#midnight magma things

[justladders]

No vamptrap content? Lemmę Ⅎ i⃣x Tₕ ₳₳₳₳₳₳₳₳₳₳₳₳₳₳₳₳₳₳₳₳₳₳₳₳₳₳₳₳

Oop. Never mind.

[djarinsbeskar]

HERE, THERE BE MONSTERS: THE MINOTAUR PART 4

A/N: We're getting closer. Brace yourselves... Artwork by machiavellicro on deviantart!

Pairing: Minotaur!Din Djarin x Nymph!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ NO Minors)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: gross misuse of mythology, gore, horror, suggestive themes. Reminder that this is a MONSTER FUCKING fic, so be warned for future chapters.

NOTICE: If you want to keep updated on when I post fic turn on notifications for @djarinsbeskar-writes ! c:

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Day 10

You thought you had escaped him.

You considered yourself lucky.

But you soon learned there was no such thing in the labyrinth, and the Minotaur lingered with you long after you fled the carnage he caused in the forest.

Twigs and filaments of hedging scratched at your face and neck where you made a break into a barely visible gap onto another path in the maze. Your heart pounding, you couldn’t quell the terrified shriek when the air was disturbed behind you, a massive shadow racing past where you had just escaped from.

Another close call.

It wouldn’t take him long to circle back when he lost the trail. You needed to hurry.

Swimming through the hedgerow, you clawed your way to the other side desperately. It was too dark suddenly, the thicket too dense for you to see farther than your nose where you were coffined within the black foliage. When you hand finally breached the other side, however, it wasn’t open air that met it.

It felt like a living volcano under your fingers.

If the magma and rock and fury could be made man as a growl began deep in his throat, vibrating under your hand and filling you with the most intoxicating dread. It surrounded you in a sea of lava, cutting off your every exit. Made you hot when you realized the rock under your hand was instead solid muscle.

But instead of pulling away – burned – your hand moved on its own, tracing downward… getting hotter the closer you came to the source. The cloth at his groin gave you pause when something swayed beneath it.

Something mean.

Something designed to break you into submission. Or death. Whichever came first.

You finally reacted to the burn, yanking your hand away as common sense rammed into you ruthlessly.

He found you already.

How-

You didn’t have time to finish the question, a massive hand erupting through the hedging to collar your throat, his blood-thirsty bellow drowning out the sound of your neck snapping as you were dragged from a fitful sleep with a gasp.

The underside of a large root met your gaze, your hand flying to your neck to ensure you were still alive. If your pulse racing under your fingers didn’t convince you, your ragged breaths did as you tried to swallow around the fear lodged in your throat, your mouth fuzzy with thirst.

A… a dream?

You groaned, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes as you willed your heart to slow. Not again…

Not even in your dreams were you free from being hunted. Not even sleep rid you of the all-encompassing punishment the labyrinth insisted on subjecting you to. It truly was hell on earth, with no way out in sight.

You’d be stuck here for an eternity if you weren’t run down and killed first.

What would you even do if you escaped? The question sobered you as you pulled yourself out from the small dimple of space you’d taken shelter in under a root, the entrance to which was hidden by a sheet of draped moss.

It was impossible to tell how long you’d been asleep, stretching your aching arms above your head. The concealed sky hid the suns movements, but since it still shone behind the clouds, you knew it couldn’t have been for very long. The glare pounded behind your eyes, your dream finally catching up with you at the same time you became aware of something equally disturbing.

A decided slickness between your legs and a familiar throb you never normally had trouble finding someone to take care of.

But this wasn’t due to the drunken high of a midnight dance, or the wandering hands of a handsome god while you slept in his bed after a night of passion. It was… because of him.

Curse your nature as a nymph.

It was a well understood fact that nymphs – by their existence – were personifications of the natural world and therefore, were often drawn to the primal. To areas of potent carnal energy and overindulgence that often manifested in the parties Dionysus threw night after night, the whisper of an arrow from Artemis’ bow to fell a boar whose head would decorate the tables of plenty. The sex and orgies and decadence that you now found yourself on the flip side of.

You were connected to nature, to the very essence of the primordial and so… you were attracted to it. In all its’ forms.

But a beast? That was a far cry from an over-indulgence of wine and pleasure.  

Something was wrong with you. It had to be.

The labyrinth was making you mad… it had to be.

Realization propelled you to your feet as if you could escape those unwelcome thoughts and intrusive truths by simply running from them.

But they, like him, clung to your subconscious like nightshade you’d foolishly mistaken for burdock. Now, removing the burs was an obsolete task. The poison had already taken hold. A poison that made your hand tingle and pussy clench with the memory of a monstrous girth your imagination cooked up.

You blamed it on everything you could as you tried to find your bearings. You blamed it on the maze itself. You blamed it on Hera and her proclivity for curses. You blamed it on Zeus and his wandering gaze. You blamed it on the water, believing it to be bewitched even as you dropped to your knees to guzzle great handfuls of the life-giving essence at the first stream you found.

You even blamed it on the Minotaur himself.

In taking so long to catch you and put you out of your misery, you were forced to become accustomed to the fear… leaving room for other, more dangerous emotions to fill the space it once took up entirely.

There wasn’t time to ponder what those emotions might be when a shriek echoed across the labyrinth, raw and terrified before it was cut short with unnatural abruptness. That wasn’t unusual. You had grown accustomed to the way the wind carried screams far more willingly than any other sound to torment the labyrinths inhabitants.

It did, however, remind you of how exposed you were by the water. Especially if he had started hunting so early.

That was unusual.

He was usually far more active at night. As though cloaked in shadows, he could pursue his victims with a deadly invincibility. The shadows themselves an extension of his terror, confusing the instincts of every prisoner as they fled his tireless pace.

But he wasn’t the only villain within the confines of the labyrinth.

It had been a harrowing realization that just because he was the apex predator, didn’t mean there weren’t others willing to do anything, hurt anyone to ensure their own survival. You might have been wrongly convicted and sentenced here, but that wasn’t the same for everyone.

The back of your neck prickled suddenly with awareness, making you whirl where you came face to face with a man and a woman standing a short distance away, their hands raised in the universal sign of surrender. Their dress more worn and features more weathered, it was clear they’d been here much longer than you had.

Eyes widened and mind fresh with the knowledge that humans were capable of as much brutality as the gods, you backed away slowly. How could you not have heard them?

“Easy,” the woman began, her voice smoky and attractive, calling to the sisterly attachment you had been devoid of since coming here, “you are alone in this hellscape, traveller?”

That question was too loaded, and your guard fortified further.

You gulped, eyes flicking mistrustfully to the male standing silently by her side, his hand palming the butt of a crude knife of carved stone while sharp, black eyes scanned their surroundings. The woman noticed, placing herself half in front of him to drag your attention back to her.

“My name is Penelope, and this is one of my companions, Nikos.”

“One of—” you heard yourself speak warily, eyes darting to bushes, shrubs, the maze itself… all capable of hiding others.

“They’re not here.” You gulped when Penelope continued, your eyes finally pulled back to her. “We got separated during the night and have been trying to find them ever since. You are welcome to join us if you’d like.”

You didn’t miss the stifled noise Nikos made as his eyes snapped to Penelope, but she remained focused on you.

Tangled black hair was pulled away from her face in a long mane, various braids throughout the locks reminding you of those worn by Artemis’ hunters whom you often guided throughout the night. She wasn’t one. You were merely trying to find familiarity in her dirt-stained skin and keen, green eyes.

“There are about twelve of us, we look out for one another, work as a team—pool resources, take turns keeping watch, finding food. It works, and I’ve been part of it since it was formed. It’s the best the likes of us are ever going to get in here, traveller.”

Your jaw tensed at her ready acceptance of the way things were and you didn’t miss the way Nikos’ grip tightened on his weapon.

“You’ve seen him, haven’t you?” She continued when you remained silent. You averted your eyes, the woman misinterpreting it for agreement and not the blush you were attempting to hide.

“This place robs us of everything but hope.” A chill entered Penelope’s voice. “That is his to destroy. It’s why so few last beyond escaping him. They realize there is no hope, and simply give up. You can see it in their eyes.”

You didn’t like her insinuation, nor the dullness in her gaze. Is… that what she meant? Did you look like that? Catching your frown, Penelope shook her head.

“But not yours.” Penelope smiled, the first tug of kindness stinging your eyes suddenly. “You still have some hope inside you, we could use that.”

“Pen—” Nikos began on a rumble, turning towards her with a familiar hold to her elbow while he cast a suspicious glance towards you.

“The fact you’re still alive is admirable, traveller. But it won’t stay that way if you remain alone.” Penelope ignored him to keep talking to you. Were you so transparent that she could tell you were being swayed? That the thought of company in this abyss was as tempting as the thought of being swallowed by it?

Your brows fell over your eyes suspiciously, suddenly unsure of their intent. You saw what you got out of this offer, but what did they?

“We don’t have much, but there is strength in numbers. “

You cursed your lack of experience with mortals. Maybe if you lived among them instead of observing them from afar in the safety of the night sky, their actions might make more sense to you. But in reality, outside the occasional dalliance with a warrior or three, you had no notion of why humans did… anything they ended up doing.

They were much too juvenile, their lives too short to be sure of anything before they died.

“We cannot linger, Pen.” Nikos insisted once more, drawing you out of your mind. “It’s clear she doesn’t want—"

Penelope silenced him with a pat to the bicep. Ah. Lovers. You understood that. The man grizzled, but subdued as she took a testing step towards you, smiling when you didn’t retreat.

“When was the last time you ate something other than a few raw nuts? Slept longer than an hour at any one time? Felt protected?”

You didn’t know.

Honestly, it felt like an eternity since you’d experienced any of that. Your stomach growled treacherously, telling her your answer. Still, you wouldn’t be swayed. That only ever got you in trouble, being swayed by others.

“I know enough about life to know nothing is free…” You flinched internally when Nikos shifted, the wind mercifully carrying your voice, as soft as it was. “How do you benefit from having another mouth to feed?”

In your periphery, a sprinkle of stardust shimmered atop the stream you stood within. If they didn’t already know you were a divinity, they very soon would. And the greed of humans could rival that of Zeus himself…

“That—”

A branch snapping made you jump, the sound of your neck breaking in your dream flashing across your memory along with a clamour of instinct.

Danger.

It wailed in your mind, forcing you back several steps, snapping out of the fantasy you’d found yourself in with the sudden dread that you’d been hoodwinked.

But it wasn’t the mortals.

They looked just as taken by surprise as you were, all pleasantness from the exchange falling as survival instincts kicked in and Nikos pulled out his dagger, Penelope palming her own weapon at her hip cautiously.

Another snap and then it was silent. Dreadfully so.

“Into the maze, quickly!” Nikos hissed. “Now!”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Without looking back, you sloshed across the river, the tell-tale silence of the water breaking around you heralding his arrival like the crack of a whip spurring you faster. You only realized the others were following by the sound of their laboured breathing.

So… the labyrinth silenced everything but the people within it. What a terrible mechanism for hunting.

But you couldn’t concern yourself with their welfare, yours was at stake and they had each other.

Breaking left on instinct, déjà vu struck you when you caught sight of a gap in the greenery. You would’ve missed it entirely had a similar shortcut not been present in your dream earlier that day. And echoing your dream further, the mortals sprinted past it, losing you while you shimmied through the small space onto another path entirely.

A bellow sounded across the silent maze, an explosion of noise sending birds into the air and those stuck on the ground to flee or hide.

“Shit, shit, shit—” you whispered under your breath when you noticed the flurry of stardust coating the leaves of the hedge where you passed through it. It practically signposted your route to anyone who passed by.

Futilely, you tried to knock it off but only succeeded in spreading it further. Your panic over covering your tracks overshadowed all else until you heard it. A sound that made your stomach drop as you lifted your eyes to the hedging.

A snort.

It froze you in place as the other side of the gap you had passed through was blocked by something dark and massive.

But unlike your dream, it wouldn’t take much to reach through to the other side.

You really were going mad…

Why else were you still here? Why were you not running?

A dangerous game presented itself to you suddenly, one you had no idea you’d been playing all this time when the monster on the other side of the hedgerow stayed where he was instead of charging you like you’d heard him do to countless others.

Would he be as molten hot as he was in your dream, you wondered in awe. Would he be as hard?

Maybe the entire thing hadn’t been a dream at all, but a premonition of your fate. One last gift of Atropos before she cut the string of your long life. But that hardly made a dent in your psyche the way it ought to, the way it once would have.

Indeed, it hardly made a ripple as the thought of huge horns and wide shoulders you’d only seen in shadows mated with the burning recollection of a touch only present in your dreams to create a single, enticing creature before you.

You took a wary step closer, the eldritch shadow on the other side shifting at the sound.

Another snort followed the first. Sharper, your scent caught, and you halted before you could get any closer. A throaty growl rumbled around you, giving you a split second to step back before the hedging shook and a forearm burst from the same gap you passed through with ease.

It was all that could fit, you realized, his forearm alone as thick as your thigh. Dark skin was littered in constellations of scars and hair, and the hand attached to it… was that of a man. Knuckles bruised and bloody, fingers thick and palm broad while a ring of fresh bruises surrounded his wrist and gave you pause when he pulled it back.

A warriors hand.

Apart from its size, you’d seen countless hands like this in your time and been touched by as many. That violent possessiveness and brutal affection was unique to hands who caressed their weapons the way they did a woman’s body. That sought to protect or destroy in the spilling of blood and ecstasy.

Either was possible until the moment it happened. There was a thrill in not knowing until it was too late.

You resented the trickle of wetness you could feel slip down your inner thighs, his growl deepening.

You should have run.

You should have run ages ago. If you had, you wouldn’t have been burdened with what you considered the last nail in the coffin on your sanity. The last vestige of hope Penelope was talking about. For when you heard his voice… attraction bloomed in a way it never had before inside you.

In a way you feared you’d never be able to return from.

“Lost… little… star—” His voice was so low it shook the earth, a primal gravel that removed all notions of humanity were it not for your ability to understand him.

“Run.”

You finally broke from your frozen stupor, dashing blindly any which way. It didn’t matter if you disoriented yourself. If you lost yourself completely. You needed to ensure you couldn’t find your way back there… to him and the filthy promise in unspoken words if he caught you.

Tears streaked down your cheeks as you did, unable to care if they – or your stardust – were leaving a scent trail for him to follow when it dawned on you that he wasn’t just hunting randomly anymore.

He was hunting you.

But the worst thing was, as you ran, breath stolen and heart hammering, your tears were joined by a delirious smile of adrenaline filled ecstasy. While separated from the stars, you found your lost connection to the core of nature through fear, brazen danger. Him.

It terrified you enough that when another endless night of evading his singular pursuit came to a close and you staggered on jelly legs to the closest body of water only to run into Nikos once again, you didn’t hesitate to beg for his help.

To take him up on Penelope’s offer though she was nowhere to be seen. You were blind to anything else but the panic-induced need you had to flee what had happened in the labyrinth that night.

You needed to stop these feelings from growing. Stop them, even if it meant cutting yourself off from the very nature you once thought lost to you that now pounded on your psyche with a wild, bestial need.

[cozage]

The Daughter's Return: Part 8

The Captain and the Barmaid

Part 1 | Part 9 | Table of Contents | Read this on A03

Word Count: 5.1k Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace CW: nothing crazy, just some creepy marines

You took a quick shower and didn’t spend as long as you would’ve liked on your hair and makeup, but you made the deadline. You had your gown and high heels in a bag to change into once you arrived on the island, as well as a pocket mirror, some emergency mascara, and lipgloss in case you needed a touch-up later. And the foundation/concealer combo that Whitey had given you this morning. 

You had been waiting in your father's study for five minutes before the next person walked in. Two people, actually, a man and a woman. 

“You must be Mihal and Kala,” you said, rising to your feet.

“Mihal,” the man said. “Kala,” he said, pointing to the girl. “And you’re not Ace, so I’m guessing you’re the new strategist.”

“You’d be correct,” you said. You all each gave a small formal introduction and began to create some small talk before two blonde-haired men came through the door.

It took you a second to realize the man next to Marco was Ace. His once black, greasy hair had been dyed, washed, and blow-dried. He looked like an entirely new person. His now sandy blonde hair made all of his features look softer and kinder. Even without his Marine outfit on, you found yourself unable to look away. 

You were so caught up in admiring his new look, you didn’t realize that Ace was staring right back at you. Everyone watched you both for a while before Marco cleared his throat. 

“Alright kiddos, let's move.”

“Wait, Marco,” you said, looking around. “I need a firework.”

“A firework?” Kala asked.

“I’ll explain on the rowboat. But we’ll need it.”

Marco sighed and opened one of your father’s cabinets. He handed the firework and a few matches to you, and you carefully stuck it in your bag alongside your formal outfit. The group then walked silently to the deck and loaded onto the rowboat. You could sense that Kala and Mihal were nervous, but you weren't sure what to say to ease their worries. 

Ace and Marco rowed their way to shore as you laid out the plan. 

“So our goal is for me and Ace to review the plans unnoticed. If everything works out that way, we’ll grab a photo and meet back here at midnight. If things go sideways, Ace and I will act as the diversion while you all go get photos of the schematics. Once you have the pictures, set off the firework to let Ace and I know we can retreat. Marco, if you see the firework, you’ll know that we’ll be laying low on the island for the night, and then come around to the northern side of the island and collect us the following morning. We’ll meet by the cluster of rocks on the northern shore and signal you with our pocket mirrors.”

“You’re really planning to stay on the island after the Navy knows you’re here?” Marco questioned.

You nodded. “If they recognize me or Ace, the first place they’re going to look is the sea. We’re better off lying low on the island and leaving after sunrise.”

“What if we can’t get to the firework after we get the schematics?” Kala asked.

“Me and Ace will cause a diversion until midnight. We’ll set the firework off at midnight if you all haven’t gotten to it and let everyone know to retreat or lay low.”

“And if you can’t get to the firework?” Mihal asked. He was thorough in his questioning, but you didn't mind. You'd rather him catch a flaw in your plan now than later. 

You held up your fist and clenched it. Your skin started to bubble, the magma underneath it, eager to escape. “If I can’t find the firework, I’ll just make my own.”

Marco laughed. “Smart.”

You grinned proudly. “I try.”

“Do you expect that you and Ace will fail?” Mihal asked, looking at you skeptically. “Seems like you have more of a backup plan than a primary plan.”

“It’s just good to have a backup plan for when shit hits the fan,” you said. “Because shit usually hits the fan.”

Mihal nodded, seemingly satisfied with your answers. You all rode the rest of the way in silence. The others seemed nervous, even Ace and Marco, but you were downright giddy. You were excited to see some action and have some fun again. This is what being a pirate was all about. 

As soon as you hit land, you jumped out of the boat. “I need to run to the bar really fast, I’ll be right back.”

The others gave you a curious look, but you ignored them. There was one more thing you needed to make sure your plan went smoothly. 

“Welcome to the Lonely Duck, how can I help you?” The girl had your hair color. That would make this easier. 

“Hi!” You pushed enthusiasm and joy into your voice, trying your best to act normal. “I’m so sorry! Can I use your bathroom?”

“Oh sure!” the girl at the bar said. 

“You are the best…what was your name?”

The girl smiled. “Kadie!”

“Well Kadie, you are an absolute lifesaver! Thank you!” You said as you ran into the bathroom. 

You stepped into the bathroom and touched up your makeup. Your mascara was slightly smudged, and the foundation that was hiding your hickies was starting to smudge. Once you were satisfied with your makeup, you flushed the toilet and walked back out. “You are truly the best, Kadie! I hope the rest of your day is as great as you are!”

“I’m actually about to get off work and go for a sunset hike with my boyfriend, so I think it will be!”

God, this girl really did check off all the boxes. You grinned back at her and dropped a few coins in the tip jar, hoping she would spill some more information. “Which trail?” you asked.

“Mount Klemson! It’s our three-month anniversary.”

She was a cute girl. You wondered what it would be like to live a life as boring as hers. 

“Big plans!” you feigned enthusiasm. “Good luck on your hike.” You gave her a wink and then rushed out the door. 

You walked back to the group, who were all mostly changed. The sun had begun sinking into the sky, which meant that it was almost time for your arrival at the ball. 

“We’re heading out,” Kala said. She was dawning a gorgeous long-sleeved red gown. “See you there.”

“Good luck!” you called, ducking into the abandoned cabin. 

Ace stood guard outside of the door as you stripped your day clothes off. Marco had packed a few jewelry options, but you chose the dangling pearl earrings and sapphire necklace to wear. You slipped on your gown, careful not to get it dirty. Then, you put on your white gloves and tightened your corset as much as you could bear, throwing it in a sloppy bowtie and tucking it into your dress. You would deal with how to get that off later. 

There wasn’t much you could check, but you opened your pocket mirror and examined your face one last time. You tucked away your bag with the firework, clothes, and jewelry into an open floorboard, and opened the door to see Ace waiting for you. 

Ace stared at you, once again taken away by how regal you looked. His mouth had dropped open, as if he had plans to comment on your appearance, but you didn’t give him the chance. You interlaced your arm with his, and the two of you began walking toward the giant mansion that was hosting the party.

“You look nice,” Ace said with a small smile, bumping against your shoulder lightly. 

“You look…different.”

His eyes widened, and he grabbed a piece of blonde hair to analyze it. “Good different or bad different?”

“Good different,” you assured him. “But I like your black hair better.”

“My mom had blonde hair. Makes me feel a bit more connected to her.” He sounded sad when he said that. You wanted to ask more but got the feeling he didn’t want to talk about it.

“You look nice in that Captain suit too,” you commented. “You’d make a good Marine.”

Ace groaned. “You sound like my grandpa.”

You snorted. “Your grandpa?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, shaking his head. “He always wanted me to be a Marine.”

“If only he could see you now,” you giggled, elbowing him playfully. 

He lightly chuckled, but his eyes were darting around nervously. You could see the mansion in full view now, and at least a hundred Marines were already standing in line. This was an extremely high-level event. You recognized several Vice Admirals and heard rumors that Sengoku would be making an appearance. If anyone recognized either you or Ace, there was a very good chance your mission would fail. 

“It'll be fine. Let’s do this,” you muttered, both of you taking a synchronous deep breath and setting your shoulders back, trying your best to appear confident and important. 

Getting in was easy. Two Officers were at the door, but they saluted Ace as he walked by. He held a higher status than them, and they didn’t even ask for credentials. 

“I could get used to this,” Ace mumbled in your ear. 

His words made you giggle as you looked around the ballroom. It was a massive room, and the floor was made entirely of white marble. There was an orchestra playing on the stage, and several people were waltzing on the dance floor. Waiters weaved in and out of people, offering drinks and appetizers. 

Your eyes quickly found people of note. You had made a strategic plan a few years ago, a comprehensive list of every high-ranking Navy Officer and the best course of action if the crew ever encountered them. It wouldn’t do much good with them all here at once, but you were quite familiar with almost everyone in the room because of it. 

Several rear admirals, vice admirals, and at least one admiral was present. You couldn’t find Sengoku, but you were certain at an event this high level and the rumors swirling, he’d be making an appearance. You could feel yourself growing uneasy. You knew this mission was going to be difficult, but you hadn’t expected your odds to be so low. 

Ace pressed his lips to your ear, speaking quietly to you. “Don’t focus on that right now. We have plenty of time. Let’s work on blending in first, okay?”

He was right, of course. You were amongst some high-level Navymen, and they didn’t get their titles by being idiots. For the first part of the night, they would be on guard, watching anyone they found suspicious. After a few drinks, they would relax, and then you would be able to make your move. 

It was easy to blend in. Ace was someone who could easily make friends, and he was masterful about making the conversation about someone else. Your job was the same as all of the other women there: be pretty eye candy and stay quiet. Normally you would detest such a role, but your mind was busy trying to find a way to the plans without drawing attention to yourself. 

You spent the evening drinking bubbly champagne out of crystal flutes, taking tiny snacks off of a silver platter, and dancing a slow waltz with your now golden-haired Navy Captain. The drinks and the food were magnificent, but your favorite part of the evening by far was the moments you spent on the dance floor. 

Ace was a fantastic dancer, which surprised you. Everything you knew about him suggested he shouldn’t know the difference between a ballroom waltz and a quickstep, but he always seemed to find the perfect moves for whatever rhythm was played. And he was a skillful leader in every dance, holding you firm while giving you enough grace to follow on your own. The two of you quickly began to draw a crowd of women who were desperate for a dance with him. 

Ace looked nervously at you for a moment as the women fawned over him, but you waved him on. For some reason, they didn’t bother you. If any of these women knew who Ace truly was, they would run away in fear. You found it quite humorous, given the circumstances.

“Are you sure?” Ace asked, watching you closely. 

“Yes of course,” you said, giggling. “My feet hurt anyway. Go show these ladies what they’re missing out on.” You gave him a wink, and his freckled cheeks pinkened. 

You used your time to sit at a nearby table and observe the rest of the room, specifically the second floor. The steps that led to the second floor were guarded by two rear admirals, and the second-story balcony that overlooked the ballroom held some of the high-level members of the Navy. 

Sengoku had finally made an appearance, and he stuck close to one of his admirals, Aokiji. Several vice admirals were also present, but the one that worried you most was Monkey D. Garp, Hero of the Navy. You don’t get a title like that without doing something grandeur. From what you remembered, even your father seemed to be weary of him. 

You had been so busy watching the admirals, you hadn't noticed that they had been watching Ace for a few minutes. You cursed the oversight. Ace seemed to be drawing attention to himself, which was the last thing either of you needed. 

You were about to go grab him off the dance floor when an older gentleman sat down next to you. 

“Now tell me,” he cooed, his eyes raking over your body. “What’s a lovely lady like you doing all alone at this table?”

The rank on his uniform indicated he was a rear admiral, but you were unfamiliar with who he was. He must’ve risen through the ranks while you had been away. But a real admiral was still a high status, and he could get you up to that second story if you played your cards right. Ace could handle himself for a few more minutes. 

You smiled sweetly at him, pretending to not notice his lingering gaze. “My date kind of ditched me,” you said. “But I’m so honored to be in this place, surrounded by so many high-ranking and powerful men.”

The man chuckled. “Your date doesn’t know what he’s missing out on, darling.”

You forced a blush to rise to your cheeks. “You’re too kind.”

He rose from the seat, holding his hand out. “Rear Admiral Catacombo, at your service.”

You let out a high-pitched giggle and took his hand. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Kadie.”

“Kadie.” The sharpness of the name on his lips almost made you flinch. “Would you like to dance?” 

Every bone in your body told you to get away from this man, but you took his hand and let him lead you to the dancefloor. He was a decent dancer. Not as good as Ace; he was too forceful in his directions and too demanding of your attention for the dance itself to be enjoyable. But you gritted your teeth and went along with a smile for the possibility of getting access to the upper level of the house. 

“Did you know this house actually belongs to my grandfather?” Catacombo said in a boastful tone. 

Your eyes widened. You could roll with this. He was practically handing those schematics to you on a silver platter. 

“Really?” you asked.

“It’s quite magnificent, isn’t it? I spent most of my younger days here, playing in the courtyard.”

“Oh, what a dream!” you said, just slightly too exaggerated. Luckily Catacombo found your admiration endearing. You lowered your eyes, trying your best to appear embarrassed. “Can I tell you a secret, Catacombo?”

He leaned in close to you, his face almost touching yours. “Of course.”

You blushed, trying not to visibly react to the stench of cigars and alcohol that was being blown into your face with every breath. “Promise you won’t judge me.”

“I promise, I promise!”

You turned away feigning embarrassment, and took a fresh breath of air. 

“I have to admit,” you said. “I’ve always dreamed of coming into this home. I’ve seen it from afar for so many years, sitting so perfectly on this hill. I’ve wanted nothing more than to explore this house and meet the wonderful people who call it home.”

You were fairly certain this man fell in love with you off your words alone. You had laid the flattery on a little thick, but thankfully he seemed to like it that way. 

“Would you like to see it?” He asked.

You blinked. There was no way it could be this easy. “See what?”

“The house!” he whispered urgently, and you gave him a wide grin. 

“Are you serious?”

“Of course! Let's go!” He took your hand and started to lead you away. 

You eagerly followed, until your free hand was grabbed and you were pulled backward. 

“Hey!” you yelled, turning to see who was interrupting you. A blonde marine with freckles was scowling at you. 

“Where are you going?” Ace demanded. 

“Oh, hi!” You said, widening your eyes slightly to signal Ace. “Admiral Catacombo was just going to show me around this lovely home. I’ll be back soon!”

“No.” He gripped your hand tighter, pulling you back towards him. 

“I’ll only be gone for a few minutes,” you reasoned. “It’s fine.”

“Is there a problem?” Catacombo asked, turning back towards you and Ace. 

“Yeah, there is,” Ace said, puffing out his chest. “I think you were just trying to steal my date away from me, Rear Admiral.”

You turned slightly away from Catacombo's view and mouthed one word to Ace: stop. But he either didn’t see you or didn’t care. 

Ace forced a smile, but his words were on the verge of threatening. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to steal her back from you now.”

Catacombo’s eyes darted between you and Ace, and after a moment he let go of your hand. 

“Wait,” you said, turning towards the rear admiral. “Wait, please don’t go!”

“It was a pleasure dancing with you,” Catacombo said, giving you and your body one last longing look. “I hope our paths cross again.”

And then he disappeared into the crowd. You turned to Ace, your eyes burning with hatred. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” you hissed. 

“Don’t even! I saved you!”

“I didn’t need saving!” you snapped, struggling to keep your voice down.

“Please!” Ace cried, exasperated. “Did you even see the way he looked at you?! That guy was practically mind fucking you! All he wanted was to get you alone so he could try to get inside you!”

His voice was rising, and a few people looked over in surprise at his words. 

“Keep your voice down,” you growled.

“I’m not going to risk you getting hurt,” Ace said. 

“I can handle myself!” You could feel your skin starting to boil. “That was our golden ticket, you idiot!”

“We’ll find another way in,” Ace mumbled, looking up and down your body. “One that doesn’t leave you so…objectified.”

People were really starting to stare at you all now, mumbling to each other about Ace's words. You had drawn a lot of attention. Even without looking, you could feel eyes from the balcony watching you closely. You had lost your incognito status. It was time to move to plan B. 

Your eyes found Kala, who was watching nervously. You gave her a fraction of a nod and then looked back at Ace. It was up to them now. You had a new role.

“I’m sorry about this,” you whispered.

“Sorry about-”

You smacked him across the face as hard as you could. 

“How dare you?!?” You screamed out, taking a few steps away from him. “Whatever you are thinking sir, I am not that kind of lady!”

“What the fuck?!” Ace hissed, holding his cheek. 

False tears pooled in your eyes. “How dare you try and take advantage of me!” you screamed again, loud enough for the whole room to hear you. 

People started to crowd around you, trying to separate you and Ace. You glanced to find Kala, but she and Mihal had vanished. 

“Kadie,” Catacombo rushed back to you, grabbing you by the arm. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“Oh Catacombo,” you said, your voice filling with relief. “I’m so sorry to make a scene, I just-” you stopped speaking and collapsed into his chest, letting out a loud sob. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Ace demanded. He started toward you, but a few Marines blocked his path. 

“Tell me what happened,” Catacombo said, rubbing your back. 

“I don't know,” You pulled away from Catacombo, wiping the fake tears from your eyes. “But he just…” you stopped to take a breath, springing up new tears. “He tried to force himself onto me.”

“I did not!” Ace yelled, though he was slowly starting to see what you were doing. “I would never-!”

“Come on, son.” An Admiral grabbed Ace by the arm. “Let's get you sobered up and have a long chat.”

Ace struggled against the Admiral, and he glanced up nervously at the balcony. You followed his gaze to see Lead Admiral Sengoku, Vice Admiral Garp, and Captain T-Bone all staring down at the scene that unfolded. You said a silent prayer to any higher power that would listen, hoping they didn’t recognize either of you. 

“Let’s get you somewhere quiet to calm down,” Catacombo chimed, still holding you close to him and rubbing his hand across your back. 

He led you up the stairs and through the crowd of high-statured Marines. You could feel eyes on you, and you kept your head down to avoid eye contact with anyone, pretending to cry with embarrassment. He continued to lead you down a length of corridors until you finally stopped in front of a room. 

He grabbed a key from his pocket and unlocked the door, and you stepped inside to find a nicely lit study. It had a desk and a conference table, papers strewn out on any surface you could see. Perhaps he had led you straight to the room you needed to be in. 

“Nobody will bother us here,” Catacombo muttered, closing the door behind him. 

You hated the way he had worded that sentence. You attempted to clear your throat, which had tightened from fear. “Could I actually bother you one more time for a glass of water?” you asked, looking at him with tears still in your eyes. 

“Of course,” he said. “Be right back.” He slipped out the door and you heard the familiar turn of a lock before his steps receded. He had locked you in this room, and you couldn't help but question his intentions. Not that you didn’t have other ways to escape; there were windows, and the floor or ceiling could easily be burned. But those would immediately give you away. 

You didn’t have time to think of an escape plan right now, though. Your priority was finding the documents you needed. You carefully flipped through the folders and stray pages, but you found nothing of ship schematics. They must be somewhere else. You could only hope that Kala and Mihal would pick up the slack. 

You heard the turn of the lock, and you quickly positioned yourself near the wall of books, pretending to look at his collection. You managed to grab a book off the shelf just as the door opened.

“You have quite an impressive collection,” you said, turning to face him. 

Catacombo wasn’t alone this time, he had brought another Marine with him. You believed her name was Hina. It made your odds of escape lower, but at least you weren’t alone with the creep anymore. 

“Katy,” the woman said. “My name is Hina. I’m a rear admiral with the Navy. I’m afraid we need to speak with you.”

“Kadie,” you corrected. It didn’t really matter, but it was better to keep your alias strong. 

Another man walked in, a Vice Admiral. You believed his name was Comil. 

“Kadie,” Hina mimicked, correcting her previous mistake. “Please sit. We need to talk.”

You sat in a plush chair across from her, turned slightly towards the door so you could see people as they came and went. 

“How can I help you?” you asked. 

“I need you to tell me everything about the man you came with today. His name, how you met him, why you joined him tonight.”

They must’ve realized Ace was a fraud. The game just became much more dangerous. 

“He came in while I was working,” you said. “I worked an early shift today at the Lonely Duck-it’s a bar in town. He was wearing his uniform, so I assumed he was in town for the Maritime Ball. We got to talking and he invited me to be his date. I agreed.”

“Did he tell you his name?” Hina asked. “His rank? Anything?”

You blushed and summoned tears to your eyes. “I…” you wracked your brain, trying to think of something fake to give them. “Why? Is something wrong?”

Hina looked at the two men standing at the door, and you saw Comil give her a slight nod. 

“We believe he may have entered the premises under false identity. Please, if you can think of a name or anything he may have said to you out of the ordinary.”

Your voice caught in your throat, and for one of the first times that night, you didn’t have to act. You felt true fear, and it was written all over your face. 

“Kadie, you’re safe,” Hina reassured you, misinterpreting the fear on your face. “We’re not going to let anything happen to you. Just think.”

You took a drink of water, your hand shaking as it held the glass. “I think he said his name was Captain Axel? Or something like that?”

“Ace?” Hina asked, looking at you intensely. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, but Hina pressed further. “Did he say Ace?”

“I don’t-” you paused, blinking real tears away. “I can’t remember.”

You heard an explosion downstairs, and you jumped at the noise. What the hell was Ace doing? Had they discovered who he was already? Surely he wouldn’t have given himself away in a matter of minutes. You realized, with a flash of horror, if they had taken off his shirt it would be pretty obvious who he belonged to. 

Another Marine stepped into the room and handed Hina a paper. Hina looked at it and then flipped it around to you. It was Ace’s bounty poster. 

Your mouth fell open in shock. You didn’t know what to do. You should’ve thought harder about an escape plan. 

You tried to think about what you had written years ago. You were fairly certain your strategy had been to flatter her and then place a crowd between you and her. She wouldn't hurt civilians, and she tended to believe their accounts more than her own men. 

“Is this the man you came with tonight?" Hina asked, bringing you back to the present. "He may have had different color hair, but-”

“That’s him,” you breathed out. “Oh my god, are you telling me I slapped a pirate?” Your self-preservation act was back and in high gear. If you could just fool them for a little bit longer, Kala and Mihal would have enough time to find what they needed. “A pirate with a bounty of over-” You stopped talking, taking deep, quickened breaths. 

“Kadie!” Catacombo rushed over, holding you steady as you pretended to hyperventilate. 

“I’m sorry,” you cried. “I didn’t know.”

“Have Lonz get the Whitebeard Pirates Bounty papers we have in the back room,” Comil murmured to the man next to him. 

“We already confirmed there's a woman of her likeness that works at the Lonely Duck,” the man murmured back.

“I don't care about her. I doubt Portgas D. Ace would be working alone, so there must be more members here. So go get those posters.”

You cried harder into Catacombo’s chest, pretending like you didn’t hear them. At least your false identity would hold up for a few more minutes. 

“The Navy won’t let anything happen to you,” Hina assured you. “You have some of the highest-ranking officials in this house. I promise Portgas D. Ace will be brought to justice, and you will be safe.”

You nodded, calming yourself down. It was getting close to midnight. You just had to keep them stalled until the firework went off. It was possible they didn’t have your poster anymore, since you had been presumed dead. And you were fairly sure that Kala or Mihal didn’t have bounty posters. Picking low-profile members had been a smart move. 

“We have to deal with another issue, but a Rear Admiral guard placed at your door until the incident is over. I promise you will be safe.”

“Thank you,” you said, sniffling and wiping your eyes. “I’m so sorry I caused all this trouble.”

“Don’t be,” Hina smiled at you. “If anything, you saved us from something even worse.”

They left you alone in the room, which was probably one of the stupidest things they all agreed on. Leaving a civilian in a room with top-secret information was…absurd. Sometimes you really questioned the integrity of the World Government. 

A few minutes later, a red flare shot into the sky, and the boom of a firework echoed through the tiny room you were in. Kala and Mihal had succeeded. It was time to leave. You could only hope that Ace had also managed to escape and would meet you at the rendezvous point. 

You picked up a few random files, planning to take them with you as you escaped. At least then it would look like you were the real reason for breaking into the party. With some luck, they wouldn’t even notice that Kala and Mihal were in the house. 

You were about to blast through the window when the door behind you opened. You froze, your back to the door. You clutched your files close to your chest, hoping the person who entered the room wouldn’t be able to see them.

“Thanks, Gion. Go take fifteen, I’ll watch her.” The voice chilled your bones. The last voice you wanted to hear. The Hero of the Navy. Vice Admiral Monkey D. Garp.

--

Editing to add my tags that I forgot im SO SORRY!!

Tag list! @taeyoge @teiza @tojislawyer @trafalgardnami @bloopbopsblog @dancingnewcat @dxestyi @flooofity @deadsnothere @h-rhodes1598  @morgyyyyyyy @trafalgardvivi @beepboopcowboy (if you'd like to be included in the tag list, just comment or send me a message!)

[lorianbladeoflothric]

BONK!

Hiyo! I bring a silly ask! What kind of pokemon do you think the ER cast would like to have around?

(Choose however as many or as little characters as you like <3)

Oh dude, be prepared for a long answer bc I was obsessed with pokemon for the first half of the pandemic so I make teams for characters a lot and I try to put a lot of thought into them, but sometimes it really is just rule of cool.

Starting with Ranni because I don't get her, so her team is basically just themed after her.

Shiny Midnight Lycanroc - She's had this one since she was a child Lunala - in a pokemon au she would have met it instead of the dark moon or maybe it was passed down from Rennala Frosslass - is ghost. is ice. is woman. what more do you want? Mega Banette - Mega bc it looks cooler than normal Banette, but in general it's the possessed doll pokemon so it makes sense to give it to her Mismagius - For the crone that taught her magic Alolan Ninetales - A doglike ice type to round everything out

For Rennala, I did what you would more likely find around her now than the team she may have used in the past.

Clefable - Among her sweetings, there are also members of the entire clefable line scattered around the library, gathering around her as they would the full moon. Shiny Gardevoir - Shiny bc blue to signify that Ranni has left this one to guard her in her slumber. Cresselia - Moon theme and pleasant dreams, it's a crescent moon so idk if this would be her Moon pokemon the way Lunala is Ranni's but it feels right Midday Lycanroc - the red wolf of radagon Hatterene - This one could go one of two ways. It's a witchy looking thing and it attacks anyone who shows too much emotion. This could either be a pokemon the Raya Lucaria scholars left to watch her and make sure she doesn't try anything, or it could be like Gardevoir and one of her children (Rykard in this case) put it there to guard her.

Like Rennala, Radahn's "team" is just the pokemon encountered while fighting him. Which is to say Leonard the mudsdale and various minior that crash down during and after the battle.

Rykard's turn! I know there's not a single snake on this team but hear me out

Magmortar and Delphox - He developed magma sorceries Groudon - This is Eiglay. I know it's not a snake but like. look. Big catastrophe causing thing sealed beneath a volcano. It's Eiglay. Yamask - explicitly the soul of a dead human. Not sure if this is on his team so much as scattered around volcano manor, but it felt important to mention. Magearna - Virgin abductors Mawile - This one is probably Tanith's but I'm not doing a team for her. It's the decoy pokemon, it fits both of them. Tanith is like the main body, Rykard is like the mouth.

Leaving the carians, we have the easiest team so far: Godfrey. Perrserker, Machamp, Incineroar - Self explanatory really, they fight like him. Sirfetch'd - His knights, the decorum he has as Elden Lord, and the Storm King he defeated was a bird. Solgaleo - Serosh, godfrey is sun-aligned. Azumarill - HEAR ME OUT. Huge power + high hp makes it a powerful foe, water to fight against all the different fires that oppose the erdtree, fairy to conquer the dragons, its shiny is gold, and the most important point of all: Gap Moe

I want to make a team for Godwyn, but it's very hard since he doesn't really...have much to him? Haxorus and Kommo-o - Golden + Dragon Roaring Moon - Literally an ancient dragon Cursola - Analagous to deathblight Fortissax isn't in his party, but he would probably be Giratina?

Godrick's team is a joke kinda, but Machamp - 4 arms plus one of Godfrey's iconic pokemon Shiny Magikarp - for the Lord of All That Is Golden Corviknight - For the storm king Dracovish - Grafting! Dragon! It was so hard not to make his entire team galarian fossils bc they're all grafted freaks

For Malenia, I think she would have a different team before her rot got too bad. These three go along with her graceful fighting style pretty well, and since she is a walking toxic status effect...

Bisharp is the only one who survives and evolves into Kingambit. Ceruledge - dual wielding swords, edgy and cool, since it's a ghost she can't kill it by just being near it. She trained it up alongside her cleanrot knights. Quaquaval - a gift from the blind swordsman The last three are some of many nuisances that follow her around at the haligtree. Things that like poison and rot are just attracted to her.

Miquella's team is probably exactly what you'd expect. Silcoon - It doesn't seem to want to hatch... Togetic - "These Pokémon are never seen anywhere near conflict or turmoil. In recent times, they’ve hardly been seen at all." They're also known to bless people, very fitting for what we know about Miq Shaymin - It purifies toxins and grows flowers Comfey - more flowers, more healing, I bet there's a bunch of these around the Halligtree. Musharna - dreamworld pokemon <3 Gardevoir - Counterpart to Malenia's old Gallade. It's his strongest pokemon and only fights to protect him

Marika has no pokemon, she may have at some point, but right now the only pokemon she's around is Ultra Necrozma (The Elden Beast, bc it's golden, evil, a legendary, and from space)

Aaaaaand the last character I'm going to do is Radagon, but if anyone's read this far and wants me to do a specific character outside the god family tree, I'd be hella down.

Zoroark - You Know Why He Has This (it can disguise as humans) Zacian - Radagon seems to be tied to wolves/dogs, plus it has his greatsword Aegislash - this one just feels right Trevenant - for the erdtree Minior - for his elden stars incantation

So yeah that was way too many words and I'm sure as soon as I post this I'll think of better ones but yeah! Ty for the ask bud!!

[two-raccoons-in-a-trench-coat]

I forgot to post my other Bleach fic. So here, enjoy.

Summary: Gin is attacked and Aizen takes that personally. Shinji would just like to know if adoption is still on the table.

-----

It is well past midnight when only the guards are awake walking their rounds when Aizen’s door shakily slides open, followed by quiet if trembling footsteps.

Gin. Aizen smiles to himself, still pretending to sleep, though he doesn’t doubt for a moment that the boy knows he’s awake. Gin is, after all, wonderfully clever.

But Gin doesn’t take another step towards him and that’s when Aizen hears it—a stuttering hiccup in the boys breathing that almost sounds like a sob.

Aizen frowns and something eerily close to concern starts to rise in his chest. He sits up, slowly, no need to frighten Gin any more than he already is. But Gin still startles—a minute thing, barely even a flinch, but its enough to tell Aizen that whatever spooked his youngest follower would be enough to send any other shinigami running away in tears.

“Gin,” it is easy speak softly, gently, “What’s wrong?” He doesn’t mention the late hour. Gin is a firm night owl—Aizen can’t count the number of times he’s found the boy curled up in the high branches of their courtyards trees, staring into the stars.

It has been decades since Aizen saw anything but that infuriating corpse sitting on the throne of heaven every time he looked at the sky. It took effort to blind himself and see the sky instead. An effort he rarely bothered with.

Gin’s smile stretches thin and Aizen sees the lie coming before the boy opens his mouth. He cuts off the attempt, “The truth Gin, if you please.”

“I…” the boy falters, and for the first time his fixed smile falls and something in Aizen’s chest twists.

He looks the boy over and for the first time since he entered Aizen notices how disheveled he is. There are leaves and dirt in the boy’s hair, but it’s the bruises that has Aizen’s breath catching. Gin is in a simple sleeping yukata, loose and breathable, coming up to his knees and there on his thighs are darkening bruises in the shape of a hand.

Aizen knows the hot swell of anger well—he feels it stir whenever he looks up at the heavens—but this is a different kind of anger, there is no cunning here only a deep visceral need to tear whoever did this to Gin apart with his bare hands until the only thing left of the man was a broken and mutilated pulp.

It takes every ounce of his considerable self-restraint to keep his reiatsu under control.

He gets to his feet and feels another flare of anger when Gin twitches at his approach (he’s going to destroy the man’s zanpakto just for that alone—Kyoka Suigetsu sings viciously in agreement). He’s careful not to box him in, kneeling down so he isn’t towering over the boy.

“Gin. What happened?” The softness in his voice can’t quite hide the hard edge of his anger and though it isn’t directed at him, Gin still flinches.

“I—I gutted ‘em,” Gin whispers, his voice shaking. “I gutted ‘em, but he wasn’t alone, an’ I was asleep, an’ he wasn’t alone, he wasn’t—”

Some deep, ancient, animal instinct has Aizen pulling Gin into his arms with a gentleness that not even he knew he possessed even as his anger howled, seething in his belly like magma just waiting to erupt.

Gin freezes for only a second at the unexpected embrace before collapsing into it, burying his face in Aizen’s chest, the last vestiges of his pride draining away as his thin shoulders shake with silent tears.

And Aizen—his heart has never burned like this before, and this seething weight in his stomach hurts at the sight of Gin’s tears—that this is a pain he cannot heal with the soft glow of kido. It’s infuriating.

His cold, calculated anger towards the farce of the Soul King is nothing compared to the rage burning through him now. If he had even a fraction of less control over his reiatsu the weight of his fury would’ve cracked the grounds of Squad Five’s Division in two (not even mentioning the countless shinigami that would’ve died beneath the weight of it).

Aizen could just imagine Captain Hirako’s reaction to such a thing—no, he cuts himself off, his little game of cat and mouse with Captain Hirako can wait. His plans can wait. (His shift in priorities comes so suddenly and swiftly, and with such force that it almost makes him pause, but then Gin whimpers in his arms and the thought is lost).

He pulls Gin more securely in his arms as he slowly gets to his feet, and Gin rather than protesting, just holds onto him tighter. He ignores the swell of warmth rising in his heart, so different than the acid burn of anger that still sits low in his belly.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He waits for Gin to nod before he moves to the bathroom (and never has he been more thankful that captains and lieutenants get their own personal bathrooms that are attached to their quarters).

Gin trembles as Aizen wipes him down as gently as he can with a practiced and very fake calm that even Captain Hirako would see through because the bruises beneath Gin’s yukata were already turning a deep, nasty purple and there were gouges, bleeding and open made by fingernails forcing him in place.

Aizen fought to control himself, to not shunpo out of this bathroom and find these men—these monsters—and destroy their very souls. And he would make it hurt.

But he can’t leave Gin, not like this. Not hunched in on himself looking scared and ashamed, like he was the one who had done something wrong.

“I…I managed ta get away before…before they,” Gin shudders, crossing his legs defensively, “I got away.”

The relief that pours through him abates the feral edge of his anger by a fraction, just enough for him to push the feeling down and make the calmness he’s trying to exude appear more natural.

“Thank goodness.” The words come out unfiltered and the sincerity of his relief (the simple fact that he said them without a mask of any kind) shocks the both of them.

Gin tries to smile, but he just looks like he’s trying not to cry. “I…it won’t happen again. I ain’t gonna be caught like that again.”

Aizen frowns. Anyone else would take those words at face value—a vow to protect themselves, to become stronger so they could protect themselves—but Aizen is not just anyone.

And Gin, better than most, better than even Kaname, seems to see him—truly see him in a way no one ever has.

So Gin knows that Aizen has no time for those who need protecting, who cannot fight with their own strength. And if it was anyone else he’d be right.

But Gin was different. From the first moment he saw the child standing above their dead Third Seat with a smile on his face and blood still dripping from his sword Aizen had known that Gin was different.

And he had never been able to treat Gin with the same reserved polite menace that he treated the rest of his subordinates with. He indulged Gin, allowed him lenience’s that would’ve gotten anyone else a swift and terrifying scolding—the kind that made a single, pointed look make them break out in a cold sweat.

And when Gin was on the battlefield taking out hollows with a sharp smile and a terrifying ease, Aizen was always there in the background, watching the carnage with an indulgent smile. But he was there, ever watchful as the child (so small, so terrifyingly breakable) darts around the thrashing limbs of the enraged hollows like he’s playing a game of tag with them.

It is only now that Aizen realizes that he wasn’t watching Gin for the sake of learning how best to utilize him, no, he was there to make sure nothing happened to him. It seems that unbeknownst to him, Gin had somehow awakened a long, dormant protective instinct that Aizen had never felt from himself before.

It was a jarring realization, but looking at Gin who was still staring up at him trying to grin through his uncertainty, Aizen knew that fighting this feeling would be more than futile, it would be akin to self-sabotage.

(And from the way Kyoka Suigetsu has wrapped herself around Shinso with all her sharp edges carefully tucked away, he knows his zanpakto would throw a vicious fit if he tried to distance himself now).

No matter, he thinks to himself. His strength, even without the power of Kyoka Suigetsu, already outstrips more than half the captains in the Gotei 13, including his own. And he will only grow stronger, as will Gin. He will ensure it.

But until then I will make sure that no one ever touches you again.

“Gin, I am not upset with you. I am…upset,” furious, incandescent with rage, brimming with killing intent, “that you got hurt. That you were attacked in a place that you believed to be safe.”

Gin’s shaky smile falters, confusion scrunching his brows.

Aizen knows better than to be offended by Gin’s disbelief. Even before he joined Aizen, before he became a shinigami, it was apparent that he lived in one of the lower districts of the Rukongai where alliances were only honored if you were strong enough to pull your weight.

And in Gin’s eyes, despite being a child, despite only coming up to most peoples’ waists, he had failed. He had gutted one of his attackers, but the others still lived and in his haste to escape the brutality they threatened to inflict, he had fled instead of killing them.

And to a child born in the wild savagery of the deep Rukongai that could only been seen as a failure because you risk leading the threat back to the group. And that, in Gin’s limited knowledge, is unforgivable.

He sets a careful hand on Gin’s head and smiles (genuinely, with real warmth) when he doesn’t flinch; the unconscious display of trust has his reiatsu thrumming happily.

“But…” Gin trails off, his slanted eyes falling to the finger-shaped bruises marring the milky-white of his thighs.

“The only ones I hold at fault are the men who did this to you, Gin,” and here his voice turns cold and so very dangerous, “and believe me, they will pay for it.”

Gin looks at him like he wants to believe him, but more than that he just looks tired. The rigid anger in Aizen’s heart softens in the face of it.

“Come,” he says gently, lifting Gin into his arms. “Let’s find you something to wear and go to sleep. Things will look better in the morning.”

He will make them better in the morning.

Gin’s small hands tighten on his haori as he tucks his head into Aizen’s shoulder and says nothing, but the tension crawling through his small body speaks volumes to his doubt. And Aizen knows that there is nothing he can say to make Gin believe him—to trust that Aizen can make this better. Aizen knows that his life up till now, has never allowed for such luxuries.

That’s fine, Aizen thinks, stroking a gentle hand down his back, actions speak louder after all.

º

Morning comes with Captain Hirako banging on his door, startling Gin awake with a violent twitch that makes Aizen want to jab the man’s face in with Kyoka Suigetsu’s hilt; the poor boy had barely gotten two hours’ worth of sleep as he kept being jerked awake by nightmares. And now this.

I’m going to replace all your haircare products with dish soap, he promises maliciously as he slips out of bed, and re-tucks Gin in, in the same move.

He ignores the confused and slightly offended look Gin shoots him, even as the boy snuggles back into his blankets only a moment later.

But before Aizen could reach his door, Hirako slides it open and steps inside with a grim look only to freeze at the sight of Gin in his bed.

Ah, Aizen thinks with some amusement, this does look rather bad, doesn’t it?

“Captain Hirako,” he pitches his voice in a mocking veneer of politeness, “what can I do for you so early in the morning?”

But Hirako doesn’t answer him, his eyes fixed on Gin with a look of slow-dawning horror on his face (the same kind Aizen had experienced last night).

(And Gin, despite his genius, is still very much a child and watches the two adults with a confused ignorance because he doesn’t understand what the image of him sitting in Aizen’s bed and wearing an oversized yukata that is now pooling at his waist, could be construed as—with his bruises now more visible and livid in the light of day).

Hirako’s eyes swing back to Aizen, a cold rage flickering in his eyes that has his reiatsu bristling like a monster baring its teeth. Aizen stares back, unmoved.

“Gin, come here. Now.” Hirako bites out the order, his eyes never leaving Aizen.

But Gin doesn’t move and Aizen feels a fissure of warmth (and no small amount of smugness) when the boy looks to him for reassurance and direction.

“I’m afraid your drawing all the wrong conclusions, Captain Hirako,” Aizen said smoothly.

That has Gin perking up, a flash of panic crossing his face. “No—no! Lieutenant Aizen didn’t do none o’ this. It was…” Gin’s voice withers to a whisper, his hands twisting knots in the sheets. “It was someone else.”

“Gin came to me a little after a midnight,” Aizen picks up where Gin had trailed off, “and after seeing the state he was in, I certainly wasn’t going to send him back to the barracks, so I let him sleep here. I was going to inform you of this, this morning, Captain.”

Hirako scoffs, knowing damn well that Aizen wouldn’t have told him shit and they both know it. But (he glances at Gin, who can’t quite hide his unease and confusion behind his usual grin), “Fine,” he allows reluctantly. “But you’ll bring the people who did this to me. Ya’ want slaughter ‘em, fine—we just gotta make it official-like. Ya’ hear me Souske, official. None o’ this vanishin’ from existence crap.”

“I’m not sure what you’re implying Captain,” Aizen replies mildly.

Hirako scoffs. “Like hell ya don’t.” He turns to Gin, his whole body softening, “C’mon kid, you’re with me for the day. I’ll walk ya to yer barracks so’s you can grab yer stuff.” He turns back to Aizen, “Kid’s stayin’ with you from now on.” It wasn’t a question.

“If that’s what Gin wants,” Aizen replies agreeably, his polite smile never wavering.

Gin just looks at them, full of confusion, and fear, and the most damning of all, hope.

•

Gin forces himself to not look longingly back as Aizen walks away. He can still feel the warmth of his hand when he had gently ruffled his hair with a warm smile that didn’t look or feel fake at all, even though Gin tells himself that it has to be.

I’m just an asset to ‘im that’s all. He ain’t protectin’ me—I’m just more useful alive than dead. That’s all. Maybe if he repeats it often enough he can make himself believe it. Because Aizen wasn’t some protector or big brother figure, he was the Boss and Gin couldn’t afford to forget that.

A rough, but not unkind hair ruffle brings him out of his thoughts.

“C’mon kid,” Captain Hirako nudges him forward, “you get the dubious honor of helpin’ me with paperwork.”

Gin fixes his smile in place and ignores the childish urge to whine because paperwork is the worst and he still has a hard time reading kanji—he’d rather be practicing with Shinso instead.

But he doesn’t let any of this show on his face as he chirps out an obedient, “Yes, Cap’n.” And follows at his heels, but as they turn the corner Gin can’t help but look in the direction that Aizen had gone, a part of him wishing he could’ve gone with.

If only to stab Shinso through those bastards stomachs. That was always an awful way to go.

º

Aizen excels at playing by the book—of finding all the finicky, little details and twisting them until they suit his purposes. He is also good at playing the meek lieutenant, indulgent and harried, always chasing after his captain.

Oh he is well-liked enough, his Squad often describes him as “someone who can soften their Captain’s rough edges”—a description he has to fight not to laugh at. But most importantly, no one fears him. No one sees him clearly enough to know to fear him.

Well, besides Captain Hirako. A truly troublesome if entertaining man. But in this they are united—Hirako won’t let anything happen to Gin, which leaves Aizen with more than enough freedom to find these men and make them regret every life choice they’ve ever made that lead them to this point.

And then, he’ll turn them over to Captain Hirako where they’ll soon understand that death by his hand would’ve been a kinder end. Though not by much.

º

Shinji hides a grin as he watches Gin thumb reluctantly through the paperwork he had handed the kid, a badly hidden pout on his face.

Cute. It seems that despite the kid’s well-earned reputation (and boy had that kid earned it) he was still just that, a kid. Pint-sized too. He hadn’t realized just how small the kid was until he had him walking beside him, the brat’s head barely cleared his waist.

He’s ashamed to admit that he’s avoided the kid since Aizen took him under his wing almost immediately and Hirako doesn’t trust that bastard an inch, so when Gin started followin’ Aizen around like a second shadow Hirako began treat him the same way he did Aizen.

Well, that’s gonna have ta change. And it’s gonna have to start with letting the kid know he can trust him. Not an easy feat by any means—Rukon kids are a lot like stray cats, once bitten always shy (as Shinji knows only too well, having been one of those Rukon brats himself).

And while Aizen seems to have his trust (an infuriating prospect), Gin only knows him as his Captain, and a distant one at that. A Captain who was too busy waiting for Souske to slip up only to miss that at least three shinigami under my command are rapist pedophiles who deserve to get thrown straight to Hell.

If Gin ever trusts him again (if he ever did) Shinji would consider it a miracle. He glances at him again and quickly bites down on the huff of laughter when he sees the kid’s face—his fixed, eerie smile is completely absent as he glares at a piece of paper like wants to light it on fire.

He probably found the our monthly budget. Even Souske can’t quite hide his disdain fer it. Which was why Shinji always made Souske handle it, if just to see that flicker of irritation break through that awful mask of his.

“That’s quite a face kid,” Shinji drawls. “Did ya find the budget? That always puts Souske in a sour mood too.”

Gin’s face scrunches up even more, making him look a disgruntled puppy or perhaps, more accurately, a fox kit, either way it was disgustingly cute, and Shinji valiantly resists the urge to pat the boy on the head, mostly because he didn’t fancy getting himself stabbed.

“No, I like numbers,” the boy mutters, looking embarrassed, “it’s jus’—I’m still…I don’t know all my kanji yet.” He mumbles out that last part miserably.

Ah. A pang of sympathy hits Shinji right in the chest. Reading and writing—the bane of almost all Rukon brats. And with the kid speeding through the Academy in just under a year he doubts that any of the teachers had even bothered to teach him anything but the most basic hiragana and katakana.

Useless morons.

“Well, bring it here kid,” Shinji waves him over, “we can go over it together.”

He sees Gin hesitate, a brief stutter in his steps before his gait smooths out and he’s handing over the report with his usual grin. “That’s ok, cap’n. I don’t wanna—”

“Ya ain’t an imposition,” Shinji interrupts, “and I ain’t askin’. Now pull up a seat.”

Gin looks at him for one long, tense moment (looking for the trick probably—that glint of cruelty that would tell him it’s a trap) before finally acquiescing with a grumbling sigh.

Shinji resists the urge to grab the boy up and put him on his lap, instead letting him drag a chair that was taller than he was around to his desk.

He lays the report out so they both can see it.

“Ok,” he begins patiently, “where’d ya get stuck?”

º

Dusk is falling when Aizen finally returns dragging two men callously behind him, a slick blood trail following in their wake. Oh they were alive, per his captain’s orders, they just very much wished they weren’t. Like their third accomplice.

The one Gin had gutted. But at least he had died suffering.

No one batted an eye as Aizen headed towards his captain’s office, Kyoka Suigetsu’s power blinding them to the two men being drug behind him, begging for a mercy that won’t come. Not from him and certainly not from his captain.

He only hopes that Gin is tucked away somewhere safe. There’s no need for him to see the faces of his attackers nor witness the absolute carnage Captain Hirako will unleash on them (because no matter how cathartic Gin may believe it will be to witness it, Aizen knows it will only scar him, and that boy doesn’t need anymore nightmares).

So when he opens Hirako’s office he can’t help but pin the infuriating man with a dark glare when he sees Gin fast asleep on the man’s lap.

“Captain,” he says scoldingly as he dismisses Kyoka Suigetsu’s power with a thought, while at the same time making it look like he’s dispersing a concealment kido.

“It’s fine Souske,” Hirako flaps a hand at him and Aizen stifles the urge to rip it off. “Kid’s out like a light. I also cast a sound barrier kido around him; trust me, nothing short of the sky fallin’ is gonna wake this kid.”

“Whatever you say Captain Hirako,” he says flatly, radiating disapproval.

(He silently activates Kyoka Suigetsu again, weaving it around Gin so that even if he does wake up the only thing he’ll see are Aizen and Hirako in the office. He won’t hear or see the two men bound and bloodied at Aizen’s feet.)

Hirako just grins at him like he’s baring his teeth. “Well, at least they’re alive. Barely.”

Aizen pointedly ignores the slight admonishment with well-practiced ease. “You said alive Captain. I’m afraid you didn’t specify how intact you wanted them.”

The men at his feet shudder. One of them even whimpers. Pathetic.

Hirako scoffs, sneering at the men as he gets to his feet, easily cradling Gin with one arm. Aizen hears one of the men choke.

“Ya know,” Hirako begins conversationally, “I’m generally a pretty easy-goin’ cap’n. So’s long as things get done and paperwork gets handed in, I really don’t give a damn what ya bunch get up to in yer downtime,” and here, his voice turns cold and hard, “but this—I should cut ya bastards down like hollows.”

“Wh—whatever that kid said we did,” one them wheezes, “he’s lying! I—I swear to you he’s lying! You…you know how those Rukon brats are!”

The man realizes his mistake too late, panic carving terror into his face. Hirako smiles.

He doesn’t drop his reiatsu on them—Gin’s in the room after all (and it wouldn’t do to alert the entire barracks of what was happening in here)—but he doesn’t need to, the look on his face alone is enough to make the two men shake with fear.

Aizen smiles coldly. Like this, you almost look frightening, Captain Hirako.

“Yeah,” Hirako laughs, “I do know what those Rukon brats are like.”

“Cap—Captain! Captain, please!” One of them begs.

Hirako ignores him. “Souske, take Gin.”

“Of course, Captain,” he replies obediently, taking the boy in his arms and brutally ignores the part of him that’s softens in relief at having him in his arms again—safe.

He cradles Gin close as he watches Hirako stab one man through the throat (a slow, horrible way to die), and slicing the other’s stomach open. Being eaten alive by your own stomach acid, how cruel, Aizen thinks approvingly.

“I did consider cutting yer dicks off,” Hirako tells the dying men idly, wiping his zanpakto clean, “but that would involve undressing ya, an’ I just didn’t need that image in my life, ya know.”

The men gurgle, blood bubbling from their mouths as they choke on their last words.

Throughout it all Gin sleeps peacefully in his arms, oblivious.

[antilocaprine]

If you're still accepting those fake fic titles, how about "Hey Moon, Please Forget to Fall Down" (Line from an old ass panic at the disco song I like a lot)?

As with any song lyrics, I had to look up the song - and I have heard this before, though it's been a while. I read the lyrics before I listened to it again, and the lyrics are interesting - I get a mythical/fairy tale kind of vibe from them. And then the song itself sounds very summery. That combination makes me think of some kind of faerieland AU Frenrey fic where Gordon stumbles into the fae realm on Midsummer, when the borders between worlds are thin and passage is easier, even accidental. He meets Benrey, another lost soul, who assures Gordon he's not human - but c'mon, he clearly is. Especially compared to the beings who find them almost immediately: Tommy is a bright-shining dandelion spirit, who appears free-floating and almost naively positive, but can also turn on a dime and break through concrete. Coomer is an oak dryad, powerful and sturdy, but kind enough to let anyone rest in the shade of his tree's branches. And Bubby is a fire spirit, living in symbiosis with Coomer's oak woodlands, but liable to flare up into an inferno at any slight.

The other three are acting weird about Benrey attaching himself to Gordon and following him through the fae realm as he tries to get home, but they end up helping (with varying levels of enthusiasm). Eventually, Gordon finds himself standing before the shining ranks of the Summer Court, carrying the spoils of his various quests in a bid to be allowed to return to the mortal realm. The Green Man (who is dressed in midnight blue and has icy blue eyes, so Gordon doesn't get what THAT'S about) passes judgement that Gordon will not be allowed to return - it is no longer Midsummer, and opening a way through would take too much energy. He'll have to wait for a year until next Midsummer. But Gordon knows time passes differently in the fae realm, and a year there could be a century in the mortal realm. Plus he'd be forced to eat or drink if he stayed there for a year, which would mean he's stuck regardless.

Just as Gordon is about to fall into despair, the ground rumbles and the Summer Court straighten and glance about fearfully. The Green Man's eyes flash brighter and he says carefully "...but perhaps...we should consult the Captain...of the Guard..."

And then Benrey steps forward and shrugs. "Yeah, I think he can leave? He's not, uh, he's not supposed to be here, anyway, so...I mean, you're the G-Man, you can do what you want, but, uh, it might not turn out...great. For you."

Then Tommy moves out of the throng to sling an arm around Gordon's shoulders and grins up at the fuming Green Man, who deflates at the sight of his golden-bright son taking the human's side. A prince of the Summer Court should not consort with mortals, but this one didn't have much choice when his granite-soul guard captain took a shine to the lost human. The thing about stone is that it can change, just on a different timescale than plants and animals. And every stone remembers when it was once living magma. Very few stone spirits end up in the fae courts, but when they do, they are unnervingly powerful, with the capability to tear the ground out from under dryads or split the earth beneath a lake, draining it of water and life. As soon as the earth grumbled with the threat of a quake, Benrey was holding the whole of the Summer Court in his hand, as if he'd grown to the size of a mountain and scooped them into his palm.

And then Gordon gets to decide if he wants to go home or stay and ends up accidentally becoming an honorary member of the Summer Court anyway because he's under Benrey's (and Tommy's) protection. The end.

send me a made-up fic title and i’ll tell you what i would write to go with it

[askgale]

Hello, I have a Cooking Request! (If that's alright).

My Tav is Pidgeon, a feral little human with a love of insects and sharing the most random facts. She's a bit flighty, has a knack for wandering off, bringing chaos whever she goes, and misplacing things. Epecially her many, many notebooks. (Honestly, she's like a crow with all the random stuff she loves to collect and haul around...much to the chagrin of the party).

Pidgeon is a rather picky eater. Despite the numerous attempts made to get her to eat vegetables, she refuses, preferring meat and seafood instead. She's a compulsive snacker, and can often be found with cheeks stuffed full of whatever available food she has.

So when the midnight munchies hit, she finds herself wondering what dish she can pester kindly talk Gale into making.

- 🪳

Hi Pidgeon!

Pigeon and Gale get on very well when it comes to food. Gale also steers away from vegetables, despite Tara and his mother's insistence.

I think he'd cook Pidgeon a BBQ platter. Plenty of smoked, slow roasted, and grilled meats with delicious homemade dipping sauces. He'd serve that with some buttery, lemony new potatoes and if she's still hungry, a basket of honey cakes.

I like to imagine Gale uses magic a lot in his cooking, so you'd see his mage hand get up to all sorts of kitchen assistant work. Maybe he'd even cajole some poor summoned creature to help too. Though Magma Mephit crispy might be a little too much...

[sparkiekong]

Ozen - Mainland Daze / Red Blooded Nights 9/14

Smiles, a bit coyly, “Now you're talking.” Kira popped the cig in her mouth and disappeared to the bottles, she wasn't as quick and efficient as DC, but she came back with a drink at the ready and presented it to him. It was red with a hint of froth up top, raspberries on the rim of the glass with the juice dripping down. Some spice added to give that "magma" kick.  “As you can see... Red is our specialty here.”

Ozen nods, clearly impressed, “Like looking into the lava pools of Makuahine! Incredibly good!” He took a healthy sip of his drink. “Very good! Are you sure you’re not Sulanian?”

Kira grinned, “Very sure. Imagine my pale ass on your beaches? I doubt I’d survive. Sulanian rum is the best. We tried cheaper alternatives in the beginning, as you would, even with her superhuman barmaid skills we just didn't sell, it took a while for the sulanian stuff to shift, but it came round. We have a few Sulanian cigars too.”

Ozen smiles, “Well we aim to be the best at our imports, certainly! Ah, yes Sulanian Cigars… those are a cut above the norm as well. Though I am not as versed in the cigar as the rum, everyone has a strong suit. I suspect you’d look quite lovely on the beach and it’s easy to take pale skin as porcelain as yours and give it a kiss of sun.”

Kira was very interested, “Indeed, they do. I'd be interested to know what other... strong suits... you might have Mr. Ozen?”

Ozen hears the noises again, this time it’s confirmed in his mind. There is something odd about the club, but he didn’t want to let on that he knew anything. He kept flirting, “Far more interesting things to think of… “

“I would love to show you the moonlight playing over the sandy shores of Sulani and take you for a midnight swim to the most beautiful falls you’ve ever laid eyes on.” He then smells a bit of copper in the fog of smoke that covered the dance floor… he realized he needed to get out. “But alas, I believe I must go before my boat leaves without me. I am due back to the islands to return supplies to the sick and homeless that were affected by the space station crash."

[justladders]

[kraglynn]

Good morning everyone, the weather today is igneous roots. The crust of the earth is built upon magma, but land doesn’t just float on magma like soap does. There’s infinite stone roots holding up the structure like a mangrove tree that extend down into the depths of the mantle and they float on it like soap does. Beyond that we don’t know what’s down there because it’s so bright. Inverse of the ocean’s midnight zone, the fire gets so bright that it’s like a cloud of pure daylight. And unlike when things are dark, and you can just turn on a light; you can’t just turn on a shadow to look at the light better. This is the true reason that science can’t decide what exactly light is. The truth is, it’s a metal.

[mikaharuka]

Moonglade Chapter 1 - Official Post

Welp, it happened again - that is, waking up with an idea, executing it in record time (5 hours), and posting it. And it all coincided nicely with a prompt that Annie (@udaberriwrites) gave me - 'discovery'.

I decided to write the four Seattle-Saturday chapters (Sapphire, Sangria, Midnight, and Indigo) from Beau's POV with some new information and insights. This is the first chapter, Sapphire Palisade.

Title: Moonglade (part of the Winter Light series)

Chapter: Sapphire Palisade (Chapter 1)

Author: Mizuka

Rating: Mature

Category: Gen (Mike-Beau, Edward-Beau, referenced Carlisle/Beau)

Word Count: 750 words (3 scenes, 250 words per scene)

Summary: Over the course of a single Saturday, Beau makes various discoveries about himself, the world, Mike, and Edward.

Notes: You can read this without having read canon or Apricity - however, this fic takes place in the Winter Light universe, a world that differs notably from canon on a lot of things. For this fic, you don't need to know much, but a few points of interest are listed in the A/N.

(fandom-blind friendly by default, fairly Apricity-blind friendly too)

Tagging for reference - @mrsmungus, @alpaca-clouds, @udaberriwrites, @danceswithdarkspawn, @magma-saarebas19

[nny11writes]

is that deep feels prompt thing a request? i'll treat it like a request. part 1: 24 "Whyy are you crying?" "I don't know" and part 2: "laughing at yourself while crying". any pairing of your choosing. go fucking crazy!!!

ahjdfkgjsf, sorry this took so long anon!!!

Any time you see I've reblogged a prompt thing/ask a question thing/etc it is 100% there for you to ask or prompt away :D

Anyways I started this in my catrapta mode so I just followed through on that, sorta. There's a crush happening for suresies.

Rating: T for Cursing

Tags: happy ending, hurt/comfort, panic attack, sensory overload, mental health, crying, self blaming, lot of negative talk because this is catra folks I don't know what to tell you, Entrapta is the best at that's a fact, Scorpia makes an appearance, super pal trio, healthy coping? idfk I just projected onto the sad cat, it's my fanfic and I get to give the characters whichever bits of my own mental illness/coping skills that I wanna!, puppy crush catrapta

~

She really should have known better than to try and quietly have a breakdown while at Entrapta’s house, but Catra was never really known for logical decision making. Especially when the choice needing to be made came hot and heavy without warning. She’d been at the sleepover, felt fine, then woke up in a cold sweat at one in the morning with the distinct feeling that it was too late for her to flee. So Catra had barely managed to shuffle to what looked like the least used bathroom in the place, turned on the shower and quickly squeezed under the sink as her mind started to race. 

You know, as you do.

Something in her felt better just by knowing that she wouldn’t bother anyone, and equally important that no one would bother her. If Catra could have pulled the crust of the planet back to slip into a magma flow, she would have. But sobbing uncontrollably at sometime past 1:00 AM at your best friend’s house while said best friends are sleeping nearby is a totally normal and healthy way to deal with whatever this was. Yes, she was going to handle it alone and be fine and no one would be any wiser because it was fucking stupid (she was being so fucking stupid).

But while Scorpia had been snoring away, she’d made a miscalculation by assuming that Entrapta had any sort of sleep schedule that made any sort of sense. Weird out of the blue mental breakdown or not, that one really was on her.

“Why are you crying?” Entrapta asked, sounding the same way she did when someone tried to make small talk that she found particularly confusing.

Why was she crying? The detached bit of her turned to look at what Catra thought of as her inner Rogelio, who was normally very logical and made decisions when she was upset, but the bitch only shrugged. Probably a bad dream. Might be dehydrated. You ate dinner at least so it’s not hunger.

“I-I don’t know!” Catra miserably sobbed. The detached part of her sighed heavily and rolled her eyes while faux Rogelio lifted an eyebrow condescendingly. Yeah, yeah, I know, can’t be hard on myself right now. There was the other eyebrow now completing a look that any exasperated instructor would kill to have. Shut up, I’ll be hard on myself if I wanna! He was less than impressed. Oh fucking well, get in line.

“You don’t know why, but…” Entrapta tilted her head. “Is it a tag in your sleep wear? I can get scissors.”

Humiliating to remember that one, it had practically been her villain origin story over the holidays when everyone kept calling her cute and forcing her to wear different new clothes that were stiff, constraining, and itchy. Somehow Catra had failed to notice the tag in the new pajamas she’d been given and harassed into wearing as a friend bonding thing. She wishes she could blame it on the overly scented detergent Bow used but no, she just missed it. They almost made it to midnight before Catra had a massive freak out starting with her chapped lips and spilling some hot chocolate (not even all of it just a drop or two) and ending with the soul breaking realization that the problem was the tags in her clothes. Who doesn’t realize tags are bothering them until they’re halfway through trying to burn down their own life?

Catra apparently. Fuck she was an idiot and a mess. Detached her looked at Rogelio for confirmation and he nodded. Cool. No tags.Maybe a bad dream. Yeah that made sense at least.

“No, n-nothing like that.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

Catra’s sobbing turned a little hysterical because no duh. Inner Rogelio mentally gave her head a little pat pat, which was making an already awful but slowly becoming absurd situation a little more outrageous. “Yeah, me neither!”

Entrapta stayed squatted where she was, tapping her fingers away on her exposed knees as she looked around for something. Then offered, “Would you like me to turn the light off?”

Her “What?” sounded a lot more like “wah” in her head, and there was bastard Catra right on time. Wow, pathetic much? Couldn’t handle one bad dream and now look at you, a little baby. Always need something, don't you? Crying just to make people do whatever you want. Disgusting. Her fake Rogelio and detached mind were already starting to merge a little and that part of her reminded her of how stupid that sounded. Shadow Weaver nonsense.

“...the lights? Do you want them off? It can help to reduce stimulation.” Entrapta spoke slowly, clearly trying to think through what exactly she was trying to say and how to say it properly.

Oh! Yes, less input, she’d like the whole everything to get a lot less and smaller right now, please! “That would- that would be nice. Uh, hit the, uhm, hit the lights.”

“GREAT!” Entrapta all but leaped to her feet and smacked the light switch hard enough that Catra was sure she’d heard the drywall crack..

But it was also enough for Catra to giggle a little helplessly.

“Gotta commit to the bit.” Entrapta nodded, and even in the darkness Catra could see her smiling brightly. “Can I join you? Not in crying, I hope it’s okay but I don’t really feel like crying tonight. Just under the sink I mean.”

Catra scooted into the corner and waved a hand towards the open space, and within seconds she was surrounded by the grounding cold of the tiles on three sides and the soothing warmth of Entrapta’s arm and leg on the other.

They didn’t talk again, but it was nice when Entrapta eventually got up to turn the shower off. The steam was already starting to make her clothes stick uncomfortably to her, and Catra appreciated not having to talk to have the problem fixed.

Entrapta tapped her toes, wiggled her fingers, and rocked back and forth a little while humming and occasionally popping her lips which provided Catra with something pleasant to focus on instead of the three versions of her that were still trying to duke it out over why she felt so shitty. Which was a feat considering they were slowly melding back together with Catra’s more conscious emotional side. A thoroughly unpleasant feeling as she became a functional human again.

“Wow,” she eventually croaked, trying to scrub the remaining tears and snot off her face, “Hated that. Hated that for me. It was fucking lame.”

Entrapta frowned at her. “That was not lame. Or stupid, I know you really mean stupid when you say lame. It’s your favorite insult.”

Catra did somehow manage to not blurt, “Stupid is a stupid favorite insult, stupid!” and huffed instead. “Well it’s stu- it’s dumb that I don’t even know what set me off.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s stupid.” Entrapta whispered to herself, but it was plenty loud enough for Catra’s sensitive hearing. At a louder level she said, “I’m guessing it’s all the stuff happening right now.”

“What stuff? There’s, like, nothing happening in my life right now.” Catra was confused and her head and throat hurt from all the crying, and she just wanted to sleep for fifteen years and also never sleep again. But if Entrapta said she knew what the problem was, she probably knew exactly in excruciating detail what the problem was. She honestly wasn’t sure if she asked to figure it out or just to make herself feel worse.

“Well, you’re not at your own home. That’s one. You said it was kind of warm too. I know you forgot your meds a few days ago, that could be part of it. Your stomach is sensitive to acidic foods and we had pizza last night-” Entrapta didn’t even list off each point on her fingers, already seeming to know she’d need more fingers than possible. Catra just sat there stiff and embarrassed as her weirdo sins got listed one by one. “-you were worried Glimmer is mad at you, you took the lumpy bed to be nice to Scorpia, Scorpia snores pretty loudly, you’re picking up your car today and don’t know how much it’ll be, and you have that big project due next week. That’s a lot of stuff Catra.”

“You make it sound like my life’s awful.” She grumbled, unable to really provide a rebuttal considering Entrapta was probably right. That was a lot of little things stacked up, so one bad dream would be more than enough to crush her under the weight. Still, it was a lot better than getting vibe checked by DT when she got like this. Their way of helping often hurt a shit ton before Catra managed to shake a few nuggets of good out of it.

“MeeeEEEEeeeeeh,” Entrapta wiggled her hand in a so-so motion. “Not that it’s awful, there’s just a lot. …and I’m sorry I didn’t think about that last night, I should have let you use my bed.”

Catra snorted and groaned as everything flared painfully to life. Yup, she’d been right, she was being stupid and now Entrapta was trying to be stupid with her. “Self sacrifice isn’t good friendship.”

Rule one of the Reformed Super Pal Trio: Sacrificing something to make the others happy does not, typically, make them happy.

Scorpia had to stop giving ground, Catra had to stop taking/assuming blame, and Entrapta had to stop giving up her own physical comforts for others. It was a necessary rule for them to function as a friend group, otherwise Scorpia would start to feel steamrolled, Catra would get resentful, and Entrapta would just straight up shut down. 

“Well, we could’ve shared it. It’s big enough.” Entrapta said this the same way someone might point out an obvious plot point in a cartoon to a small child. A bed. Sharing a bed. With Entrapta? She did not need this in her life right now, that was a whole minefield of feelings she did NOT need right now.

“It’s a full size, that’s barely big enough for two people.”

“We are ‘fun sized’ though,” Entrapta argued, pouting a little as she continued, “besides you’re a real cuddler so we’d basically be a one sized fun size.”

“I am not!” Oh yeah, she was burning up right now.

“Small or a cuddler? You are only three inches taller than me and I can assure you you are snuggly.”

Normally that would be a declaration of war, right now Catra could only whine, “No, I’m not snuggly.”

“...but you are? Do you want to see the photographic evidence?”

“What photographic evidence!?”

Entrapta smiled awkwardly, “I forgot I was not supposed to tell you about that, so don’t worry! There is no photographic evidence to see anywhere, and especially not here, especially not from road trips! OH HEY, I smell coffee! Let’s go get coffee and breakfast!”

Coffee? Oh yeah, Catra could smell coffee too and food. Bacon? How fucking long were we under the sink!? Didn’t matter, she’d spent the night a miserable damp ball of dissociation fragments stuffed into a corner where she’d made Entrapta hang out the whole night to feel better. Stop being an idiot, stupid. Man, maybe stupid was her favorite insult? Huh. Probably more Weaver lies she needed to unpack later. Much later.

Catra was already half dragged out from her hidey hole before Entrapta paused and quietly asked, “Unless you’d rather not? We can stay here if you want to. I don’t mind!”

She scrambled to get her feet under her and not just be pulled like a sack of potatoes. Mmm, potatoes. Her stomach growled pitifully. Inner Rogelio got one last pot shot off before vanishing and leaving her head free of any weird fake versions of herself she compartmentalized into to cope. You ate last night and it’s now morning, eat something. “Only if there’s the little fried boys.”

“Let me check!” And with that Entrapta darted out the door shouting hello to Scorpia who gleefully shouted back a good morning.

Yeah, Catra was going to wash her face and let them get it out of their systems before making an appearance. She still felt off. Tired and sick, both sensitive and a little numb. But considering she was functional and had an appetite, Catra would take the win for what it was. By the time she made it to the kitchen, her friends had both calmed down a little and Entrapta was concentrating while pouring coffee as Scorpia put the last finishing touches on cutting up the toast into little bites.

A plate of eggs, skillet potatoes, toast, and two coffees later she was feeling a lot more human. They hadn’t talked during breakfast, which helped a lot more than she wanted to admit. In fact, Scorpia only made a peep when she coo’d quietly and pointed to Entrapta who was now sleeping on the table, her plate of quail eggs, mini toasts, and bacon cut into cute shapes nearly empty. It would have been darling if not for the raging guilt coursing through Catra’s veins at being the cause.

“Want me to get her?” Scorpia asked softly.

It was tempting, but Entrapta had helped her and it would make her feel better to help her. Did that make her a bad person? Too early for that. She pushed the thought aside to agonize over later. “Nah, I think we both need some sleep.”

“Gotcha, sleep well buddy!”

Did she almost drop Entrapta on the way to her bed? Shut up, maybe, what are you, a cop?

Did she pass out within minutes of settling them both on the super plush mattress? Duh, she had a rough night and Entrapta’s bed was suspiciously comfy. Don’t judge!

Did she wake up to discover Entrapta trying to stealthily take a selfie of her and Catra (who was basically clinging to her like some sort of octopus) together? That information is classified.

Did she feel a lot better thanks to having some really amazing friends? 

Yeah. She did.

[mattydemise]

Almost midnight. 22nd of August, 2022.

Let love burn you. Let it singe your hairs and scorch your skin. Let love consume you like an inferno. Magma over your skin. Something churning and roiling like a sea of flames. Love should be destructive. Love should wake you up in fright. If love doesn’t do these things, if it’s fleeting or mild, something soft and bubbly like a strawberry champagne. It isn’t love. It’s a falsity. Something valid but ultimately forgettable. I want love to hurt you, to take your frail and weak muscle of love and put it through the meat grinder. Anything else is less than what you deserve. Each of us deserves that fierce intensity, something that not even the poets dare put to paper, for fear of cheapening it with meaningless words and scribbles. Love is pure, unadulterated agony. Something disgusting to behold. Violent. Powerful. Love will fuck you and fuck you up afterwards. So, when you're debating whether or not to see that limp-waisted little prick again because he bought you your favourite double shot mocha, just remember that’s your ego talking, that ain’t no fucking love. You wanna gobble up that validation because without it what are you? Love will hurt you and you will succumb to it. That’s just how it is. You don’t want that pencil necked geek that’s going to timidly dip a finger in and cave under pressure in the ultimate moment of physical ecstasy. You want love and love will bore into your soul like a power drill, opening you up, and spilling you out. There is no thought in love. Love is animalic. Love is the wolves tearing apart the hare in the cold open plains. Love is that hare as its limbs are strewn about and the bones are cracked, marrow drank, blooddrunk, sex starved, pure fucking instinct. That is love. Anything less is nothing.

[vynive]

More Poems!

Hi all! I’m becoming obsessed with poetry lately, so I wanted to share another little something I wrote. Each of these describes a planet in my headworld’s solar system :3

Albedo

I am a mirror, glinting in the night.

I conceal what's beneath from all who would see,

Diffusing, reflecting; intense glaring white.

 The blackness within me smothered by light,

Distracting with secrets of all that could be.

 Cauda Pavonis

I beckon you closer with searing insight.

 I glimmer with color, fractured like glass,

A shattering emptiness hangs in my skies,

A desolate dreamscape without trees or grass.

 Spires and shards erupt from my face

Silent, it watches with uncanny eyes.

 Citrinitas

Your dull fear disturbing their rainbow-hued grace.

 I am quite lovely, or so it is told,

My lustrous waves and warm gentle coast

My seas marbled amber and rippled with gold.

 A vast shallow field of burgeoning life

Sustain that which your kind values the most.

 Rubedo

Clothes me in velvet, long untouched by strife.

 I am inferno, a fiery jewel.

Cinnabar currents with charcoal black shores

Here, burning chaos and magma plumes rule.

 Though it seems that my fury incinerates all,

Harden with nightfall, then once again pour.

 Caeruledo

There are yet still a few here who slither and crawl.

 Crackling azure tears through me in arcs,

Sapphire sands pulse with bright cyan hues,

My children are fleeting and brilliant sparks.

 I blaze with sharp energy, down to my core,

Storms tearing above in violent blues.

 Magnum Opus

Like the flare of creation that came long before.

 I am the throne that Creation adorns,

I am the lush realm of gaze and of flight.

The singular point from which all things were born.

 Lives bloom upon me, their stories my soul.

I am the grave wreathed in haze and in light.

 Viridescence

I am their Great Work, the heart of the whole.

 I am a giant in an emerald robe,

Some call me mother, and I can see why;

Thick layers of gas that wreath a vast globe.

 I’m too big for your kind, I'm sorry to say,

I protect all my kin with the pull of my sky.

 Fulgorescence

But in my clouds other things frolic and play.

 I am brilliance, a passionate world,

I’m hot and I’m stormy, yet still freezing cold,

Mists of azure and orange, layered and swirled.

 Within me dwell ancients, expelled from your lands,

My sky is as wild as my colors are bold.

 Aerugescence

Who would not submit to a mortal’s demands.

 I am old metal, enveloped in rust.

My sky cold and dark, and my atmosphere thin,

Oxidized copper that flakes into dust.

 I am a reminder of what lies in store,

No life can be found here, without or within.

 Opalescence

Decay painting color in stone and in ore.

 I am a pearl with a shimmering glaze,

Upon me lie sheets of clean undisturbed snow,

Life thrives upon me in thousands of ways.

 Thick clouds full of magic color my poles,

But riotous growth lies in caverns below.

 Penumbrescence

Sheltering spirits who gather in shoals.

 I am the white shadow, the second to last,

I'm barren and frigid, and littered with scars,

I lie at the edge of the future and past.

 My ancient wounds dusted with black and gold sparks,

Out here barely brushed by the light of your stars.

 Nigredo

A prize even here, at the edge of the dark.

 I am midnight, the shadow that's cast

I am a void; pure, empty, and black,

By that which reflects first and reaches me last.

 Oblivion hiding a secret within,

Though burning white spills from my deep hidden cracks.

 None is yet all; to end's to begin.

[risaperis]

CIMMERIAN

H.P. Lovecraft Inspired Poems

Words Ignited by the short story “The Beast in the Cave”

Obtruding like a rapist’s hand, some Beast, enriched by darkness, existing in depthless dark.

Light, does Human need, can you not eat the delicious, exuberantly nourishing dark,

It sweetens your blood, a cascade of neurotransmitters, sleep erratic, but little need for rest.

In the beginning…there was an endless witchy hour and comforting crepuscular entombment

In the womb of a mother, heavy with you, laid on the day grass, labia spread wide, the sun

Dancing across her belly, making the slits of your eyes dazzle in glittery perfection, until

She rolled upwards and slept in God’s bed, the night perfected in the starry sky and inky spaces, she dreamed of the magma sun, the magma Earth core, the searing sunspot eruptions,

Her sex hump reeling, and the universe was not ashamed, but you, the seed, the Embryo, 

Craving only that ancient Cimmerian atmosphere, the true darkness of cloistered forming,

Let there not be light, Occult breath, such windings in that cavernous cave, a Sepulcher,

A true Eucharist, hunger enraging, craving incarnate flesh, cannibalism, except how human,

In that tingling, crazed, universe before the Bang, disaster with every turn, a menagerie of 

Rats, worms flipping in crevices, other creepy things, now flesh to satiate, to continue life,

Itinerant anthropoid, here and there, how deep the avenues, inwards and onwards, to the core,

Hell, no, long past that fiery circle, until effulgence beckoning you, a man man, Help, Help,

You run, wonderment, your now prognathous head, strange eyes that can still see twinkling,

Surprisingly, given the full fathoms forever, gnawed into that brain, reverting to animal shift,

Lost in grotto, your padded limbs, racing on four, ravenous and gluttonous, now Man is two,

Fear, frozen and bathed by sudden lamplight, SCREAMING, rock strikes, one, two, three,

You lie dead, until a fit of last life forces open your eyes, Human staring into what, you’ve

Evolved more deeply primate, having sipped at midnight water, abyssal longings, evaporating

You are fetal, no light need you, eons, eons, men men look at you, frightened, they are you,

They see only Monster, Human can you not recognize Human, Homo Sapien…Darwin’s pride

NEED NO LIGHT, listen, you are still human when your soul drizzles ink, jetty tears, lonely

Soul, deprived heart, you are still human, alone, yes, eyes useless, you are still human,

Now go, leave the cave with only shade and no shadow, emerge and tell those melancholy,

You are still human…

[teefa85]

So getting around to making a Tera Type chart for my Muses' Pokemon. Yes, all the Pokemon World's crazy gimmicks are in that world...Megas since the ancient rift opened up and really screwed with things, Dynamax/Gigantamaz is an artificial creation based on Eternatus by our usual trove of wacky scientists (also responsible for Ultra Beasts arriving and next year in-universe the Paradoxes). And when said paradoxal rifts are opened by said scientists, Tera Crystals.

Now, with Megas and Gigantamax it's easy. If a 'mon is capable of doing that, they can...end of story. But since Tera is type shifting I need to record it. And while a lot of the times they have their regular type (or secondary even if it comes later in evolution as these forms would be gained after they'd fully evolved) I do naturally change it up from time to time.

Some of the more fun/interesting ones are under a cut. Many of which are inside jokes...

Teefa has an Alolan Ninetales and Hisuian Zoroark. As before those variants were introduced they were the original variants, Foxy has a Fire Tera and Kit a Dark Tera.

Lufia's Pikachu has been called Blaze since this thing's inception. Many of the Pokemon were named for my regular nickname for that 'mon. And Blaze was named for the Capsule Monster of Fire from Lufia II because of this really dumb thing I did as a kid where I narrated TV shows as if various other game characters were acting on them. So a good number of my Gen I nicknames were from this and references to Lufia I or II monsters/the CMs...and not always chosen with Type in mind if the 'mon seemed like it worked! This long winded tangent is all to say that Blaze's Tera Type is Fire.

Likewise, Burianne has a Persian. Meowth in that same stupid narration was Freeze as I wanted the enemy team's Pokemon to have a fitting opposite nickname. So her Persian is Ice Tera.

Samantha's Lopunny is Fighting Tera for Lopunny's Mega. Her Mienshao is Flying due to an inside joke about how aerial that 'mon can be.

Phoebe's Meowscarada is Fairy due to her aromatherapy. I mean, Play Rough is in its moveset...mine had it to deal with other Dark Types.

Lufia has a Typhlosion that is Ghost Tera in reference to the Hisuian Form though hers is the Johtonian one. Ditto with Alley's Rock Tera Arcanine that is a normal Kantonian Arcanine.

Rutee's Meganium is Dragon Type due to its dinosaur look. Her Incineroar is Fighting and Cinderace is Electric due to fans whining that those aren't those two 'mons secondary types and me loving people's salt.

Terrie's Sunflora is Fire for some dumb in-jokes about her in Warrior Academy along with one thing people have often said should happen to a theoretical Sunflora Evo.

The Three Lycanroc of Rutee and her niece and nephew are a trio reference. Elliot's Midday Lycanroc is Fire Tera, Lina's Midnight Lycanroc is Dark Tera, Rutee's Dusk Lycanroc is Electric...the sun, the moon, and just how energy comes from light.

Finally...the Eeveelutions used by Rutee, Stahn, and Philia are all references to the "missing" Eevee Types. Vapor=Ghost (can turn invisible in Water), Jolt=Flying (other air-based Type), Flare=Rock (magma is melted rock and heat relates to fire), Espy=Fighting (exact opposite), Umbry=Poison (there are refs to Umbreon and poisons and it seems it was originally planned to be Poison Type according to beta leaks), Leefa=Ground (two Types referencing nature), Glace=Steel (both Types that are often created with defensive stats), Sylvie=Bug (along with Flying it was one of the most commonly guessed Types for Sylveon before Fairy was revealed).

Going with above to continue the gag, Kyle's Flareon Scruff is Normal Tera (he uses Last Resort as one of his moves) and Emmy's Sylveon Sakura is Dragon (left over plus she's a kid who enjoys magic much more than her brother or cousins on either side of the family).