at least a little longer while Blues was toying with them, not unlike a predator would with it’s prey, a cat with a mouse.

This was... Needless to say, like a child breaking a glass toy.

Something had already had them softened up. They had been escaping something else. Blues didn’t hesitate to move deeper in this little hide away old store house, far on the edge of the city.

Scans and attention picked up on something then, and it was not a Reploid, Maverick or Hunter. That was a much older registry, but one that was unknown too him. He did not like that...

Rounding another corner, buster primed with shield held up in skilled motion, his gaze found the culprit that had his concern and curiosity. Someone standing at about 5′8″, 5′9″. Holding up a maverick by the skull with one hand, slowly crushing it under the strength of those fingers and their armor. Sending a splash of coolant and metal chunks across the stone floor. Body released to drop in a useless heap. The figure turning their head just enough to be seen front on. Female in build, albeit just slight.

Grey body suit, darker than his own just slightly. Armor nearly identical, but faded purples rather than vibrant reds. Sections of it seeming to have rusted, but did nothing to remove any of it’s functional durability, scanners showed that much. The helmet however, was an eerie identical match on his own, but with a full facial mask section of a vent, or breather. With what seemed like strange bumps on top. Like smaller versions of Tango’s audials.

It was like looking in a twisted mirror. Blues hated it. Something else mirroring himself, not unlike those failed copies of him before. What the hell was this failed mockery? It wasn’t a Reploid, scans showed that much. It was built like a Robot Master, but had a far different density. And no network connection. Was this an old model that had been a failed clone, just now alive? Why had no one heard of this or found it? Already in fractions of sections he was demanding over the network. No one had any idea, and each one of them was more confused than the last.

Buster aimed, charge held. “Identify yourself.” His voice was strained, barely holding self control at the moment. This was not some sad pitiful copy, or a trashable sniper joe. No, this thing had skill, obviously. And he wanted to know who tried to make something like this. Every single scan he was making came back with more questions than answers. Density higher than most of them, perhaps arguably closer with Guts or Hard. The power source signal was not like others, it was something hybrid and questionable at best. But the signal... That was scrambled and behind so many layers of encryption.

The other stayed silent, just staring at him. The coolant covered hand slowly lowering, while their other arm shifted. Becoming a buster, but it’s barrel was longer. Armor of it was seemingly stretched. Silvery. Now that was an even older fashioned design. How was this unit functional?

It took one step back, counter scanning himself. Blues could feel it. And then it decided to try and query him. And he sure as fuck wasn’t having that. Instead the firewall blockade went up, which forced the other unit to yank it’s connective instinct away like it had been burned. Immediately the grey and purple one had shifted stance. Defensive. “A unit of no importance, Proto Man. Designation deleted.”

She realized the mistake the moment it left her mouth as the others buster went off. Barely managing to shift dodge herself too the right as the shot rushed past her left. Shit. She needed to leave, now. Get some space, less insulated, and activate that teleport matrix.

Then she felt it. The hack.

Blues had engaged a wireless invasion and was ripping through layer after layer of encryption, firewalls getting shoved through by force. And immediately the female look alike was on the counter, rapidly throwing up far greater defenses and harder scrambled code. Devoting an entire processor into this endeavor. All while the physical world had her lifting that buster, shifting it’s data output into heat, and unleashing two plasma shots. Blues bringing his shield to block. It didn’t damage himself or the protective barrier, but the impact was hard enough to shift him a couple inches on the floor. What the fuck, that sort of power shouldn’t exist anymore.

There wasn’t a seconds chance for a third shot, as Blues rushed forwards, shifting the shield downwards instead to act as a battering ram with it’s edge. This forced the other look alike to rapidly rush backwards to avoid it, buster lifting towards the ceiling instead. This gave Blues the opening he wanted.

Shield vanished, now free hand snapping out to grab onto the others forearm and their coolant stained glove. Grip tight enough to dent the metal, but only barely- he should be doing more damage. But the durability was not something to be ignored. So he took the chance for a counter, and experiment. Yanking that arm sideways with the full body strength he possessed. But it wasn’t has sharp or hard as it should have been, yet enough to cause momentum in a forward throw. Sending this other bot crashing through a stone wall. Which it had immediately broken in with little effort.

That weight it had was more than the usual Robot Master. Like something older builds would have had before being finalized or upgraded into something far more viable. Was this thing just meant fur sheer durability and output? That gave Blues an edge. He’d be more capable of handling maneuvers. And stay standing on more rickety spaces.

A few steps forwards then, moving through the open wall, he saw the other unit standing up with barely a dent. A few scratches on the armor, but the casual way that the female design brushed off the debris like it was nothing confirmed just what he had already assumed and figured.

The entire time, these rapid passing moments, the mystery unit was matching him move by move within the hacking and counter hacking space. As if they were designed for this, knew just what the other might be made of. And it was jarring, incredibly uncomfortable, for him to be doing this. He was going to have no choice but engage his new counter protocols. Nothing had needed it thus far, it was just a precaution. But the event here had become different.

Data languages shifted, Blues giving two processor’s worth of hacking more space, as an alternate set of data streamed in. As suspected, the purple and grey Robot immediately stood ram rod straight, the buster whirring in panic as it took several steps back. The scrambling of forcing up firewall after firewall to block him from deeper systems only telling him what he needed to know.

It had no network call. No back up, nothing to assist in this offensive of the minds. Although what he could glean was how it was rapidly learning. Starting ton figure out how he was doing this and slowly managing to keep him back, just barely. But only from key functions. No forceful shut down it would seem. Pity. He’d have to take them down physically, which shouldn’t be a problem.

He didn’t have to charge this time, as the enemy came at him. But he did not expect that sort of speed! Jerking left as he dodged a punch from that free hand. Before there could be a delivered counter, this unit swung their leg out, and struck him hard in the chest, getting a grunt. Boosters on the bottom of the boot engaged, and he was sent skidding backwards, bottom of his armored boots screeching across concrete floor. The armor and suit he wore burnt slightly, but otherwise he was perfectly fine. Just impressed, and angered, that this doppleganger had that sort of strength.

It jumped back, to gain more distance. Smoke and dust slowly cleaning. Black lenses covered eyes staring each other down. Blues felt his power surging, shifting his stance slightly as he began to gather data. Those firewalls couldn’t block everything, and it was starting to show. He was getting more details. Durability tests, construction date, power output, and the identification number- or lack there of.

Wait, no. This wasn’t right. This was impossible-

The enemy was charging their buster then, having raised it now. Their free hand grabbing onto the barrel and bracing their feet. That... That looked eerily family. Oh he hated it. Hated it! Blues grit his teeth as his core burned, his own buster lifted while taking it’s charge. But he was back logging a secondary one, ready for a dual blast.

The open room they stood in silence. One eye of his starting to gleam, glow under the visor, green giving it’s self out. While his enemy seemingly had the same, but in gold. Two yellow eyes shining in empty emotion, impossible to see inside that helmet.

First blasts were unleashed simultaneously. The sudden heat in the room skyrocketing as these two shots whistled through the air, and collided. Creating a massive explosion and the sound shaking the room, rattling steel beams and shaking weakening supports, ash and smoke falling around them in the wake of this after math. Impressive power...

But the moment that there was the clear visual, the other unit not even phased by this after event, was when Blues smirked. He suddenly locked in his second saved blast, buster screeching loudly as he brought it once more into full power. Much to his enemies surprise. They tried to move, but it was barely fast enough. His second buster shot unleashing it’s self without any hindrance or waiting. Blues no longer had any issues with keeping charged powers or over clocking any parts. He no longer needed to worry. As a result, his combat prowess was more devastating than it ever had been before.

It tore through metal support pillars of the room, and straight out the back wall. Destroying a massive chunk. The target had managed to avoid most of the blast, but it had trashed some of their shoulder, and a small section of helmet. Just enough to see a fraction of face and hair- Hair identical too his own. Face pale, golden eye with visual gears and wiring. Facial lines, like that of a doll.

It stared at him in shock, no coolant or oil falling, but sparks flying. And then, it looked at the hole in the wall. And bolted for it. Blues hot on their tail- But then... Teleportation engaged, sending this unknown unit gods knows where. The grey beam of light noting their departure. And he couldn’t track it either, and unknown signal.

Damn...

Blues calmed his systems, engaging the cooling. The anger and frustration running deep in him. Already he was flipping through what little he had gotten, saving it into a separate file within his mental faculties along with various recorded data and brief photo shots of this enemy unit.

Designation: DLWN-TST. A shifting buster status, capable of changing it’s blaster shots prowess. No copy functionality. Unknown designation. Unknown reason for build. Built in teleport matrix. Hacking on par with his own. Rapid learning AI. Constructed earlier than his own activation date. The schematics were barely complete, he couldn’t get it all. But enough to know this thing was more durable than it god damn should be. And the weight... It was higher than one of that size should be. Not something, or someone, he knew about. Didn’t even know it’s name, if it even had one.

Was this from somewhere else? Or did it originate from here? He needed more information.

One thing was certain: Blues would not let this thing abscond a second time. He now knew what it was capable of.

[crystalelemental]

Unit Teambuilding - Thunderbolt Red

Here’s a question: at what point has a unit gone too far?

General Overview I imagine this was the kind of discussion that happened the last time Red showed up during an anniversary, packing a four-gauge death attack that had never been seen before, and literally could not miss, while packing perfectly optimized self setup because fuck you.  I imagine plenty of people considered this way too far, especially as the game continued and newer options continued to not perform nearly as well.

But in the modern meta, we have four-bar moves constantly.  Everyone with lower accuracy has either Piercing Gaze or accuracy buffs.  Immediate self-setup has been a thing for exactly a year now, and plenty who aren’t immediate have very clear three-turn setup phases before nuking.  Zones have introduced several types to field multipliers.  We’ve had monsters like Archie and Maxie and SS Lusamine get powercrept in recent times.  It feels really hard to break a unit now, and yet even some of the best out there will still want some kind of support to make it work.  Even the most self-sufficient tend to be in need of something.

So I guess the only place left to go was here.

Thunderbolt Red is perfect.  I mean that in every way that matters.  Electric Terrain extension was already absurd, but they decided to pack into that same passive an acceleration of move gauge effect, and Gradual Healing just in case.  They decided he would cap offensive needs in one turn, but just have a passive to always crit, outside of “certain conditions.”  Which means Vigilance and Crit Shield, the former of which doesn’t matter because the only attack he’ll ever be choosing, Volt Tackle, has Piercing Blows.  And Extend Range.  Oh, and Sundering 9 but better because it guaranteed debuffs both defenses, something  only seen before on Knight Diantha, who needed to take up two passives to accomplish, but he takes 0.  It’s just part of the move.  His Buddy move, to be specific.  So like the other two, it needs a condition and has limited us-what’s that?  Oh, it’s unlimited use and the condition is Electric Terrain?  Which he sets up via move or Max Move, and extends the duration to effectively double time?  Well okay, but surely the move isn’t that-150BP, and only costs two gauges.

What is the point of me talking about Thunderbolt Red here?  What do you give to the man who has everything?  What can a mortal being possible offer to a god?  They have given him every single tool that matters.  Every gimmick and every trick that’s been introduced in like the last year feels like it’s on this guy somewhere.  And he does it all at comparable damage output, with better gauge management, and with zero need for any support.  There are already dozens of posts of this Red solo-ing off-type and off-region content.  What do you do with that?  How do you recommend teams for something that literally cannot lose?

Team 1: T!Red, N, Hilbert Did you know Red has Precision Pals on his Electric Terrain?  So apparently, he also fixes up N’s accuracy.  Just because.  I will say though, this is the only Electric-type team I’m recommending.  In large part, this is because...any damage dealer of Electric-type damage is doing worse than Red.  Like, if you want to dual-Electric comp it, just run him with Ash and let Ash explode a stage.  Not that Red couldn’t do it by himself, but you get the idea.

Team 2: T!Red, Aura Cynthia, Tech Farfetch’d Red gets -3 cooldown for using a Max Move.  With Head Start, that means first sync a turn early.  On top of everything else he gets to do, he can fast ramp.  Trainer move caps his attack, Cynthia caps team defenses, Max Move, Cynthia provides the head start, go.  It’s completely free.  Farfetch’d is here for Leer debuffs, because it’s not like Red doesn’t do that himself while also dealing 150BP damage with no AoE penalty.

Final Thoughts I have nothing.  Honestly, even these recommendations feel pointless.  Why bring N to a fight with T!Red?  Red’s objectively better than him, and can do it without him.  You don’t even need the Piercing Blows, because Red does that, but also AoE without penalty and also he debuffs.  How do you build a team for a unit who is literally better than anyone else you could possibly partner them with?  The only thing this Red “needs” is a meatshield to absorb attacks, and apparently even that isn’t strictly necessary, given how many people are soloing content with him.  What do you do with this?  What is the point?  He’s an independent win button.

Like, remember how Archie and Maxie were instant win buttons, but then Gauntlet kinda slowed them down a lot due to limitations of not being able to actively choose when to set weather, and not having great sync damage to erase a stage?  Yeah, this is that, but without any of those flaws.  T!Red chooses when to set his terrain, and has an absurd tech sync nuke to back it all up.  There is literally nothing this unit cannot do, and it is so boring.  I’m so bored talking about Red.  I’m done with this guy.  Come back in a few weeks when I have something interesting to talk about.

[sacred-stanning]

Chapter 5: Lucky Sister

This chapter starts with Eirika visiting a town that was formerly the border between her kingdom of Renais and the Grado Empire.

We get a small cutscene where this handsome chap with a hat shows up.

And then we find out that Grado is looking for some sister from the church who is suspected of being a spy.

By the way, Cormag is "Koogaa", or "Cougar" maybe.

And then we run into this guy who is surely a random dude who won't be important later, and neither will the girl with blue hair that he is searching for.

Here are my unit choices for this map. This was a hard one. I'm forced to bring Natasha even though she is just worse Moulder and I don't need her. For real, what kind of GBA second healer doesn't have a horse???

I decided to leave Vanessa behind, even though I love her and want to keep using her, just because of the unit limit. There are a bunch of archers that make it hard for her to move around, and also a lot of axe units that she does poorly against.

And I brought Garcia instead of Ross since Ross is still kind of squishy, and I wanted someone else who could maybe take a hit. But maybe I overthought it. I am going to invest in Ross from here on out, so I probably won't be using Garcia longterm.

Here's the map. Lots of houses to visit! There will be some bandit reinforcements. And there is a skinny "second path" on the left that I will send Franz up. It's a kill boss map, but I plan to kill every last one of them™.

Step one: Garcia goes to visit the house at the bottom.

You can see that Eirika and Franz are also set up to intercept enemies above. Seth is moving right to intercept some reinforcements who haven't appeared yet, and Natasha goes with him since she's the one who needs to talk to Joshua to recruit him.

Franz gets a decent level up when the guy above attacks him.

Eirika doesn't finish off the axe guy, so things are looking like this at the beginning of turn 2. The two axe guy reinforcements to the right have appeared already.

Lute makes roast bandit.

LUTE!!!

And Garcia gets to the house at the bottom and encounters a dancer.

She gives us a dragon shield! Yeah!

So then we set up for the next turn. Franz is going to go up the left side on his own. He doesn't need any help. Seth is going to handle the three enemies on the right by himself. The other group in the middle is going to move up and deal with the archer and soldier above them.

Franz bends reality.

And Neimi gets a level up. Some strength would be nice, but speed is good too.

So here we are now. Seth killed all three guys on the right. The soldier above him is not the one from before, it's another guy who moved down. Despite getting a level, Neimi didn't actually finish off the archer she traded blows with.

Franz can just go running up now, the middle group will take care of the archer, and Seth will continue to destroy everything in his path. Maybe he'll occasionally leave something for Eirika to do.

So Franz goes here:

Seth won't leave anything behind for Eirika if he attacks first, so Eirika has to go first:

And then I actually decide to just leave Seth to the side of the soldier without attacking since the weakened soldier will almost certainly go for Eirika, not Seth, giving her a kill and some more experience.

Also, Natasha does a heal. Good for her.

Eirika gets a level up on enemy phase!

Some day we'll get strength.

Coldest take ever but, GBA animations are amazing. I love the "horse almost falls over" attacks.

Franz keeps making his way up the left. I leave him on a forest here. Franz really doesn't take much to get going. I'd forgotten how quickly he becomes a strong contributor.

Eirika chips at the archer

Seth finishes the archer off, and Lute, who has slightly higher defense than Artur, sets up to take a hit from the soldier. Seth is also going to take an attack from Joshua. This is the scariest part of the map. Joshua can easily crit people with his killing edge, and Seth sometimes will crit too since he just has good stats. Either of them could kill the other.

I think sometimes in the past I've used Gilliam here to soak up a hit from Joshua since he will pretty much never kill in retaliation, but I didn't bring him this time.

Franz takes no damage from the sword guy. But he dishes it out just fine.

...and gets a level up!

Lute fights a battle on another front. (Wait, is she fighting, or dabbing?)

She gets level up too! More magic!

LUTE!!!

Let's end on a cliff hanger!

Well, actually, this situation isn't as dangerous as I remembered. Maybe I was thinking of hard mode.

As you can see here, neither of them can actually kill the other. Seth has a 0% crit chance, and isn't fast enough to double. And even if Joshua crits Seth, he'll still only do 12 damage.

To be continued!