#like maybe if shanks met her when she was older i would be more okay with it

[libertatias]

i can't be the only one who thinks shanks' relationship with uta makes no sense 😭 like im sorry i understand wanting to draw parallels between roger finding shanks as a baby but roger was also like 39 at the time!! WHY would a 20 yo pirate captain with hardly any years under his belt decide to adopt a baby and raise her on his ship when he knows full well how growing up on the sea with a bunch of pirates messed up his whole childhood — not to mention the sheer child endangerment of it all. i just cannot fathom shanks putting himself through 7 years of panic spirals worrying about this child on his ship. how would he ever forgive himself if something happened to her. why would he continue engaging in high stakes and increasingly dangerous piracy with a small child on board, even if he trusts himself and his crew to look after her!! there is simply no logical reason for him not to drop her off on the doorstep of some nice couple in the nearest port town and be done with it. like. be serious!! u want me to believe he won't let luffy join his crew bc he's too young and isn't ready but he's had a child on his crew this entire time?? get real!! if he became some shadowy benefactor to this girl he left behind with some intention to adopt her when she was older that would be one thing, but to literally raise her himself? get out of here. i see the appeal of wanting shanks to be a dad bc it's probably the only thing he's ever actually wanted in his whole life but when he's barely started his own life? only a handful of years after roger's death? i can't. he's not ready.

[rorywritesjunk]

These days of dust Which we've known Will blow away with this new sun

Thoughts on Buggy's older sister.

Rating: PG

Warning: Based off the ask of Buggy's sister and Marco, as well as the initial request for Ragdoll.

A/N: no one's gonna stop me and my brain is fully functioning again after my Week of Hell where i wasn't really sleeping. And I see Marco and think pineapple, sorry. he's also kind of a babe and i like that he has leg hair?? like really? Also there's a familiar face in this because I can't stop and won't stop.

Title from "I Will Wait" by Mumford and Sons.

Buggy's Older Sister who hides the heartbreak when the crew is split up. She has to be strong for Buggy and Shanks.

She doesn't cry when her captain is executed in front of thousands, instead she tries to comfort her little brother.

He yells at her after his fight with Shanks, says he doesn't need her around as well because why does it matter, everyone leaves anyways, no one is forever. He doesn't need anyone.

He's old enough to take care of himself so she does leave. She doesn't turn around to see the crushed look on her little brother's face when he realizes that he's alone for good now.

She can find a new crew.

And she does, running into that pineapple haired kid she met a few years prior. He asks what she's going to do now and she just shrugs.

"Come meet my Captain." Was all he said to change the course of her life.

And she joins this kid, though he's not that flirty 18 year old, he's a little older, a little more mature, and with some of the skills she learned from Crocus she is able to be one of the Captain's helpers, making sure he's taken care of.

She runs into her little brother years later by chance. Both crews are getting supplies and she spots him immediately in the crowds. He looks smug, chest puffed out as he struts down the road, looking as proud as he can with a pretty lady on his arm.

"Buggy." Was all she said for him to stop in his tracks and turn to face her. His nose was still red as hers, hair just as blue, the newest additions was the cross bones tattooed over his forehead and eyes which widened in recognition upon seeing his sister for the first time in years. "Who's this?"

"S-Sis, this, um, this is, um-" He stammered out, looking between his sister and the pretty woman. She had a flash of protectiveness for her brother upon seeing her. As a teenager he was never successful with the ladies, not like Shanks, so she wondered briefly what this woman was doing with her brother.

The young woman smiled and held her hand out. "I'm his wife, Sunny! Are you his sister? He's told me about you!"

"Oh." And she shook this pretty woman's hand, feeling a sense of warmth and love come off it. Maybe this was real, that her brother was going to be okay with this woman.

"We got married a few months ago." He mumbled, scratching his cheek as he looked away. "Didn't know how to tell you."

"We're going to get some lunch, would you like to join us?" Sunny asked with big smile. "I'd love to hear some embarrassing stories about him as a kid."

"Yea?" His sister grinned. "Maybe I will. I know I have plenty to share."

Buggy turned red and glared at his wife, but she just kissed his cheek. The love in her eyes for him was real, his sister could see that, because she saw firsthand when one of the crew on her ship looked at her, told her how much he loved her each night before bed, comforted her after nightmares.

Maybe Buggy was going to be taken care of after all and she didn't need to worry so much about him.

[artxyra]

So, me and @ThatWeirdPepperMint were wondering if you could do this request. Jason one day sneaks out and goes to a nearby ally where he finds Marinette not knowing that the fam was following. He asks Mari about buying mini guns and she gets them out of her heels, he ends up with gun-heels and wears them as as Red Hood. In that week all the fam got something from her. Tim got usb-nails. Dick got jetpack heels and retractable zip line watch. Damian got infi-purse. And Bruce got a tiara-shield.

Note: I totally did not look up Totally Spies gadgets for inspiration for some of the weapons.

It was Dick who suspected that something was up with Jason. The second oldest Wayne had been disappearing more often than usual only to return with a weapon he has never seen it in the stores. He tried to get information out of his brother about where he was but was only meet with the usual stream of threats or a careless shrug before disappearing for days on end.

The next to figure something was off, was Damian. Though for the youngest Wayne he had little care for his second oldest brother. Damian had run into Jason holding his newest weapon that was completely out of character for him. It was some kind of belt that had an expandable cable bungee. The belt did not go with his Red Hood outfit at the time, but before Damian had the chance to interrogate the male about the item, Jason had disappeared.

Then there was Tim and he had actually found out by going to get a late-night coffee and somehow ended up bumping into his predecessor, who was coming out of an alleyway with a bracelet in hand. At first, the coffee addict didn’t think much of until the idea that Jason had a secret lover pop into his brain. Instead of letting that idea down, he ended up entering a constantly dead-end investigation.

It was no shock that everyone else involved with the Wayne family's nightly activities was also intrigued by Jason’s newest additions of weapons. However, what shocked them all was when Stephanie (Steph) returned with Jason with a pair of diamond earrings. Of course, speculations began to grow among everyone, but when Spoiler ended up using the same new pair of earrings as a cutting tool they knew that whoever was making these weapons just so happened to include Steph as a client.

For half a year, they have tried to find this unique weapon dealer that Jason (and sometimes Steph) happily order from, only to be met with more dead ends. Fortunately for them, their search will soon come to an end.

Jason had broken his latest gadget, a wristwatch, on his latest mission. Dick managed to gather the immediate family (i.e. Tim, Damian, and Bruce) to follow the person behind the Red Hood anti-hero. However, Jason was streets smart. He zigged through the city; they had nearly lost him until the anti-hero had reached an alleyway just blocks away from crime alley. The family watch over the scene on the rooftops staying in the shadows.

Jason had entered from the alley’s opening and is immediately greeted by a shield of fog. The anti-hero doesn’t seem deterred from the scene before him.

“Arme chanceuse.” He states in the direction of the fog. Jason was no idiot; he knew his family is watching him, but he just couldn’t find any fucks to give at the moment.

The Batfam is shocked by the appearance of a female, looking no older than Damian. This female has long dark hair curled at the end with a mix of pink and red highlights. She was wearing in a two-piece dress, the top being a long sleeve laced with an intricate design as her skirt had a waist-high slit showcasing a pair of dark leggings and black heeled combat boots with pink and red shoestrings.

“You’re not alone, Jay-Jay.” She says crossing her arms and taking a sit in a chair that was behind a red and black table.

“Don’t care enough, Pixie. They’ve been trying to find this out for six months and at this moment, I don’t have any fucks to give. So, can you help?” Jason states causing the infamous weapon dealer to smirk.

“What you need.” She sasses back to her client.

“Miniguns the best you got.” He says giving her a knowing look.

The dealer sighs and puckers her lips. “I was saving these for Steph, but you apparently need them more.” The fog grows around the dealer and it fades away, in her hands are a pair of black heels.

“Uh, what the fuck?”

“Do you want the guns or not? The heels are the barrels, there is a safety mechanism outside the heels that you can access to minimize unwanted triggers. The magazine is on the shank. Not my best work but these combat heel boots can get the job done.” She explains gesturing to every area she talked about.

Jason picks up the heels and examines them. “Now I understand why these were meant for Steph. Thanks, Pixie, I’ll take good care of them.”

“You better!” She cries out before continuing with, “The amount of material and thinking to make them work took ages, Jay, ages!”

Jason chuckles before wishing his dealer a goodbye.

Before the Batfam could incept the two, the fog blocks their vision and suddenly it was just Jason alone in an alleyway looking the same expect the newest addition of a pair of heeled boots on his feet.

They did not see Jason again until the patrol as Red Hood.

“So, Hood, where did you get the heels? They’re looking pretty nice.” It was Nightwing that would ask first.

“Like you don’t know.” The anti-hero grunts and struts away from his oldest brother. Nightwing stares aghast and somewhat offended.

At first, the boys thought the heels were nothing but a bad joke but to see Red Hood in action, taking down each of his opponents, they knew this for real. Maybe, just maybe, they should talk to whoever this Pixie is that Jason gets his weapons from.

It was only a few nights later when the bat family corner Jason, place him in a dark room (tied up of course) and stood over him. Jason glares at his family and mentally thinks of ways to get rid of them all. The option of murder was high on his list of suggestions. 

“Who’s Pixie?” Dick’s voice pipes causing every muscle in Jason to just give up. Seriously all of this just to get information about his weapon dealer.

That night led to the family officially meeting the person Jason calls Pixie the next day.

Pixie stares at her favorite customer with an eyebrow raised and arms folded against her chest. The greetings were stale only met with grunts and an awkward smile from Dick.

“Hi, I’m Marinette, you don’t have to call me Pixie, but I have some rules when it comes to doing business with me. I don’t make standard weapons. I only deal with those who deserve it, and money is the least of my concerns though it is welcomed.” Immediately, they knew they had just entered a business. A business that Jason, and in extension Steph, has been familiar with for months.

She gives them the secret word that would “summon” her for business. She only deals at night and at various alleyways. They also found out that she has a life outside of all this and sometimes would have to cancel if that was the case Jason would tell them. Wrapping up this tremendous moment, she gives them a week to figure out what they would like before disappearing in the fog that brought her there.

Throughout the week, each of the bat members tried to convince Jason to give them Marinette’s current location, and then go to Steph when Jason wasn’t bothered to be around them. 

Tim went to Steph for Marinette's latest location. He ends up placing an order for a USB drive; what he got was beyond his coffee-addicted brain. 

“This USB nail is the perfect disguise for quick transfers, it works just like any USB out there and looks and feels like a fake nail. You can transfer up to 128 gigabits. Though be careful, the nail can break with an excessive amount of force.”

Since that day, Tim has been using the nails for hacking or work assignments. He begins to swear by them.

On multiple occasions, Tim swears he had seen Dick wearing Red Hood’s gun boots and a longer version of his nails on a couple of occasions. Dick denies it every time, but they all knew the truth. 

It took a while before Dick had come up with his ideal first weapon from Marinette. He wanted something grand and out of this world.

“You want jet pack heels and a zip line wristwatch,” Marinette states slowly trying to wrap her head around her newest order. It’s not something she isn’t used to, but the way he had explained it to her with this silly look on his face just creeped her out. “Okay.”

That night when Nightwing was on patrol, he was having a ball showcasing his new weapons. Batman had yelled at the male upon realizing that he was wearing something that was impractical. Nightwing flies away with his jet pack heels activated. Batman could only sigh and wonder how this even happened.

The next person to receive their Marinette original was Damian. The youngest Wayne had met with the weapon dealer in secret hoping that his family didn’t catch sight of him. He could only imagine the horror that would come with them finding out.

If it wasn’t for that fact that Marinette looked around Damian’s age, it looked like a drug-dealing going on as Damian was dressed in all black and a hood covering his face. Upon seeing him, Marinette managed to hold in her laughter.

“You want an infinity purse, should I even ask why?”

“It’s better for you not to know.”

Marinette accepts that answer and disappears into the fog. She comes out with a tote with Robin’s emblem in addition to her own. She hands the bag over to the Wayne and explains the limitations the bag carries.  

It is said that Damian has pulled various weapons on different people when they make fun of the bag. Some make it out without a scratch while others don’t even speak of the incident anymore.

The most shocking of appearances came from Bruce Wayne, himself.  He had come alone to meet with Marinette. At first, she thought it was a gift for the girls or a really bad joke with some hidden scheme behind it. Once she thought of it, it wasn’t a bad idea.

“Are you sure? This could ruin your bad boy aesthetic.” Marinette says giving the tall man an out.

“Yes.” Short and simple. Marinette nods and disappears into the fog.

When she returns, in her hands is a solid black tiara along with it are diamonds in the shape of bats. Sliding it across the table Marinette begins to discuss the weapon. The tiara can turn into a shield with a twist of a diamond. Bruce graciously accepts the weapon before testing it out. Upon seeing it in its shield form, Bruce begins to wonder what age the dealer is and how can he get her to join the family officially.

After everyone in the bat family received weapons that aren’t usual apart of their list of gadgets the league members begin to question their sanity. They thought Bruce was joking when they saw him with the tiara, but once it dawned on them that he never jokes, it was Flash that went around screaming his head off.

“You can rule the world, Pixie,” Jason says joining the small female in the darkness as she watches the bad guys being taken down by her own weapons.

“Eh, we knew this day would come.” She says with a smile on her face.

“Damn, Pixie, you know B-man is already in the process of trying to adopt you. You fit all the Wayne requirements to being adopted.”

“I think he already has. He’s been visiting more and more often with Steph under the pretense of getting new weapons. Damian also comes and goes as he pleases, he’s like a cat.” Marinette says glancing at the second oldest Wayne.

“Welcome to the family, sis."

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[gildedmuse]

Room For One More

I wrote this just off the cuff, for no reason. It was inspired in part by conversations with @jhaernyl and @babblebuzz so I encourage you to blame them, even though neither of them asked for this, wanted it, or suspected they were about to get 1000+ words in their messages. 

It’s suppose to be Mihawk.x Law x Zoro, but it never got so far. It features Mihawk x Law as a married couple, Zoro as Mihawk’s too young and too cute and too sexy assistant that Law finds just suspicious... And also really fucking hot.

PS: Sorry for the requests I haven’t filled, especially Go To War For You. It’s coming, I swear! I just got out of the hospital and straight back to work, and I lost my train of thought there. But I’m slowly writing it out. Because obviously I love me some MiZoLaw

PPS: See people this is what you message me/converse with me. I just write up 1000 words of nothing. You are to blame.

Room For One More: Get Him Out

Ooohh... Au where Law is married to Mihawk and one day he comes home to find his husband leaning over and around this green haired.... KID (that's what he is, he is a goddamn kid, Law thinks. He may be all of 18. Barely.) Law just stands in the door, utterly unacknowledged as Mihawk continues speaking in that low, sexy voice of his and Law is too upset to even hear what he's saying, but he sure as hell can see the way his husband's mouth is so close to the boy's ear the three gold bars hanging from it jingle together. Like a fucking alarm bell as far as Law is concerned.

Law coughs.

Twice.

That finally does it. Both of them turn as if they just noticed Law when he'd come in mid rant about a patient who just won't take his damn meds and paperwork and yet only know have they managed to notice his existence.

Mihawk smiles even as Law glares him down. "Law, you're home early."

"Actually, I'm home precisely when I was supposed to be."

Mihawk nods, brow furrowing for a mere second, thrown by the snippiness in Law's voice. Oh sorry I sound upset about walking in on your clearly private session with school boy jezebel here, honey. "Which in your case, is early. I can't name the last time you did not stay late at the hospital for one reason or another."

"I had a frustrating day, I wanted to call it an early night. I wasn't aware that we'd have... guests." Law's eyes not so subtly fall to the boy, unable to see him completely since he's still sitting there between his husband's arms. Plus he's gone back to whatever is in front of him on the table. Sure, now he feels a sense of shame.

When his gaze goes back to his husband, Mihawk has an eyebrow raised. Law knows that look. The "I am older and wiser than you and do not understand at times why you behave the way you do" look. Law hates that look, but right at this particular moment it makes him want to stab something.

Preferably something green, cute, and sitting in between his husband's arms like it's no big deal.

"I informed you earlier. Red-Hawk offices are under going heavy renovation and will be unusable for the next two weeks, forcing me to work from home." Yes, Law remembers the conversation. Although, admittedly, only barely. He'd had just gotten off two major surgeries and countless troublesome patients and a 12 hour shift. Mihawk himself had apparently been forced to run meeting after meeting, and all alone thanks to the newly wedded Shanks and Benn having both come down with some undescribed illness, that was on top of his normal work overseeing product development, speaking with potential clients, whatever he did at that office of his, the very description of which always bored Law. He knows it's something sports related, that it makes incredibly good money but also keeps Mihawk constantly busy and nearly as exhausted as Law. Just the other day he ended up sleeping over at the office and...

Oh. Oh, fuck, Law has been so stupid and naïve. And he supposes this boy's name just happens to be At-the-office.

"This is Roronoa Zoro," Mihawk continues, ignoring the narrowing of Law's eyes. "He's one of our interns. He's acting as my temporary assistant while Perona is on vacation."

Right... The pink haired gothic doll that acts as his husband's right hand.... Lolita (that wording had never sounded so wrong to Law. He'd met Perona plenty of times. While the girl gets on his nerves, she is apparently incredibly effective. He's also seen her with Mihawk and there is absolutely nothing going on there.) Her absence is part of what's been adding to his husband's recent stress at work.

Stress he's apparently found a cure for. A very new cure, apparently. Barely old enough to be out of testing.

The boy glances back at Law since the first time since he first interrupted them. His husband stands up, freeing the boy to sit up a little straighter. Law had been right. He is cute. Annoyingly so.

"Hey there," the boy says in such an incredibly causal tone it actually throws Law for a second.

"Roronoa," Mihawk's already low voice seems to dip a little deeper, more authoritative. Usually sexy as hell, goes right to Law's cock. Unless he's exhausted. Or it's being used on his fucking boy toy.

The kid actually rolls his eyes! "Sorry. How do you do, Dracule-san," Zoro says, using his schoolboy on his best behavior voice which, who knows, he may actually still have use for. His voice is lower than Law had assumed, almost expecting him to sound like a child not yet through puberty.

"It's Trafalgar, actually," Law corrects him, and it's a pointed correction. Instead of being relieved that at least the boy knows he is indeed the husband here, he's more annoyed than ever. So Mihawk told him he was married and the boy came anyway?

Zoro shrugs off the mistake, apparently entirely unaffected by Law's rather legendary bad looks. "S-- My apologies, Trafalgar, I was unaware."

Law can't help but notice that despite the still formal language, Zoro has already thrown away the honorific. Much like he already thrown away any respect for the sanctity of Law's wedding vows.

You know what, no. Law's day had been hell and this is simply too much right now. "Excuse me. I'm starving," he mutters. He moves by Mihawk without stopping for their usual kiss, not even looking at his husband as he goes to open the fridge.

It doesn't mean he misses the way his husband's striking golden eyes follow him, just like a hawk's would as it studies its prey. Nor does he miss how eventually the feeling burning into the back of his neck drops away. He hears a low sigh, almost neutral except he knows his husband. He can hear the frustration.

Good. Let him be frustrated..

"Roronoa," Mihawk says, sounding almost as tired as Law feels. "Do you remember when I showed you the study earlier, where I keep all the file logs."

Law is too busy trying to ignore the goddamn child in his kitchen to care what he replies. He does, however, get out some vegetables right at that moment, and so sees the way Zoro turns his head up, exposing a long column of his neck, stretching it above the collar of his undone dress shirt, as he gives his husband a sort of searching look, pausing before he nods.

"Could you take the papers up there, please, and finish the form as instructed. Law is trying to dig out a damn chopping block but does hear the boy say, "Yeah, sure." and the scratch of chair legs along with shuffling papers.

Just as Law has finally found what he needed, right where it was supposed to be but that's not the point, he hears Mihawk approaching. Before he even makes it halfway to Law he's stopped. "Wait."

Law looks up on instinct. Mihawk's deep voice also attracts Zoro, who had finally almost been gone. "Don't start the next form until I am there. Simply file what we've completed."

"Yeah, okay."

"That will be all, Roronoa." Zoro actually has the nerve to roll his eyes before he turns to start leaving again. Not that he gets far. "Roronoa," his husband adds with another sigh. Frustrated still, annoyed and... endeared. Yes, damnit, Law knows Mihawk too well.. "It is the other door." Zoro's shoulders go very stiff. He huffs but says nothing, making a quick turn and marching out of their kitchen. At least.

Law slams the chopping board down on the counter so hard he's surprised neither of them breaks.

"Law.." Mihawk places a heavy hand on Law's shoulder which is quickly dismissed. He picks up a knife - perhaps not the best choice at the moment... For Mihawk - and starts chopping away at some peppers. They are nice and green and easy for him to slice apart. "Law... Darling," Mihawk tries again, this time not attempt to touch him. He is watching Law chop apart the pepper, which is good. One of them should probably be paying attention to the way he wielding a sharp blade around his fingers while exhausted and enraged. "Very well, I can see that you've come to certain conclusions, but let me assure you those assumption are entirely incorrect, likely the result of your long shifts and lack of sleep.

Law ends up embedding the knife in the board. He turns to Mihawk, an aura of pure darkness. Honestly, he loves the man, bit is this the time for one of his "be sensible, I'm right" speeches? Law glares up at him, temped just storm out only that would just make Mihawk feel more confirmed in his believe that Law is over reacting.

Instead, after a deep breath, Law starts in on him, his voice low and logical while still with an edge of danger. "I walked into our kitchen to find you leaning over some boy BARELY out of high school - hopefully! - whispering in his damn ear.... Don't think I don't remember you doing that to me. I believe you later admitted to loving being able to watch my face as you slowly worked me up into a frenzy. Was the boy getting hard for you? Or had you only just started?"

Law's voice is laced with some much bitterness and maybe... Maybe some heartbreak but Law is burying that deep right now. Yet Mihawk's face gives him nothing. His husband leans against the counter with his arms crossed, watching him go off on this rant with neutral and yet somehow analytical expression. That just drives Law temperature even further. Even more than Mihawk's utter lack of an answer.

"Your reaction?" Law's voice is raising with every word, furious that Mihawk is giving him so little when Law has every right to be mad. "Once I get you attention, at least. You're very first comment when I come home exhausted and stressed and find you with some green haired, rude little brat? Surprise that I'm home early."

"I apologize, Hawk-ya, that in interrupted your time with-

Mihawk pulls Law in for a kiss. It's not sensual or deep, but it's sincere. Which... Law can't even understand. It makes no sense. It makes Law want to cry and as that realizes comes Law realized he already has been.

Why is Mihawk doing this to him? Just tell him the truth.

When he pulls back, Mihawk appears at least somewhat contrite. Still, when he finally nods it feels like like an agreement and more like he's acquiescing. "Perhaps it would have given the circumstance to give you more time to adjust to this change, but let me assure you that Roronoa is only here in an official, business capacity. "

"And what's his business? Sucking my husband's cock?" Law bites back, no longer wanting Mihawk to try and disguise what is obvious, like he thinks Law is an idiot or, more likely, so overworked and so rarely home he simply would never notice the indiscretion and would be too exhausted to bother caring if he did.

Is that... Is that how Mihawk sees their relationship?

Mihawk reaches for him again but Law has had enough. He jerks away before Mihawk even gets close to touching him, eyes fire and challenges as he stares up at the older man. “Where did you pick him up? A damn kindergarten?”

“He’s an intern for RedHawk, as I explained earlier,” while Mihawk’s words are still rather simple, straight forward in many ways, his tone is patient. Like he’s dealing with a damn child. “And he is nineteen.” Well, he probably has practice since he’s sleeping with one. “Please, Law, you are clearly exhausted. Let me finish instructing Zoro on some final matters and we’ll both of us lay down. It’s been a hard week and-”

Oh, he’s sure his husband will instruct the boy on all sorts of things. Law swings around, hunger completely forgotten. “You’re right, Hawk-ya,” he spits the old nickname with a venom, storming from the kitchen, his hunger completely forgotten. “I do need rest. And frankly I think that is more likely to happen if I don’t have to share my bed with two other people.”

[originalcontent]

Oooookay. Welcome back. Posting about pathologic part 4 I think? Part 4. We just reached Act 4 too, so everything’s going according to schedule. This gaming session had some ups and downs. Ups: That good good lore, and a lot of quality time spent with my good pals Daniil  and Changeling and also Clara apparently, although she might not be my good pal after all, but w/e. Downs: FUuuuUUUUCKkkk we are so bad at video games, and also the kin folk have become A Lot, holy shit. Where to start.

Okay so this time the game wasn’t actually super stressful for me personally bc this time I kind of just handed off the controls to my sister every time shit got dangerous. She’s a lot better at video games than me. Shoutout @akpaley​ for keeping me from dying from stress in real life.

The drawback of this is that since she’s a lot better at video games she’s also a lot more willing to actually take risks rather than just running away from literally everything. Which I won’t deny, has gotten us a lot of much-needed money and resources but also.

WELCOME TO THE FUCKING DEATH SPIRAL PART OF THE GAME. I guess it had to happen eventually, right? Fuuuuuuuck us, do you have any fucking idea how much shit you have to redo when you’re randomly shanked by some dude every fifteen minutes? And they’re harder to fight every time we come back, apparently, and also our health is like permanently half gone? Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck why are there not more clocks.

Victor Kain, you were the one who made the clocks?? I could fucking kiss you. I owe you my life. Or like, six hundred of my lives. Hhh.

Okay, seriously though, the clock lore is actually kind of sick. Victor told us that they’re smaller versions of the cathedral, and we were like “!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THaT’S WHerE wE RESET THE GaME IN THe PROLOGUE!!!!!!! METAPHYSICS!!!!!!!!!” The Kains are so cool.

(Maria Kaina got infected tho. Sorry, you. :( Although technically that happens later.)

Um, we gave the rest of our shmowder to Khan. We’re out now. We’ve been looking for more but haven’t found anything.

Also we made a random potion, and the plague showed up and was like “fuck you,” and I was like “damn, calm the hell down, you’re the one fucking killing people.”

Met with the Saburovs more. They were like “we have another suspect!” and I was like “yeah they probably don’t but w/e” and my sister was like “they’re in an infected land and we should probably save their lives” and I was like “why do we care about helping the Saburovs again, literally all they do is accuse random people of killing my dad, the Kains are obviously the best family, we should just be throwing in with them” and she was like “that’s not all they do, they also run the guards, you know those guys who patrol plague districts?” and I was like “okay fuck you’re right let’s visit them” and it turns out that that there was actually some super cool lore pertaining to the town’s mistresses. Also, god if they don’t have some cool reflections. I love everything about this town’s history.

Afterwards we randomly decided to visit Yulia for literally no reason, and she was like “I’m glad you’re here, I have a lot of super heavy important shit to discuss with you about the Inquisition that will be here tomorrow, it sure is convenient that you’re in my neighborhood for some reason even though I live in an incredibly inconvenient location?” Also she knows something about the nature of Artemy, Daniil, and Clara-or maybe the Changeling but she called her Clara? Oh yeah, Daniil was there too for some reason. Poor guy, I don’t think he’s okay. He cried on my shoulder a lot, he was endearingly open and earnest and for once I felt bad about the dialogue options wherein Artemy throws shade.

And then Clara happened to be standing outside literally right then? I wonder if that was going to be a big quest location and we just happened to arrive right before the game told us to go there anyway. I think that’s it actually. We’re so good, damn. Clara keeps pulling shit and then immediately trying to reconcile and asking for help. I really like her, but we really shouldn’t be trusting her right?

Oh Murky was also there and she set up a meeting between us and her “friend” and that night we went and Clara and Changeling were both there and I’m so confused???? What is her deal? But!! Changeling facilitated a deal between me and the plague! And Murky is now off the hit list!!!!!!!!!! Does this mean she’ll live? Anyway the plague started talking to us, and our infection rose a bit in an unhealable way, and, dumbasses that we were, said “wow this is probably all just the natural consequence of the bargain we made. Guess there’s literally nothing we can do to address this.” (Spoiler: That is not the case, the cost of the pact was literally just that we became infected and would have to cure it with fire before it killed us. We figured that out eventually, I promise.)

Fast forward to the next day after we finish the day’s entire fucking plotline, when we have done literally nothing so our infection’s increased a shit ton and it starts actually killing us. And since we only have like half our potential health bar from getting killed so much, we literally can’t survive long enough to treat it. We run around trying to cure ourselves and die like ten more times before we finally accept that we just have to go back in time to before the infection was this bad, try to get cured immediately, and redo the whole day. There’s a whole fucking skeleton out by the theatre by now btw. Fucking death spirals. This play session took a long fucking time okay?

Alright, flash backward again. After talking with Changeling, we visit Stakh because after rescuing him twice in a row he promised we could talk. We go to his house and he’s sleeping, or maybe just pretending to sleep, but either way Artemy has the absolute sweetest little monologue, just talking to him, and so much has happened but I can tell there’s still a lot of tenderness there between them even if it’s buried deep, and it’s just such a soft scene against such a harsh story.

Guess who’s dead by morning.

The next day Aglaya showed up and was like “see me immediately,” so obviously we visit Capella and then town hall first off. Daniil’s there, he bitches to me about Aglaya for a bit. So cute, we really are friends. I promise to help him with corpse duty bc Capella wanted me to visit Grace anyway. We talk to the official people at the official desks, one is collecting babies, one is giving me some lunch money as a very good reward for being a very good little surgeon, and one is telling me that actually money is illegal now but here are some free coupons that actually are too cheap to buy anything with.

Aglaya is the woman from the prologue! Hhhh things are really building to a point, aren’t they. I wonder how Yulia knows her. But damn, the whole village was out there waiting to meet with her weren’t they.

I made a deal with the rat prophet to clear some space in the graveyard so Grace would be okay. Dunno what will come of that. I’ve been seeing him everywhere lately though.

I met with Oyun and gave him my dad’s house. I met with Aspity and was like “did you kill Stakh” and she gave me some vague shit, and in general I am very upset at the kinfolk right now but I tried to save them anyway. Went to the termitary and did the whole termitary thing. Wow that sure is a place, right? God, have I ever mentioned how much I love all the screaming soundtracks  in this game.

Damn, Taya’s whole child queen vibe is unsettling.

The whole termitary is horrible, and what the kin folk have been put through is horrible, but their obsession with blood and strength legit terrifies me. I’ve spent all my time until now trying to convince everyone that they aren’t bad, and that they aren’t to blame for the disease, but now they want to kill? And they really really really want me to be a killer too. And the whole thing with Taya is creepy as fuck too, she’s just a kid. Anyway, we’re sending Vlad the older to them, I don’t know whether he or his son deserves to be torn apart more, but Changeling was really upset at the idea of Vlad the younger going there, so I guess we’re backing her. We run all around town making sure the right Olgimsky is going, and then we realize we actually have a few hours left so we take a hospital shift too! And then we die of disease like six times.

Okay, flash forward again, we’ve gone back, gotten some guy to molotov cocktail us, redone the entire termitary thing, saved the game on Vlad’s clock after sending him to his doom (sorry dude). That’s where we’re at currently.

(Only it’s not actually, we went back and spent like an hour going back and forth between the termitary and Oyun again trying to deal with their shit, and everyone was like “murder all dissenters :D” and I was like “what the fuck” and the day was almost over but then a dude stabbed us and we randomly died, and none of these places had clocks, so at that point we were basically like “yeah it’s after midnight, let’s just call it quits.”)

Anything else......oh, the warehouses are at risk again. Notkin and Sticky, what would I do if anything happened to them. I hope my medicines are good enough, I gave some to Bad Grief too but now all there really is to do is wait. :(

Oh, I once again have thoughts on how fucking theatrical is it that everything in the game is simultaneously literal and metaphorical, it’s gorgeous, and have I mentioned the costuming choices for the Orderlies and the Plague, hhhhhhhh, not to say anything nice about Mark fucking Immortell, but he knows what he’s doing with this thing. Listen if this post weren’t already way too long I would just gush about the theatrical elements again, but sadly it is too long.

Okay, that was our latest session! We’ll be back either very soon or in like three weeks.

[mxsmwndr]

Merry Christmas, Darling

Pairing: Modern!Newt x Reader

Summary: Being single is tough sometimes. Friends tease you, family members don't leave you alone, and people flirt with you constantly. It's especially tough when you have a crush on your best friend. Especially when you need him to pretend to be your date to a party.

Terms: (Y/n) is Your Name

Warnings: Nothing too bad. There is a small panic attack towards the end.

A/N: Happy holidays!! This one's dedicated to the wonderful @technolilly! Thank you for all of your requests!! There may or may not be a crush x reader fake date coming soon Bold is texting back and forth, and if you don't have your ears pierced, pretend they're something else! Here's the 'Soft Rock' playlist from this story! I actually have one!! (Cannon that Newt only listens to rock. Alt for if he's feeling pumped/angsty, and classic for the relaxing times/late nights)

Disclaimer: I don't own your or Newt or this idea

"Actually, you're wrong." You said before you could stop yourself.

"Oh, really?" Minho challenge. "How so?"

Shuck. "Well, you see... um, I'm already dating him. It's just... it's a secret, so you can't tell anyone." You said.

Minho raised an eyebrow, but seemed satisfied with your answer. "Okay. Then prove it." He said.

Oh shuck. You thought, but still decided to see how far you could push yourself. "How?"

That would give you time to come up with a lie.

Minho shrugged, and you cursed yourself.

"Fine." You said. "I'll bring him to the Christmas party Saturday." No, no! You shucking liar! Shut up! The voice inside your head screamed at you. You ignored it, though, enjoying the idea of destroying Minho's delicate ego.

In a friendly way, of course.

Minho looked shocked for a moment, which soon melted into a sly smirk. "Good. I'll see you there, then." He said, and cockily leaned against the staircase railing besides him.

You were about to release the breath you didn't realize you held until Minho spoke up again. Quickly, and to stop yourself from saying anything else you'd regret, you decided to distract yourself by tying your shoes.

"Oh." He said, clicking his fingers as if he just remembered something. "Thomas said to dress fairly nice." He said with a wink, and turned around to open the door.

"I always 'dress fairly nice'." You mumbled to yourself, and stopped Minho from leaving you at the door. "Minho!" You yelled. He turned, "Never wink at me again!" Minho smiled at you, signaling that he got your message. You got your other shoe on, yelled a quick goodbye, and shut the door behind you, making your way to your car. "How am I gonna get out of this one?" You asked yourself while you drove home.

--

Remember when you specifically asked Minho not to tell anyone about you and Newt? Yeah, that didn't really work.

Lesson learned, Minho's not great at keeping secrets.

He's not even close to being good, actually.

The next day, which just had to be Monday, was the day you discovered that. Really, it was when you found out that Minho told Thomas, who told Teresa and Brenda, who told Aris, who called Sonya, who decided not to tell Newt but instead to tell Harriet, who told Alby. Luckily, Alby can keep a secret. And as it turns out, he can make other people keep secrets.

So when Newt got to school on Wednesday, he didn't know anything about your little lie.

And that's how you liked it.

"Hey, Newt!" You called to your best friend, and ran over to him while waving a hand.

He turned to you, and his beautiful golden eyes locked with yours. "Hey!" He said excitedly as he limped towards you.

You gave Newt a hug, which he eagerly returned. Then, you pulled him away, hardly noticing the way he clutched onto you for a little longer. You kept your hands rested on Newt's shoulders, and looked him deeply in the eyes.

"I need to tell you about something." You said slowly while you checked your sorroundings for eavesdroppers (Minho and Thomas). When you were finish, you added "But not here."

Newt gave you a confused look, but Minho jumped onto his shoulders, so the expression quickly melted into a boyish grin. They did a little handshake, and you decided to be on your way to your first hour the second Minho winked at you--even though you told him not to.

--

U busy rn? You texted Newt. His Bitmoji popped up, and put a hand on it's chin like it was thinking.

No Came the response after a few seconds.

Kay You said. You thought for a moment, and quickly typed a response. Wanna fake date? You asked. Shaking your head, you quickly deleted the response and came up with another one.

R u going to the christmas party?

Newt's Bitmoji thought again, dissapeared directly after his response popped up.

Planning on it

Again, you replied with: Kay

Can u help me with something? You added, just before anxiety of Newt's reaction told you not to. Theres a guy at school who won't leave me alone... so can you pretend to by my boyfriend? Just for a little bit

With what Newt texted.

You thought for a moment, and replied with a quick lie; This is going to sound rly weird but there's a shank at school who keeps flirting with me so I may or may not have told him that I had a boyfriend so he'd back off? You slammed 'send' before your anxiety even thought of telling you no. Again.

Newt's Bitmoji jumped up, and started thinking. This felt like an eternity for you, when it was mere seconds.

Or maybe it wasn't.

Maybe it really was and eternity, and you thought it was only a few seconds. Maybe he really was about to screenshot it to send to all of his friends and ruin your life.

But that wasn't like him. Not at all.

So maybe he was trying to think of an answer so he couldn't mess this up instead--or he was asking his sister for help. Maybe he loved what you guys had, and didn't want to ruin it over a silly crush. Maybe he wanted to date you for real instead.

Whatever the reason, you both hated being put in this position. Maybe some (you) more than others.

Oh my god. Why'd I do that?! I screwed us up. Oh no, oh no. You thought. You were about to write a reply saying nevermind, when Newt's response popped up.

So u want me to pretend to be the boyfriend

You winced at yourself, at how cringy it sounded--asking your best friend to fake date you so you could prove something else to your other best friend while having secret feelings for the first one--but reluctantly confirmed Newt's theory.

Newt took a while to respond, but still less than he did before. Who is the slinthead anyway

What? You asked yourself. What does that have to do with anything?

You didn't want to point fingers, so you went with a safe bet in saying: You don't kno him.

Does Minho

No

Tommy

No

Anybody

Not that I know of. Why does this matter so much? U gonna beat him up?

Newt typed a response, but apparently deleted it and typed something else. You meant the text as a joke.

I can go so I'll drive u to Tommy's at 6:30. He said to dress nice so send me a pic of your dress so I'll match my tie

Wait. What?

Did you read that right? You went back and reread Newt's reply.

Yep. Newt just agreed to fake date you.

Oh, shuck! You thought. Newt just agreed to fake date me!

Thx! IOU 1!! You keyed in, and shut your phone off. You sighed, thanking the gods under your breath. A goofy grin soon spread across your face, and you walked over to your closet to pick an outfit.

--

"How about this?" You asked, turning to face your friends for about the 50th time that night. The dress was elegant and red. The knee-length velvety hugged your skin warmly. You had black tights underneath, but no shoes picked out yet.

Brenda eyed you up and down like a judgemental mother would to her daughter. "Well..."

"YES!" Sonya screamed, leaping up from her seat. Teresa jumped, suddenly awake, causing you to giggle slightly.

"Oh my god, Newt will love it!" Sonya said, running over to admire the dress up close.

You smiled, "You really think so? It's not too much?"

"Too much? Are you kiddin' me!? He loves you no matter what you do!" She said, spinning you around in the dress.

You froze. What? Oh... You suddenly realized the deal with Min, and your muscles relaxed.

Sonya froze as well. With that, you heart rate quickened. It felt like it was going to burst. At least, until Sonya shouted "We need jewelry!" And dragged you towards your dresser.

She dug through the drawers like they were her own, and turned to you when she found nothing. "(Y/n)! Where's your jewelry?!"

You gave her an odd look. "Uh... I don't have any?"

"What!?" Brenda screeched from your bed. She loved jewelry; anything from toe rings to finger rings to nose rings. She ran over to you and your friend.

You sent her a sheepish smile. "Yeah--"

"I'll be back!" Brenda said, holding up her index finger to show a number one, like saying 'give me a sec' or something.

You met Sonya's eyes, and she laughed. You did too.

Sonya laughs like her brother. Cheerfully and free of cares of who could be watching. It was contagious.

Soon, you were laughing as well.

Until Teresa asked if you and Newt have kissed yet.

"Uh... no. Why?" You responded.

Teresa smirked at you. "No reason," she said in a sly voice. Like a snake.

Sonya sent her a glare, but it was interrupted when Brenda waltzed back into your room with a makeup bag.

Or... rather a jewelry box.

Brenda dug through her box, in search of the perfect accessories. Sonya was about to join her, when Brenda jumped up, startling Teresa.

Again.

"These!!" Brenda said, holding up a sparkling pair of dangly earrings.

You eyed them, "Okay...?" You said, and hesitated before taking them out of her hands.

While you put them on, Brenda began her search for rings, necklaces and/or bracelets. She finished by the time you did, but Sonya handed the silver bracelets to you.

When they were secured, you turned back to your friends. "Cute!" Sonya and Brenda squealed.

"Aw, my baby girl is all grown up!" Sonya said, even though you were older. Her hands were next to her cheek while she smiled at you, giving you the look you give your friend when they're about to get married.

"And she's dating your brother!" Brenda needlessly added. This caused you to blush.

"So cute!" They squealed once more. You looked to Teresa for help, but she just smiled and took a picture.

Sonya's phone rang in her pocket. She opened it, and looked to you apologetically. "I have to help Newt." She said, starting to leave.

"Byeeee!" Brenda and Teresa called after her.

"Bye!" Sonya returned.

"Thanks for making me not look stupid!" You called after her.

Sonya gave you a two fingered salute while she walked away. She turned around, "Don't mess that dress up, (Y/n). I'll bring heels before the party."

"Heels?" You groaned.

"Yes, heels." Brenda responded, bringing you to the mirror. She pushed your hair out of your face, and lead you over to your mirror. "Now we need to figure out makeup." She said.

--

You were exhausted, but you were finally party ready. You checked your reflection in the mirror, qquadruple-checking to make sure there wasn't any wrinkles you missed. Your makeup shimmered in the light of your room. It was natural, but fancy. Nothing too much.

The honk of a car horn interrupted your thoughts. You peered through your window to find Newt, gave him a quick wave, and grabbed your heels before walking out the door of your house.

Newt reached across the passenger seat, and opened the door for you.

"Thank you so much for agreeing to this." You said to Newt, shutting the car door behind you.

"No problem." He was dressed nicely, too. A black shirt tucked into black pants with a red tie that matched your dress.

You put your feet up on the dashboard and started to put your shoes on. Newt eyed you, then your shoes.

"Are those Sonya's?"

You sent him a sheepish smile, "Yeah."

He laughed, and returned his attention to the road infront of him.

"I don't wear heels!" You said defensively.

Newt just laughed more. "You seem to be now!"

You groaned in frustration, and brought your feet down. You slouched low into the chair in a pout.

"It was a joke, babe!"

Your heart stopped. Babe? "'Babe'?" You repeated your thoughts.

"Er... yeah. I, uh... since we're...."

You giggled, "Relax, shuck-face. It's fine."

"Babe." You added.

Newt pulled into Thomas's driveway, and gave you a funny look. You were about to get out when Newt stopped you.

"Let me get the door for you." He said, leaping out of his seat and limping over to your side.

He opened the door, and you gave him a grateful look. He shut the door while still watching you, but your stares were interrupted by a wolf whistle.

You and Newt turned, and found Minho in the front of Thomas's house.

He wore his usual stupid smirk.

That bastard. You grabbed Newt's hand and pushed past Minho. You smirked to yourself in triumph after.

"Ship it!" Minho yelled from behind you.

Newt gave you a confused glance, but you brushed it off with an apologetic smile.

Until you lost your balance. Stupid heels! You felt yourself falling to the ground until a pair of strong arms caught you.

You looked up and found your savior to be Newt. You smiled, and thanked him before walking into the kitchen.

It didn't take Minho long to find you after. You'd say it probably was around 7:10 when he walked up to you with his stupid smirk that never seemed to wipe off.

He said nothing, just grabbed your arm and pushed you towards the living room. You followed, watching the groups of semi-drunk teenagers smile and dance. Suddenly you felt a harsh push from behind you. You stumbled forward a bit, in attempt to stop yourself from bumping into the dude in front of you. But of course, you being you in heels, you tried to use the dude for support, but failed miserably.

"Woah!" He said, his familiar accent hitting your ears while he caught you.

Once again, you thanked Newt for saving your pride.

And your dress.

"A little klutzy today, huh?" He asked with a laugh.

You looked down and blushed, "Yeah, I just--"

"Everyone look!" You heard Minho's voice yell. "Mistletoe!"

Your eyes widened in horror, and you looked to Minho for help.

Stupid idea, really. He wouldn't help you to save his life. He had to win this.

You looked back to Newt, who studied your face.

Until someone shouted, "Get on with it!" Your guess was Brenda.

Newt watched you still, and you wondered about what he could possibly be thinking.

Was there something on your face? Would he back out if you tried to kiss him? Would he even kiss back? Was he suddenly regretting his decision? Did he want to leave for home?

Questions fueled from doubt and anxiety flooded through your mind while you awaited Newt's rejection.

It never came, though. Instead, a cold hand wrapped around your neck and pulled you closer, and warm lips soon met your own.

As cheeseballs as it seems, you melted into it. Your hands went to Newt's neck, and he seemed to pull you closer.

Of course, your moment had to be interrupted by Minho, who cleared his throat obnoxiously. "Okay," he said. "You can stop now. I get it." You and Newt pulled apart, suddenly realizing that almost everyone at the party was staring at the two of you.

Your blush turned from fair to hard core.

"You're so cute!" Sonya squealed, holding up her phone.

Shuck. You thought to yourself. She taped it.

Newt smiled, and pulled you closer to him. His hand rested on your waist while his blush died down.

Where is all this confidence coming from?

You decided to shrug it off, and wrap your arms around your 'boyfriend' tightly.

You never wanted the night to end. But unfortunately all good things must.

The jitters from Thomas's party never stopped. Even when Newt drove you home.

"We should do that more often, yeah?" Newt asked you, while Aerosmith's Fly Away From Here faded into KISS's Beth. You recognized the playlist playing. It was the one you made for him.

Actually, you made it for yourself, first. It was called 'Soft Retro', and by far one of your favorites. You originally made it for the many nights where you couldn't sleep. Apparently, Newt loved it, so you passed it down to him. Love songs made you sick, anyway.

Not Newt, though. He seemed to enjoy them more than life herself sometimes. You're surprised you haven't caught him trying to waltz with a mop yet.

"What do you mean?" You asked Newt, trying to play his question with a silly laugh. He looked at you for a second, but returned his eyes to the road ahead. He shrugged,

"Party?"

"Did you just answer a question with another question?" You asked with your eyebrows raised.

"You did it first." Newt shot back.

"Touché," You mumbled. It was quiet for a moment, before Newt spoke up again.

"Was he there?" He asked you.

You looked at him, "Who?"

"The stupid shank."

"Oh, yeah." You said, suddenly feeling your heart sink deep into your chest. "Thanks for that." Newt was silent, so you panicked and added: "Especially for kissing me."

Newt laughed, "It was really no problem, luv." He said. He looked like he wanted to say more, but decided to bite his tongue.

"I know, but..."

You suddenly felt bad. Bad for dragging Newt into this, bad for lying to him so you could prove a point to Min. Bad for the entire night, really. You sighed, filled with regret so suddenly that it caused you to panic a little.

A lot, actually. Your breaths quickened, becoming shallower while tears flooded your eyes. Your chest felt heavy, too.

Everything felt heavy.

Until Newt's voice cleared some clouds in your head. "Hey, hey, luv. What's wrong? Hey..." He cooed slightly. He looked behind him, and turned on his turn signal, pulling over.

"I just..." Your voice broke, and you cautiously took a shaking breath. "I'm so, so sorry."

"About what?" Newt asked innocently.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. Stop being such a shuck-face. You told yourself. You closed your eyes loosely, "Do you know the real reason I asked you to pretend date me?"

Newt slowly shook his head. Great.

You forced a smile, it wasn't his fault, and redirected your attention to your lap, where your hands lay. "I was talking to Min... and he brought you up. I--" You cut yourself off. No. You told yourself. It's too late to turn back now. "He was teasing me about how you'll be at the party, because he thinks I like you, and I got sick of it, so I just... lied. I didn't think anything of it, but then h-he believed me, and I-I had to do something because he always wins every argument, so I texted you but when you asked me why I knew I couldn't say it so I told you that there was some shank but now--" You cut yourself off again. This time, by crying.

Newt watched you break into tears, speechless, as you gather yourself with a breath. He listened as you continued.

"I understand if you don't want to see me anymore," You said in a low voice. "I... I'll just find a ride home." You said, reaching to open the car door. Newt locked it instead.

You turned to face him hesitantly. Your head hung low, like a guilty puppy.

"(Y/n)," He began, but you stopped him.

You couldn't take the rejection. Not yet.

"No, it's fine. I can get an Uber or something. I'll see you Monday--"

"(Y/n)." Newt said more urgently. "Do you know what song is playing?"

You looked to Newt. It was an easy question. Like, a suspiciously easy question.

"All The Way." You mumbled.

"M-hm. And did you know it's my favorite song?"

You internally rolled your eyes at his questions. What was this? National ask a stupid question day? "Yeah."

"Do you know why it's my favorite?"

You shook your head.

Newt reached over to you, never breaking eye contact as he took your hands in his own. "Because it reminds me of you. That kiss... I knew I'd take you all the way if you wanted me to." He licked his lips. "Because I love you...

"And I know you love me too."

You were shocked. Was this some kind of sick joke? Did he know you listened to All The Way whenever you missed him because it reminded you of him? Did Minho put him up to this?

Newt placed one of your hands on his cheek, but kept his on top. "Don't you?"

Too late now. You gave him a slight nod, and Newt broke into a boyish grin. He happily leaned over to where you sat in the passenger seat, and gave you a light peck on the lips.

"I knew it." He whispered under his breath. You smiled, and returned Newt's kiss, stopping him from saying more. He smiled, glancing down to your lips before leaning in slowly. Again.

You met him halfway, and the two of you shared one of the best kisses in history.

It was only a bonus to see Minho's surprised expression Monday morning.

[missmungoe]

As delighted as I was to see my girl in the newest chapter, I felt compelled to write my own (happier) take on that panel of her grieving, so have some Makino during the time-skip and after (background Shanks x Makino; Sabo x Koala if you squint).

—

The dead don’t come back once they leave, but then one day he was there, sitting at her bar.

Shanks had been gone two months already, and for a while it had just been her again, cultivating her quiet life as usual; the peace that was allowed to grow and thrive, and in no small part because of her. That hadn’t changed, even as other things had. The outward differences to how her life had been before were small, but significant: the wedding band around her finger, and the baby in her belly. Seedlings from an old promise tended over ten long years, and like her peace, this was hers, too: this happiness she’d made.

But happiness wasn’t the absence of loneliness, and there were days where the quiet was too quiet, the peace too peaceful; days where she missed her husband so much she could barely get out of bed, her bar empty without her crew, and the loud, wonderful boys who’d once kept her company while she waited, and the silence from getting comfortable. There was only one left now, where there’d once been three. Or so she’d thought.

She’d sensed them coming in, the slight ripple of disturbance within her, but hadn’t thought much about it, nothing alarming in either of their presences, or the muted sounds of their voices; a deeper timbre warmed with laughter, and a higher lilt rising above it, pitched with what sounded like fond exasperation.

Grabbing the crate she’d gone in to get—from her newest shipment of liquor, and she wasn’t technically supposed to be lifting heavy things, but there was no one around to remind her—supported against the curve of her belly, Makino exited the storeroom to greet her new customers, only to find them already seated at her counter. There were two, as she’d thought, and both of them young. One was a pretty girl, in a pink blouse and a page-boy hat, her arms crossed on the counter. And the other—

The crate dropped from her hands, but before it could shatter on the floor, he’d caught it, having moved so fast she’d barely registered him getting out of his seat. But in the blink of an eye he was suddenly in front of her, a sheepish grin flashed from under a tumble of blond curls where he held the crate, as though it weighed nothing.

He straightened to his full height, and her eyes widened when she had to crane her neck to look at him, her mouth dropping open softly, even as nothing came out.

“Hey, Ma-chan,” Sabo said, even though the dead can’t speak, and he was dead but he was also speaking.

“Are you open?”

When she didn’t say anything, he glanced behind him, at the girl still seated at the counter, who shook her head at him. “I told you. You should have called ahead and warned her.” She made a sweeping gesture to Makino where she stood, her arms slack at her sides. “And look, she’s pregnant! That kind of shock can’t be good for the baby—Sabo-kun, are you listening?”

Sabo’s head had whipped back around, his eyes bulging, as though he’d only just now noticed her belly. “You’re—!”

Makino was still staring at him, speechless. The confident grin he’d been wearing had been wiped off, replaced by genuine surprise where he gawked at her belly.

“So much for a suave and heroic entrance,” the girl sighed over a laugh, sliding off her barstool before walking around the counter. She met Makino’s shell-shocked expression with an apologetic smile. “Sorry about this. He was so excited to surprise you, after how Dadan reacted.”

“Dadan?”

Her voice sounded hoarse, like she’d momentarily forgotten how to use it, but the mention allowed her head to clear a bit, giving her reeling mind a firm foothold; the confirmation that she wasn’t imagining him. That Dadan had seen him, too.

But looking at Sabo, taller and broader and inexplicably older, she didn’t understand how it was possible. The dead didn’t come back; they were the only ones she didn’t have it in her heart to keep waiting for.

And she was fiercely practical, and quick to adjust to change, but all at once, it all became a little too overwhelming, too many things for her to accept and not enough time to wrap her head around them, and a wave of dizziness hit her, causing her to reach for the counter to steady herself. A cramp low in her belly had her sucking a breath past her teeth, as her hand flew to the spot that hurt, her eyes clenching shut.

“Koala!” Sabo snapped, openly distressed, and still holding the liquor crate, as though he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“Put down the crate, you dork,” Koala said, before Makino felt a small hand pressed against her lower back, and another curled around her elbow, supporting her. She had a surprisingly strong grip. “Take a deep breath.”

“Okay,” Sabo breathed.

“Not you. Makino-nee.”

“Oh, right.”

She shook her head at him, and despite the whole situation, and the persisting cramp, Makino blurted a wet laugh, and watched as Sabo’s expression brightened, easing away some of his distress at her state. He was still holding the liquor crate uselessly, although he put it down when Koala helped her out from behind the counter and into the nearest chair.

With one hand rubbing soothing circles over her belly, “I’m fine,” Makino assured them, when Sabo looked ready to spring into action at the first sign of discomfort. “You caught me by surprise is all.” She fixed him with a look, but where she’d meant to say something teasingly reprimanding, her voice sounded a little too thick when she told him, “It’s not every day someone comes back from the dead.”

His grin was predictably sheepish, but there was genuine regret in it even as he chirped, “I’ll try not to make a habit of it.”

Huffing a laugh, Makino smoothed her hands over her belly where it curved under her apron. The baby was kicking, the movements comforting, allowing her to catch her breath.

She caught Sabo looking at it, his smile wide and curious, before his gaze shifted to her hand where it was splayed atop the bump. He’d noticed her wedding ring; the delicate band where it circled her finger.

“Dadan didn’t mention that you’d gotten married,” he said.

Makino hummed, smiling as she laced her fingers together over her stomach. She felt the ring, the metal warmed by her hand. “Maybe she forgot. She drank so much sake at my wedding they had to load her naked and singing into a wheelbarrow to get her home.”

His grin dropping from his face, Sabo looked mildly horrified by this, before his features pulled into a constipated grimace, as though provided with a vivid but entirely unasked-for mental image.

Makino smiled up at him where she sat. “Payback,” she said, demurely. “For not giving me a warning.”

He shook his head at her, his expression this time somewhere between begrudging awe and mild alarm. “Payback? You sound like a pirate, Ma-chan.”

Her demure smile persisted, deepening the lines at the corners of her eyes, and she saw Koala’s brows quirking, understanding shaping her grin even as Sabo’s expression remained perplexed, before Makino asked him, mildly,

“What, didn’t you hear?”

—

She closed the bar for the day, to allow them time to catch up, although she still kept her doors open for whoever wanted to stop by and say hello. A self-employed tavern owner’s prerogative. And maybe a little bit a pirate’s.

Dadan arrived a bit later, her whole family in tow. Makino noticed Sabo had a hard time meeting her eyes, although even his horror at the wheelbarrow-story fled at the revelation of an entirely different piece of news.

“You married Red-Hair?”

Makino met his surprise with an enduring smile, her hands resting over the baby bump where she sat, at the centre of the people who’d gathered in her bar. It felt a little more like it should, the silence turned away at the door, along with all the other patrons who were just looking for a drink. It wasn’t welcome in her establishment today. “You just missed him. He would have loved to meet you.”

“Should have been here for the wedding, Sabo!” one of the bandits called out, laughing. “Never seen this place so lively. Red-Hair lives up to his reputation.”

“He wasn’t even the most debauched of the lot,” Dadan said, with a deliberate look at Makino, who delicately ignored it. She barked a laugh. “Mah, can only speak for myself, and I can’t even remember getting home.”

Sabo choked on his drink, coughing. Koala patted his back sympathetically. “There, there.” She shot Dadan a grin. “Probably just went down the wrong pipe.”

Dadan made a gruff sound; she’d developed a fondness for the girl Sabo had brought home with him. And shaking her head at the young man in question, still coughing up his drink. “Still can’t get used to you bein’ old enough to drink.”

Clearing his throat, Sabo shook his head, waving his hand. “Oh, I’ve been drinking for yea—”

Koala elbowed him so hard he nearly toppled off his barstool, and murmured out of the corner of her mouth, “Watch what you say, or she’ll kill the Big Boss.” Then, “Or worse: Makino-nee will give him a stern talking-to.”

Retaking his seat, Sabo laughed. “Is it wrong that I’d pay to see that?” At the sight of Makino’s brows quirking, he grinned innocently. “What?”

She shook her head. And she wasn’t sure she even wanted to know, but her curiosity had always been one of her biggest vices, and so before she could further question the wisdom of asking, “So what is it you do now?” Her gaze shifted between the two of them, wearing identical and far too innocent smiles. “Are you pirates?”

Sabo’s grin widened, as he shared a look with Koala. “Not exactly.”

Makino pursed her mouth. “And you’re not marines.”

“Oh, most definitely not.”

“Do I have to keep guessing?”

At that, he shot her a grin. It made her think of Shanks. “As the formerly sweet-natured barmaid who used to run this place, I might have told you,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “But as the wife of one of the Four Emperors, I think I’ll keep my cards close. You understand.”

“Sabo-kun,” Makino chided gently, smiling where she rested her hands atop her belly. She tilted her head, her eyes curving with her most innocent smile. “We’re all friends here.”

He looked at Koala, then at Dadan, before posing the question to the room, “Did anyone else feel a shiver run up their back? No? Just me, then.” Then to Makino with a grin, he asked her, “Were you always this scary?”

She made a musing sound, smoothing her fingers over the bump, but the baby was quiet in the loose cradle of her arms. Content, and safe, surrounded by bandits and more dangerous people still. And Makino, although she’d never been very dangerous. She was, after all, just a barmaid.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, and saw his grin widening; delighted, as though he’d come back and found her exactly like he remembered her being, and yet at the same time a completely different person. Makino didn’t correct him on either assessment.

Both were true, after all.

—

They stayed with her a whole week. Sabo helped out around the bar, and did the chores that took her longer now, with her growing belly; did the heavy lifting, and allowed Makino to stay off her feet as much as possible.

He’d been that way as a boy, she remembered—attentive to the needs of others, and quick to step in, unafraid of getting his hands dirty, and of learning menial chores, a hunger in him that she hadn’t understood at first, having only learned where he’d come from much later. But she’d taught him the things he’d wanted to know, how to mend his own socks; how to get grass stains out of his trousers, and how to cook. His brothers hadn’t been similarly inclined, at least not at that age. And he’d love to sit and watch her work, and to ask her about it, learning her routines while he polished her glasses to shining.

“I think he’s grown way too attached to that apron,” Koala mused, observing her partner strutting between the tables of Makino’s bar, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows and his cravat loosened, and carrying a tray of drinks. The apron in question was far too small for him; a flimsy little thing of Makino’s with dainty embroideries along the edges.

The patrons gathered in her establishment didn’t even bat an eye, used to stranger sights, and Shanks, and only held out their glasses for Sabo to refill.

Makino made a humming sound, her smile small and privately intimate, softening the edges of the longing where it rested, always, just below her breastbone, and dropping her voice, remarked mildly, “I’ve watched the most powerful man on the sea prance around in nothing but that apron.”

Koala suffocated her startled laugh with the back of her hand, and when Sabo looked towards them curiously, managed to turn it into a fairly convincing wave.

They sat in silence for a while, connected by the sudden yet intimate confidence of women that doesn’t need much prompting to exist, the smell of jasmine rising from the steaming cups on the table between them. And a conversation of this nature usually called for brandy, but while she was pregnant, tea would have to suffice.

Koala made a musing sound then, sliding Makino a look. “Nothing but the apron, huh?”

“Hmm.”

“Honeymoon fun?”

She cleared her throat, smiling. “Not only.”

“Oh really?” Another pause, and then, so quietly Sabo didn’t have a chance of overhearing, “Private kink?”

Makino sipped her tea primly, her eyes turned to the ceiling. She said nothing.

Another beat of silence, before Koala asked with a grin, “Did he look good in it?”

“You’ve seen his picture in the paper,” Makino said, pursing her mouth demurely. “What do you think?”

Grinning, Koala was quiet for another beat, before she turned to Makino with an imploring look. “Please let me tell him. I want to watch him scramble to get out of it as fast as possible.”

Putting her cup down, Makino smoothed her hands over her belly, feeling the baby kicking. It was stronger now, the curve of her stomach more pronounced every week, and the firmer the little presence grew in her mind, the more she found herself reaching for an image to go with it, wondering whose nose it would get, and whose temperament. If it would be a clever little girl, to steal the sea from her father’s eyes, or a kind, gentle boy, who’d make her laugh like Shanks did.

Across the room, Sabo had stopped by a table, the empty tray propped on his hip now as he got into a heated discussion about the many merits of pale ale. Catching them watching him, he flashed them a grin. Another gentle boy, who’d come back to make her laugh.

“Let’s give him a few more minutes before we traumatise him further,” she told Koala, smiling where they sat together by the table, an unexpected friendship having taken root in her once-lonely garden, her best friend miles away still, but there was something to be said for the unique companionship found between women, even ones as different as they were.

“I don’t think he’s gotten over the story about the wheelbarrow yet.”

—

The week flew by, and more quickly than she’d wanted it to, but she was used to this; to being content with the time she was given, and to not ask for more than she had.

And anyway: the Revolutionary Army had duties beyond the personal desires of its individual members.

Makino hadn’t told them she’d long since figured out their affiliations, although suspected they already knew, from the looks Sabo kept giving her, which told her she wasn’t fooling anyone, playing the demure and innocent wife of a pirate, who pretended to know nothing of the machinations that governed the sea her husband sailed, their own organisation being no exception.

The pink sunset had swept the sky clear of clouds, and a brisk wind teased the hem of her skirt, nipping playfully at her cheeks, always as though inviting her to come along, to be carried off the docks if she let herself. But her heels were rooted firmly now as with every goodbye, her spine straight, the delicate line of her back hiding the steel in it.

They’d leave under the cover of night, on the unnamed ship that had pulled up to her quiet shores to take them away. There was no flag, and no jolly roger to identify their allegiance, but then Makino had come to expect nothing less of Dragon the Revolutionary, even here in this remote corner of East Blue.

A man was standing on deck, observing the village behind her. Tall and broad-shouldered, he wore his black hair pulled back from his high brow, revealing the tattoo covering one half of his face. Makino knew who he was.

His gaze shifted to her where she stood on the docks, and she saw his eyes fleeting down to her belly, rounding under the skirt of her dress, unmistakably pregnant. And she knew then, as his eyes lifted back to hers, a single, severe brow quirking, as though in quiet challenge, that he knew well who she was, too.

Then Dragon inclined his head to her, in what looked like a curious show of respect, before he turned towards the deckhouse, putting the village behind him.

The exchange had been entirely wordless, although glancing up at Sabo where he stood beside her, his brow furrowed a bit, Makino didn’t think he’d missed it.

Turning towards him, “Be careful,” Makino said. Koala had already gone aboard, but Sabo had lingered in his goodbyes.

His answering grin was cheerfully incriminating. “Accounting is a dangerous job.”

“Hmm, I thought you were in sales?”

“Did I say that? I meant to say that I was in publishing.”

“Well, be careful, either way.” She met his eyes, her own twinkling. “You never know how the critics might respond. To the things you publish, that is.”

Sabo chuckled, but when he met her eyes it was with a serious look, as he agreed, “Sound advice even for situations not related to publishing.”

His eyes dropped to her belly where she cradled it in her hands. There was genuine regret in his voice when he told her, “I’m sorry I can’t be there for the birth.”

Makino shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.” But even as she said it, she wondered if he could tell that her confidence was feigned; that it had been nearly five months already, and that Shanks still hadn’t come back. That she was beginning to wonder if he would make it back before the birth. That—and this was a fear she barely dared confess to herself—she was afraid he wouldn’t come back at all, and that she’d be a widow before she was a mother.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Sabo asked her then, confirming her suspicions; that he could tell she was faking it. It wasn’t the first time he’d made the offer over the week they’d stayed with her. “Our headquarters are really nice, and you’d be protected—”

“Sabo,” Makino cut him off gently, smiling. His concern for her was endearing, and appreciated, but, “I’ll manage. I’ve always managed.” Then, only partly in jest, “And I don’t know how my husband would feel about it, coming back only to discover I’ve been spirited away by a well-meaning if slightly overbearing publishing company.”

It was meant to lighten the mood, although it didn’t quite succeed, as Sabo only held her gaze, no teasing in his voice now as he asked her, “Are you safe here, Makino?”

Her hands tightened over the bump; she hoped he couldn’t tell that they were trembling. And it wasn’t a new fear, the one she felt now; the one she didn’t feel on her own behalf so much as for the unborn child in her belly.

She was really showing now; there was no hiding it. And all it would take was a single rumour, and one willing ear to listen.

“I’m as safe as I can be,” she said. She did believe that, truly. “I have Garp, and Dadan is here, and her family.” She lifted her chin, and her confidence wasn’t feigned now when she told him, “And I am protected. He’s made sure of that.”

The mention of Shanks didn’t ease his concern; rather the opposite. “But if anyone finds out that you’re—”

He stopped before he could finish, and looked around them. And even alone on the docks, out here in the open, he seemed reluctant to say Shanks’ name out loud; as though a treacherous wave would hear, and carry it out to sea.

He started when she touched his coat, smoothing her hands over the lapels, as though to straighten them out. “I am,” she said, her voice firmed with a gentle but unapologetic pride. She didn’t shy away from her choices; the man she’d chosen to marry least of all. “And I will also kindly remind you that I was self-sufficient long before I married him. You’re not seriously telling me you don’t think I can handle being on my own?”

Sabo’s expression softened, suddenly chagrined, and she smiled, showing him there was no real offence taken.

A gloved hand reached out then, pressed to the bump, before he frowned, and not finding what he was looking for, Makino moved his fingers a bit, until he felt it, his expression alighting with a smile at the movement under his palm.

“You’ll come visit when it’s born,” she told him, and saw him look up. “Luffy, too.”

He nodded. “I will.” Then, firmly, “And you’ll stay safe. Don’t do anything reckless.”

She hummed a laugh. “Oh, I’ll try to restrain myself.”

Sabo smiled at her. “I hope your husband knows he’s a damn lucky guy.”

Her smile softened. For a spell, the ache of missing him felt a little easier to bear. “He knows. But you’re welcome to tell him if you see him.” There was a suggestion there, and she wondered if he caught it.

Sabo’s grin told her he had, even before he told her, “You can bet on it.”

Then she said, prim, “And if anyone with ill intentions come looking, I’ll show them where the door is.”

That got her a rough laugh, although it didn’t fully succeed in wiping away the worry from his expression. “Give ‘em hell, yeah?”

She nodded, before she stepped forward, folding her arms around him. She was so small the top of her head didn’t even reach his shoulder, and she couldn’t wrap her arms fully around his back, but Sabo returned the embrace fiercely, although he was mindful of her belly between them. Makino had a mind to tell him not to grow so much before they saw each other again.

“If I see you in the paper,” she told him instead, gentle but firm, “let it be good news.”

She didn’t say his name, but it hung between them; the one boy who wouldn’t come back to her no matter how long she waited.

Sabo nodded, and then for good measure, she said, “That’s not the barmaid speaking, by the way.”

She heard his chuckle, lost against her hair. “No? The Empress, then?”

Swallowing thickly, Makino nodded. “Just so you know you have no choice.”

He squeezed her once, before he pulled back, and ducking his head with a grin, he kissed her cheek.

“Don’t worry, Ma-chan,” he told her, and Makino didn’t know if it was a promise or just a statement of fact when he said, with so much confidence she couldn’t help but believe him—

“I’m really hard to kill.”

—

She closed the bar the day the paper arrived with the news; one of the many she’d been dreading, because waiting doesn’t always mean you’re waiting for something good.

Two was the number now, of the ones who’d left her and who’d never return. Makino wondered how high the number would be when all was said and done; if she’d soon be a widow, too, waiting for a ghost ship, and for her captain and crew to come home, to bring her to the endless shores of the afterlife.

Her son was playing, thankfully unaware of her grief, and the tears she wasn’t able to hold back, spilling down her cheeks, over her hands, staining the paper and blotting the ink. Makino listened to him babbling, and that bright, beautiful laugh as he pushed the ball around, seated on the floor where she’d pulled up a chair. Content in his own company, the way she’d always been as a child, growing up with her mother, who’d taught her the importance of self-reliance.

But she’d grown crookedly, wilful and independent, and she was different now, a mother in her own right, a pirate’s wife, a pirate herself, and no longer content to be alone, and to readily accept her fate as it was decided for her. She wanted things now, wanted to be happy, to be loved, to live without worrying, and to be given back the things she was due. Her husband; her crew; her boys.

Wiping her eyes, she turned the newspaper over, and rising from her seat, went to pour herself a drink; allowing herself that today, selfishly, stubbornly. Because even the most patient of gardeners know that nothing grows without a good dose of stubbornness, not peace or happiness, and hope was a weed she’d never been able to uproot from her heart, for all her practical upbringing.

The whiskey burned her throat, leaving her coughing, and putting the empty glass down on the counter, she drew a deep breath. Then, steeling her spine, she poured herself another. If she was in for a long wait, she’d need it.

The dead never came back once they left, but Makino hoped now that she’d be proven wrong, this time like the last one. Because death might be final, but she was stubborn, and she’d out-waited tougher challengers. Longing, and loneliness; doubt and fear. She’d invited them all in, had served them all without judgement, and without buckling under the weight of their demands; her constant patrons. But death—

I’m really hard to kill.

Death could kindly fuck right off.

[books-broke-my-heart]

The Pariah

Chapter 2~

Caroline sucked in a deep breath at his words. Her palms weren’t as sweaty as she tried to find it in herself to calm down.

“W-What do you mean? Not leaving...? Why? Where is here?! Is there a reason to want to leave?” She rambled, throwing her hands up in the air. She didn’t know why she kept bursting questions out, they just kept spilling past her lips like she had been slipped truth serum.

“Woah, woah woah. Calm down, Princess. The n-“ the younger boy started but Caroline scoffed. She didn’t even know his name, and he just called her princess.

“It’s Caroline to you. Not princess,” she corrected, more of a ‘matter-of-factly’ tone than a sassy one. He rolled his eyes and scoffed just like she had. He folded his arms and looked at her.

“Okay Caroline. The name’s Gally. This is Newt. Welcome to the Glade,” he greeted, his lips itching up into a smile that only the keenest could see. She rubbed her once again sweaty palms on her jean shorts, looking at the ground.

It was completely silent, except for the occasional gush of wind. She heard a goat or a sheep bleating in the distance and she swallowed the lump in her throat. Caroline could feel every pair of eyes that was there trained on her as she used the tip of her boot to draw in the dirt.

Caroline stuck her hands in her pockets, her fingers brushing against a small notepad that had been shoved in there. She let her fingers fiddle with it as she waited for something to happen.

“Well?! What are you shanks waiting for? Her to turn into a Griever? Get back to work!” A dark skinned boy, the oldest looking by far, shouted out. He clapped his hands as the crowd around her scattered. She was left with Gally, Newt, and the dark-skinned boy.

“Welcome to the Glade Caroline. I’m Alby,” he greeted, a peaceful and calming smile etched onto his face. Caroline let at a cross between a groan and a huff as she threw her head back.

“Why do you boys keep saying ‘the glade’?!” She shouted, her feelings getting the best of her. Caroline quickly drew a sharp intake of breath, looking at them.

“It’s complicated. It’s better if we wait till tomorrow to explain it all to you,” Alby muttered, his facial expression the same. Caroline groaned once more but slumped her shoulders.

“Fine. If I can’t get answers, can I at least get some food? That Box was hell, and smelt like a rotten corpse,” she replied, trying to act cheery. They all chuckled and started to walk towards a large building.

“This is the Homestead. It’s where we eat, and some of us sleep here,” Alby said as they walked through the door. They were met by another dark-skinned boy standing behind the counter with plates of food laid out.

“Hey Fry,” Newt greeted the boy, causing his attention to turn to them. The boy smiled and leaned against one leg as he spoke.

“Hey Newt. Alby, Gally. What w-...who’s that?” He asked dumbly when he noticed the girl, his jaw basically unhinging. Gally chuckled and shook his head as he grabbed two plates.

“The new Greenie. Frypan meet Caroline, Caroline meet Frypan. He usually waits to meet the Greenie at dinner. Now, let’s eat,” Gally called out, already walking away. Caroline waved at the cook and scampered off after the boy, almost tripping.

“Shit! Sorry,” she apologized as she bumped into Newt. He just laughed and walked beside her with a plate. Gally sat at a table with three other boys. She walked towards him, careful to watch her step.

“Sit. Frypan’s actually a pretty decent cook,” Gally said, a bite of his dinner in his face. Caroline stuck her tongue out as the three boys across from her made disgusted faces.

“So, boys this is Caroline,” Gally introduces them after swallowing his roll. Caroline swallowed her roast and smiled.

“Nice to meet you Caroline,” a boy with platinum blonde hair-yet it looked a shade darker because of the dirt and grime- responded. Gally started to name them, pointing at them. The one who had just talked was Zart.

“That’s Zart, he’s the Keeper of the Gardeners. Then, in the middle is Winston. He’s the Keeper of the Slicers. Finally, this is one of our two Med-Jacks Jeff,” Gally explained, pointing at each of them. She nodded and set her cup down.

“Zart, Winston, Jeff. Got it,” she repeated dumbly, causing them to snigger. She just rolled her eyes and took another bite of her dinner.

“Clint! Get over here!” Jeff called out to a boy with extra curly hair, nearly an Afro.

“Ah, just in time. Caroline, Clint. Clint, Caroline. Caroline, this is the second Med-Jack,” Gally explained once more, causing Caroline to nod. The boy held his hand out and she shook it twice.

“Nice to meet you, Clint,” she stated, finishing off her dinner. They stared at her like she had eaten a whole cow. She shrugged and took a swig of water.

“As I told Newt, Alby, and Gally-I yacked all my food up in that ‘Box Of Rotting Corpses’,” she joked, a small smile stretching across her lips. Caroline started to think that maybe she could get used to this.

The guys around her snickered, playing and eating their own food. They talked and joked for another ten minutes before Winston and Gally both finished.

“Winston, I have to go talk to Alby. Would you mind taking Caroline to Chuck for the night?” Gally asked and Winston shrugged. Caroline smiles and waved at Gally as he left. She followed Winston out of the Homestead, her steps in time with his.

“So, who’s Chuck?” She sang, the so coming out more as an actual song. Winston chuckled and put his hands in his hips.

“Around twelve year olds. Curly hair, chubby but helpful,” he replied, a smile playing at his lips. Caroline started to like the idea of going to Chuck even more, knowing that he was a little kid. That’s when it struck her.

“Oh my word...Winston, can I ask you something?” She questioned, looking at the boy as they headed for another building-more as an old hut from the looks.-

“You just did,” he snickered, causing her to roll her eyes into the back of her head. He shook his head and nodded.

“Of course. Ask away,” he replied, stepping over a log and helping her over it.

“How old do I look?” She asked, stopping. Winston stopped right after her, turning to look at her. He started to analyze her face, squinting like he couldn’t see.

“I’d say sixteen, seventeen maybe,” he said after a while. They started walking again without noticing. Caroline was genuinely confused, she felt a lot older than that. It was like she was an adult trapped in a kids body.

“Chuck? Chuck, I know you came out here to eat. I watched you walk out here!” Winston called out, the torch he had in his hand casting a blazing red light over them.

“What do you want Winston? I-“ the boy stopped in his tracks seeing Caroline. Winston chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

“Yeah...Chuck you watch over our new Greenie for tonight. Find her a place to sleep, ya know...be friendly,” Winston instructed before looking back towards the open.

“See you two tomorrow. I’ve got to go light the torches,” he stated. He spun around and ran off, heading in the direction of a huge group huddle.

Chuck smiled and looked up at Caroline. He seemed genuinely happy yet confused about her being there.

“Is this real?” He asked, his jaw open just like Frypan’s had been. Caroline chuckled and nodded.

“Of course. Names Caroline. Chuck, right?” She asked, just to make sure she wasn’t loosing her mind. The curly headed boy nodded and she smiled. She was just a foot taller, so she bent her knees slightly.

“How about you show me where else you boys sleep other than the Homestead?” She suggested as the boy shook his head. He nodded excitedly, leaving his food, plate, and glass by the tree he had been sitting against.

“Come on. There isn’t lots of room here, not with about sixty, seventy of us,” Chuck explained, a proud smile on his face. Caroline couldn’t help the huge grin that spread across her lips at the excitement he radiated off himself.

“So, some of us sleep out side. Most of us on the floor, there is one boy who slept in a tree but...he’s gone,” he mumbled, the happiness leaving his eyes for a second.

“Hey, don’t think about anything like that. Think about all the people and things you’ve gained,” she ordered playfully, wagging her finger like getting on to a five year old.

The young boy laughed and pushed her hand away. They exited the woods, standing next to the Homestead. She didn’t even notice that they had went around diffrent huts and shacks.

“This is the Deadheads. It’s one of the only places you can get peace,” Chuck stated, gesturing to the trees around them. There was one particular tree that blocked the two from view, so nobody saw them.

“Then I guess we sleep her then, eh?” She asked, starting to climb a tree after hanging her backpack from a branch below. Chuck looked completely bewildered, like she had asked him to fly.

“You...you’re okay with me sleeping near you?” He asked, his tone full of surprise. Caroline raised her eyebrows at him from her spot in her tree.

“Who wouldn’t? I can tell you’re funny and you’re kind,” she replied, her eyes shutting. The boy had laid himself against a tree, sighing.

“Well...the guys here treat me like Klunk,” he mumbled causing her to let out a slight giggle.

“Sorry, Buddy. It’s just the word...Klunk?” She asked, sitting up once more. She cocked her head at him and he sniggered.

He explained it, and weirdly enough the girl giggled.

“It’s not even that funny. It’s just the way you said it,” she laughed, causing the boy to laugh too.

“I can tell I’m going to like you...” Chuck mumbled, before Caroline could hear his soft snores from below. She smiled and settled in the tree.

She could see Chuck from her branch and she smiled at the way he had curled up. Why did he look so innocent and sweet? Right then and there she decided to protect the boy, if it meant dying.

“Don’t worry, Chuck. I don’t think I’m going anytime soon,” she mumbled, before she let sleep overtake her.

But little did they know...nothing and nobody would stay innocent for long. Change is coming upon them, and the danger and threat level is higher than ever. And if she stays true to her word...the first girl in the Glade will be gone.

Tags; @randomfriends @ayeayecaptaingally @xxcatnissxx

[sassysweetstories]

always find you

Request: “Hi I was wondering if I could get a Thomas from the maze runner and a plus size reader imagine where it’s set in the death cure and Thomas goes to save her and Minho. When he finds her she’s insecure which is weird because she was confident before but they help get her back to normal”

Ship: Thomas x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of insecurity, body shaming, kidnapping, mentions of blood, fluff, swearing, fighting, yelling, etc. could be triggering please be aware and safe. 

Notes: none of these gifs are mine, credit to owners

Tagged: @bailey-hoover @kiralivelove @thalia-prior-of-ravenclaw @anamcg317bellasett @queentiffanyyy @archer-whovian-violinist @beingmadinwonderland@princessisabelle19 @violence-and-velvet @lachicadelamanzana 

Third P.O.V

Thomas turned over his shoulder towards the sweet voice that called his name. And when he saw her, time seemed to slow down. Her smile was a bright as the sun that shown down on her beautifully soft skin. “You gonna help me with this work, shank? Or will I have to do everything myself as per usual?” The little smirk grew into a full fledged grin as she rested her hands on her big hips. He could never get tired of looking at her vivacious body. Thomas only wished he could worship every part of her. She presses her hand up against his peck and he nearly faints at her demanding stature. “Come on, shank. We’ve got work to do.” (Y/n) presses a small kiss on his cheek before she walked away. Her body fading like mist into the wind. 

“Thomas! Thomas! Wake up, you bloody git!” Newt shook him awake, sighing. “We’re here.” Thomas jolted from his knapsack, upset he was pulled from such a lovely dream and back into reality. The only good thing about it was that reality meant he would get his girl back. Which is all the motivation he needed. Jorge turned the corner and parked the car in a secluded area, running the car quietly. “Good luck, amigos. See you on the other side.” Thomas quickly nods to the older man, not wasting anytime to reunite with his friend and lover. The corridors were dark and barren as the boys walked carefully down the hall, the lights flicking every so often. The quiet patter of water drops and machine creaking sent a nervous shiver down Thomas’ spine. 

Your P.O.V

few weeks ago... 

I threw my head back screaming as two guards dragged me by my arms. Their grip was constricting and painful, tightening the harder I thrashed against them. “Damn big girl has a lot of power.” One of them snide to the other as if I weren’t there. I slam my shoe down on his boot, cursing as he cusses loudly. “THIS BIG GIRL IS ABOUT TO BEAT YOUR ASS!” I push the other guard off to the side, not strong enough to unlatch his arm from mine before another held my shoulders upright. “Fucking, bitch.” I never stop moving. I won’t give up against these bastards. Minho can’t be far. As my thoughts wander, my sight shifts. And for the first time in my life as my vision begins to blur, I feel a wave of fear wash over my body. 

now... 

“Pathetic. I don’t see why the doc still gives her food, honestly. What the hell are they even tracking?” One of my guards crudely says to the other on duty, speaking as if I weren’t even present. It’s so dehumanizing. Instinctively I curl up further into the corner of my room, wishing more than anything to just disappear. My shirt is not tight enough that it shows off my curves but it seems to be just enough fuel for the officers on duty who revel in watching a teenager weep. Minho’s cell is next to mine but I haven’t him. He’s been taken to be analyzed by the doctors nonstop. Without him here as my anchor, it was becoming harder and harder to not shatter completely. Their comments continue and without Minho, I’m forced to listen. 

I don’t remember when I clamped my ears shut with the palms of my hands. I can only hear the loud ringing in my head and my unsteady breathing. I can’t tell if their voices cease because I’m too afraid to find out. Keeping my eyes and ears shut, heart hammering out my chest. When a pair of soft hands rest on my shoulders, I jerk away in fear. When they return, they feel familiar and warm. I can feel my hands growing hot as I pressed them further to my ears as the unfamiliar palms pull them away. “(Y/n)-” A voice whispers. “Angel, it’s me, Thomas. Newt’s here, too.” I shake my head, scared of whatever new sadistic thing the guards have come up with to get off on my pain. “No, no, no, no, no. You’re not real... You-” The tears come too quick. 

Thomas’ impersonator rests his hands on my cheeks and I feel my heart clench in pain. “Just look at me.. Please..” Maybe it’s my heart that ached for him that made me cave in. There he is, Newt and Minho over his shoulder with warm smiles. “I’ll always find you. C’mon angel, lets get out of this hellhole, okay?” I nodded, unable to form words as I ran my hand down his cheek. I follow but flinch when he rests his hand on my hips. The action doesn’t go unnoticed by my two best friends. “What did they do to you, love?” Newt asked quietly as we slipped out the back and into the car. Thomas doesn’t let go of my body, running his hands up and down my arms. An action that is both soothing and uncomfortable. “They got to you didn’t they?” Minho practically growls, “Those bastards emotionally abused you..” Thomas pulled closer, lifting my chin up so our eyes met. “What’s he talking about, angel?” 

I bury in myself some more, wanting to hide away from the world completely. “They- they made me feel... gross.. they used cruel words and-” I choked on my own tears as Thomas pulled me into his arms. “Nobody is ever gonna hurt you again, I promise. I love you angel and nothing will change that. I couldn’t fucking think straight without you by my side. We will all remind you, every second of every day how you beautiful and gorgeous you are. I swear on my life you will always feel loved. I promise.” Newt and Minho nod along as Thomas laces his fingers through my hair, whispering words of comfort. “Things will go back to normal, I promise.” 

(I hope you guys liked it) 

[fandomsrlove]

What Was it You Had to Tell Me?

Fandom: The Maze Runner

Requested: hiiii, can i request newt x reader, where newt really likes the girl and tries to confess but the other gladers always interrupt him?? :))))

Pairing: Newt x reader

Word Count: 1,636

Warning: Just glader cursing.

A/N:I loved writing this!

Newt’s POV

I can never help myself. I should be working but instead I can’t keep my eyes off Y/N. From the moment she came up in the box, I was taken by her. The way the light bounced off of her confused, innocent eyes. Pretty is not the word for her; it’s not strong enough. She’s exceptionally beautiful. I can’t remember another girl, but I know none of them could be as amazing as her.

Although her looks are what first captured me, there is so much more than that. Soon after we met, I learned how truly kind- hearted she is, despite how well she can have a banter with Minho. She can have fun doing anything with anyone in the Glade. You will never see her without a smile on her face, and you will never find anyone she can’t make smile. Even Gally can’t resist her contagious joy.

It’s obvious everyone is quite taken with her. So how am I supposed to work up the courage to tell her my feelings when they’re the same as everyone else’s? Who can I confide in? Who can I go to for advice? Minho maybe, he is too much like a brother to her to have feelings. But that creates another problem: if I told him, he would go straight to her and spill my great secret. So I told no one.  

Now here I am, staring at her while working in the gardens. Her hair shimmers in the sunlight, and dirt covers her skin, but she still couldn’t be more breathtaking.

I feel someone suddenly shove my shoulder. I turn to see Minho donning his classic mischievous grin. 

“You’re back early,” I remark.

“Nothing is new,” he explained matter-of-factly. “I could trace each old path in just 4 hours and still not find a new one.”

“Of course,” I respond.

There is a pause before Minho finally just comes out with it.

“Shucking hell, Newt,” he outbursts. That catches my attention. “You’ve been staring at her day after day and there has been six new greenies since her! SIX!” I compose myself.

“I have no clue what you are talking about,” I state flatly.

“Oh yes, you do,” he grins.

“What are you even on about?” I furrow my brow.

“Quit acting.”

“I’m truly lost.”

“You’re an awful liar.”

“Fine then, what would you suggest that I might do about it?” I deadpan. 

“Talk to her about it before I do,” he taunts.

“You wouldn’t dare,” I borderline growl.

“Oh Newt, you know me better than that.”

“I swear--”

“But, you do realize I’m the least of your concerns? I’m surprised more boys haven’t tried for her. They must just be biding their time until now. Clock is ticking, Newt,” he mocks me.

“How do I even go about that? ‘Hey, Y/N. I know you probably think of me as nothing more than a friend, but I’ve had the biggest shucking crush on you since I first looked into your eyes, and I was wondering if you’d maybe like to possibly be slightly more than friends?’ That just sounds stupid!” I take no breaths between my words.

“Aw, that eye thingy you said was adorable, you sappy shank,” he teases. “But, yeah, man. What else can you say?”

“Nothing. I can’t even say that, not to her face at least.”

“Yes, you can. Just try to do it without klunking your pants.” He shoves me in her direction. “Go now. Tick-tock, tick-tock.” I glare back at him but decide he’s right. I begin to make my way over. 

“Hey, Y/N,” I call out, putting on my best smile.

She looks up and smiles brightly.

“Hey, Newt.” She straightens as I meet her. 

“Hey,” I reply.

Wait, shuck, I already said that. I facepalm internally. How does she make me so nervously dumb?

“What’s up?” She raises her brows, looking beautifully intentful.

“Nothing really, I just wanted to talk to you about... w-well,” I stutter. Just get it out and over with. “You see--”

“Y/N,” Zart shouts, joyfully jogging over, bucket in hand. 

Perfect shucking timing. I roll my eyes since neither are paying attention to me anymore.

“Yeah?”

“Could you grab some fertilizer? Running low on the other side of the field.”

“Of course!”

“Than you so much,” he smiles, shooting her a wink and handing her the foul bucket before jogging off. 

“Sorry, can we talk later? Duty calls,” she smiles reassuringly.

“Yeah!” I force a smile. “Like I said, nothing important!” 

“Okay, see you at lunch!” She turns and jogs to the forest. 

“See ya,” I call out, but she doesn’t turn back. 

I stalk back over to Minho. 

“What the shuck happened?”

“Zart, that shank,” I snarl. “Who the bloody hell winks as you ask someone to go fill up a bucket of klunk?”

“So you didn’t say it?”

“No, of course not,” I whine. 

“Relax, you’ve still got lunch time,” Minho assures me.

“Yeah, I get to work up every cell of courage I have again,” I grimace. Minho simply pats my shoulder and walks away.

Lunch arrives, and I search everywhere for her until I find her sitting with Gally in the Homestead. They’re deep in conversation, but I manage to force myself to go sit with them. 

“Hey, Newt,” she smiles, then returning to her conversation with Gally. They’re discussing repairs that needed to be made to the Homestead and she is helping him with the math. She has a talent for that, but Gally is good enough at it to do it himself, or else he wouldn’t be keeper of the Builders.

They continue fir the next twenty minutes but it feels as tho it has been an hour. 

“Better get working on that now then,” he smiles. Gally never smiles unless he’s around Y/N or beating somebody up in the ring. “Later, Y/N.”

“Bye, Gally,” she waves. She then turns her focus to you. “Sorry about that. What was it you wanted to talk about this morning?” 

“Well, I,” I start. I take a deep breath.”I wanted to say--”

“Y/N!” A voice calls. You recognize the leader’s voice anywhere. She looks toward him.

“Yeah, Alby?”

“You said that there was a leak in your room?”

“Oh, yes,” she recalls.

You’ve gotta be kidding me.

“If you’re free right now, we can go take a look at it,” Alby suggests.

The girl looks at you apologetically.

“I’m sorry, Newt.” She looks helpless. “I’ve been waiting a week to have this fixed, I promise I’ll come find you straight after.”

“It’s alright,” I smile. 

“Great,” the leaders claps. “Let’s see the problem.”

She disappears, leading Alby up the stairs.

I lean against the tree for another hour before I see Y/N walking out of the Homestead.

Now or never.

I jog over to her as best I can with my limp.

“Y/N!” I shout. She jogs to meet me more than halfway.

“I’m so sorry about that,” she says sincerely. 

“It’s fine, I swear,” I gasp. I catch my breath before I continue. “I just need to tell you--”

I’m cut off by the alarm of the Box.

“It’s just supplies today, nevermind it,” I say.

“Newt, we get a greenie today,” she says.

“We do?” Shit. Here we go again.

“Come on.” She sprints ahead of me. By the time I reach her, she and Alby are already heaving open the doors.

Inside is a chubby boy, no older than fourteen. She hops down and coaxes the boy out. He begins to hide from the rest of us behind her.

A clingy child: the last thing I need right now.

I manage to overhear Y/N introducing the boy to Alby. His name is Chuck and he remains glued at her side and stays there.

At dinner I introduce myself in an attempt to get closer to Y/N. She sees what I am trying to do, and she simply shakes her head, mouthing, “later.”

Throughout the entire meal and bonfire the kid hogs the girl to himself. Eventually, Alby announces bed time. I know that this will be my last shot, but Y/N finds a place for him near some other boys and wraps him in a blanket.

She turns and makes her way to the Homestead and I hang back.

She must be so exhausted. But, I know I want-- need-- to do this now. 

I walk into the Homestead, up the stairs and to her door. I brace myself.

Nothing bad can happen. What could go wrong? The worst she can say is no, right? Then we go back to her normal lives. No, this place is not normal. I can’t take this place. I need her. I live for her laugh. I live for our talks. I live for her. She’s the only light in this bloody pitch-black world. I need her. 

I knock. 

“One sec,” she calls out.

She opens the door dressed in a baggy shirt and shorts.

“Newt.” she smiles. “I’m so sorry. This has been a crazy day. I kept getting caught up....” She rambles on, apologizing profusely, and I decide that I’m not the one who’s going to get cut off this time. “I just had so--” 

I close the space between us and take her jaw into my hands gently. I lean down slowly, stopping just inches away from her lips.

“Newt...,” she whispers breathily. “I....”

“Can I...?” I ask. She responds by diminishing the last couple inches between our faces, pressing her lips to mine. I kiss her back gently, releasing all the tension in my body. I drop my hands to her waist and pull her closer as she tangles her fingers in my hair. A moment later she pulls away.

“What was it you had to tell me?”

[readbookywooks]

“The ‘wait-and-dive thingy’?” Thomas asked, rolling his eyes. “Any idiot on the planet would’ve done that.”

“Don’t get all humbly bumbly on us—what you did is freaking unbelievable. You and Minho, both.”

Thomas tossed the empty plate on the ground, suddenly angry. “Then why do I feel so crappy, Chuck? Wanna answer me that?”

Thomas searched Chuck’s face for an answer, but by the looks of it he didn’t have one. The boy just sat clasping his hands as he leaned forward on his knees, head hanging. Finally, half under his breath, he murmured, “Same reason we all feel crappy.”

They sat in silence until, a few minutes later, Newt walked up, looking like death on two feet. He sat on the ground in front of them, as sad and worried as any person could possibly appear. Still, Thomas was glad to have him around.

“I think the worst part’s over,” Newt said. “The bugger should be sleepin’ for a couple of days, then wake up okay. Maybe a little screaming now and then.”

Thomas couldn’t imagine how bad the whole ordeal must be—but the whole process of the Changing was still a mystery to him. He turned to the older boy, trying his best to be casual. “Newt, what’s he going through up there? Seriously, I don’t get what this Changing thing is.”

Newt’s response startled Thomas. “You think we do?” he spat, throwing his arms up, then slapping them back down on his knees. “All we bloody know is if the Grievers sting you with their nasty needles, you inject the Grief Serum or you die. If you do get the Serum, then your body wigs out and shakes and your skin bubbles and turns a freaky green color and you vomit all over yourself. Enough explanation for ya there, Tommy?”

Thomas frowned. He didn’t want to make Newt any more upset than he already was, but he needed answers. “Hey, I know it sucks to see your friend go through that, but I just want to know what’s really happening up there. Why do you call it the Changing?”

Newt relaxed, seemed to shrink, even, and sighed. “It brings back memories. Just little snippets, but definite memories of before we came to this horrible place. Anyone who goes through it acts like a bloody psycho when it’s over—although usually not as bad as poor Ben. Anyway, it’s like being given your old life back, only to have it snatched away again.”

Thomas’s mind was churning. “Are you sure?” he asked.

Newt looked confused. “What do you mean? Sure about what?”

“Are they changed because they want to go back to their old life, or is it because they’re so depressed at realizing their old life was no better than what we have now?”

Newt stared at him for a second, then looked away, seemingly deep in thought. “Shanks who’ve been through it’ll never really talk about it. They get … different. Unlikable. There’s a handful around the Glade, but I can’t stand to be around them.” His voice was distant, his eyes having strayed to a certain blank spot in the woods. Thomas knew he was thinking about how Alby might never be the same again.

“Tell me about it,” Chuck chimed in. “Gally’s the worst of ’em all.”

“Anything new on the girl?” Thomas asked, changing the subject. He was in no mood to talk about Gally. Plus, his thoughts kept going back to her. “I saw the Med-jacks feeding her upstairs.”

“No,” Newt answered. “Still in the buggin’ coma, or whatever it is. Every once in a while she’ll mumble something—nonsense, like she’s dreaming. She takes the food, seems to be doing all right. It’s kind of weird.”

A long pause followed, as if the three of them were trying to come up with an explanation for the girl. Thomas wondered again about his inexplicable feeling of connection with her, though it had faded a little—but that could have been because of everything else occupying his thoughts.

Newt finally broke the silence. “Anyway, next up—figure out what we do with Tommy here.”

Thomas perked up at that, confused by the statement. “Do with me? What’re you talking about?”

Newt stood, stretched his arms. “Turned this whole place upside down, you bloody shank. Half the Gladers think you’re God, the other half wanna throw your butt down the Box Hole. Lotta stuff to talk about.”

“Like what?” Thomas didn’t know which was more unsettling—that people thought he was some kind of hero, or that some wished he didn’t exist.

“Patience,” Newt said. “You’ll find out after the wake-up.”

“Tomorrow? Why?” Thomas didn’t like the sound of this.

“I’ve called a Gathering. And you’ll be there. You’re the only buggin’ thing on the agenda.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving Thomas to wonder why in the world a Gathering was needed just to talk about him.

CHAPTER 24

The next morning, Thomas found himself sitting in a chair, worried and anxious, sweating, facing eleven other boys. They were seated in chairs arranged in a semicircle around him. Once settled, he realized they were the Keepers, and to his chagrin that meant Gally was among them. One chair directly in front of Thomas stood empty—he didn’t need to be told that it was Alby’s.

They sat in a large room of the Homestead that Thomas hadn’t been in before. Besides the chairs, there was no other furniture except for a small table in the corner. The walls were made of wood, as was the floor, and it didn’t look like anyone had ever attempted to make the place look inviting. There were no windows; the room smelled of mildew and old books. Thomas wasn’t cold, but shivered all the same.

He was at least relieved that Newt was there. He sat in the chair to the right of Alby’s empty seat. “In place of our leader, sick in bed, I declare this Gathering begun,” he said, with a subtle roll of his eyes as if he hated anything approaching formality. “As you all know, the last few days have been bloody crazy, and quite a bit seems centered around our Greenbean, Tommy, seated before us.”

Thomas’s face flushed with embarrassment.

“He’s not the Greenie anymore,” Gally said, his scratchy voice so low and cruel it was almost comical. “He’s just a rule breaker now.”

This started off a rumbling of murmurs and whispers, but Newt shushed them. Thomas suddenly wanted to be as far from that room as possible.

“Gally,” Newt said, “try to keep some buggin’ order, here. If you’re gonna blabber your shuck mouth every time I say something, you can go ahead and bloody leave, because I’m not in a very cheerful mood.”

Thomas wished he could cheer at that.

Gally folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, the scowl on his face so forced that Thomas almost laughed out loud. He was having a harder and harder time believing he’d been terrified of this guy just a day earlier—he seemed silly, even pathetic now.

Newt gave Gally a hard stare, then continued. “Glad we got that out of the way.” Another roll of the eyes. “Reason we’re here is because almost every lovin’ kid in the Glade has come up to me in the last day or two either boohooing about Thomas or beggin’ to take his bloody hand in marriage. We need to decide what we’re gonna do with him.”

Gally leaned forward, but Newt cut him off before he could say anything.

“You’ll have your chance, Gally. One at a time. And Tommy, you’re not allowed to say a buggin’ thing until we ask you to. Good that?” He waited for a nod of consent from Thomas—who gave it reluctantly—then pointed to the kid in the chair on the far right. “Zart the Fart, you start.”

There were a few snickers as Zart, the quiet big guy who watched over the Gardens, shifted in his seat. He looked to Thomas more out of place than a carrot on a tomato plant.

“Well,” Zart began, his eyes darting around almost like he was waiting for someone else to tell him what to say. “I don’t know. He broke one of our most important rules. We can’t just let people think that’s okay.” He paused and looked down at his hands, rubbing them together. “But then again, he’s … changed things. Now we know we can survive out there, and that we can beat the Grievers.”

Relief flooded Thomas. He had someone else on his side. He made a promise to himself to be extra nice to Zart.

“Oh, give me a break,” Gally spurted. “I bet Minho’s the one who actually got rid of the stupid things.”

“Gally, shut your hole!” Newt yelled, standing for effect this time; once again Thomas felt like cheering. “I’m the bloody Chair right now, and if I hear one more buggin’ word out of turn from you, I’ll be arrangin’ another Banishing for your sorry butt.”

“Please,” Gally whispered sarcastically, the ridiculous scowl returning as he slouched back into his chair again.

Newt sat down and motioned to Zart. “Is that it? Any official recommendations?”

Zart shook his head.

“Okay. You’re next, Frypan.”

The cook smiled through his beard and sat up straighter. “Shank’s got more guts than I’ve fried up from every pig and cow in the last year.” He paused, as if expecting a laugh, but none came. “How stupid is this—he saves Alby’s life, kills a couple of Grievers, and we’re sitting here yappin’ about what to do with him. As Chuck would say, this is a pile of klunk.”

Thomas wanted to walk over and shake Frypan’s hand—he’d just said exactly what Thomas himself had been thinking about all of this.

“So what’re ya recommendin’?” Newt asked.

Frypan folded his arms. “Put him on the freaking Council and have him train us on everything he did out there.”

Voices erupted from every direction, and it took Newt half a minute to calm everyone down. Thomas winced; Frypan had gone too far with that recommendation, almost invalidating his well-stated opinion of the whole mess.

“All right, writin’ her down,” Newt said as he did just that, scribbling on a notepad. “Now everyone keep their bloody mouths shut, I mean it. You know the rules—no idea’s unacceptable—and you’ll all have your say when we vote on it.” He finished writing and pointed to the third member of the Council, a kid Thomas hadn’t met yet with black hair and a freckly face.

“I don’t really have an opinion,” he said.

“What?” Newt asked angrily. “Lot of good it did to choose you for the Council, then.”

“Sorry, I honestly don’t.” He shrugged. “If anything, I agree with Frypan, I guess. Why punish a guy for saving someone’s life?”

“So you do have an opinion—is that it?” Newt insisted, pencil in hand.

The kid nodded and Newt scribbled a note. Thomas was feeling more and more relieved—it seemed like most of the Keepers were for him, not against him. Still, he was having a hard time just sitting there; he desperately wanted to speak on his own behalf. But he forced himself to follow Newt’s orders and keep quiet.

Next was acne-covered Winston, Keeper of the Blood House. “I think he should be punished. No offense, Greenie, but Newt, you’re the one always harping about order. If we don’t punish him, we’ll set a bad example. He broke our Number One Rule.”

“Okay,” Newt said, writing on his pad. “So you’re recommendin’ punishment. What kind?”

“I think he should be put in the Slammer for a week with only bread and water—and we need to make sure everyone knows about it so they don’t get any ideas.”

Gally clapped, earning a scowl from Newt. Thomas’s heart fell just a bit.

Two more Keepers spoke, one for Frypan’s idea, one for Winston’s. Then it was Newt’s turn.

“I agree with the lot of ya. He should be punished, but then we need to figure out a way to use him. I’m reservin’ my recommendation until I hear everyone out. Next.”

Thomas hated all this talk about punishment, even more than he hated having to keep his mouth shut. But deep inside he couldn’t bring himself to disagree—as odd as it seemed after what he’d accomplished, he had broken a major rule.

Down the line they went. Some thought he should be praised, some thought he should be punished. Or both. Thomas could barely listen anymore, anticipating the comments from the last two Keepers, Gally and Minho. The latter hadn’t said a word since Thomas had entered the room; he just sat there, drooped in his chair, looking like he hadn’t slept in a week.

Gally went first. “I think I’ve made my opinions pretty clear already.”

Great, Thomas thought. Then just keep your mouth shut.

“Good that,” Newt said with yet another roll of the eyes. “Go on, then, Minho.”

“No!” Gally yelled, making a couple of Keepers jump in their seats. “I still wanna say something.”

“Then bloody say it,” Newt replied. It made Thomas feel a little better that the temporary Council Chair despised Gally almost as much as he did. Though Thomas wasn’t that afraid of him anymore, he still hated the guy’s guts.

“Just think about it,” Gally began. “This slinthead comes up in the Box, acting all confused and scared. A few days later, he’s running around the Maze with Grievers, acting like he owns the place.”

Thomas shrank into his chair, hoping that others hadn’t been thinking anything like that.

Gally continued his rant. “I think it was all an act. How could he have done what he did out there after just a few days? I ain’t buyin’ it.”