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woahjo · 7 months

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The People We Became (Bakugou x Reader)

masterlist | ao3

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Summary: Zombie Apocalypse Au.

The world fell apart almost a year ago and you refused to go with it. Left alone and to your own devices in a world full of monsters, where the dead come back to life, you believe that maybe surviving isn't living.

When Katsuki finds you alone in the woods and on the precipice of collapsing from exhaustion, he decides to bring you back to the house his group calls home. Against your better judgement and hesitancy to become attached, you decide to stay. In this world, everyone has lost someone. No soul is spared the violence, and you start sleeping with Bakugou Katsuki to dull the ache. Somehow, peace finds you anyway, but not without sacrifice.

Chapter Content Warnings: fem!reader, gender neutral pronouns, strangers to lovers, violence typical of zombies, blood, gore, romance, slow-ish burn (for the emotional stuff), angst, kissin', questions of identity, loss, grief, graphic depictions of death and/or violence, mentions and descriptions of starvation/exhaustion typical of an apocalypse setting, very slight implications of possible sexual violence typical of an apocalypse setting, derealization, depersonalization, weapons (guns, blades, and traps), loss of identity

All content warnings can be found on ao3 with the rest of the series.

Word Count: 14.4k — 53k total on ao3

A/N: it's finally done... i'm sweating. i screamed. i cried. i bled. you know the drill. i am posting this a little differently than my other fics and series. only the first chapter will be posted here on tumblr (this post), with the rest of it broken up into chapters and posted on ao3.. purely because it was originally meant as a one shot and i don't like posting chapters on tumblr. it's not built for that and im tired. anyway, im nervous this is my new baby and im pretty sure my soul is somewhere in here. if u read this, pls come tell me what you think.. it fuels me. enjoy, cry, sweat, or whatever else you do when you read. as always, thank you and i love you.

Two hundred and seventy six. It’s been two hundred and seventy six days since the world completely went to shit. You don’t really count the initial outbreak. The initial outbreak was relatively contained once people found out about it. You quarantined. You stayed inside. All it really took were a handful of idiots. Someone selfish. Someone who panicked and ran instead of facing the world honorably, and that was it. It only took days to lose almost every semblance of a normal life and a week to lose everything else.

The light of your fire is dim, embers burning low as you sit in a foldable chair beside it. The chair is from a friend, someone you’re not with anymore and who went somewhere you couldn’t follow, and you've got a metal spatula in your hand. You're not sure why you grabbed it when you fled, but panic does weird things to the mind. You absentmindedly wonder why you’ve brought it along with you all this time. There’s no logical reason for you to tote the thing around. A friend had told you how strange it was that you thought to toss it into your bag and continue carrying it. This, along with a few other oddities, are all you managed to take from your house when the world fell to ruin. Everything else are things scavenged along the way or from people you'd met, joined, and lost.

Maybe it’s because the spatula is somewhat normal, like somehow when you cook the game on your makeshift tin over your shitty fire, you can pretend you’re in your kitchen. A smash burger sounds good right now, with grilled onions on a brioche bun like the ones from the place by your apartment.

The night is near silent and trees creak and crack like the hulls of great ships under heavy pressure, but the birds don't sing and nothing in the crowded wood you're taking shelter in makes a sound. Well, except for you and the gentle crackle of your fire.

It’s easy to miss the noise that used to irritate you when the world goes quiet. You used to hate the sounds and lights of passing trucks when they’d cross on the street below your apartment window. Now, you’d do anything for the familiar comfort. The world is so dark and quiet, like it’s holding its breath and waiting for this to be over. The silence is almost too much, so loud that it hurts your ears. You huddle closer to the fire, craving its quiet sound. Focusing on it lessens the anxiety of the other noises. The ones you don’t want to hear.

Your head is on a swivel. It has been for months. Ever since the outbreak, ever since the dead rose and began consuming and infecting the living, you've kept watch. A paranoid, never ending cycle that you suppose—if left on your own—will burn itself out. You swallow thick and return your attention to the fire, watching the tree line just in front of you for any hint of movement or monsters.

A branch cracks just behind you. A swift sound, followed by rapid footsteps. You stand, quickly turning your head, only to see a figure a few feet away from you. They move quickly and the dancing light of the fire obscures their features from view. Their eyes, most importantly. You can always tell if someone is dead or alive based on their eyes and the sounds that their joints make. In this light, should this stranger have that milky white film over them, you wouldn't be able to tell.

You make a small noise, something between a whimper and a shout, as the person comes to a stop in front of you and holds a flashlight directly into your face. You squint, panic in your veins as your eyes adjust as best they can to the sudden assault. It takes you a moment to realize that there is a gun pointed directly at your forehead. The living. This person is alive. You're not sure yet if encountering one of the dead would have been worse.

"Shut up and drop your weapon," he says in a hurried voice. It's aggressive and threatening. It comes from deep in his chest, like somehow fear has gripped and mutilated it into something violent.

You raise your shaky hands to your head quickly at the order, screwing your eyes shut in the beam of the flashlight.

"It's not a weapon!" you shout, voice cracking. "It's a spatula. It's a spatula."

The words are rushed and heavy, fear seizing your chest as you look down the barrel of the gun. The flashlight turns off, sending you back into the dark. Your eyes fight to adjust, catching the firelight that glints off of the barrel, and you begin to makeout the man’s features. He's big, blonde under the grime, you think. A man, not the best thing to encounter alone at night in times like these.

You see him hesitate for a moment, eyes darting between you and the silver kitchen item in your hand. You drop it quickly, hoping to appeal to his humanity.

"Do you have a weapon on you?" he questions, voice a little less urgent.

You shake your head in response and then shakily look beside the chair, choking out the word “ground”. There's a knife there and a pistol with no bullets. You're a poor shot and you had run out of ammo the previous week. He glances at it, the gun still raised at you, and sidesteps to grab the two items. When he does, he cautiously lowers the weapon and you start to lower your trembling hands.

Then, as if struck by some realization, the man stomps towards the fire and you jump as he does.

"The fuck are you doing lighting a fire this late?" he says angrily, opening the clip of your pistol. "And with no fucking bullets. Those things may be dead, but they can still fuckin' see. That's a good way to get yourself killed."

He stomps out the fire as he talks, urgently stamping out what's left of the low-burning logs.

"I didn't think there were many in the area," you justify, furrowing your eyebrows as you step away from him.

"And that's a risk you want to take?" he says indignantly. You wonder briefly what business he has worrying about you.

"What do you want?" you snap, "My food? Weapons? Life? What is it?"

The man scoffs, "Jesus, none of that. I don’t want your shit."

You narrow your eyes and take a step back. One thing this world has done is remove trust from every chance encounter, and that was already hard enough when the place was sane.

"Not all people who camp out in the woods are good," he says. "But I sure as shit didn't expect to find someone like you alone lighting a damn fire. Stupid."

"There were others," you say indignantly, like somehow that makes it better. "Force of habit, I guess."

The man pauses for a moment as understanding passes between the two of you. It's a relatable feeling. Everyone has lost someone now.

"Got a name?" he asks.

You hesitate in giving it to him and the pause causes him to roll his eyes. “You want me to call you Idiot-with-no-bullets instead?”

You give him your name and the man nods as if he likes the sound of it, turning it over in his head before inhaling.

"I'm Katsuki," he furrows his eyebrows. "You're alone?"

You nod, swallowing down the grief that pushes at your throat.

"Wasn't always," you respond, "but yeah. Now, I am."

He nods his understanding.

"Come with me."

"Where?" you say instinctively, a defensive edge to your voice. Katsuki looks at you as if you’re stupid, or maybe it's pity, like you're a wounded animal. Probably both.

"Where the fuck do you think?" he retorts. "We've got a camp a little ways from here. I saw your fire from the watch post we have stationed."

You look at him like he's a little crazy for even thinking to bring you. Kindness, especially the selfless type, is so rare now and you find it difficult to believe that he’s willing to take you there at no cost.

He scoffs and rolls his head over his shoulder. "Look, we've got men and women," then he pauses. "Used to have children. We're not gonna hurt you. World's gone to shit, do you really wanna keep at it alone?"

He's probably right. You've been alone for weeks now, exhausted for longer, and though your common sense tells you not to go off with a strange man in this kind of world, the promise of rest is far too tempting. You nod and glance back to your camp. A measly collection of supplies haphazardly put together. You suppose that it doesn’t look so promising.

"We'll come back for it when it's light," he says. "I don't know about you, but I'd rather not spend longer in these dark ass woods than I have to."

"Okay," you say. The presence of another person both sets you on edge and makes you feel the press of fatigue even more. A gun's barrel on your nose followed by the promise of safety and you're going with him? You must be stupider than a horror movie protagonist. "Do you take in a lot of strays?"

Katsuki looks over his shoulder and you think you see him smile a little at the phrase.

"If that's what you want to call it," he says begrudgingly. Then, with a softer tone of voice, barely noticeable with the quiet whisper you both have been speaking at. "I'm sure the others won't mind one more."

You nod a little and follow him through the wood, stepping over obstacles. Your eyes have adjusted to the dark, but you feel unsteady on your feet. Everything you’ve ever learned about this world tells you that maybe you shouldn’t go with him. What if they’re dangerous? It’s easy to lie about women and children, about a community that doesn’t exist. Or worse, it’s easy to fool yourself that where you are is good, but you don’t know yet if he’s the type to delude himself. He doesn’t seem it.

The two of you walk for what feels like forever, even if it is only a little over half a mile. Your feet have been aching for days and every step you take feels like a blade into the heel. Katsuki seems steady, his gun secured at his hip and a large knife in his dominant hand. He doesn’t have the flashlight out, but he seems sure-footed and takes every step in stride, as if he’s too heavy to be swayed by any missed step.

As you move, you can barely make out his back in the white tank top he wears. You use it as a landmark, following the glowing white as it catches the light from the moon. Like chasing a ghost through the trees.

Then, the wood eases up. The trees grow sparse and the suffocating humidity of the forest eases into a more breathable, open-air breeze. Katsuki steps out into a clearing. It’s relatively small, for how large the world is, but it’s some of the most open space you’ve seen in a while. The feeling of stepping out into the tall grass, where you’re both visible to any wandering thing, sends a rush of fear through you.

By the edge of the clearing, there’s a small house with a short steeple. It almost looks like a Christian church, but you get the sense that it’s likely a barn. That must be the watchtower and you wonder just how good the view of the forest is from up there if Katsuki managed to see the light of your fire. How many other people had seen your fires over the weeks and not made it out to confront you? How close had you come before to safety or annihilation?

"Hey!" a girl's voice calls. "He's back!"

In the near distance, you can see a large and dimly lit house. It looks a little worn down, but soft and hardly noticeable light emanates from it in a way that makes it seem inviting.You can’t make out its exact silhouette and night blurs just how broken-down it is, but you can tell that people live there in the same way you can tell when someone has just left a room.

Someone runs across the field to you both. It looks like a man and a woman, maybe around Katsuki's age. They move quickly through the tall grass and for a moment, the urgency that they move with frightens you. You worry that your presence will ignite some protective sort of panic. You linger back, letting Katsuki grow a little farther from you as they call out to him.

“Yeah, yeah," he half-shouts, no longer seeming to care about keeping quiet. Guess that's what happens when there's a group. "I found the fire I mentioned."

The two come to a stop in front of him, resting their hands on their hips as they catch the breath they lost.

"We started to get a little worried," says the girl. She's pretty, with big eyes and curly hair that looks like it probably used to be dyed. "You've been gone for a while."

"Well, I'm back," he says.

"And you brought a friend," the other man says, sounding shocked. His tone is noticeably kind. The boisterous type of kind and when he smiles, you can see that he has sharp canines. His hair is straight, sticking out in different directions, and tinged with red in this light.

"More like an acquaintance," Katsuki says. “I found them in the woods with a fire and an empty clip. Felt like their blood would be on my hands if I didn’t bring them back.” The red-haired man gives him a telling look and Katsuki scoffs in response and turns to the girl. "Get them settled, Mina, will you?" The girl called Mina nods and Katsuki takes off toward the house without another word.

"You're lucky," she says, pausing when you flinch as she steps closer. "You're gettin' the last solo room in the place. Kirishima, is it set up?"

Kirishima shrugs his shoulders. "You'd have to ask Izuku. He'd know all about that, but I can go check."

Mina shakes her head and turns her attention to you, giving you a quick once over with her eyebrows pulled together.

"You must be tired.”

When you nod, she gives you an empathetic smile and motions for you to come with her. "We'll fix that. You hungry?"

"What do you think?" you manage, saliva pooling in your mouth. "Do you have food?"

"Plenty," she smiles. "not quite enough for leftovers just yet though, don’t tell anyone."

You smile awkwardly. Who on earth would you tell?

"Sounds like a good deal," you say.

You follow Mina up to the house. Around it, there are a few parked cars. They look like they could pull out at any moment, and through the dust covered windows, you can just make out supplies in the back seats as you pass. In the distance, you can see the fuzzy silhouette of the barn you’d assumed was a watchtower in the dark of the field and you figure that maybe it used to be a place to keep livestock.

Mina doesn't say much to you as you pass through the field, and when you walk into the door, the first thing you notice is a large group of people seated at a dining table. They all look up at you when you enter and it's with a bit of shock that you register their faces as healthy. Well, healthier. These people live well. Something stirs in your chest, both anxiety and excitement at the thought of possibly having found somewhere safe. They blink at you for a moment, exchanging looks that all end up landing on Katsuki.

"This is the group. Well, most of us," Mina says pleasantly and with a light huff. "That's Izuku, Denki, Ochako, Sero, and you already know the handsome guy on the end there. Kiri's probably checking to see if the room is half decent.." They all greet you with a glad murmur. "Group, this is..."

She looks at you expectantly. When you tell them your name, you can't help but look at Katsuki who already knows it. He raises his eyebrows unconsciously and turns his attention to the glass in front of him.

There’s an awkward pause as you stand in the doorway, suddenly conscious of just how dirty you must look. Remnants of an older world, you suppose. No one really worries about things like that anymore.

“Uhm…” you search for something to say, but your people skills seem to have left you.

“You’re okay,” Mina says lightly. “Plenty of time to get to know you when you’ve rested and had something to eat.”

Mina sits you down at a chair that she pulls in from the other room. It doesn't match the other ones in the dining room, but you suppose no one is really thinking of the decor in their house anymore. It's only now that you realize the house has electricity.

"You have power?" you say incredulously, looking at the center light in the dining room on its low setting.

"Mhm," Mina hums as she sits down next to you and spoons a helping of vegetables onto your plate. "It's got a generator. We got lucky finding this place. I don't think many of us would be alive if we hadn't."

Those listening in the group nod their affirmation.

"It draws from well water too," she adds. "With the right care, the place practically runs on its own. Hard work but what isn't nowadays?"

“Like you do any of the heavy lifting," Sero scoffs across from her.

"That's not fair," Katsuki adds with a slick smirk, "you know damn well none of our vegetables would be so well socialized if she didn't use them like a damn diary all day."

The group laughs a little and Mina rolls her eyes and sits back in the chair. You avoid looking at anyone, shoveling the food into your mouth. You’re salivating an almost embarrassing amount, struggling to eat at a normal pace. There’s something about food cooked inside, about the way food tastes when you can smell it wafting in from the kitchen.

"Don't worry," she turns to you, as if you’re at all concerned with the implication that she doesn’t do much work, "they know we’d hardly have vegetables at all if it weren't my job to tend them. I used to garden quite a bit before all of this."

Sero tosses her a sideways glance and you get the sense that maybe it isn’t just her doing it.

"Mina does a lot of the garden stuff," Ochako pitches in, her voice hesitant. "We all sort of just do what we can."

You can’t really keep up with the conversation and instead just blink at her for a moment before turning back to your food. Maybe that’s rude, but you don’t have the energy to consider it. There’s food in front of you. Food that doesn’t taste like it’s been poorly slaughtered or rotting in a cabinet for months.

The group at the table with you shifts back into what you feel is their normal conversation and you watch them through your peripheral. You can’t relax yet, maybe you never will. Always on watch with your guard up.

They pass the dishes around the table, plates going from hand to hand over mismatched sets of silverware. The action feels strange to you. Your chest squeezes at the thought. Just a few weeks ago, you’d done this around a fire with the people you loved. You’d passed a too-hot-to-touch pot around a circle of friends, laughing quietly at the little moments of joy you could find. It feels far away now and jealousy rouses beside hope as you sit.

“So, where did you come from?” Izuku at the end of the table asks.

It takes you a moment to realize that he’s talking to you and there’s an edge to his voice that has everyone at the table sitting up with curiosity. You stare at him for a moment, exhausted and defeated and unable to muster the words.

“Leave them be,” Katsuki says, looking up from his plate. “They just got here. They’re probably freaked out.”

The table goes a little quiet, a hush falling over it. You look around as glances are exchanged before Mina stands up quickly and quietly claps her hands together.

“I think,” she says with an awkward laugh, “it may be time for bed.”

Mina turns to you. “I’ll show you where you can sleep.”

You nod, standing up and turning to the group with furrowed eyebrows. You want to thank them, to tell them that you’re grateful for the meal and their kindness, but the words don’t come. Instead, you meet Katsuki’s gaze, grateful for the intervention, but suspicious at such forthcoming kindness. He scoffs a little and turns away.

—

“It’s just up here,” Mina says as she guides you through the house.

You pass rooms with their doors ajar. They are lived in, with unmade beds and glasses of clean water on nightstands. It’s like something out of a life gone by, with a few less amenities. You can imagine a family moving through this house. Girls in school uniforms calling through the halls about a stolen hair clip. Now, you picture these people doing that. Living and not just surviving.

“The bathroom is across the hall,” she says. “You can take a shower if you want. I’ll leave a towel and some clothes in there just in case.”

You nod.

“No worries if you don’t,” Mina adds in a whisper. “When I first met everyone, I didn’t undress to bathe for days so… take your time. We won’t be offended.”

She shuts the door behind her when she leaves and you stumble back onto the bed, shocked by just how soft it feels after spending weeks on the floor. It’s not much, but it’s nicer than anything you’ve experienced in the last nine months, and there's a working shower. You haven’t had a shower since everything fell apart and the layer of grime on your skin is so thick that you can feel it. You haven’t felt safe enough to properly wash since you’d lost the rest of your group, only stopping to rinse your body in streams you pass if the thought occurred to you. The idea of running water and a shower is near euphoric.

You probably shouldn’t. It may not be wise to shower tonight. You still don’t know these people or what they’re capable of, but the temptation of being clean is too great and as soon as you hear Mina close the bathroom door and walk away, you hurry across the hall on the balls of your feet.

The bathroom looks old and the sink is white porcelain, eggshell now with a lack of care. The shower has a bathtub in it and though it’s cloudy, there’s a mirror over the sink where you catch the first clear glimpse you’ve had of yourself in weeks.

You don’t know who you’re looking at. The person in the mirror is nearly unrecognizable. Their eyes are wide and frightened, wild like an animal’s, and their face is covered in a layer of grime that looks like it can never be washed out. Their hair is unruly, sticking out in some areas and matted down with blood in others. This is a person you’ve never seen or met before. Someone you would have avoided only a year ago if you’d ever encountered them.

You reach up to touch your face, running your hand over the dried blood that has made a home on the underside of your jaw. How long has it been there? Have you always looked so unwell? So sick in mind and body? The promise of a shower grows unbearably pleasant.

The knob squeaks when you turn it, screeching as the pipes hum and clang to life. Water spits out in a few bursts before raining down from the faucet and hitting the back of the tub in a steady thrum. It sounds a little bit like music to you, constant and heavy, and it gives the impression of normalcy as you begin undressing.

The fabric of your clothes sticks to your skin, peeling from your body in an unbearable and disgusting way. You don’t look at your body in the mirror. In fact, you avoid it entirely. Not recognizing your face was enough, but your body—a part of yourself you never really recognized—would drive you over the edge.

Then, you pull the shower curtain back and stick your hand under the water, stepping into it fully with a deep sigh. The water is lukewarm. They probably turned off the heater to conserve power and allow the main generator to function for longer. That’s fine. Beggars can’t be choosers and everyone is a beggar nowadays. Besides, it’s warm enough outside that the water isn’t too cold as it is. In the winter, you probably wouldn’t be able to shower and the pipes might freeze entirely until the following spring.

There’s a normalcy that you settle into as you wash your body. You return to muscle memory, running your hands over your skin and scrubbing the grime out. It’s simultaneously like the first shower of your life and as if you’ve been doing it every day. You return to a state of pleasant, familiar humanity as you wash away dirt that has built up for weeks. You feel as it pours off of you, see it run down your body onto the porcelain of the tub and swirl down the drain. It’s dirt and dried blood that has been caked onto your skin. You worry that even after washing, it will leave a permanent mark.

The person in the mirror when you get out of the shower is in stark contrast to the person who went into it. They’re someone that you recognize. You could almost convince yourself that nothing ever changed. Your water-soaked skin is so familiar to you, that you could be getting out of the shower and dressing to go to work. If it weren’t for the look in your eyes, you could have fooled yourself. Something undefinable has changed in you, something that you will carry with you forever. You glance at yourself in the foggy mirror and think that there is no going back.

The house is quiet when you dry yourself and open the bathroom door. You step across the hall on the balls of your feet, careful not to make any noise, and when you push the bedroom door open, you do a visual sweep to make sure that it’s safe out of habit.

Your body is exhausted. You are so thoroughly tired that you think you could collapse at any moment, but when you sit down on the bed in your fresh clothes, you find yourself restless. This place is new to you and you’re unsure if the safe feeling is your mind playing desperate tricks on you or the real thing. The lamp by your bed is on, casting a yellow glow across the bedsheets and the dark wood furniture. Come to think of it, you didn’t get a good look at the house when you came in and the thought starts to bother you as you stare at the closed door to the hallway.

Someone could be behind it. They could be waiting for you to lay down, to sleep, before doing something awful. You almost feel guilty for thinking this way about them. They’ve fed you, given you a shower, given you fresh clothes. Luxuries you weren’t sure even existed anymore, yet you’re sitting here doubting them, wishing you had your pistol or knife.

The bedroom door creaks as you open it. You wince, nervous that you’ve disturbed the quiet peace of the house and that everything will come crashing down as quickly as it seemed to come together. The hallway is dark, save for some light coming from under two doors at the end of the hall. One of them turns out as you creep past it to the stairs, and you hear the distinct sound of box springs squeaking as someone crawls into bed. You let go of the breath you’d been holding, straightening up as you relax into the late-night environment.

The house looks old even from the inside. It gives the impression of having once been dirty and in near disrepair. There are dust stains and dull spots that no amount of scrubbing could get out. You can almost picture how this place may have looked when they found it and it’s entirely possible that it had been abandoned before the actual outbreak. Someone run out of their home for lack of money. What a trivial thing now.

The stairs are sturdy, probably held together so well by the foundation of the house, and they’re made of dark wood. They’re steep too, the kind that a baby or old person might trip over, and you hold the railing to calm the shaking of your legs as you slowly feel your way down. You can see the light on in the kitchen from around the corner, spreading out onto the floor of the old fashioned drawing room. Dishes clink in the kitchen, like someone is washing them, and you jump a little at the noise as you creep around the corner.

Kirishima is standing at the sink with his back to you, whispering something to someone beside him. The expanse of his back is broad, moving every time he goes to run his hand over the dish in front of him. Then, he turns to look at you and you see Mina pop her head around the corner.

“Oh,” Kiri says, “did you need something?”

You shake your head. “Not really, I just couldn’t sleep.”

Kiri nods sympathetically as if he knows the feeling. “Well, you look like you feel a little better at least.”

You pad over to where he’s doing the dishes and Mina offers you a soft smile and a knowing look. It all seems so normal. Doing the dishes, whispering quietly as they do. Something about it screams a kind of humanity you haven’t experienced in a long while, even with your last group.

“Are you sure we can’t get you something?” Mina says, furrowing her brows.

“Why are you all being so nice to me?” You ask. “You don’t know the first thing about me.”

“Is there some reason why we shouldn’t be nice to you?” Kiri says over his shoulder.

“No,” you shake your head. “I just think it’s reckless, that’s all. I could have been anyone.”

Kirishima and Mina exchange a look. They glance at each other, like they’re debating on saying something, and then Kiri turns and rests his palms on the back of the sink. He looks at Mina.

“We don’t usually decide to do this so quickly,” she admits. “We’re friendly, but nobody’s that friendly anymore.”

Kiri nods his agreement and you listen quietly, trying to determine if they plan to toss you back out into the woods in the morning.

“But, Katsuki doesn’t usually bring people in,” she continues.

“He’s a little more closed off than the rest of us,” Kirishima adds. “He’s a good guy, just takes a while to warm up, is all.”

“Mhm,” Mina says.

“What does that have to do with me?” you ask. “This is nice and all, but I’m sure you get why I’m wary.”

“He’s a good judge of character,” Kiri adds earnestly. “He doesn’t bring people in often, but when he does, he’s usually right.”

You nod, not quite understanding. Sure, you don’t plan to do anything terrible. In fact, you’re content to accept their kindness and stay, if they’d let you. Anything is better than being alone, but their blind trust in one man’s judgment of character makes you uneasy.

“He was alone for a really long time,” Mina adds. “A lot of us were. I got lucky meeting Kirishima early on, but Katsuki’s luck was a little less fortuitous.”

“So you all just… happened upon each other by chance?” You ask.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Mina says. “It was me and Kiri for a long time. Just the two of us. We’d found Izuku and Katsuki together a while later, but they didn’t seem to like each other all that much. We still haven’t really figured that out, especially because they’re so close now. Ochako and Sero ended up cornered together by accident. We found them just before we found this place, and Denki just sort of showed up here one day and promised to fix the generator in exchange for safety. That was months ago. We’ve been like this since.”

“So you’re all strays,” you say and Mina laughs a little and looks at Kiri.

“Sure,” she says. “We’re all strays. There were others too. Shoji. Jirou. She was Denki’s girlfriend.”

“I’m sorry,” you say with a frown. It feels pointless to apologize for the dead, if you get caught up in it, you’d be apologizing forever.

“Don’t be,” Kiri adds. “But best not to bring her up. It was pretty recent and Denki’s only just started to get over it.”

You swallow thick and nod a little.

“Anyway,” Mina says, “we can’t really explain it. We just trust him. We trust Katsuki. That’s all.”

“Hm,” you hum, understanding that to a degree.

You trusted the people in your group. If they believed in someone, you were willing to as well, so you suppose you can understand a little where they’re coming from.

“What are you talking about,” Katsuki rounds the corner, walking into the kitchen and putting his water bottle under the sink.

“Nothing really,” Mina says.

Katsuki furrows his eyebrows and then looks at you. He gives you a once over, taking in your new clothing before scoffing lightly.

“Don’t you look cozy,” he says. “You get settled?”

“When can I go get my stuff?” You ask.

“Someone’s eager,” he says through lightly gritted teeth. “Didn’t I tell ya we could go in the morning? Besides, what’s there really to miss in that lot of junk?”

“Katsuki!” Mina quietly chides.

“I have things I care about there,” you say. “Things I’m not ready to lose.”

Katsuki blinks at you for a second before swearing under his breath. “We’ll leave when you get up in the morning.”

“You don’t have to come with me,” you say, frowning a bit at his sour attitude.

“Like hell,” he scoffs. “What if the dead are waiting back there for you?”

“I made it this far on my own,” you respond.

Katsuki nods for a second. “I’m going. Come find me in the morning.”

He walks off and around the corner. You hear him go up the stairs, followed by the distinct click of a bedroom door shutting.

“Don’t pay too much attention to that,” Mina says. “It’s past his bedtime.”

“You’ll get used to him,” Kiri adds.

“Right,” you say, swallowing down your frustration in favor of trying to be appreciative of the help. You sway on your feet a little and then steady yourself. “I’m going to go to sleep. Thank you for the meal and the bed.”

Mina and Kiri nod, but you don’t stick around to hear a response. Fatigue creeps up on you. It ambushes your senses and you go from feeling dream-like to delusional in a matter of moments. You make your way up the stairs, your body feeling heavy as lead, and wobble your way into the bedroom they’re letting you stay in.

When your head hits the pillow, you’re out. The world around you fades to dark and just before you sleep, you swear that you can hear the sounds of cars passing on the highway. A busy night, Saturday maybe, and people go about their daily lives outside of the window the way that they always have. They live, never the wiser to just how quickly things fall apart and how little it takes for our humanity to leave us.

—

Mornings in this place are boisterous. The sun coming through the lone window in your room wakes you up and you can hear the calls of busy people getting to work outside. There are voices from the porch out front that your window looks over and though you can’t see them, you get the sense that they’re having a pleasant conversation.

As you rouse, you come to the realization of just how exhausted you’d really been. They probably saved your life by bringing you to this place, feeding you, and offering you a bed. In hindsight, it’s easy to see just how little you had left in you. You get the sense now that you’d been running on an empty tank for days, slowly coming to an inglorious, gruesome, sputtering stop.

Things seem a little clearer, like the sunlight is somehow less bleak than it had been the days previous and you feel a little bit like you have a new lease on life. There are no big emotions, no swells of hope or humanity just yet, and you dread the moment you are rested enough to let grief consume you. Right now, you can’t feel it, but there is a fear in you that as you get to know these people who live relatively beautifully in an ugly world, it will weigh you down so much that you’ll never be able to outrun it.

You wonder if they’ll let you stay. They very well may not, even with the way they were talking last night. Strangers are more dangerous than they’ve ever been and if they ask you whether or not you’ve killed someone, you refuse to lie to them. Sitting up on the bed, you mull over the very real possibility that you could be back out there on your own again in a matter of days and you don’t even have that many good acts under your belt to plead your case. You’re just a person and you’ve done what you needed to in order to survive. Now, you’re not sure if that’s enough.

You swallow thick, wandering over to the mirror on the dresser. It’s fogged, though less than the bathroom mirror, and you can make out your features a little better than you could last night. You feel a bit more sane, though you still don’t recognize the frightful and distrustful look in your eyes. Like a wounded animal. Inside your head, you acknowledge that you are completely different from the person you were two hundred and seventy seven days ago.

The voices grow louder as you climb down the stairs, more secure on your feet than you felt last night. You can hear them talking about the generator, as well as a name you don’t recognize.

“He should be back by now,” a woman says. “Shoto’s never gone longer than a day or two, max.”

“We shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” another woman says with a worried bite in her voice. Mina, maybe? “We’re only a few hours into the day. He probably got holed up somewhere.”

“Someone needs to go look for him,” a man says.

“And what? Risk getting yourself killed?” the first woman says. “No, it doesn’t make sense. We need you here.”

“You’d rather we leave him to die on his own?”

“No one’s fuckin’ dying.”

You recognize Katsuki’s voice.

“He’s perfectly capable of going on a gasoline run,” he continues. “He’s done it before.”

“I should have gone with him,” says the same woman.

“On that leg? You wouldn’t have made it halfway to town, let alone there and back,” his voice raises a little. “Don’t be stupid. He’ll be back.”

You clear your throat and step around the corner. The group turns to face you quickly at the sound, their eyes wide for a moment before relaxing. You can’t sneak up on anyone nowadays.

“Sorry,” you say, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Is everything okay?”

It’s not your business, but you ask anyway, wondering for yourself about the safety of Shoto.

“Fine,” Izuku says, shaking his head. You recognize him to be the one who'd vouched for going after their friend. Katsuki takes a step away from the broad man as he says this. “Nothing for you to worry about. Did you rest?”

Izuku smiles gently at you, his chest inflating a little at the question. The movement broadens his shoulders and you realize that he stands almost a head taller than Katsuki. You look briefly between the two of them before nodding.

“I did,” you say. “Thank you.”

“Nothing wrong with a little hospitality now and then,” he smiles and you can’t help but furrow your eyebrows at the distinct hesitance in his voice.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” the woman standing across from Izuku says. “I’m Momo. Sorry I wasn’t there to meet you last night. I’ve been a little under the weather.”

You introduce yourself to her and glance down at her leg. Her ankle is swollen and wrapped in a bandage. Her sneaker laces are untied at the top to make room for the swelling and you can see that she’s guarding that side of her leg.

“Is it…?” you grimace, taking an instinctive step away from her. You almost feel bad for it, but sometimes good people make bad decisions when loved ones get bit.

“No,” she says quickly, “no, it isn’t. Caught an edge in an old chain link fence on the property a couple days back.”

Momo smiles slightly at you as if to reassure you. She’s really beautiful, with thick dark hair pulled back into a somewhat messy ponytail. Her eyes are bright, like she’s engaged in lively conversation, and you find yourself feeling a little sad for her. She’ll need medicine soon, if they can get it. Infections set in easily these days and you get the sense that even she knows that she may not have long without it. Maybe that’s something else their friend Shoto set out to find.

“I assume you’ll be wanting to go get your supplies?” Katsuki says, cutting the conversation short. Maybe he could sense the sour turn of thoughts.

“Ready when you are,” you respond with a nod.

Katsuki glances at Izuku, who gives him a slightly disapproving look.

“Someone get them something to eat,” Katsuki says. “...I’ll get my shit ready.”

“Fig jam…” Mina mumbles as she motions for you to follow her to the kitchen.

You oblige her, not exactly jumping to turn down a meal. She walks you into the kitchen and opens up a cabinet, where she pulls out a jar filled with a dark and seed filled paste. It’s a jam, sealed in a jar that looks older than what’s inside of it. The seal breaks open with a pleasant pop.

“This stuff is so good,” she says to you over her shoulder, pulling out a package of crackers that have likely gone stale. “You won’t believe it.”

She spreads the jam on a few crackers and sets it in front of you on a plate, pushing it across the counter towards you.

“It’s fig jam,” she says with a smile. “Homemade.”

You look down at the plate, your mouth watering at the prospect of something sweet like this. It’s been so long since you've had fresh jam. It could be as long as 10 years. You don’t think you’ve had it since you were a kid, when jam came easily and you preferred the processed brands at the supermarket to the ones your mom used to make sometimes.

You raise the cracker to your mouth and stuff it in with little grace. The sweetness spreads across your tongue as soon as you bite into the stale cracker. It fizzes and pops almost, the sugar melting across your tongue as the seeds crack softly between your teeth. The smile that hits your face is completely involuntary and though you know that nine months ago, this jam wouldn’t have been much, today it is something extraordinary.

Mina nods a kind of girlish agreement, like the way people used to when they had their friend try something at their favorite restaurant.

“We got here in the fall. I want to say late October or early November?” she offers. “We were starving and there wasn’t enough food to feed all of us. By that time there were like… nine of us.”

You listen as you eat your crackers.

“This place was in such an awful state,” she laughs. “I mean, really terrible. But, it was big and there was a fig tree in the back. A little thing, probably only a few years old and it had fruit on it. We ate so many of them that if the world were normal, we’d have sworn off of them forever. When we realized that the house actually had some old food in it,” she interrupts herself “-nothing good, canned stuff mostly- we decided to jar up the rest of the figs so that they didn’t rot.”

She smiles at you like it’s a pleasant memory, but you can only think about how hungry they must have been. Your stomach growls as you eat.

“I know it doesn’t sound like much,” she says, “but for some reason it’s a really nice memory. Honestly, we’re lucky we didn’t die.”

Mina laughs a little.

“I mean,” she continues, “we didn’t even clear the area before we started pulling at the figs and throwing them into our mouths.”

You tilt your head at her and furrow your eyebrows with a small smile.

“You’re really forthcoming with information.”

“You just seem a little hesitant, is all,” she answers.

“Can you blame me?”

Mina shrugs her shoulders but doesn’t really offer an answer. You assume it’s because she can’t, because Mina has the same doubts everyone carries with them in this world. All of the what ifs people would think about before they slept have become more prevalent than anyone would have ever liked.

“The jam is good,” you say, trying to be friendly in the same way she is. “Even if it is months old.”

“Things keep well in jars,” Mina defends softly, smiling a little as she gets another out of you.

This place feels like a little slice of paradise. A blessing from whoever lived here before and kept a garden stocked with vegetables. From someone who lived in an old house with stables and well-water, who kept canned food past its expiration date. It feels almost too good to be true, like these people live in a bubble bound to pop.

“You ready?” Katsuki thuds into the kitchen with an empty backpack slung over his shoulder.

You turn, startled by his sudden appearance and nod as you quickly finish chewing the last cracker. Katsuki furrows his eyebrows as he watches the way you scarf it down.

When you stand from the table, Katsuki turns on his heel to make for the front door and you follow with a light step. Mina says something about staying safe, but you don’t respond, glancing once over your shoulder at the girl.

It’s strange, the world has made you wishy-washy and uncommitted. You never used to be like that, never so distrusting as to second guess someone’s kindness the moment your back is turned to them, and you’re certainly not the type to be friendly one moment and closed off the next. Now though, you find that doubt creeps in easily through cracks and any foundation that didn’t exist before, seems to be swallowed before you can finish building it.

Katsuki leads you back across the small clearing you��d come through the night before. It looks different in the day, almost romantic, and it lacks any of the ominous feeling it had the previous evening. He steps over mounds in the dirt from moles and gophers that have made lawns their new home and you try to mimic his steps, sinking occasionally into a particularly soft patch of dirt. Every now and then, Katsuki glances behind him to check that you’re still there and you offer him a forced smile that he never returns.

You catch up to him when you hit the trees, sticking close at his side like something will come and take you away if you’re not. It’s unintentional, but you don’t have a weapon on you. Your knife is back at your makeshift camp, along with the unloaded pistol and your trusty spatula.

“How do you know where we’re going?” You ask in a whisper.

Katsuki tosses a look at you over his shoulder. “I’m good with directions.”

His tone is clipped, like he’s pissed about something, and your expression sours at it. Sure, you get it but it irritates you to some small degree. You hadn’t asked him to come along. In fact, you’d have been fine getting back here to collect your stuff on your own. You’d have asked for a knife and set out without a second thought, if only because being alone in the woods with some guy was less preferable than doing it by yourself. Of course, some guy also probably saved your life, but you’re not quite ready to relinquish your trust completely.

“Thanks for coming,” you decide. A peace offering.

Katsuki doesn’t answer and you furrow your brows a little bit. You wonder if he’s always been like this or if the end of the world brought on the loss of his manners.

Then, he stops, taking you by the arm and pulling you down beside a bush. You gasp and he puts his hand over your mouth to silence you. There’s the urge to bite him, to catch the fleshy bit connecting his thumb and pointer finger between your teeth and bite down till he bleeds, but you stop when you catch what he’s looking at.

Two of the living dead crouch by a tree, clicking their tongues as they eat something just out of sight. You furrow your eyebrows, eyes widening at the horror of it. For some reason, seeing them always brings about a round of momentary shock. You’ve yet to let go of the hounding thought that they used to be people and sometimes have to reorient yourself to the world you’re in now.

You catch Katsuki’s eye behind you, his calloused hand still clasped over your mouth, and nod your head. It’s a silent communication that you’ve seen what he has and he removes his palm from your face to grab a knife tucked into his belt, passing it to you quickly.

The two infected haven’t noticed the two of you yet, but they will soon, if only by the smell of your flesh which has yet to rot. You hear Katsuki let out a breath, as if to calm his heart, and do the same. There’s time to look at them like this and you’re struck by how human you can pretend they are in your head. Well, you suppose they were human once, now they’re a disease using someone’s skin as a mask.

Infected people aren’t quick, that’s one thing to be grateful for. Back when the outbreak first started, the CDC had released information on what to look out for in those who might have contracted the virus. The first was obviously a bite wound from another infected person, but you can tell from other symptoms. Early symptoms are average. Body aches, fever, lethargy, and delirium. All things you might see with a nasty flu. Then, infection of the wound site, twitching, foggy eyes—like low-grade cataracts—that develop within a matter of hours or days, severe disorientation, aversion to food, insomnia, with the final symptom being a coma that no one ever wakes up as themselves from.

These are the symptoms that people are conscious for. The ones they feel. The sickness that people tried to nurse others back from. There is no coming back though, not alive at the very least. The virus attacks the nerves throughout the brain and body, that’s what causes the twitching and convulsions. It’s what ultimately kills us, and it's what they think causes the bodies to come back.

Most infected will crack when they move. It’s the cartilage breaking down as the bones grind together and crack as they’re weakened from the marrow out. They twitch like rabid animals, unable to keep masterful control of their bodies because they are run like puppets from the brain stem. You don’t know if they think. If somehow the people they used to be are still in there, unable to stop themselves from consuming and spreading the virus to others. All you really know is that they twitch and click, functions of the brain that still remain. Tiny impulses sent through the synapses. You imagine it to be like the way you twitch when you sleep, an arm here or a leg there, the way someone might call out with their voice to a room with no one in it.

Maybe the infected think they’re dreaming. A nightmare that they never wake up from, like those of us who have to put them down. You could see it as a mercy from that perspective. You have an easier time rationalizing putting a knife in someone’s skull if you convince yourself that they’re silently begging for it.

Katsuki shifts his weight and looks at you. He mouths the words no guns and you nod, briefly wondering where the fuck he thinks you could have gotten a gun from.

Then, you kick off and run with Katsuki towards the infected. They don’t really have time to begin moving towards you both. You’re faster than them, but you hear the crack of their legs as they stand from their crouched positions, pulled in at the idea of their next meal.

Katsuki takes the farther one, sinking the knife into the soft spot of its temple with relative ease. You switch yourself off and take the one closest only a few moments later, sending your blade through the top of its skull. That happens to you when you have to do this. You turn yourself off for a bit, just so that you don’t have to remember the way it feels to hit the soft part of someone’s brain. You didn’t used to do that, only starting when you realized that there’s no going through this world anymore without it.

Katsuki wipes the blood on his pants. It’s brown, no longer oxygenated, and the area around you begins to reek. You notice, but for some reason the smell of decomposition doesn’t register in your brain and you continue on behind him.

There are a few beats of silence, save for twigs breaking under your feet, before Katsuki speaks up.

“You okay?” It’s barely above a whisper and you wouldn’t have caught it were you not listening for the distinctive crack of human bones.

“Yeah,” you say, continuing forward.

The campsite rounds into view and in this light, with your full night’s sleep under your belt, you can see just how pitiful it looks. A tent that you’d hastily put up before nightfall, the remains of your stamped out fire, the folding chair which has since been knocked over, and your weapons on the floor covered by a few leaves disturbed by the wind.

You snatch them up and move to grab your backpack out of the tent. The inside is shitty too and your torn sleeping bag hadn’t even been rolled out yet. You pick up the bag, returning to the folding chair as Katsuki begins to take down the tent. The polyester and nylon blend zips together as he makes quick work of folding it. Then, he kicks some dry brush over the remains of the fire, like he’s covering your tracks.

“The next person that comes through here might not be alone,” he says plainly. “And they may have more bullets than you did.”

“Right,” you respond. Your voice sounds a little far off and you settle your backpack on your shoulder in one quick motion.

“Got everything?”

You nod, following him as he heads out in the direction you both came from. The two of you pass the bodies of the infected you’d killed. The smell has permeated the air, lingering like how it does in cities, only less pungent. Their fogged eyes stare blankly at nothing, expressions plain and unreadable. You pass and try not to think much about it.

Katsuki is a few feet ahead of you and he doesn’t glance back to make sure you’re following. You could leave now and never get attached to these people. You could head off in another direction and never have to think twice about it. No more worrying about who you could lose, about who’s next to become one of the sick masses. Just you by yourself. Then, when you finally kick the can, someone else can put you down the way you did to those strangers.

Is there really a point to it anymore? To community or living in general. No one is as they once were. Does that make it fantasy to live in their beautiful bubble? Could you even find it in yourself to pretend again, to make nice and play house in that place? They saved your life, sure. They fed you, clothed you, bathed you, but for what point? Tomorrow, you could end up back in the woods, lighting fires with twigs you found in the brush, paranoid that someone would find you or the fire would spread.

You watch Katsuki’s back as he moves, shoulders shifting with each step. His shirt is stained, white turned eggshell from the wear and tear of time. It seems so off to you that he looks relatively clean, like he lives well.

Fear strikes you as you realize that your rambling thoughts have merit. Anything you fear now has become real and loss is so tangible to you that you can squeeze it in your hand. They could turn you out. Tomorrow night you could begin the starve and step all over again, moving from place to place, talking to yourself, filling your hours with paranoid thoughts like these that plague you when you’re alone. Is that worse than loss? If you’re alone long enough, you’d probably forget what you’re missing. Losing anyone else could make the wound fresh. For now, the hunger wins out.

Katsuki jogs ahead of you to get to the house. Momo is on the porch waving him in and he hurries up the steps and bursts through the front door. As you approach, you can hear voices, some of which are relieved, others hurried. When you enter the room, you find a man standing there whom you’ve never seen before, Shoto maybe.

“A plus one,” the man looks up, tilting his head at you in an odd way.

“Katsuki’s,” Kiri says with a low smirk.

Shoto’s eyes widen as he peers at his friend, clutching what looks like an injured shoulder. Katsuki just huffs his irritation.

“Well, that’s rare,” Shoto says.

“What’s rare?” Katsuki spits. “They were in the woods with a fire. What was I supposed to do? Let ‘em die?”

“Maybe,” Shoto says, a light smile creeping onto his features. Then, he turns to you. “What’s your name?”

You give it to him and he nods his head, tilting it at you again.

“How long are you staying?”

You’re not sure how to answer that question. In fact, no one is, and it feels like more of a test than it does a genuine inquiry. Kiri and Mina exchange a glance and Katsuki tosses a somewhat dirty look towards Shoto. Ochako gives Shoto a knowing glance and Sero and Denki shift uncomfortably on their feet. Then, Momo clears her throat, spurring Izuku to say something.

“Shoto,” he says. “You’re probably hungry, you should eat something and lay down. Ochako? Could you take a look at his shoulder?”

“Sure,” the girl says softly, giving a closed mouth smile to Shoto as she takes him by the arm.

She glances at you as she passes, almost like she’s too embarrassed to look at you fully in the face. You suppose this is what happens when people are forced to think about whether or not they will potentially leave someone else to die. It’s like the trolley cart question and though in this case there is always the possibility of a better outcome, it’s not likely in this world.

“Just until I’m rested,” you add with a small tilt of your head. “A few days.”

Shoto looks at you over his shoulder and gives you a small smile. It’s funny, you can see kindness there. His actions aren’t kind, but you can feel that he has kindness in him, though his rudeness stems from something different than Katsuki’s, you think. Like he’s strange in some way.

“I’ll start on dinner,” Sero says. “Kiri, give me a hand.”

The group disperses and you head upstairs without speaking to anyone else. A few days to rest and then cut the first people you’ve spoken to in weeks loose. What sort of idiot gives up something like this to avoid a little awkwardness? Not that you necessarily had your mind made up. You wonder briefly if you’ve just sealed your own tomb.

—

After dinner, you go upstairs to sleep after eating as much as they would offer you. Your stomach has ceased its constant growling and the shakiness that comes with hunger has receded almost entirely into the background. The bed is soft, with a slight dent in it from whoever slept in here before. The thought unsettles you that they’re probably dead now, but you try to push it from your mind as you steel yourself for what comes within the next few days.

You had volunteered yourself to leave. To what? Save yourself the embarrassment of pleading? Did you even want to plead? Why are you regretting not asking to stay? These people don’t know you, what trust can you have built with them in only a few days? Your skin crawls at the expanse of possibilities in front of you after so many weeks without any.

You think that if you let yourself walk away, you’ll probably die. You’re out of bullets and don’t know where to find any food except by luck. You can try to catch prey, but prey hides whenever infected are around, and they’re everywhere nowadays. It’s spring, water wouldn’t be a problem, but running water has its clear comforts. Then, there’s the possibility of loss. You’d come to care for these people if you stayed, you know it.

You furrow your eyebrows and look at the ceiling. There’s really no choice to be made. You’ll let them make it for you, even if you don’t know them. It’s their house and you won’t walk in uninvited or try to take it. You’re not about to become a monster just because the world is full of them now.

The darkness grows and your eyes drift to the dim light wandering in under the crack of the door. Hushed voices whisper in the living room, you can hear them. It’s a heated discussion, lively, but deliberately quiet. It’s been hours since everyone went to bed, yet you get the impression that many people are chiming in. You’re too nosey to leave it be.

You open the bedroom door silently, turning the cool knob with a wince as it clicks out of place. When you peer into the hallway, every upstairs bedroom door is open with the room empty. The light is coming from down stairs and around the corner, and you can see shadows move as you inch closer to the source.

You pause at the top of the stairs, knowing that they creak, and crouch by the bannister to listen. You’re out of sight. The only way they’d know you’re listening is if you made a sound, but you won’t. You’re good at being quiet.

“We don’t even know them,” someone says in a rushed whisper. “We don’t know what they’ve done before.”

“Everyone’s done things they’re not proud of now, Shoto,” a woman adds. It’s Mina. She’s spoken enough to you that you recognize her voice.

“I agree with Shoto,” says another woman, her voice higher pitched. She sounds guilty and her voice is tight as she speaks “We have no clue who they are. They could be dangerous.”

“You mean like me, Ochako?” A man adds. “I could have been dangerous.”

The group grows quiet for a moment.

“No,” Momo says. You recognize the cadence of her voice. “Shoto might be right, Denki. It’s been nearly six months since you got here and the world has changed a lot. We don’t- we can’t know for sure.”

“Can we really know anything for sure?” Another man adds, Kiri.

“What about you guys?” Shoto says, presumably to the rest of the group.

“I don’t know.”

“I’m hesitant, but I don’t know either.”

“Jesus,” another man with a baritone voice, harsher than the rest. That’s Katsuki, the first voice you’d heard of the group. “You guys make me a little sick.”

“That’s not fair,” Ochako says.

“No,” he interrupts. “It is fair. You guys want to… what? Send them back out there to die?”

“It’s not like that,” Shoto says.

“It is like that,” he says, raising his voice and then lowering it back to a whisper. “You didn’t see them when they got here, Shoto. They- they didn’t look… shit. The rest of you, you saw them. You really want to send them back out there to fuckin’ waste away? I don’t know about you all, but I won’t do that to a person.”

There’s a pregnant pause.

“Katsuki’s right,” Izuku says with a bit of conviction, like he’s finally made up his mind. “Sending someone out there alone is a death sentence. How does doing that make us any better than the people we’re trying to protect ourselves from?”

“What if there are more of them?” Ochako says quietly. “What if they’re not alone?”

“Trust me,” Katsuki says, “They were alone.”

“But what if they’re not?” She insists at a whisper, a bit of shame creeping into her voice. “What if people come for us?”

“See?” Shoto says gently. “There are so many what-ifs.”

“That works the other way too,” Mina adds.

You don’t listen to hear the rest of their conversation. They’re going to run themselves in circles debating about you. They’ll go around and around and land on whichever argument ends with the most votes. They’ll convince each other of one thing and it will happen totally out of your control.

The bedroom door shuts with a low click that makes you wince again. You think about the people who went to bat for you and the people who didn’t. You don’t blame those who opposed. You’d have probably reacted similarly if your old group were still alive and you understand very clearly why they do it. One person’s stupid reaction can be catastrophic and they don’t know enough about you to be certain that you’re not one of those stupid people. It’s how the world went to shit in the first place and though nine months ago you’d have surely condemned someone for making the same decision, you know that fear has warped humanity beyond comprehension. You didn’t get it until you lived it.

Still, Katsuki’s humanity feels intact somehow, more so than yours at least. His response is something you probably never would have said under the same conditions and you can’t help but feel some sort of fondness bloom in you for him. Call it connection, gratefulness for his willingness to stick his neck out for you, a trauma response. You still feel it. Mina and Kiri had said that Katsuki was a good judge of character and that’s why they were willing to back him. You wonder briefly if maybe Katsuki sees something in you that you don’t recognize in yourself anymore, or maybe something you don’t expect other people to recognize. What is it that he wants so badly to protect?

Someone stomps down the hallway, heavy boots against the old creaky floors. You hear the steps recede down the hallway, maybe a door or two down, before it shuts quickly. The sound makes you wince and you listen as the house grows quiet and then hums quietly with the sound of others coming upstairs a few moments later. Someone pads to the end of the hall, pushing the door open.

You hear a woman’s voice, so muffled that you can’t make out what she’s saying. Then, you hear the sound of a man’s affirmation before the bedroom door shuts and the visitor moves back down the hall to a separate bedroom. Information passing through the house.

Someone is moving around in a room below you and you figure that there are probably bedrooms downstairs as well. From the outside, you’d never guess that the place could house ten people. Inside though, the bedrooms are small. That’s probably why so many can fit. You’d guess that the place used to have multiple generations living in it, or maybe even rented out rooms to people for a few months. It sort of has a boarding house feel to it, like many people have come and gone even before people stopped staying in one place.

That’s a good thing to call it, the boarding house. It certainly has that sort of feel to it, many of its spaces undeniably communal.

You turn over in the bed, facing the bedroom door. The lights have gone out completely now and the house is quiet save for the occasional creak or thud from someone preparing to sleep. It’s been a long while since the sounds of living have been so prevalent near you. You’re eased by the sounds of the house settling, a familiar reminder of what living used to be. Your group had been on the road long before you lost them and the comforts of an interior are almost overwhelmingly nostalgic. You’re better rested to notice it now and shutting your eyes, you savor the feeling.

—

“Need some help?” You say.

Denki turns around, grease smeared across his nose where he likely wiped it with his dirty hands. He’s holding a wrench in a glove so tattered that it hardly counts as a glove anymore. He looks startled, amber eyes widening before he uses his forearm to brush stray hairs out of his face. The rest of it is pulled up into a messy ponytail, revealing the moist back of his neck.

“Oh, sure,” he says, a bit surprised. “Do you know how generators work?”

He crouches back over the machine and you step up behind him.

The machine is rusted near the bottom and between the exposed winding pipes. Its paint has chipped away, leaving the weather-damaged metal open for you to see. On the side, a fan-like piece spins slowly in circles and the machine whirs and sputters softly as it… generates power, probably.

“Not quite, but an extra pair of hands is always helpful,” you say softly, passing him a tool he’d been reaching for. “Did it break?”

“No,” Denki says, “but it’s probably on its last legs. The thing’s almost as old as we are, probably older, so it’s good to tune it up a bunch.”

You hum your agreement, tilting your head as you stand and watch him work.

You’re not necessarily comfortable with Denki, but he feels like a safe person for some reason. Maybe it’s because he’s got a sort of ditzy, non-threatening vibe to him. You can almost distinctly picture him tripping over his own feet and something about that makes you feel considerably safer than someone who wouldn’t. That and he was the first person you’ve come across this morning who you don’t think distrusts you too badly.

“Are you dodging something?” Denki smirks up at you from his crouch.

“Who on earth would I be dodging?” you snort a bit defensively.

“Shoto,” he says with a light smile. “He put you in a tight spot the other day.”

“Yeah, well,” you say, glancing over your shoulder. “It wasn’t anything he didn’t have a right to ask.”

“Right, but it sure was rude, huh?”

Denki laughs to himself a little and you’re surprised by how easygoing he is. You subconsciously begin to categorize him with Mina and Kiri. The dichotomy of this group baffles you a bit, but you can certainly see all nine of them as a collective. Tightly knit and well acquainted with the habits of others.

“Oh!” He exclaims, “I have something you can do for me.”

You tilt your head.

“There’s a bucket over there,” he says, pointing absentmindedly to a shitty plastic bucket against the side of the house. “We use the water from the creek as coolant. It’s not factory grade, but it does the trick. You wanna go fill it up and bring it back for when I’m done tuning this thing up?”

You furrow your eyebrows, not sure where the creek he’s talking about is.

“The creek is just over there,” he points behind the house to the edge of the treeline. “I know you can’t see it from here, but if you walk in a straight line, you’ll hit it. Katsuki should be down there too, so you can use him as a landmark.”

When you don’t immediately answer, Denki whines a little.

“I mean,” he says, “I’d go myself, but-”

“I’ll do it,” you laugh a little and Denki seems surprised that you do.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I’d like to pull some weight at least while I’m here. Plus, I offered.”

Denki mumbles his pleasure and you walk to the bucket without another word and set off in the direction Denki pointed. You’re much more willing to go out to the treeline now that you have a knife back at your side.

The walk to the trees is longer than it looks, like how sometimes the horizon looks like something you could reach out and climb up onto. The walk stretches with each step you take and you become a little more understanding of why Denki didn’t want to do it himself. But the walk is actually pleasant, the warmth of mid May collecting evenly on your skin as the humidity grows more intense with the sun.

You wonder what Katsuki would be doing by the creek. Maybe he’s fishing, or crouched over himself sharpening an arsenal of knives that you think he might keep in a roll attached to his belt sometimes. You’re not sure why, but Katsuki sort of has that expression to him. He’s handsome, but the scowl projects something hostile that makes him seem unapproachable.

As you cross through the middle of the clearing, you could almost imagine that this is a normal day. Humidity collects on your skin, making you sweat a little as you dodge gopher holes and soft spots of dirt. It almost feels like summer camp, if it weren’t for the looming idea that you’re contributing to something you may not be a part of. Denki’s attitude though, has you hoping for a more favorable outcome, if you want to call it that.

You’re only a few steps into the line of trees when the earth dips into a sand-lined ravine. The trees leave room for the sun to beat down on warmed rocks, making the area seem brighter with their subtle reflection of the light. The noise of the creek drowns out the sound of your footsteps and you shuffle toward where the earth flattens just before the water starts. A little ways to your right, you can see Katsuki sitting on a rock in the sun, his hands dipped into a large bucket. You narrow your eyes as he pulls what looks like a cloth out of the water, rubbing the fabric together before dipping it in the cool water of the creek.

As you approach, you realize what it is that he’s doing. It’s laundry. On the other side of him, you can see a bin of what look like dirty clothes and water-soaked clean ones. Talk about misjudged character.

“Katsuki,” you say as you approach him, the bucket still empty in your hand.

He squints up at you, shifting his face so that it's in your shadow.

“You’re still here,” he says plainly, returning to his task.

“Clearly,” you respond, watching as he runs his fingers over the next piece of clothing in the bucket.

“Why are you down here? Did Denki pawn the generator water onto you?” He says, like he’s somewhat frustrated. “He does that shit to anyone he can.”

You shrug your shoulders and continue to stare at him.

“Are you just gonna stand there?” He huffs out.

“You’re doing laundry.”

“Yeah?” he furrows his eyebrows and looks at you. “So?”

“Nothing,” you say. “I just didn’t expect that.”

“Yeah well,” he stops for a moment like he’s struggling to find the words. “It needed to be done. Figured I might as well.”

“How progressive of you,” you joke with a straight face.

He looks at you out of the corner of his eyes and sighs, not justifying your comment with a response. You find yourself smiling a little bit.

“If you’re going to linger, sit down and do it,” he says. “You’re creeping me out.”

You oblige him and sit down on a rock next to him, far enough that you’re not touching, but near enough to hear him if you speak in a low voice. For some reason, you feel a sort of kinship with Katsuki. You’d thought longer than you’d like to admit about his willingness to vouch for you and find that you want to live up to his expectation of your goodness, even if it’s not what you believe yourself to be anymore. Maybe it’s because you’ve slept well the past few nights and feel more like yourself, but there’s a certain casualness to conversing with him that you enjoy. He’s not looking at what you could be, but rather what you’re showing him that you are. His lack of doubt in that is something you find relatively attractive.

You watch his arms out of the corner of your eye in between gazing at the treeline and the sky. Your field of vision catches on them, his sleeves cut short to expose his biceps, a bit muddied near the elbows where the mud has begun to stick.

Katsuki doesn’t seem all that bothered by your presence, but now and then you’ll catch the sideways glance he gives you, almost like he’s trying to figure out exactly why you’re lingering.

“How long have you been with them?” You ask, more as a way to fill the silence.

Katsuki’s hands pause as he thinks about answering, then, they continue their steady pace.

“A decent amount of time,” he says. “I met Izuku first, probably in November just before Mina and Kiri. The rest came later.”

You furrow your eyebrows.

“No offense,” you start, “but you don’t really seem like the group type.”

“And you don’t seem like the type who’d be alone,” he retorts, like your statement was stupid.

You press your lips into a tight line, not really knowing how to respond.

“Sorry,” he says, shaking his head a little.

“Were you?”

“What? Was I sorry?” He furrows his eyebrows at you.

“No,” you shake your head. “Were you alone? Before Izuku.”

He goes silent. You’ll take that as a yes, but you regret asking a little. It had just slipped out. If someone were to ask you something like that, you’d probably react the same way. That’s just as well, you don’t really need to know him like that anyway.

You wonder briefly if anyone does. He seems closed off, but Mina and Kiri spoke about him a few days prior like they knew him well. Well enough at least to allude to a history you’ll likely never be privy to. Then there’s Momo, who whispers little things to him that he answers in kind. Curiosity gets the better of you, if only to tease.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” you ask and Katsuki’s response is to rest his elbows on his knees and let out a dry laugh.

He turns his head and looks at you from the side. “And what the fuck are you asking me that for?”

“Just curious,” you say. “Is it Momo?”

“Momo?” He makes a sour face at you. “Yeah, right.”

“She’s pretty,” you say.

“Sure is,” he responds dryly. “If you’re into the mom type.”

“What? You’re not into moms?” You grin a little and Katsuki furrows his eyebrows at you.

“So you do have a personality,” he scoffs a little.

There’s a pause. You haven’t felt this in a while. The feeling of bonding with someone new, compatibility on the human level that feels nearly instant.

“I’m kinda serious though,” you say, tilting your head down to catch his eye. “Do you?”

You’re leaning a little closer to him now.

“You seen any nice restaurants to take a person out to these days?” he questions, clearly a little frustrated with you in the way someone gets when they’re a bit amused.

“You don’t have to take someone out to a restaurant to fuck them, you know?” You laugh a little.

Katsuki’s lips part and he swallows like his mouth has gone dry.

“Yeah, well,” he starts, looking away from you. “I’m a romantic. Sue me.”

He’s just full of surprises, isn’t he? You find that you’re captivated by this feeling, this humanity, that exists in him. It’s something alive between you both, something left behind from the old world, and you crave it the same way you crave food.

Katsuki continues scrubbing the clothes, rubbing the fabric together and then dunking it in the bucket before plunging it into the freshwater creek. You’re not sure why you do it, but the next time he looks at you, you kiss him.

It’s not as if you like him, but it’s something to feel. Some remnant of the butterflies you used to feel on dates and the kiss makes you feel like you could be close to human again. You pull away almost as soon as you put his lips to yours and you can tell that the expression on your face is one of surprise.

Katsuki blinks for a second, looking at you with his brows knitted together. The expression doesn’t leave him as he places a wet hand on the side of your face to kiss you again. It’s an anxious kiss, confused and slow but—like someone riding a bike for the first time in years—it quickly becomes something familiar. Muscle memory that you both let yourselves sink into.

You can feel his expression as he kisses you, something between confusion and desire, like his own actions are perplexing. You feel the same way, hesitant, but reaching in the dark for the promise of some sort of normalcy. You want to feel like a person again. You haven’t felt it in so long and you push yourself against him as the ache swells in you.

The two of you continue like this for a moment, Katsuki’s fingers pressing lightly into the skin of your neck. You moan softly as his tongue slips into your mouth, taking a sharp inhale at the sensation of skin on skin. The sound of the creek drowns out the clicking of your mouths, but you can feel the way he hums into your mouth. They’re little sounds, involuntary ones driven by the nervous, desirous feelings inside of you both.

Then, Katsuki pulls away, swallowing thick as he takes his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. You appreciate the way they look. They’re swollen, anxious to continue and keep forgetting where you really are. He drops his hand from your face with a sigh and almost seems like he comes back to himself. You do the same, moving back into an upright position.

“Denki will want that water soon,” he clears his throat and motions to the empty bucket by your feet.

“Oh,” you say, laughing a little. “Right.”

You stand, dusting off the back of your pants and dunking the bucket into the water. It sloshes, the liquid hitting the back of the plastic with a satisfying elastic sound. You begin to walk away without another word, heading down the way you came to climb up the gentler part of the slope.

“Hey,” Katsuki calls softly. “You should stay. We talked it over last night. You can if you want to.”

The last part, he says facing the wash, his hands moving as if he hadn’t said anything at all. You don’t respond, knowing that the obvious answer is already yes.

Dread settles in your stomach. It’s an icky, swirling feeling that threatens to make you double over. You climb up the bank, the water in the bucket sloshing as you move through the trees and enter the clearing. The feeling doesn’t dissipate, growing as you leave the cover of the trees. You probably wouldn’t have kissed him if he’d asked you that earlier.

The boarding house comes into view and you can see Denki sitting beside the generator, conversing with who appears to be Shoto. They turn and Denki waves you down, Shoto turning away and starting around for the front of the house.

Denki jogs to meet you, taking the bucket from your hand. You flex your fingers as the weight is removed, wincing a little at how stiff they feel.

“Jeez, what took you so long?” Denki laughs and with your new information, you understand his willingness to be friendly with you a little better.

“I asked Katsuki for his life story,” you respond dryly, following him back to the generator.

Denki looks over his shoulder and laughs at you. “Did he tell you?”

You pause for a moment, watching as Denki unscrews something and pours the water in.

“Nope,” you say. “Not a thing.”

Click Here to go to the second chapter and find the rest of the series on ao3. The remainder will not be posted on tumlbr, but please feel free to reblog!

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #mha x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader smut #mha smut #bakugou fanfiction #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #apocalypse au #tw.violence #tw.blood #tw.loss of identity #tw.derealization #tw.depersonalization #tw.exhaustion #cal.writing #char.bakugou

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bambiilooza · 1 month

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AITA for stealing a helicopter and some of the water supply from a group of shipwrecked individuals?

ok, I know that title makes it look horrible but please hear me out. i am a hydrologist (29 M) and was stationed at the skeleton coast where, as to be expected, the water supply is very low and lot of animals are going thirsty. there is hope for rain soon but smth needed to be done

i found a nearby group - they looked shipwrecked but their 'ship' was a giant octo-dog looking thing. (you know in those sausages that people put in bento boxes?) i saw barrels of water and a helicopter. i DO NOT condone stealing but the situation was dire and i did attempt to to steal the water and leave on the helicopter to help any thirsty critters that needed the water.

i was stopped by one of the guys, (same-ish age as me i think, M) and took to their captain and now they're helping me get the water to the animals. which i, ofc appreciate. i'll be honest, i did expect them to beat me up - the captain is buff and scary looking but he's really nice! they all are but i am a bit confused at their reaction to me. it was oddly comforting?

what made me make the post is because i'm wondering as i write this post - we're on our way to deliver the water - is IF i was successful in my attempt at theft, would i have been the asshole? and was me attempting theft me being an asshole? i acknowledge it was wrong but AITA for it?

edit : this is what i meant their ship looked like

the sausages

#octonauts #octonauts above and beyond #octonauts paani #kwazii cat #captain barnacles #if u follow me and are not familiar with this show and think it's just cute fun #this is the kinda shit that happens on there #granted theft isn't that much of a common theme but like they almost die every other ep

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zwolfgames · 2 months

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Platonic Yandere Baldurs Gate 3 x teen reader (Drabble)

(Just a quick idea i might flesh out a bit more in the future. Just take it as a oneshot at the moment. Reader is about 13-14 ish. For Gale's ever dying annoyance you'll be a sorcerer. I like to imagine the reader as a thiefling cuz theyre cool, but whatever you want goes as it isnt described anywhere.)

Warnings: None.

"Why... is there a child here?"

You heard the gith woman speak to mostly no-one as you had encountered her on this burning mess of a mindflayer ship.

You wonder that yourself. Why take you? Just a little teen with no real significance? Surely there's better candidates for the mindflayers to infest...

"I can hear you, you know?" You sigh and walk closer to the unknown woman.

Sure Githyanki people were known to mercilessly slay anything that even resembled an obstacle.. But seeing as you're having the same problem... and she also looks lost... you'd take this one chance.

"Don't speak to me." The woman hisses. Her armor glints in the light of an explosion out of the ships' window.

You shrug and walk past her. Moving trough the choatic halls of this fleshlike vehicle. The scurrying brains on the floor weren't a pleasant sight... but you've seen worse.

All you really had on you were the clothes you were abducted with, your long stick from the woods that you used to practise your magic and a dagger because your mother had advised you to carry one...

But against otherwordly foes... this aresenal looked a bit bleak...

You soon noticed the woman following you silently. Why? You didn't know. Probably because of the aforementioned fact that she also didn't have a clue what to do here.

"So what's your name?" You spoke curiously. Not that scared of the gith anymore now that her shining blade remained sheathed.

"I said to not speak to me, tshk." The gith woman sneered.

"Just curious." You respond with your hands in a surrendering motion.

But you get it, she's cautios. You'd be too if you met some kid on a mindflayer ship. They're not exactly common. It's safe of her to assume you're a ploy.

"My name's Y/N." You just mention for the hell of it. Might aswell die being known.

"... Lae'zel..." Ah... there's the name you wished for.

"Exotic.." You nod in acknowledgement. Probably not the best thing to say at the moment, but for some reason you felt calm. Something in your head was making you think so, atleast.

You and Lae'zel traveled a bit further down the halls of the Nautiloid. Passing by corpses of people with missing brains... yuck. A little chest here.. a little chest there. Your mother would be happy with some extra gold...

"You're a little thief, are you?" Lae'zel spat in distaste.

"Providing for the family, ma'am." You salute jokingly.

Lae'zel looks slightly startled by either your actions or your words. Keeping closer to you as the noises of fighting became louder.

In the end, you and Lae'zel had aquired a new compagnion, a lady named Shadowheart had been freed from one of the mindflayer cocoons. How did you open it, you may ask? Well you just cast Knock. It really took the intrigue off of the buttons next to the pod.. But it made everything easier.

This Shadowheart person was very secretive... immediately throwing hostile statements at Lae'zel, wich the gith returned. You supposed this is what your mother meant by girls infighting?

But all in all, they might despise eachother and glare at you as if you ate their left arm.... they still helped.

Lae'zel had instructed you all to go to the control room, apparently she's felled these ships together with her Githyanki squadrons before. Wich is cool, but you wouldn't say that considering Shadowheart might want you dead if you admit any liking for a gith.

What met you at the control panel was a big fight... well for your standards, that is. You were used to stray magic monsters or stealing goblins...

An infernal general of the hells... well not really on your preffered list of foes....

Luckily you had your two capable compagnions. Shadowheart blasted that guy with continous holy blasts, while Lae'zel just rammed a greatsword trough his fiery armor.

Cool, fighting is... cool. Atleast your spells were used for more then washing the dishes at home now.

After taking over the ship, it just fully crashed, you felt the air whip in your hair and cut into your skin as you fell down along with the debree of the Nautiloid.

Lae'zel and Shadowheart were nowhere in sight... so you tightly closed your eyes, bracing for impact... Wow... you'd be so lucky if you knew feather falling right now... bummer that you didn't.

The impact didn't come. You felt light for just a moment before you just passed out onto a wet patch of sand.

Well... not dead.. yet.

"Hey... wake up.."

Something... or considering their ability to talk, someone nudged your shoulder.

You blinked your tired eyes open. Sclera feeling dry and burned from the amount of ash on the crashed ship.

A drow stood above you. Wich is... very strange, where were you? They don't live on the surface... do they?

"How has a true soul landed themselves here? You look too pathetic for our majesty." The drow woman sneers in disgust. You know... the amount of woman hating on you was getting a bit disturbing.

"A true.. soul?" You spoke hoarsley. Throat parched from all the fire, along with being passed out here for gods know how long..

"Oh you are such an imbecile asswell. It does no good to have a putulent child as a true soul... I ought to end your suffering myself." The woman growled. Wow, just when you were about to say she had the same hairstyle as your mom-

Wow!- a sword next to your head. Yikes!

The drow still glared. Not yet having sliced your head in two due to a sound further down the beach. Sandy footsteps coming closer.

With a scowl she retreated into the wreckage of the nautiloid. Hiding from whoever was walking this way. You sat up with a groan in response. Holding your thumping head.It was no other then Shadowheart that found you. Somewhat looking relieved to see a familiar face, yet that annoyance still persisted.

"You've made it. Good. You're a bit too young to die." The black haired half-elf spoke and pulled you up.

"You almost make it sound like you care.." You cough out some dust after your teasing remark.

"Well we survived together. I'll take it as a sign that we better stick together." Shadowheart sigh and crosses her arms over her plated chest. You wonder how her eyeshadow hasn't melted off.

"You think Lae'zel made it too?" You ask a bit hesitantly, not wanting to get a death glare again.

"Im sure she did, gith are ruthless." Shadowheart scoffs and leads you further from your place on the beach. Moving on to a forest, wich you really didn't mind. You've basically been raised in the woods. Its a wonder that you didn't turn out as a druid.

"Help! A mindflayer, right here! Help me!"

Some pathetic call came from between the wreckage. Well... if you see one then it's too late? No?

Shadowheart seemed to think the same... Wich sucked, because that meant you'd have to be the better person here and see.

With a sigh of reluctance you walked towards the voice. Being carefull of the burning wreckage around you.

You ended up on a dune overseeing the beach, looking down you saw the man thats been screaming for help into the sky as if the gods would come get him.

"Are you blind? There's not even a tentacle in sight!" You yell down at him. You see the white haired elf jump and look up at you and Shadowheart.

"It was right here! I swear, come down and look!" The posh sounding man urges.

"You think were stupid. You're littarly holding a dagger!" You shout back.

"So are you! You irritating child!" The pale elf shouts back. You glare at him and he glares at you.

"So what's your real problem?" You scowl in annoyance.

"... Well fine, I don't know what to do from here, I dont even know how I survived-" The man points at the crash site. "-this."

"Would you like to join our 'we don't know what to do from here and we don't even know how we survived' club?" You grin in amusement. Shadowheart gives you a dissaproving wack on the arm and the man doesn't look happy by your mocking.

Two beats later he sighs. "Fine... untill I find a way back..."

"So what's your name? I'm Y/N and this is... actually I'll let her decide if she wants to tell or not." You nod.

"Shadowheart." The woman growls out in annoyance at your irritating behavior.

"Astarion.." The pale elf nods. Making his way up to you two.

So that made three... or if you found Lae'zel... four.

Before you could even scream for your Githyankee acquaintance, another problem stood in your way.

The very obvious portal with a hand trough it.. yelling 'help! A little help!'.

Well... maybe if it added a please?

"I can sense you there! A little help, please!" Ah.. there was the please.

This hand didn't look cursed... so it should be fine right?

"Let's not? Mhh? Who knows, maybe it's a mindflayer." Astarion advices with some smug purr.

"Well he said please, didn't your mom teach you any manners?" You huff with a roll of your (e/c) eyes. The elf froze at the sentence and Shadowheart just looked annoyed that you were once again helping someone when you didn't have time.

You huff and take the hand. Pulling at it in vain as this portal remains steadfast in holding this person on the other side.

"You can do it, just keep pulling, my friend."

The male voice called out. You set your feet properly into the dirt around you and pull with your while back put into it. As the mans purple sleeve shows due to you pulling him out, you decide to grab that instead, making your way down his arm.

Shadowheart can't seem to look at your struggle anymore and helps tug.

Together the bearded man comes crashing out of the portal.

He stands up and dusts his robes off.

"Hello, I'm Gale of Waterdeep, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance- Why are you a child?" The man stops his speech to once again asses that you are in fact a kid. Well, you prefer teen, as the number ten isn't in the didgits of your age for nothing. But sure yea, let's all keep bullying the kid.

"Well one day I was born, and from there on I began to age-" You start snidely. The man- Gale, stops you from your useless banter.

"I know how aging works... But why are you involved with... this all?" He asks in concern.

"Oh so you're genuinely a minor? I just assumed you were on the short side." Astarion notes randomly. Putting a hand over his heart as a theatric pose.

"I'm here because I also got abducted by mindflayers, there's nothing more to it. Do you want to join us in in walking around aimlessly or do we stick you back trough the portal?" You look up at Gale with a raised brow.

"Right, walking around aimlessly it is..." The bearded man sighs and takes your hand. Whatever his reasons, he seems the most startled by seeing a minor waltz around all this mindflayer stuff.

Your aquired band of misfits manage to locate Lae'zel, who had just broken out of a cage. Not looking too happy too see the growing group.

After a round of names and insults, she informed everyone... well... really just you because somehow everyone else seemed to know it all already, that you've all been infected by mindflayer tadpoles. Yuck, the last thing you wanted was tentacles on your face, what would your mother think!

Gale reassured you that that wouldn't happen and that- just like Lae'zel said- we were going to find a cure..

Or try. Whatever came first. Really.

So you set foot into the forest, hoping to find a hint of civilization to find the nearest healer. Lae'zel had been captured by patrolling thieflings.. so there must be something around here.

And you were all right. You had ended up at the emerald grove. Quickly getting pulled into their problems with the local druids and the refugees... Some Halsin guy was missing, apparently he was very important.. And he was in some goblin camp... full of goblin cultists? You were really glad Gale was writing this down because your attention span didn't make it trough this.

Wandering around the Emerald Grove had landed you an audience with the resident folk hero, the Blade of Frontiers! Wich was actually the coolest thing up ti'll now. Your mother used to tell you stories of what this man did at your age, saving a village from evil cultists, his many good deeds.

The legends true name was Wyll... wich was cool too. The darker skinned human quickly offered your group to take you over, so they could continue their journey without the worry of a teen. You were surpised when Shadowheart protested. Astarion didn't seem glad with the possibility of your absence either.

You were confused, Lae'zel was confused and Wyll himself was probably the most baffled.

He seemed to just assume you must be someones family here and offered to come with if you helped him find a demon he had to slaughter.

Yea ok, seems fair. Anything for the Blade of Frontiers.

Events went faster now, you had a bigger group, they were all quite choatic, not matching eachothers morals or ways.

Astarion was teaching you the art of pickpocketing while you all explored the grove for more information on the lost druid Halsin.

Gale was discouraging you from listening to the elf. Trying to teach you new spells instead, even trough his annoyance of your sorcerer ways. How could you learn magic without a book! What do you mean you just accidently set your treehouse on fire when you were four?!

Wyll seemed to find you quite amusing, seeing you snark back at these intimidating adults (Lae'zel) and observing how a child from a city outside of Baldurs Gate dealt with all the information.

Shadowheart and Lae'zel were still going about their mutual hatred. Why them two?

You don't know.

Goth vs frog, the neverending battle.

No matter, however. As you all found this 'demon' Wyll was after. Turned out its some nice thiefling named Karlach.

The votes on what to do were varying. Wyll didn't want to kill a non hell-being.Lae'zel told him just to get the pact over with, same for Astarion.Gale and Shadowheart were for the cancelation of this execution. Both for very diffrent reasons.

But due to Wyll being as good as you imagined him, he didn't kill the woman. Great, since she's the first one that had a positive reaction to meeting you.

Karlach saw her more carefree years in you... Just some dumb kid fighting things and messing with ploys that didn't concern you.

Thats how it all started... Karlach. The barbarian had begun the urges in your group to not let this kid they got saddled up with to get corrupted.

Everything's so bad already. They can save one thing, no?

Your first night camping with the bunch was quite fun. You helped Gale with cooking, your mother taught you well after all. The wizard was shocked as he hadn't expected a child out of everyone here to be the only one to help.

Fine enough, you made dinner.

And love goes trough the stomach, or so the saying goes. With a hoard of hungry stomachs fed, the appreciation towards 'random kid were stuck with' really picked up.

You wouldn't make it long without them getting attached. Too bad you tought you were going on a fun adventure. This isn't just some fun little thing...

Welcome to your new found family <3

Don't really know what compelled me to write this, I just miss bg3 because I'm on a road trip 😔. But if anyone's interested, I'd surely answers asks about this... thingy? Hope you kinda enjoyed atleast. Adios.

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senblades · 3 months

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Do u have any persona head-canons? Ships and/or characters

hmm.... I... kind of do? I do, in the sense that there are certain things that I enjoy reading and writing, but I'm not gonna throw a fit if someone thinks differently, and it's never a dealbreaker to me if fics don't have them. It's just sort of an "oh! this fic/art has this?! neat!"

In saying that, I suppose I'll write some of my favourite headcanon-ish things that are definitely Not Canon in the slightest, but I really enjoy throwing around for fun:

Futago siblings! Angst potential. And comedy potential. They're just a really good dynamic lmao

I care less about KenGoro siblings, but the concept is still super interesting! It's more the brotherly dynamic I enjoy than any potential angst from them being actual half-siblings (I've said it before, but throwing Futaba into the mix as well is incredibly funny)

Wakaba's questionable experiments; I like this for a lot of reasons- there are so many different ways it can be interpreted, but I personally enjoy writing it in a way (how to phrase this?) where it's less "making Goro more sympathetic because oops human experimentation" and more as a "Oh, Wakaba was morally grey, how does that affect the story/her character at large," and "How bitter can I make Goro because of this?" HAHA the whole 'making him more sympathetic' thing kind of evens out if I also make him worse while I'm at it lmao /lh

uhh moving into more Meta discussion territory, but:

Ren isn't bitter about the interrogation room betrayal because it was part of the game that he made the active choice to keep playing. It's a nod of respect between him and Akechi, since both of them are refusing to bend their ideals, and are accepting what that means (like, look at Justice rank 7 (and at how he smirks after the plan works lmao that boy was so confident he'd win))

follow up to that, accepting Maruki's deal on 2/2, conversely, is a betrayal in a much more significant way. Because Ren and Akechi were once again refusing to bend their ideals throughout January, until Ren folds on 2/2. it's like, they were unapologetically themselves in November, which meant they were enemies. Then, they continued to be themselves in January, which meant they were allies. So, Ren fucking that up is not exactly great teammate ettiquite.

moving out of the realm of Meta discussions because that's less headcanon territory-

ummm headcanon that Ren is really just as unhinged as Akechi, but he's excellent at hiding it around people that Aren't Akechi. Comedy ensues.

Sumire and Kasumi started out in dance before transferring to rythym gymnastics

Ren also used to do dance

uhhh these probably weren't the answers you were looking for anon I apologise HAHA- I really don't tend to have headcanons in the way of like "I 100% think this thing about a character without any textual evidence and I'll fight people about it". I guess the last three kind of count, but even then I like. don't really care lmao

I'm probably missing stuff because I just don't think about it a lot, but alas

ty for the ask anon <3 <3 I'm sure i'll think of something 20 minutes after I post this and be like "fuck. I should have written that" HAHA

#asks #persona 5 #shuake #akeshu #you can tell how unsure I was about everything I was saying by the amount of “uhhh”s or “ummm”s there are LMAO

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sanjisblackasswife · 2 years

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hiiii i love your headcanons about daily lifestyle moments with the monster trio🫠🫠🫠

how about them seeing their S/O waxing their legs or even their pussy? it could be funny

A/N: Haaaaaa thank u! I gotchu. Enjoy!

Monster Trio Watching You Wax (NSFW-ISH)

Black Fem Reader (…she calls Zoro the N word like ONCE)

CW: A bit suggestive, Mentions of PP🐔 and TooToo🐱, The Guys are a Bit OOC

Luffy

Luffy can either be incredibly fascinated or does not care, however let’s go with the first option because it’s more funny to witness

You don’t usually wax your legs too often, but it was a rainy and boring day and it was about that time so you stuck yourself in your room and Luffy came running in partially wet and ready to annoy you.

“Y/N! Where are your pants you finna touch yoursef again?”

“Luffy!? No! And I told you to stop bringing that up…”

You explain to him you’re waxing your legs and your vagina and he doesn’t really understand why you need to do that.

“I like your hair, though. Feels good.”

“Please stop—“

“Why?! It’s so soft when I eat—“

“LUFFY, SWEETHEART PLEASE—“

He wanders around your room, eating your snacks and watching you wax and you finally finish your legs and you decided to kick Luffy out to wax your cooter and this man refuses.

“I refuse to leave.”

“You don’t have a Choice—“

“It’s MY ship! PLEASEEEE? I wanna watch—OH WAIT CAN I DO IT FOR YOU?”

After a bunch of begging you decide why not…I mean you don’t have too much hair down there.

You sigh, pulling down your pants on the bed and Luffy pushes you on your back and spreads your legs open.

“You’re kinda wet—“

“LUFFY!”

You guide him on how to apply the wax, and though he is messy he manages to not burn off your clit…

However he snatched it to harshly and you screamed

“My bad…”

“GET THE HELL OUT!”

Zoro

“Why the hell are you shaving in here I want to take a nap—“

“Nigga, this is my room.”

He doesn’t really give af that you’re shaving, but when he opens his eyes and sees you take off your panties and he jumps up off the bed

“What—?!”

“Shutttt up i need to wax my pus—“

“WHILE IM IN HERE?”

“You literally seen it the other day—“

“THAT’S NOT THE POINT—“

You smile and offer for him to wax you and he flinched at your offer

“Oh don’t be a pussy—“

“DONT CALL ME THAT!”

He tsked, but agrees. You did most of the work putting on the wax and tape over it and invite him over to snatch it off.

“I don’t get why you do this stupid shit I told you I don’t care about the hair…”

“Just snatch it off!”

He snatches BOTH of them off with BOTH hands at THE SAME TIME.

Immediate tears.

“ARE YOU OKAY?!”

You’re in the curled up position on the bed trying not to scream so instead you flip him off.

Zoro pats your butt, “you’ll be okay.”

“NO IM NOT!”

He groans and leaves the room to come back later with an ice pack.

“What the hell is this—“

“Woman i told you not to wax—“

He’s trying okay he’s trying.”

Sanji

You tell him you won’t be bothering him today because you wanted to wax and Sanji being nosey asks “Wax what?”

“My legs and my…um…”

….

“My lady…”

Sanji knew exactly what you meant because that’s what he calls your cooter.

He does a love struck smile and prepare you a tray of snacks and juice while you wax your legs. Once you were done you began to pull down your panties and that’s when Sanji bursted in.

“O-oh..”

He got a side view of you now bent over with your panties down.

Could not handle it he nearly fell off the ship.

After he clams down and apologizes like crazy for not knocking you let him stay if he wanted as you waxed.

And that’s when he offered..

“I can…I can wax you….if you want…I don’t —-I don’t want you hurting yourself…”

You hesitate for a moment, he has blushing like crazy, but his eyes weren’t filled with hearts…maybe he wasn’t trynna be too much of a pervert.

You agree and let him. He was excited to say the least. He never cares about your hair either, he just loved looking at your 🐱 honestly.

If you were able to ignore his heavily breathing and shaky hands he was pretty good at applying the wax and the tape.

“Okay I’m ganna rip it off, my love.”

“Okaaay.”

He does it and quickly puts his cold hand on the area (like how waxers do, and Pat it a little)

You were shocked he did that and smiled at him, he had some blood trickle when he was done and that was only because he couldn’t stop staring at it.

“Stop staring!”

“I—um…but…she’s so pretty…”

You’re not supposed to have sex right after a wax, but the way Sanji kept rubbing the sides of your labia you gave in for him to only soothe you after a harsh wax with his mouth.

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velvateen · 10 months

Text

it’s always you - zoro x reader fluff!

warnings: mention of blood a little teensie weensie bit, all fluff!

you and zoro are in denial. structured around a chet baker song! listen to it for best experience!!

word count: 1,200 ish, not proofread i’m lazy

words in italics are lyrics!

song: “it’s always you” sung by chet baker (link to the song on spotify)

Whenever it’s early twilight, I watch til the star breaks through

Funny its not a star I see,

its always you

The light from the deck casted a gentle purple glow onto Zoro’s face as he yawned, his night watch finally almost over. He leaned over the deck, arms crossed as he admired the view unfolding in front of him. The chilly night breeze was giving way to the pleasant humidity of the sea spray warmed by the rising sun. This was the best part of night shifts for Zoro. Not only was it the prettiest part of the shift, it meant he could go to sleep soon.

He shifted where he stood, resting his cheek against his hand, squinting to try and catch the first peaks of sunlight over the horizon.

A glimmer of light snapped his eyes towards the waves. The first light of the day. He let out an amused laugh as he thought out loud.

“Man, they’d love this.”

What?

Since when did he start thinking things like that?

He shook his head and resumed his watch with more intensity than required, he didn’t even think about how he wished the sunlight on his arms was your touch instead.

He didn’t think about that at all.

Whenever I roam through roses, and lately I often do

Funny its not a rose I touch,

it’s always you

Tending to the garden was something you had gradually found comfort in. I mean, there really wasn’t much else to do on the long stretches of days out at sea, so why not try and soak in all the nature you could?

The flowerbed on the ship was always your favorite, there was always something to tend to. Weeds would peak through the dirt no matter your efforts, and you found serenity in the tedious task of picking them one by one, shaded by the tangerine trees.

In your dull daze of tedious weed pulling, your hand strayed a bit too close to the rose bush, the back of your hands taking the damage. You hissed and pulled it away, frowning at the trickle of blood running down from your knuckle.

Little cuts like this always hurt like hell, and you wondered how Zoro takes blows and cuts way bigger than this all the time without even being phased.

Not that you thought of him all that much, you just wondered if he’d even react to a cut like this, so trivial.

You stared at your hand, thinking of how Zoro’s was so big in comparison. This cut would probably look like nothing on him.

After a moment, you felt that your face was burning, cheeks hot. You shook the smile from your lips and returned to work, making sure you had your gardening gloves on from here on out.

If a breeze caresses me, it’s really you strolling by

If I hear a melody,

it’s merely the way you sigh

It was your turn for night watch. Wrapped in a blanket as defense for the chilly ocean weather, you fought sleep valiantly with all the strength you had in you. But you’ve been fighting for so long, you thought.

Your head bobs as you’re lulled by the warmth of your blanket and the rock of the ship. A breeze passes, movement alerting you awake. The bench your sitting on shifts as he sits across from you, and passes you a mug.

“What’s this?” You ask, taking the cup into both of your hands, reveling in the cozy sensation.

“Figured you were cold. And bored, probably,” Zoro responds, avoiding eye contact and taking a sip from his own mug. You smile.

“Didn’t know you even knew how to make tea, I’m kinda impressed,” you laughed, blowing on it and feeling the steam lift your eyelashes.

“I learn some stuff to keep that idiot cook humble.”

You grin, taking a sip from the cup. You hum in contentment. The grip on Zoro’s mug tightens, he prays you don’t notice.

Wherever you are,

you’re near me

You dare me to be untrue

The crew always ended up at some kind of bar while docked for any significant amount of time. The privacy that crowds offered was always so appealing, and you liked getting to meet people from different islands.

Your appreciation for bars was always matched, although for a different reason, by Zoro. He would go for the drinks, you’d go for the people. It was a good dynamic, you always had someone to escape with if any marines showed up. Plus, Zoro hated talking to people, so you served as his defense.

The bar at this island wasn’t remarkably different from the countless others you had visited. Dark sticky wood countertops, peeling leather seats, shady regulars, the works. It was fun, especially when you had the pleasant dulling buzz of alcohol in your system. As you chatted to different people in the bar, Zoro followed you. He swears up and down that it’s just to keep an eye on things, to make sure no one pulls a weird move on you or anything. He swears that’s the case.

It can’t be the way that you’re a bit more touchy when you’re drunk, or that he gets to stablilize you when you stumble or sway. That cannot be the reason.

Walks home from the bar are always pleasant, the moonlight guiding your way back to the ship. You have to drag Zoro towards the right direction, even as he holds your elbow and hand in an effort to keep you upright. As the walk progresses, you get sleepier, more dependant on his strength to keep you moving. You lean against his shoulder more, eyes drooping steadily closed.

His heart used to beat normally. Ever since you came around, he’d get a strange dropping sensation and his heart would race. He’s starting to get used to it, to miss it.

It means you’re near.

Funny, each time I fall in love,

It’s always you.

His hand was outstretched.

The motion caught you off guard as you snapped your head away from where you gazed leaning over the deck.

In his hand was a bouquet. A measly one, at that, only a handful of flowers. You smiled, taking them from him in bewilderment. He was avoiding your gaze, opting to stare stoically towards the setting sun. You noted the slight scowl on his brow, the breeze threading through his green hair.

“Are these roses from our garden?” You observed.

“Yeah. I thought you might wanna keep some near you to put in a vase or something, you know, since you’ve worked so hard to make them grow.”

You looked down at them and tucked them into the crook of your elbow.

He leaned next to you against the rail, not bothering to move away when your arm brushed his. Looking down, you grabbed one of his hands that was folded towards you.

“What are all these cuts!?” you asked, picking up and twisting his hand that was covered in small, thorn sized scratches.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he remarked, tracing a finger over the line where your cut was healing.

Your hands lingered, neither of you daring to pull away. The sun casted warm light on your faces, bringing a blush to the surface. It was definitely just the sun.

It might be something else.

a/n: HELLO IM BACK (for a limited time, like outback’s steakmas). school and life were kicking my ass but i’m here now for at least a bit. maybe i’ll post more, maybe i’ll continue being an enigma, who knows! i don’t. should i write a sanji or ace fic next? and should it be fluff or smut lmk bc i have no ideas everrrrr. or or should i write levi from aot since that’s popular rn and he’s sexy?

i have kofi help me buy a zoro figure pwease. link in masterlist.

okay bye everypony *.•

#zoro #one piece #zoro fluff #zoro x reader #one piece zoro #op zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x y/n #zoro x luffy #zoro x sanji #zoro headcanons #zoro imagine #zoro fanart #roanoa zoro #sanji x zoro #ronoroa zoro #roronoa zoro

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bogkeep · 3 months

Text

some time ago i watched This Video about ergodic literature and got inspired to get the book S. by jj abrams & doug dorst. i've finally started reading it and i have Thoughts

the video i linked shows and explains the premise of the book, but here's the tl;dr - two students(ish) are writing annotations in the margins of a novel called 'ship of theseus' by mysterious author V M Straka while passing it back and forth. they are getting to know each other as well as trying to solve the mystery of Straka. it's a non-linear epistolary story told through a footnotes, scribbled comments, and inserts such as postcards et cetera.

there's a couple reason this book caught my eye in particular:

- i love "two people getting to know each other through letters/accidental text messages/notes" trope. it may just be the internet denizen in me but i'm a sucker for characters who get to know each other through text.

- immediately intruiged by the mystery author's name, Straka - it means magpie in czech, so i feel like i'm getting a head start on the mystery because i'm the specialest little boy in the world!!!!

- it looks cool as hell

(i purchased a used copy that was apparently a library copy so it feels extra Authentic hehe)

ANYWAY i'm still very early in, but i have many impressions to chew on already. first off, i really love the whole premise/medium, and it looks Really Good. there's a lot of really cool details that make it look authentic (if we ignore the COMICALLY LARGE MARGINS) - the book absolutely looks like something i could find in my grandparents' bookshelf. the comments being written in different colours of pen to signal when in the chronology they were written is very good. everything is pointing to a Very Fun and Immersive reading experience.

howeverrrrrrrrrr

while i Am having fun so far, there's also a lot of details that keep shaking my suspension of disbelief. like i am trying my best to hold on to it - im accepting the Comically Large Margins and the silly premise that these two people absolutely had to pass the book back and forth to communicate. like i am fully on board with that. it's just... i feel like this book is trying to Appear more clever than it actually is?

i think maybe the main problem for Me Specifically is that it's pretending to be a book written by a Probably European author and translated to english, but S. was so obviously written/created by americans and not intended to be read by someone who knows any of the languages they're dragging into this.

i was correct in assuming Straka is meant to be czech, as ship of theseus was originally written in czech - but it's weird to me that the narrative is completely uninterested in like... the original? there is a foreword by the translator, who goes on and on about the mysterious circumstances under which v m straka died, but the fact that the original language is czech is mentioned in a *footnote*. i would think a foreword by a translator would, realistically, say more about their credentials or their actual process of translating. or is that weird??? i took a class in classical literature in uni where that's kind of a big deal so maybe i'm biased???

BUT ALSO the fact that straka's identity is So very mysterious and very possibly a pseudonym... if you're like, genuinely trying to untangle this mystery, wouldn't you make a note about the meaning of the name??? like wouldn't you put a picture of a magpie on your conspiracy board about it?? Straka is absolutely a valid czech surname because most czech surnames are seemingly random nouns or adjectives, but if you think it's a pseudonym then someone made a very deliberate choice!!!! HELLO!!!!!!

then they listed the names of people who are thought to possibly be v m straka (of varying nationalities), and like okay maybe i'm nitpicking but i has to take a pen and fix some of them. they used SOME special letters for some of the names but very sporadically - they wrote vaclav instead of václav, and ekstrom instead of ekström... like at least be consistent if you're going to ignore special letters!

the worst language offender by far is this:

if you want "the monkey dances" it's "opice tancuje". you could also do "opičí tanec" for "the monkey's dance". this particular abomination is causing me physical pain.

one of the first inserts i ran into was a letter written in swedish + a direct translation:

GUESS WHAT I CAN READ SWEDISH TOO... i can't tell if the "original" letter is supposed to be the swedish or the english one - while the swedish seems to be grammatically correct (I THINK), it extremely reads as Something Written In English And Getting As Directly Translated To Swedish As Possible. it reads very stilted and oddly phrased. i get the impression i'm not actually supposed to be able to understand it, it's just here for Flavour, and that's fine! this one i can easily justify as the swedish being the in universe translation.

here's another very small thing that made me sigh very deeply

"at what point does this book stop being straka's alone & become *theirs*?" THE BOOK IS CALLED SHIP OF THESEUS. AREN'T YOU GUYS DOING LITERARY ANALYSIS OVER HERE??? IT'S THE FIRST CHAPTER AND YOU'RE JUST SPELLING OUT THE PREMISE TO ME TO THE POINT OF CONDESCENSION.

like. okay. maybe not everyone knows what the ship of theseus refers to (also i want to point out it feels like a very english language phrase to me. it Does exist in czech but it doesn't sound like a good or catchy title i think) - but i really do feel like two university students doing a deep dive into this book + author would 100% analyse the meaning of the title, that's like 101 level stuff!! this comment would be so easy to save - just have Mr Black Pen add a quippy comment about this being a bit on the nose, or pointing out the aptness or irony of the title, Anything. it would add so much to the believability for me.

like i didn't study literature at a higher education level so maybe i'm completely off base, but i DID study art history, and it seems almost absurd to me that these characters are doing so much digging and mystery solving about the author's mysterious past and rereading all of his books to find out more... and not engage with the basicest basics such as, the original text(s) pre-translation, possible cultural contexts, tHE TITLE... why are they drawing connections from choices made BY THE TRANSLATOR that absolutely would not be there in the original czech!! !!???!!!????!!

anyway my biggest actual problem so far is that i'm really struggling to read the actual ship of theseus. i have fun reading the annotations, but the actual book... i am Struggling. i've never been any good at reading ~*The Classics*~ so it might just not be my vibe, but i'm not sure if TOS is even a Good Book? like in this universe it's Allegedly a classic and very iconic or whatever. and obviously it's a challenge to write A Classic that makes its mark on history. and gods know there's discourse about whether or not The Classics are actually good books and that's way above my paygrade. but idk i couldn't get through chapter 1 without skimming through it because it kept boring me so bad.

i suspect i might just, keep reading the annotations storyline and not bother too much with the 'book' part of the book. i genuinely wanna see where the story goes!! despite my complaints i Am sold on the emotional core of it.

i think the premise rules so hard but i really feel like the authors are too monolingual and american and maybe haven't read that many books????? i can't speak on the latter but the former.............. maybe im the one who's too european

#haiz reads things #S.#i might add to this post we'll see #i really want to like this book

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kiwiana-writes · 4 months

Text

Six(ish) Sentence Sunday

I've already shared a few snippets from my trans!Alex Fandom Trumps Hate fic, which I am SO fucking excited about—but I've also taken my usual batshit chaotic approach of 'just write stuff as inspiration hits and fit it all together later', and I realised a not-insignificant period of time into doing this that I'd written some stuff that was inherently contradictory. But I also LOVED it all and didn't wanna give anything up... so long story short, now I have TWO trans!Alex WIPs 🤣 One is the longer, more Big Feelings fic for FTH... and the other is this, which will be a bit shorter. And pornier. I mean, they'll both have porn and feelings, because I am who I am, but... you know. Let's fucking go. (I might try to smash this one out for @rwrbgenderfunkyfest if I can!)

“Jesus fuck, sweetheart.” Alex buries one hand in his own curls as he comes down, the other resting on the top of Henry’s head, who has only moved far enough away to press soft kisses to Alex’s thigh. Henry’s face is a fucking mess, and he looks… well, he would say Henry looks unduly proud of himself, except for the fact that his knees currently have the approximate consistency and weight-bearing capabilities of a particularly booze-heavy jello shot, so really, Henry’s earned the smugness that’s radiating out of every pore. “That was—” “Yes, it was rather.” Henry smirks, his eyes locked on Alex’s as he flattens it, dragging it up towards his hip before planting a hard, toothy kiss there. His hand slides up Alex’s other leg until his thumb is resting at the edge of the scar above Alex’s pubic bone, and Alex reads the question in his eyes half a second before he voices it. “May I?” Alex blinks. In his experience, people tend to ignore his scars completely during sex, even if they have practical questions about the equipment. But Henry’s already sucked him off until he saw God—if he gets any better at it, Alex might die. “If you want.” Henry’s smile softens into something sweet and hopeful and breathtaking, and then he leans forward to press an almost unbearably gentle kiss to the raised skin there. “Christ, you’re beautiful.” It’s so quiet, Alex isn’t sure he was meant to hear it at all.

Tagging @agame-writes @affectionatelyrs @anincompletelist @blueeyedgrlwrites @cactusdragon517

@celeritas2997 @cha-melodius @clottedcreamfudge @cricketnationrise @dumbpeachjuice

@everwitch-magiks @firenati0n @getmehighonmagic @happiness-of-the-pursuit @heysweetheart-writes

@hgejfmw-hgejhsf @indestructibleheart @inexplicablymine @jellibuns @junebugclaremontdiaz

@leaves-of-laurelin @littlemisskittentoes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @matherines @myheartalivewrites

@ninzied @nocoastposts @nontoxic-writes @notspecialbabe @orchidscript

@piratefalls @read-and-write- @rmd-writes @sherryvalli @ships-to-sail

@sparklepocalypse @stereopticons @thesleepyskipper @tintagel-or-cockleshells @welcometololaland

@whimsymanaged and, as always, anyone who wants to play! (If you take the open tag please tag me so I can see!!)

#six sentence sunday #kiwiana-writes #fic: never look back at the faded silhouette

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teecupangel · 2 months

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Assassin Creed characters in Love Island tv show??

I’m gonna be honest with you, nonny, I rarely watch reality tv shows. I think the reality show I actually watched more than three-ish episodes was the original The Mole.

Lucky for you, nonny, my older sister loves reality show so I have watched a few episodes of Love Island XD

This will be unorganized-ish though XD

For this one, we’ll set it up that people gets kicked off the same ‘pattern’ that their games are released. This does mean…

Altaïr would be the first to be kicked off the island. And then the audience would want him back after the island devolves into more chaos the more people gets booted off and shipped to. This has the whole “the series was better when he was there” kind of vibe. Outside of the island, he’s making a name for himself because he’s a scientist/professor and there are rumors he agreed to the whole thing just so he could get his name out there and find support for his actual research XD

Ezio is the main audience favorite. There’s a lot of unabashed female gaze shots. It seems the crew has a mandatory at least 1 female gaze Ezio shot each episode. The problem with Ezio is that he really has no ‘exclusive’ partner. Sometimes, his partner gets booted off and he’ll be shipped to the next one. There’s the possibility that the audience is deliberately kicking off his partners so he can stay single lollol

Ratonhnhaké:ton entered the island because he learned his father is in it. He’s there pretty much to sabotage his father by telling him that he was raised by his mother and that he only learned that Haytham is his father when he was like 16. They keep the Kenway father and son duo for the drama. And also… they like to sabotage each other’s dates.

Then Granddad Edward enters the fray after Haytham’s last ‘partner’ gets kicked off (she tried to seduce Ratonhnhaké:ton, gasp) and he’s really just there to flirt and drink. His very existence causes damage to Haytham’s ‘calm’ expression and Ratonhnhaké:ton thinks he’s strange but nice.

Desmond is there since the beginning and he sorta fades in the background most of the time. He’s the chill nice dude who acts more like a bartender than a contestant. Even after he was kicked off, he stayed on the island as the bartender and has a mini section called ‘Confessing to Desmond’. The dude applied because he had no other jobs.

Arno is nice and sweet and really, he should be an audience favorite. Should be. However, he talks about his ex a lot and that turns a lot of people off. Then the whole “wait, your ex is your foster sister???” thing came into light and weeeeeeelllll… no one was really surprised when he got kicked off. Shame though because…

Arno had so much chemistry with Jacob Frye. Really, such a shame. Then he started to ‘date’ Maxwell Roth and the audience is pretty sure Evie Frye came into the island to stop Jacob from getting in to deep because (1) she admits she has a boyfriend and (2) she came to tell Jacob that Arno got in touch with her. She was booted off the island for ‘outside tampering’, whatever that meant.

Bayek was placed into the island to add more ‘stability’ to the order left behind by the whole Evie ArnoJacob messenger Frye thing. It sorta worked? He has an ex-wife but they divorced amicable. Then his ex visited the island for a special episode and everyone just agrees that, yeah, no one is gonna top Aya.

Basim is charming and cute with a chip on his shoulder that makes him more engaging to watch. He is also chaos incarnate and really, the less said about the accidental burning of one of the huts, the better.

#assassin's creed #ask and answer #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed #desmond miles #altaïr ibn la'ahad #ezio auditore #ratonhnhaké:ton #connor kenway #haytham kenway #edward kenway #arno dorian #evie frye #jacob frye #bayek of siwa #basim ibn ishaq

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gilbirda · 5 months

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Yet Another Fandom PSA - tagging ships

Hi, it's me again.

Today I come with a small (ish?) pet peeve regarding proper tagging - tagging ships.

(⬆ This is where the magic happens)

What should you tag in "Relationships"?

Tag only the main relationship(s) that show up in the story. The relationship the fic is really about. Is about siblings? Is about a romantic relationship? Is about a platonic ship? Tag that, and only that.

Note: For Romantic relationship, use Character A/Character B. For Gen and Platonic relationships, use Character A & Character B

Don't tag relationships that are not relevant, or appear as background.

That includes, secondary ships that develop in the background or are established "off-screen" and don't actually have any screen time in the fic.

What if I want to warn/describe a ship that does show up anyway?

You can tag them as background in Additional Tags, adding some information that nuance how they show up if you want. For example, if it's a mention, or past relationship or if it's a temporary pairing but not the endgame.

eg. "Background Character A/Character B" or "Minor Character A/Character B" or "Mentions of Character A/Character B" or "Past Character A/Character B"

You can also use the Summary to specify and give context in what manner these relationships show up.

Why would I care? Is just a tag.

There are many reasons why tagging relationships properly is beneficial for the fandom as a whole.

First of all, keeps your tags clean and simple. It is easier for people browsing the Archive to know at a glance what the fic is about if your tags give the right amount of information and nothing more.

Second, it makes very difficult to filter if you like a ship that's not as popular as others. It can get very frustrating expecting your favorite ship to appear only to get to chapter 13 and neither of your ship shows up.

Third, the "otp:true" trick can only do so much.

If this is the first time you hear about "otp:true", it is a filtering trick that will automatically filter out all fics that have more than 1 "/" ship tagged in Relationship, leaving only the ones that have just the main ship tagged.

ID has been added to the pictures as ALT text.

For more info, you can check out AO3 official Tagging FAQs and this helpful guide: "The Fanfic Author's Guide to Metatext" (This is the chapter about relationship tagging)

Here's more filtering tricks for AO3

As always this post is not meant to shame if you do or have done this. I have done this too.

I felt so bad when someone approached me and said "hey, your crossover fic with this ship is the number 1 fic by kudos when you search for one of the main fandom's small ship" and honestly? wake up call.

So there's that!

Remember to be kind and happy fandom! 🥰✨

#fandom PSA #PSA #tagging ships in AO3 #AO3 #Archive of Our Own #i know im not the only one who has done these i know #if you have more information to share please feel free :)#this comes after a friend ranted to me about this topic and uggghhhh please

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stra-tek · 1 month

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Klingon D7/K'tinga Battlecruiser continuity DEEP DIVE!

Where it all began in TOS, designed by W. Matt Jeffries. The name D7 was an on-set in-joke between Shatner and Nimoy which stuck.

When Star Trek rebooted it's Klingons for The Motion Picture, they added tons of surface detail to the Klingon Battlecruiser too. The name "K'tinga" was given in the TMP blueprint pack (although the model was called "Koro class") and it stuck. This was considered the Klingons' equivalent to the refitted Enterprise seen in the movie.

Deep Space Nine's "Trials and Tribble-ations" crossed DS9 over with TOS' "The Trouble With Tribbles", and the DS9 VFX crew built all-new physical models for visual effects - and Greg Jein chose to add a green tint and K'tinga-style surface detail to the TOS D7 battlecruiser, making us all wonder if they were really meant to be the same ship type all along.

Voyager's "Prophecy" would show us a Klingon "D7" battlecruiser in the Delta Quadrant. Although called a D7 in the script, the CG model is clearly based upon the TMP K'tinga, with the extra hull detailing.

Doug Drexler designed this ⬆️D4 Battlecruiser for Star Trek: Enterprise's "Unexpected" as a predecessor for the ship seen in TOS. But The Powers That Be decided the ship didn't have enough windows (yes, really) and requested the D7/K'tinga CG model from Voyager be used instead⬇️ putting it's first appearance 150 years earlier in 2151.

For the TOS Remastered HD TOS project, the original look for the Klingon D7 Battlecruiser was retained, albeit in a somewhat low-poly PS2-ish form

The Klingon Warbird, seen during the Kobayashi Maru sequence of the 2009 reboot movie (and more so in the deleted scenes, surrounding the damaged Narada before Nero's imprisonment at Rura Penthe), was literally the TMP K'tinga with extra stuff bolted on and smaller windows implying an upscaling to match the enormous Starfleet ships in the Kelvin universe.

The Pike-era novel Children of Kings would reconcile the huge Klingon Warbird by saying it was a larger version of the Battlecruiser (of course, Klingons are no strangers to upscaling their Bird of Prey) and most feared ship in the Klingon fleet

Fast forward to 2017. Star Trek: Discovery has rebooted the look of the Klingons again and this time their ships as well, ten years prior to TOS. And in "Choose Your Pain" this ship ⬆️ (called Sech-class in behind-the-scenes art) is called a D7. But then fast-forward to season 2, when 5 concurrent series' of Trekspam were planned out, tying more closely into previous canon and Discovery backpedaled somewhat on it's unique designs - and a "new" D7 battlecruiser (a more modest updating of the Klingon D7/K'Tinga design, upscaled like the Kelvinverse version to match the bigger Discovery/Strange New Worlds ships) was planned as a unified design to united the 24 Klingon great houses, ignoring ENT: "Unexpected" and Disco's own "Choose Your Pain":

So yeah, the D7 class may or may not be the same as the K'tinga class, and it appeared "first" in 2151 and again in 2257.

#star trek #deep dive #klingons #starship design #star trek tos #ds9 #voyager #star trek aos #kelvin timeline #star trek discovery #strange new worlds

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returquoise · 7 months

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ATLALA, aka Avatar the Last Airbender Live Action

Sooooo, I finished the first season and had thoughts (just like everyone else lol). First context, non-spoilery thoughts, and then spoilers under the cut, yadda-yadda.

Why context? Because for a lot of people OG ATLA was their childhood, and they have super strong feelings about it and about any adaptation that exists. I'm not one of those people.

The first time I watched OG ATLA I was over 20 years old, which means I was an adult and had adult viewpoints about the story – worldbuilding, character writing, etc. It was never the hallowed most perfect show ever for me. It was and still is a fucking good show with some amazing writing and worldbuilding but I did have some gripes.

So when ATLALA was announced I remained neutral – I've seen the movie that shall not be named and din't really like it but shitty adaptations have always existed. When we started getting photos and trailers and news pieces, I was feeling pretty positive about the visuals, but neither news pieces or trailers actually tell you shit about what the writing or worldbuilding is like. However, I was about 70% optimistic.

Because what indications I did get about visuals, writing etc, were very reminiscent of another adaptation that had come out recently, about a series that was actually a bit more important to me on an emotional than ATLA. I'm talking about One Piece, and OPLA which came out last August. I've been a fan of that for 10 years longer than ATLA, and while they did a lot of changes, the spirit of the story was there.

So I copied my optimism and good feelings from that, going into ATLALA.

Now, the thoughts.

Visuals are pretty good. There are moments when I can tell they left some visuals out due to trickiness/budget (the "is Zuko's ship real?" review after the premiere). Some things look fake or plasticy, some stuff is too clean. Bending looks a lot better than in the movie that shall not be named.

Writing has issues. Some of it is very expositiony which makes it wooden and the shots uninteresting (there were so many badly framed shots with characters just awkwardly standing and talking). There are some lovely bits of dialogue that gave me feelings, but those moments were in the minority. And some writing choices were also quite childish, even for an adaptation of a kids' cartoon, so I'm a bit confused about the intended age demographic – except there are some really violent bits in there, which leave me even more confused.

Pacing was either frantic or okay-ish. The writers clearly had trouble paring down the OG series, and then ended up cramming stuff together. I could keep up with it (knowing what certain characters roughly meant for the plot, even if they were at a different place and time), but I'm not quite sure if someone uninitiated in the OG series could. The last 2 episodes had probably the best pacing and even then there were some things that made me go "hmmm."

Some actors have issues emoting – main and extras. I agree that the Gaang has lost some of their flaws compared to the OG series. Maybe some of them will make more of an appearance in season two when everyone's more experienced at acting? Especially considering that they'll likely have stuff more spaced out there – there are some episodes I'm pretty sure they'll outright skip, just based on the choices in this season. But we'll see. There were some fun and interesting bonding moments between different characters.

Sokka, Zuko, and Suki were the standouts from the younger cast. Suki is considerably different from the OG but it was acted and written well, and is an interesting choice. Sokka's quips, while not as numerous as in the OG, were fun. Physical comedy is obviously more toned down because real bodies can't do the same shit as cartoons. More about his arc choices later. Zuko was a bit toned down from the OG but IMO also the closest to it. And as someone who's almost finished with a Zuko AU fanfic, I was positively cackling due to the fact that some of the choices made for the character are similar to something I've done in my fic.

As for the rest of the main kids, there'll be more in the spoiler bits, BUT, they're different, and feel less experienced in acting. They're not bad but some choices were definitely different than in the show and they offer interesting opportunities. We'll see how they pan out, but be prepared for some speculation from me.

Fight scenes sometimes had IMO slow moments in the choreo, and they could have been better. Some were excellent, some a bit ehhh.

On the whole, I think this is about 7 out of 10. Some moments were 8 out of 10. It's a passable adaptation

Spoilery thoughts waaaay down.

Whoo boy. Where to start here?

Let's start with the cramming. As far as I can tell from my notes, the episodes are roughly divided like so:

EP1: 3,5 and bits (Boy in the Iceberg, Avatar Returns, Southern Air Temple, half of the Storm, bits of Avatar and the Fire Lord)

EP2: 1 and bits (Warriors of Kyoshi, part of Waterbending Scroll)

EP3: 3 halves (King of Omashu, Jet, Northern Air Temple)

EP4: 1, 4 halves and bits (King of Omashu, Jet, Northern Air Temple, Cave of Two Lovers, half of Winter Solstice P1, bits of the Avatar Day,)

EP5: 2 halves and pieces of 3 (half of Winter Solstice P1, half of Bato of the Water Tribe, part of Southern Raiders, part of the Library, part of Siege of the North) AND timeskip mention of the Great Divide and the pirates from Waterbending Scroll

EP6: 2, two halves and bits (Winter Solstice P2, Blue Spirit, half of Bato of the Water Tribe half of the Storm, part of Siege of the North)

EP7: 2 (Waterbending Master, Siege of the North)

EP8: 2 and pieces (Siege of the North, Return to Omashu, bits of Northern Air Temple, part of the Library)

Waterbending Scroll is a bit of throughline because you see moments of training in pretty much all of the episodes.

Episode 1 was very full, and felt rushed at times. There were a few places where they could have shortened some parts (like the earthbender spy scene at the start) to give more time for other stuff. Biggest gripes are the convenience of timing – Aang going off to clear his head only for everyone to die that very night. HOWEVER, me and my friends talked about it being likely Spirit shenanigans going "fuck, Air Nomads are gonna die now, we need to deepfreeze the Avatar for storage." We also concluded that the sudden current of Sokka and Katara finding Aang was either physics we don't understand, or Spirit shenanigans. Also the thing about all the Air Nomads coming over for the Great Comet festival? And then having so few of them on screen? Sorry, but I ain't buying it. Having such a sparse population in one temple I could have bought (with caveats) but adding in the gathering, nah.

Episode 2, Sokka-Suki was beautiful. I think it works even with the removed downplaying of girls capabilities (this change also brought some other stuff to Sokka I absolutely adored in later episodes but I'll talk about that when I start ranting about the characters). This was pretty close to the OG episode in many ways and I really don't have other problems with it, besides the somewhat childish end discussion about hope and shit with Aang and Suki's mom (Suki having a badass mom is fun). Manifesting Avatars and being able to talk to them only at their shrines will be an interesting take on stuff. Because that will affect some stuff on later seasons and I'm not sure how.

(And considering how scared Aang is of the Avatar State this early on, we might end up skipping the Avatar State in the next season. At least partially. Because we did get a lot of info now.)

That's a very full itinerary and it was hardest to follow at eps 3-4 because there were so many things going on. Jet's and the Mechanist's conflicting storylines made for an interesting drama (though, again, hard to follow) and gave Sokka and Katara something to do – which they didn't really have in the OG Omashu episode, which was what Aang was mostly dealing with here. In my opinion these two episodes didn't get a proper handling, because they're one of the few instances were we get people from the Earth Kingdom doing questionable shit, but we don't really discuss it. And while everyone know marketing is a mistake (it makes no one happy), considering that this series was trying to sell itself as a more mature take, that feeling is left kinda lacking in regards to Jet and the Mechanist. I do appreciate Bumi being fucking bitter, like Yass, you go king, as well as the bit with the Earth Kingdom soldiers speaking of grief and mistreating Iroh. That complexity is what was left lacking with Jet and the Mechanist, and how Katara and Sokka dealt with that emotionally. Also loved Zuko getting hit by a broom and Iroh taking the fall for him. The Zuko-Zhao alliance was an interesting angle to take (after messing it up pfft) and establishing early that Azula is a master infiltrator? I liked that move, also the fact that there are Fire Nation rebels. Although I fucking loved the quick fake marriage.

5 and 6, despite being about as full if not fuller, were weaven together really well in my opinion. My biggest gripe with that two episode storyline was how the Fire Sage Shyu-Aang team-up was done – not that it was any better in the OG to be fair but it is more jarring in live action. I just about died at the 41st twist because holy shit that's an amazing angst take and I appreciate it so much. And while we do get Aang planting an acorn, it feels like a really small moment and I think the Hei Bai issue should have got a bit more attention as the episode was resolved. Koh was fucking terrifying and the appearance of Wan Shi Tong – and in the last two episodes the appearance of the celestial objects calendar machine, as well as the fact that Zhao got his dirt on Tui and La from a Fire Sage – leads me to believe we won't be getting the Library episode next season.

(The only way I can see Return to Omashu happening is if it's remixed with Imprisoned which was totally left out of this season, or we get the important info aka neutral Jing info all from the Swamp, or from a letter Bumi sent. I personally think Return to Omashu-Imprisoned remix is more likely, just so we can prep Teo and the Mechanist for the Day of the Black Sun which we saw flashing by on the celestial objects machine just before we finally got the confirmation that Sozin's Comet is still a thing. Although The Avatar State could also be remixed into this in a sort of "yes, Earth Kingdom needs to free Bumi etc but I can't do it in Avatar State, we need to be smart.")

Episodes 7 and 8 were pretty chill in pacing issues. I thought Yue was a bit too quick in warming up to Sokka but considering how it was explained I can accept it. Also, the fact that Tui and La are intelligent enough to not be fish 24/7/365 is a change that makes sense although the whole Ice Moon (is it the local Halloween?) thing was very out of left field. Women joining the fight was a wild update and definitely more of a modern take than an early 2000s take. Do I have other thoughts? Sure, but I don't want to write bajillion essays and I just want a general overview in one post.

Zuko is, like I said, a standout. Absolutely love his conspiracy board, and as someone who writes a fic with a more scholarly inclined Zuko, I loved him being able to draw, being the foremost Avatar expert in the world (you can't tell me there can be more than one or two people out there who know more than Zuko at this point, look at his research), and having opinions about calligraphy brushes. Ugh, my heart. There's some absolutely wonderful acting happening and he does action really well. Is he a bit less explosive than in the OG? Sure, but one must remember, that adaptations are just licensed fanfics. His abuse background is in the performance, and my biggest question is the Agni Kai. There was a certain desperation in his face, so he must have wanted to make an impression on Ozai, and maybe felt a bit more like he had the right to it – as this show made it clear he had been invited in the War Council and did not needle his way in. Also the 41st twist oh holy smokes I just about screamed. His flaw is still anger and trouble thinking plans through.

Azula (her bangs in the flashback crack me up, was that her emo phase?) is more obviously affected by Ozai's games in this. I know OG Azula has loads of fans and there are loads of deep dives into her character and abuse and etc, but this is actually the first time her writing has made it obvious to me. She's still cold and calculating, but she's affected by more things and that makes her into a more approachable character for me. I know many fans got this from the OG portrayal so I know this is a me thing.

Sokka is another standout. I saw an interview where the actor was like "I tried to interject and ad lib humour where I could" and I appreciate it, because a lot of them made me cackle. There was some really good humour there. As for his arc and conflict; I think it's really interesting that he tries to live up to his dad's image of a warrior, and doing it very much out of duty. It isn't so much that he wants to be a warrior, but he wants to be good enough and I think that came through wonderfully. He can be a warrior, but it ain't his passion. It also offers very interesting bonding possibilities and parallels with Zuko. My heart broke at that ice-dodging scene in episode 5, as well as his heart-to-heart with Katara in episode 4 (fucking SIBLING LOVE TRIUMPHS). Also absolutely loved the fact that he supported Katara being a warrior in the North. His flaws in the OG are self-esteem issues (nailed here), and a certain level of arrogance, that affected his attitude towards girls at times. The latter has been removed but considering it only lasted until episode 4 in the OG series anyway, I don't see it as a terribly big deal. We can still get his "it'll totally work out this way" arrogant moment at pretty much any point in the story in the future.

Katara has trouble emoting. I don't know how much experience her actor has with acting, but I hope she gets better with practice. There are some very nice bonding moments she has with Sokka and Aang that bring emotion out, but she's very stone faced a lot of the time. One could read it as a symptom of seeing her mother being literally burned alive but that depends on how her arc is written in future seasons, and how it's acted. I really like the parallel with Sokka, of him trying to be a warrior out of duty, while Katara wants to be that and has trouble getting the opportunity to do so. This came out really well in episode 4. The fact that she was made a fucking commander of sorts at North was amazing moment of proving to her that she can be, that she is, a warrior. I'm kinda sad her temper has been left out of the writing, because with her being a self-taught water bender (which I'm okay with because we see her practising every fucking episode) there's a threat of her sliding into so-called Mary Sue territory. Hopefully Toph's inclusion brings her temper out next season. She's also missing some of her naiveté, although having a crush on the first good looking outsider (with fucking mirrored shots) just like her brother is hilarious.

Aang is... to mature. He gets a lot of really good and morally and ethically right speeches, and while he expresses that he's scared and doesn't know what he's doing, it still feels too mature. He also doesn't have that many dumbass child moments (what was that episode he just went "oops" in, that was funny and felt childlike, and then there was the water fight he had with Katara). It could be because we're going through stuff so fast but it'll be hard to fix later. I kinda like how his connection with Katara is being the last of their kind and loss – and then the small really good acting in ep7 when Katara says stewed sea prunes taste like home, and you can just see him go "oh, there's still someplace she can belong to, unlike me." I loved his calligraphy brush discussion with Zuko, because there was the beginnings of a bond there. As a friend said, it's nice they removed the Disney princess like love at first sight thing from the OG. If this turns into a romance (I have thoughts on that... later) I feel like it has a better chance to grow organically. No, I never shipped Kataang, please refer to the context part of this post.

Suki had a fun isolated, but curious, and socially awkward vibe to her. She's obviously different from the OG, but it's a fun and interesting difference, as the most characterisation we ever got for her was badass. Yue was interesting, more assertive and playful, which I liked. I also liked the fact that she had obvious duties and was expected to be the next chief. Even if the Northern Water Tribe sexism was kept, this felt like it added some dimension to it. June flirting with Iroh was hilarious, enough said. Mai and Ty Lee are blanks of wood. Their writing, and the direction they were given was horrible, and they're a prime example of that awkward standing and bad framing issue I mentioned way earlier. Ty Lee could have at least been bending herself into a pretzel, and Mai could have been using a knife to dig stuff from under her nails or something. I hope they get better writing and direction in the future.

Iroh was honestly pretty enjoyable. There were some moments of skilled evasive answering, but I was left missing him saying that Zuko was like a son to him. They do have really good chemistry though and you can see the care between the characters. I hated the long monologue at the end of episode 6, that felt very much beneath whatever target audience they were aiming for, and failed show not tell. Not perfect but can improve. Also, that one part where they played Leaves on the Vine, I almost died.

Ozai being a manipulative, abusive game addict is different but offers him some agency and motivation besides megalomania, which I appreciate. He had a peculiar expression when he burned Zuko, and that smells like hidden lore to me.

That's probably every character I feel like addressing at this point. However, I did mention romance in Aang's section, and I have to agree with the other whispers on the net. The fucking scarf scene. At this point, it's more likely for this show to be Zutara than Kataang IMO. BUT before people go and blow up about it, some points; cartoons offer more leeway in visual age differences, I feel like they would need to extend ATLALA plot line to last several years (instead of like, 9 months it's in the OG) to make it visually make sense. The Fortuneteller (as well as Katara's obsession with love?), and Aang's love at first sight have all been written out. Cave of Two Lovers was used for sibling love on the first season, and we ain't visiting that location again, not with how efficiently we did pretty much all of the Omashu stuff this season. Most of the Kataang iconic moments have been left out deliberately. Does this mean we'll get Zutara? Of course not, but due to the scarf scene, as well as that rivals thing they have going (we literally have two fights between Zuko and Katara this season, and the water sprout she used to thwart his fireball in episode one, and if that isn't a traditional beginning of a rivalry, nothing is), it's certainly more likely at this point than Kataang.

But we'll see, just like with everything else. It's an okay start, it's far from perfect, but it does offer new viewpoints that I find fascinating.

What's in the future.

I already explained my Return to Omashu-Imprisoned-Avatar State mash-up idea above, and that we'll likely miss the Library. I also think Avatar Day will be left out. I do however think, that we'll get the Deserter next season. We also need a way for Aang to learn about the Comet coming again and if Library is out (and probably also the Desert), best chances are IMO the Swamp or the Fortuneteller (remixing those two together is also possible). Or maybe Yeong Yeong has spies and they tell him about the Comet and he tells the Gaang. I also think they'll be foreshadowing/setting up White Lotus a bit more than we got in the OG.

I don't quite have my thought together enough to make any other guesses, but we will get Toph, Ba Sing Se, and Azula's Mean Girls Squad, but no clue yet how they'll be remixed. Season 2 has a much clearer timeline structure, whereas season 1 had a lot of episodic stuff that doesn't timeline wise offer too many roadblocks for remixes, as we saw with what they did with Omashu.

I think that's about everything I can think off. If you have comments, please be nice. This was mostly rambling, and tin foil hat baiting.

#avatar the last Airbender live action #avatar the last airbender #atlala #natla #netflix avatar the last airbender #review #thoughts #spoilers #non-spoilers #I'm sad people prefer the term natla to atlala #I'll keep calling it atlala for funsies #season 2 speculation #character analysis

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hyperfixatedonthisnow · 1 year

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Siren's call

*not my GIF I know, I know, I suck at titles, but I’ve come to accept this about myself and therefore so must you! Summary: A Siren and a privateer fall in love, but how will he react when he finally learns what she is? Requested by: Anonymous - Sturmhond/Nikolai finds out his girlfriend is a siren. How will that go? - Dearest anon, I am *so* sorry that this took me so long to put out. I fell down a bit of a rabbit hole researching Sirens and found your request so interesting that I honestly could have written much more. I started out with Sturmhond, then switched to Nikolai after reader learns his real name, and I went with Sirens as shape-shifting mermaids, rather than the Greek version of bird like creatures, mostly because it was easier to write in but also because birds freak me out a bit tbh, I’m hoping you don’t mind. Also there’s smut at the end, but if you don’t like that then feel free to stop reading when the kissing starts 😉 I realized way too late that I probably should have asked you for more details 🤦‍♀️ So I can only hope that this is something close to what you wanted! Word count: 7.5K ish - because much like our favorite prince/privateer, I prefer to use several words when one will do 😅

Warnings: NSFW - 18+ only. Mild peril, mild angst, a touch of fluff, minor OC’s who exist only to further the (minimal) plot, a very brief mention of non-con (but not with Nikolai), smut, fem!reader, P in V sex, semi-rough sex, marking, unprotected sex (not recommended in real life!)

You had been following the ship closely for weeks, watching the crew, learning their habits, and charting their course to figure out the best time to take them. Amalia preferred to wait until they were close to land, though it was easier and safer to simply lure them into open water out at sea. She liked the challenge, but more than that, she liked to be the last thing the men saw before they died. It made her feel powerful- to know how much they wanted her and could never have her.

If it was up to you, you would wait until nightfall and sing from a distance, letting your enchanting lullaby guide the men from their beds straight into a watery grave. You didn’t take pleasure in their deaths, even if you knew it was necessary. Unnatural your sisters teased, for a Siren to have such a soft heart. Amalia never joined in with the teasing, though you knew she didn’t really understand you either. Still, she indulged you by allowing you to act as scout, and that meant you could mostly narrow down the targets to pirates and slavers, offering the fishermen and other sailors some small semblance of protection.

Whenever possible, you would scout several ships at a time, so that you could choose the one you wanted and hopefully sway Amalia towards it when you returned to discuss your findings. Unfortunately, only one ship had passed through your waters in almost a month, and although you felt it was worth saving, there was no second option.

When you met with Amalia, you thought carefully about what you had found before you spoke, deciding on the major details you should share with her and filtering out your own more personal observations.

At first glance, it had seemed like a Pirate ship, but further investigation proved that it was not. The crew was an eclectic mix of men, women, and Grisha, of various ages and races. The captain - who went by the name Sturmhond and insisted he was not a pirate, but a privateer - was young, barely out of boyhood, and yet it was clear that he commanded their respect.

He ran a tight ship, but he always treated his crew warmly and he worked alongside them often, doing his fair share of the hard work. He was rarely angry and never cruel, as far as you could tell. At night the crew would gather on the deck to drink and play cards, and he usually joined them. He didn’t seem to think himself above their company as some captains would. You watched him dance and laugh along with the others, and when he lost at cards, he always took it in good humour.

In the conversations you had overheard, the captain’s responses were measured and kind, free from judgment or scorn. Although they carried an impressive arsenal of weapons, you had witnessed no violence from him, nor any of his crew. No prisoners taken, no poor souls forced to walk the plank, no slaves bound in the hull of his ship.

He spent most of his hours working on some flying contraption and after several failed tests, you saw his joy when it actually worked. He was a good man, you had concluded. Intelligent and funny, and handsome, too. You tried to imagine Amalia’s face if you admitted that last bit out loud - she would probably think you had taken leave of your senses completely.

You bit your lip, wondering how you could persuade her to spare them, to spare him.

“Actually, I was thinking… maybe we should… let this one go,” you suggested tentatively. Might as well just be direct.

Amalia stared at you as though you had grown an extra head. “Let them go?” She said after a moment, her nose scrunching in disgust. “You think these men should live?”

“They aren’t just men,” you rushed, trying to justify yourself. “There are women on the crew, and Grisha too.”

“And?” Amalia prompted.

“And, they don’t deserve to be punished for the sins of men,” you argued, “they’re innocent.”

Amalia rolled her eyes, “They’ve chosen to take up with a pirate, have they not?”

“Privateer,” you corrected, but the moment the word was out you wished you could call it back.

Amalia narrowed her eyes suspiciously at you. “Privateer?” She echoed.

“Yes?” You squeaked, and it sounded more like a question than an answer. You cleared your throat. “Yes. He’s not a pirate, he’s a privateer, and he’s a good man, Amalia. I’ve seen it.”

Amalia laughed, “There is no such thing as a good man,” she muttered, “They are all the same. Weak-minded, arrogant, selfish creatures. They live only for violence and destruction.”

“Not him,” you said firmly. “He’s not like the others.”

“He’s exactly like the others,” she snapped, “If you gave him the chance, he would kill you without a second thought.”

“No,” you argued, “You’re wrong about him. He’s smart and kind, and good. I swear it.”

She studied you for a long moment and you tried not to fidget under her disapproving gaze. Your cheeks felt hot, and you knew you were probably blushing.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve gone and fallen in love with him!” She exclaimed finally.

You said nothing, but your silence was answer enough. You looked away, pressing your lips together. It was out there now, no point in trying to deny it.

“Foolish girl,” Amalia said, shaking her head. “There is no future for you with him, surely you must see that?”

“Of course I do,” you whispered, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill over. “But I won’t watch him die Amalia. Not this one. I can’t.��

Amalia sighed, and then she surprised you by pulling you in to a tight hug.

“Please,” you begged, voice breaking.

“There’s a storm coming,” she murmured into your hair, “I suppose we could wait it out.”

“We could?” You questioned hopefully.

“If they can survive it, on their own, then we will leave them be. That’s the best I can do.”

Relief flooded through you, and you hugged Amalia tighter. “Thank you!” You cried.

She pulled back to look at you, her expression troubled. “I know you don’t want to believe it, but men are dangerous. All men. Even your privateer,” she said seriously, hands gripping your shoulders, “So if I do this, if I let him live, it is on the condition that you agree to stay away from him. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation. You would do anything to protect him.

“You must never see him again. Not ever. Promise me,” she insisted.

“I promise,” you said, the words bitter on your tongue.

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The sea was rough, waves cresting 30ft high only to crash back down, as loud as thunder. You watched as the ship rose and fell along with them. You weren’t supposed to be here, had promised to stay away, but you couldn’t help yourself. You had to know that he would be ok. Amalia had agreed to wait until the storm had passed, but if the ship ran aground her small act of mercy wouldn’t matter.

You moved closer, letting the current sweep you towards the ship. It had to be taking on water, but so far, the crew seemed to be holding on. Once you were close enough, you watched them carefully. The Grisha who usually guided their sails spread his arms wide, fighting a losing battle against the ferocious winds. He was just a boy, and not nearly powerful enough to tame such a storm alone. A woman jumped from the lookout, rolling across the deck, and landing gracefully on her feet beside a tall man with similar features. They moved to secure the main sail, working in perfect tandem. A man in a teal coat ran from post to post, tightening the rigging and testing the knots before making his way to the helm to take the wheel. Sturmhond. His hair was plastered to his face, his clothes soaking wet. He took the wheel with both hands, pulling hard to the left, and though his expression was determined, you could sense his growing desperation.

The ship slowly began to turn, forcing the bow away from the storm. Trying to outrun it. For a moment it looked as though his plan might actually work, but then suddenly the ship listed dangerously starboard. Sturmhond struggled to right it, but it was too late. A wave crashed over the now tilted masts, snapping them clean away with a force that rolled the entire ship on to its side. It bobbed precariously for half a second, sailors clinging to the railings, before another wave hit, cracking the hull. If they weren’t taking on water before, they certainly were now. Finally, a voice called out, “ABANDON SHIP!” and the crew began leaping into the sea, frantically trying to escape the wreckage before it capsized completely.

Your eyes scanned the chaos, looking for Sturmhond. You found him clambering up one side of the railing, the ship already beginning to sink beneath his feet. He was looking around, searching for something. Checking all his crew had managed to get out. And then you saw it, at the same time he did - the Grisha crewman, hanging upside down, tangled in the remains of the rigging. The boy struggled, desperately trying to free himself, but he was stuck. Jump, you urged the privateer silently, leave him, but you already knew he wouldn’t. He turned away from the water and began climbing towards his crew mate instead. Stupid. He would never make it in time. The ship was sinking rapidly. In just a few precious seconds it would go under, and when it did, anyone still on it would be pulled under along with it.

You wanted to help him, but you knew you shouldn’t. You thought of your promise to Amalia. She would be furious if she found out you were here, even more so if you interfered. You hesitated, still watching from a safe distance as Sturmhond reached the Grisha with barely a moment to spare. He tugged a knife from his boot and cut the boy free, allowing him to drop safely into the water beneath them. The boy didn’t wait for his captain, he immediately began swimming away from the wreckage. But before Sturmhond could follow, another huge wave swept over the ship, dragging it - and him - underwater, just as you had predicted. He was going to drown.

You made a split-second decision, diving under the water to search for him. The weight of the sinking ship acted like a vacuum, sucking everything downward to the sea floor. You followed it down, but you couldn’t see him anywhere. Panic clawed at your chest. Had he made it to the surface by himself? You turned, ready to go back up, when a flash of teal and gold below you caught your eye. There. You dove back down, looping your arms under his and hauling him against you. He was limp, a heavy weight in your arms. You held him tight, swimming away from the wreckage and towards the surface as fast as you could.

When you reached the surface, you pulled him above the water line, working hard to keep you both afloat. His head lolled back on your shoulder and his eyes were closed. You weren’t sure if he was breathing, and you felt panic building again. You tried to ignore it as you headed for the shore, where you shifted quickly into human form. Once you had dragged him onto the wet sand, you laid him on his back and pressed your ear to his chest. There was no sound, no movement that suggested breathing. Maybe he swallowed too much water?

You turned his head to the side and then placed your hands over his stomach and pushed upwards, hard. Was that the right thing to do? You weren’t sure, but you thought you had seen it done before, once… maybe. Nothing happened. You tried again, and again… and again. Were you doing it wrong … or were you just too late? But then, suddenly, he was coughing up a lungful of water and gasping for breath as he came round. After a few moments he blinked his eyes open, finding you still leaning over him.

“Am I dead?” He mumbled.

“No,” you assured him. Thank the sea goddess! Overcome with emotion, you flung yourself at him, sobbing in relief. His arms closed around you hesitantly, though he surely thought you were insane - a perfect stranger, crying over him and hugging him without invitation.

The storm was over and the sea eerily still by the time the rest of his crew managed to make it to shore. You had calmed yourself, and Sturmhond was sitting up, chatting amiably with you, as if he hadn’t almost died mere minutes earlier. You learned that he had another ship, the Volkvolny, and he cheerfully informed you that really, the storm had done him a favour, because he hadn’t liked the other one all that much anyway. It was nothing short of a miracle that everyone had survived the wreckage with only minimal injuries, and that put them all in a remarkably good mood considering the circumstances. Sturmhond introduced you to the crew, and casually insisted you join them at the local tavern, to dry off and have a strong drink, or two.

As you got to your feet, you caught sight of Amalia at the far side of the shore. Too far away to really make out her features, but you could imagine the look of disappointment on her face. You had broken the promise you made her, and worse than that, here you were walking and talking with humans as though you were old friends. To top it all off, you had committed a cardinal sin amongst Sirens - you had saved a man’s life. You had chosen a man over your sisters, and no matter how much Amalia loved you, this was the one thing she could not forgive.

At the tavern, you quickly discovered that Sturmhond and his crew were a lively, friendly bunch. You were treated as the guest of honour since you had saved the captain’s life, and they welcomed you with open arms. So, when they planned to move to the Volkvolny, and asked if you wanted to come along, you agreed to go with them.

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It was far easier than you would have expected for you to adjust to your new life aboard the Volkvolny. You found that you had watched enough Sailors over the years to pick up some of the basics and luckily you hit it off with Tamar, who quickly took you under her wing, teaching you the more advanced skills. You listened to endless hours of poetry readings from Tolya, and in exchange he offered to teach you how to fight. In fact, most of the crew accepted you readily. In truth, a lot of the men had just been so enthralled by your ethereal beauty that they were half in love with you at first sight, and the fact that you had saved their captain’s life had been enough to endear you to the rest.

All except for one woman, a young Grisha heartrender named Laila who seemed set on hating you no matter how hard you tried to befriend her. Tamar said it was jealousy - Laila wanted to be the captains favourite but he had never shown any interest in her, and now with you around, he likely never would. You tried not to let it bother you, but you were worried that she might sense something was different about you and early one morning she confirmed your fears when she cornered you in the galley, pushing you up against the wall.

“I’m on to you,” she hissed, “you’re hiding something and I’m going to figure out what it is.”

You played it cool, pretending you had no idea what she meant, and though you briefly considered throwing her overboard, you ultimately decided it was too risky. Instead, you did your best to avoid her at all times, at least as much as you could avoid someone living in such close proximity, and you became an expert at hiding in plain sight.

The bond you had formed with Sturmhond as a result of saving his life grew into a fully-fledged friendship, and then, into something sweeter. Over time, you found yourself sharing his bed as well as his company, and once he trusted you enough to reveal his true identity - Nikolai Lantsov, royal spare to the Ravkan throne - you were moved into the captain’s quarters permanently.

You missed Amalia and being on the sea everyday but never in it, was its own special kind of torture, but you had made your choice and you would do it all over again in a heartbeat. You would choose him, always, whatever the cost. So, you vowed never to use your power again, if it only meant you could keep this new life, if it meant you could keep him. But of course, nothing was ever that simple.

You had been on the Volkvolny for almost a year when it finally happened…

The crew were gathered in a loose circle on the lower deck, chatting and sharing several bottles of liquor, relaxing after a long day. You followed Nikolai down the steps to join them and when he took the only empty seat, you didn’t hesitate to drop yourself into his lap. A chorus of wolf whistles and hooting erupted from the crew around you.

“Perverts,” you muttered, giving them the middle finger and they all laughed.

Nikolai looped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. You leaned against him, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, content to just be close to him while the crew drank and talked around you. You joined the conversation only when spoken to directly and luckily no one noticed your contemplative mood, as they all got steadily drunker and rowdier as the night went on. At some point, someone started singing a sea shanty and one by one the rest of the crew joined in, happy and loud, and painfully off-key. You smiled and clapped along, but otherwise stayed quiet. Laila was watching you carefully from across the circle.

“You’re not singing,” she said suddenly, and you were sure you weren’t imagining the accusation in her tone.

“Oh, no one wants to hear my singing,” you laughed nervously, waving her off, “honestly I’m terrible.”

She narrowed her eyes at you. “You can’t be that bad. Come on, just sing a few lines,” she pushed.

You shifted uncomfortably on Nikolai’s lap. His hand tightened on your waist, and you knew he was listening. You struggled to think of another excuse. “I- umm…”

“Leave her alone,” Tamar interjected, and you flashed her a grateful smile for coming to your rescue. “She doesn’t have to sing if she doesn’t want to.”

“But she never wants to sing,” Laila muttered petulantly, “don’t you think that’s odd?”

“What’s odd is you insisting she does,” Nikolai said, an unmistakable edge to his voice. “Let it go Laila.”

Laila flushed at the reprimand. She reluctantly fell silent again, but she was glaring at the drink in her hands, her expression murderous. Silence stretched awkwardly for a few seconds, until Tolya thankfully broke it by producing a deck of cards and starting a game.

You declined to play, and as the cards were dealt you turned your attention away. Through the gaps in the railings, you could see the miles of deep blue sea that stretched all the way to the horizon, and you felt a familiar pull, calling you home. You closed your eyes as you inhaled deeply, letting the salty air fill your lungs. Home. You would never be truly at home here, on this ship, and that thought filled you with sadness. You thought of Amalia, and you wondered if she missed you, the way that you missed her.

You were pulled from your reverie by Nikolai shifting beneath you. He leaned over you to throw his cards down on the table, declaring he was bowing out of the game and then he sat back, pulling you further into his lap.

“Everything alright, my love?” He asked quietly, his lips brushing your ear. You pushed away your melancholy, turning your head so you could look at him.

��Yes,” you murmured, and you meant it. You wanted to be here, with him, no matter how much you might miss home.

“Thinking about how absurdly handsome I am?” He waggled his eyebrows at you, and you laughed.

“No, but I was thinking about you,” you admitted, “about how I ended up here.”

“Ah, so you’re thinking about the time you saved my life then. No wonder you looked so serious.”

“Which time?” You mused, teasing him, “There are so many, I think I’ve lost count.”

Nikolai gasped, all faux outrage. “Once.” He insisted, “It was one time.”

“If you say so,” you smiled indulgently as he leaned in to kiss you, slow and deep, his hand cupping your jaw. The whistling and jeering immediately started up again. You pulled away, rolling your eyes at the crew’s antics.

Nikolai sighed. “For Saints sake,” he grumbled, but he sounded more fond than angry.

When you looked up, Laila was glaring at you. She fixed a smile on her face as you met her gaze, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“I’ve been thinking,” She said loudly, gaining everyone’s attention, “what exactly happened, the night you joined us? We’ve never heard your side of the story.”

Had she figured it out? You tried to keep your expression as neutral as possible, but you had stared at her for a beat too long, and now everyone was looking at you, waiting for your answer.

“There’s really not much to tell,” you said carefully.

“Don’t be so modest,” Laila said, her smile sharp, “you saved the Captain’s life after all, and I want to hear every detail.”

Your heart pounded. You should have pushed her overboard when you had the chance. As you tried to come up with a plausible story, the ship was suddenly engulfed in a thick fog.

After that, everything happened so quickly that you barely understood it. One moment you were sailing in open water, the night clear and still, and the next, you were dodging gunfire in near blindness, as men appeared from nowhere and swarmed the ship. The crew fought valiantly, but you were outnumbered and outmatched by a pair of the most powerful Grisha you had ever encountered. You had heard rumours about the drug jurda parem, and now it seemed you were seeing it’s effects first hand. All around you was chaos and you couldn’t keep track of anything. Before long, most of your crew were injured and eventually, all of them captured.

The fog dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, and then there was Nikolai - bleeding, gagged and bound - forced to his knees on the deck of his own ship.

A man grabbed you from behind, holding you against his body with an arm around your waist and a hand twisting painfully in your hair. Nikolai tried to call out as he caught sight of you and your captors laughed.

“Looks like we’ve found the captain’s whore,” one of the men chuckled.

The one holding you ran his hand up from your waist to roughly grab at your breast. You held perfectly still, you weren’t going to give these animals the satisfaction of a reaction, but Nikolai struggled against his bonds, and the man standing over him backhanded him hard across the face. He swayed on his knees, the force of the blow almost knocking him over, and blood trickled from the fresh wound at his temple. The men began talking amongst themselves, loudly detailing all the disgusting things they would enjoy doing to you later.

“Don’t worry,” Nikolai’s captor taunted him, “we’ll let you watch.”

Nikolai struggled again, cold rage clear in his eyes as the men laughed. For a brief moment, he managed to get to his feet, but that only gave his captor an excuse to hit him again, and again, until he slumped to the floor, and when you screamed in protest, the men laughed harder, enjoying your misery.

These men were going to die today, you decided, and you would not show them the mercy of a quick death.

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and started to sing. At first the men only looked at each other in confusion, but as your melody continued, they gradually fell under your spell, their eyes glazing over. You tried your best to focus only on them, but it wasn’t an exact science, so your crew also felt the effects. Conveniently, they were all bound and so had little chance of hurting themselves.

You concentrated on the Grisha first since they were the biggest threat, followed by the rest of the men. At your instruction, they turned as one, and forming an orderly line, walked to the side of the ship before binding their own hands and feet together. Then they clambered up onto the railing, and one by one, threw themselves into the water, like lemmings leaping off a cliff. You saved the man who had smacked Nikolai for last, and before he jumped, had him stab himself with his own blade several times, just for good measure.

Once the last man entered the water, you stood at the railing, feeling a perverse sense of satisfaction as you watched them trying, and failing, to fight against their bonds in an effort to return to you. You watched each one slowly begin to sink beneath the water, and only once you were sure there would be no chance that any of them might survive, did you stop singing and move away. When it was done, you set about releasing your crew from their bindings and tending to their wounds as best you could. They were groggy from the after-effects of your song, and it took some hours for everyone to fully come around. No one could really remember what had happened, and you pretended not to know either. You could only cross your fingers and hope that no one realized the truth of what you had done.

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Nikolai was quiet in the aftermath, and though he put up a good front for the rest of the crew, you could tell he was shaken by what had happened. Once everyone was attended to, he announced he was going to his office and he took your hand, pulling you along with him. You followed him to the captain’s quarters in silence.

He let you enter first and you heard the soft click of the lock as he closed the door behind him. You perched yourself on the edge of his desk as you waited for him, but when he turned, he leaned back against the door instead of coming closer. His face was set, his eyes hard, and you knew that he had finally figured out your secret. Honestly, you were surprised it had taken him this long, you had always known it was only a matter of time. You watched him carefully, but you said nothing, waiting for him to speak first.

“You’re a Siren,” he said finally.

You nodded your head in answer, even though he hadn’t phrased it as a question. He stared at you for a long moment, and you could almost hear the cogs turning in his mind, mulling over the many questions he must have. Eventually he seemed to settle on one.

“How many innocent men have you killed?” He asked.

“Innocent?” You huffed, “None.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, “But you have lured men to their deaths, haven’t you?”

“I have.” You conceded. He knew what you were now, there was no reason to lie.

“So? How many?” He pressed. “You must have some idea.” He crossed his arms over his chest, closing himself off to you.

“I didn’t exactly keep a tally,” you muttered.

“Tell me,” He demanded, “Dozens? Hundreds? Thousands?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, suddenly unable to meet his gaze, “I can’t remember them all.”

“Those men had lives and families,” he said, outraged, “they were someone’s father, brother, son, and you don’t even remember them?!”

You felt your own temper beginning to rise and you struggled to keep your voice even. “They were Slavers. Murderers and Pirates. They were the worst kind of men.”

“You don’t know that!” He argued, “What right did you have to judge them?”

“I’m a Siren,” you reminded him, “It’s what I was born to do. I followed them first, watched them, saw what kind of men they were with my own eyes. I only ever took the bad ones.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “So now you expect me to believe Sirens follow some kind of moral code?”

“Not all Sirens, but I expect you to believe that I do.”

“How am I to believe anything you say” he scoffed, “You’ve been lying to me since the day we met.”

“I didn’t lie to you, not really. Everything I told you about myself was true. I just omitted one small detail.”

He laughed, but there was no humour in it. “I think we have a vastly different understanding of the word small,” he muttered, “and a lie by omission is still a lie.”

He wasn’t wrong, but … “You lied to me too, Sturmhond.”

He straightened, no longer leaning against the door, but still kept the distance between you. “That’s hardly the same!” He protested.

“Isn’t it?”

“Not at all,” he huffed, “besides, I told you the truth once I thought I could trust you. Although clearly, I was mistaken.”

“You can trust me,” you insisted. “In case you’ve forgotten, I saved your life - twice. You’re welcome, by the way!”

He didn’t look convinced. “That first night, when you rescued me, were you watching the ship? Just waiting for an opportunity to kill us all?”

“No! I mean, yes - I watched you for a while, but I was never going to lure you. I convinced my sister to let you go,” you rushed, desperately trying to explain, “I promised to stay away from you and in return Amalia agreed that they wouldn’t go after you, if you survived the storm on your own.”

“But we didn’t,” he said, brow furrowed in confusion. “The ship sank and I almost drowned.”

“I remember. I was there when the storm hit. I saw you save the boy who was trapped in the rigging, and when you went under, I came after you.”

“I don’t understand. If you promised to stay away from me then why were you there?” He asked, frown deepening.

“I just needed to be know you would be alright,” you admitted softly, “I wasn’t supposed to help you.”

“I don’t suppose many Sirens would go out of their way to save a man from drowning,” he said, mouth curving into a wry smile.

“No. It goes against their nature. But you decided to act the hero and almost got yourself killed in the process,” you muttered angrily, “so I had to choose, and I chose you, even though I knew my sisters would never forgive me.”

“So, you really did save my life? That was real?”

“Yes. Everything between us has been real for me, I swear it,” you said earnestly, “I gave up everything for you.”

He moved towards you then, coming to stand over you where you were still sitting on the edge of his desk, and you widened your thighs to allow him in between them. He was so close that you had to tilt your head back to look at him. You closed your hands in to fists, fighting the urge to reach for him.

“And tonight?” He asked, “Did you kill those men?”

You could have lied, or pretended not to remember what happened, but you didn’t want there to be anymore secrets between you. “I did,” you confessed, meeting his eyes. You weren’t ashamed of what you had done. “and I would do it again if I had to. They would have killed you.”

“You’re not sorry,” he said, and you wondered if he wanted you to be.You thought about it for a moment, but when you closed your eyes, you could still see him on his knees. No. You weren’t sorry at all.

“They got what they deserved,” you hissed, “and the world is a better place without them in it.”

He gave a short, sharp nod of his head in agreement, and you smiled. Whatever he thought of you, he understood this at least.

“Tell me why,” he said, lifting a hand to brush your hair back from your face. “Why did you save me?”

“Because I love you,” you answered honestly, leaning into his touch when his hand lingered. “I loved you then and I love you now, even if you don’t feel the same.”

He dropped his hand, taking a single step back and you had to stop yourself from swaying forward, chasing the physical connection.

“How do I know that my feelings for you are truly my own? That you’re not influencing me somehow?”

“In what way?”

“I don’t know,” he said, “by using your Siren powers to manipulate me? To seduce me? How do I know you’re not just making me think I’m in love with you.”

“Are you?” You asked hopefully, “In love with me?”

He looked away. “Maybe,” he hedged.

“Well, Siren power doesn’t work that way. My song inspires lust-addled obsession, blind desire, unwavering obedience - not love.”

He stared at you for what felt like an eternity, considering your answer. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth as he studied you, and suddenly all you could think about was how much you wanted to kiss him.

“Okay.” He said finally. He stepped closer, into your personal space again, but frustratingly kept his hands to himself.

“Okay?”

“Yes. I believe you,” he said, “but you still should have told me. I had the right to know that the woman I’m sleeping with, the woman I fell in love with is a-“

“A monster?” You finished for him. You knew what men thought of creatures like you.

He glared at you. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“That’s not what you were going to say?” You asked, feigning innocence.

“No.” He said firmly.

“Mmm,” you hummed skeptically. “So you’re not afraid of me?”

He blinked at you, as though the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. “Should I be?”

“Well, a little bit couldn’t hurt,” you teased.

He shook his head exasperatedly, but he was smiling now, that perfect crooked smile that never failed to make your heart skip a beat. He put his hands around your waist, finally, pulling you into him and you fisted your hands in his shirt to keep him there. He lowered his head at the same time that you tilted yours up, and your lips ghosted over each other, close enough to share a breath but not quite touching.

“I have one last question,” he said, and you bit back a sigh. For saints sake, what else could he possibly want to know?

“Have you ever used your power to seduce me?”

You squinted at him, trying to decide if he was saying you might need to use your power to seduce him. You felt a flush of annoyance at the suggestion. “No,” you said carefully, “should I?”

He shook his head, no. “I already want you,” he admitted.

“Good,” you smiled, “because I want you too. All the time.”

The corner of his mouth tipped up into a pleased little smirk. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, leaning into him, and this time he kissed you for real, his lips soft but insistent against your own, not pulling away until you were both breathless.

“I’m still angry with you,” he said, when he finally succumbed to the need for air, “for lying to me.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, and you meant it.

“I know,” he said and then he dipped his head to kiss you again.

He brought his hand up to cup your face, the other still gripping your waist as you opened your mouth to him. He took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tangling his tongue with your own and every time you pulled back, he only allowed you to draw a single, ragged breath before he claimed your lips again.

One of his hands ran up your side from your waist, until his thumb grazed the swell of your breast over the thin cotton of your shirt, and you shivered, leaning into his touch. You could feel his growing arousal against your thigh, and you were suddenly overwhelmed by the need to feel his bare skin against your own. You tugged his shirt free from his breeches, pulling it up and off over his head before he could protest.

He immediately slanted his mouth over yours again, as if he couldn’t bear to be parted from you for more than a few seconds, and you let your hands roam over his broad shoulders and chest, before you worked on removing your own shirt. Your fingers slipped over the small buttons, and you growled in frustration, breaking away from his kiss so that you could see what you were doing. He made a sound of irritation, ducking his head to nip lightly at the curve of your neck and you gasped, your shirt momentarily forgotten as you grabbed a fistful of his hair instead. He groaned low in his throat when you pulled him closer rather than pushing him away, and he nipped at you again, teeth grazing your pulse point, this time hard enough to leave a mark. You moaned as his tongue flicked out to sooth the sting and you felt his lips turn up into a self-satisfied smirk against your skin.

When you finally succeeded in unbuttoning your shirt, you reached around your back to unhook your bra and removed that along with it, and then you dropped your hands to the laces of his breeches before he could distract you again. He finally realized your goal then, and began to help, rather than hinder you, pushing his breeches and underwear down to his ankles so that he could kick them away. You stood so that you could do the same and once you were both naked, he lifted you back up, so you were sitting on the edge of his desk again.

You leaned back on your hands, and he dipped his head, capturing one pebbled nipple with his tongue. You arched your back, pushing your breast further into his mouth as his fingers skated along your inner thigh towards your centre. He gave a small grunt of satisfaction when he found you slick and ready for him and you threaded your fingers through his hair, tugging him upwards until he released your nipple with a soft pop.

He slipped two fingers inside you easily, and when you clenched around him, he let out a distinctly strangled sound. You met his gaze as you sat up, so you could hook your legs around his thighs, locking your ankles behind his ass to keep him there, and you enjoyed the way his eyes fluttered closed and his breath hitched as his cock settled between your thighs, so close to where you wanted him. You tilted your hips up, and he took the hint, guiding himself into place and filling you completely with one quick, hard thrust that had you crying out.

You clutched at him desperately, barely able to do anything but hold on as he set a punishing pace, driving his hips forward fast and hard, only to retreat, again, and again, until you were both panting. His hands gripped your hips so hard that you knew there would be finger shaped bruises there tomorrow. The desk creaked loudly, almost drowning out your mutual sounds of pleasure, the sturdy wooden frame rocking beneath you with the force of his thrusts.

His face was buried in your neck, and you tugged impatiently on his hair as you felt the first tendrils of your impending orgasm began to creep up your spine, until he lifted his head so that you could capture his mouth with yours. He slipped his hand between your bodies as he felt you tightening around him, his clever fingers finding your clit and tipping you over the edge into climax with just a few precise movements. You cried out his name, convulsing around him as you came, your hand tightening in his hair so hard that it must have been painful, and you felt his rhythm falter. He thrust harder, pushing as deep as he could possibly go, once, twice, three times, then he stilled and shuddered, spilling himself inside you.

You all but collapsed against each other, both boneless and breathing heavily in the aftermath of your orgasms. He was the first to recover, and he pressed a sloppy kiss to your temple as he straightened, retreating from your body. He moved over to the basin near the bed, dipping a clean cloth into the water and wringing it out before returning. His hands were gentle, in stark contrast to how rough he had been minutes before and you tried not to wince as he carefully cleaned away the sticky remnants of your shared release, but his observant eyes caught it anyway. He pressed a finger under your chin to gently tilt your head up.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked, face creased in concern.

“No,” you answered, much too quickly.

He raised his eyebrows at you, his expression disbelieving.

“I’m a little bit sore,” you reluctantly admitted.

His face dropped into a scowl, and you knew he was angry at himself for being so rough with you.

“I’m ok,” you assured him, brushing your fingers across his forehead to smooth away his frown.

He searched your face, looking for any sign that you might not be telling the truth and you met his gaze, your expression loving and completely open. He rested his forehead against yours, peering down at you through his lashes.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said after a moment, and you knew he wasn’t just talking about right now.

“Never again,” you promised.

“Okay.” He said softly.

He leaned in to kiss you, sweet and chaste, just a slow glide of his lips over yours before pulling back to slide one arm underneath you and the other around your back. You squealed as he scooped you up, bridal style, so that he could carry you over to the bed. He pulled back the covers with one hand and then lowered you down and crawled in beside you, immediately curling his body around you.

You tried to relax into his embrace, but you couldn’t, not when there was still so much you needed to talk about. You were afraid to bring it up, too scared to hear him say that this was the last time you could be together, so you waited until his breathing began to even out and he was almost asleep before you forced yourself to speak.

“What happens now?” You asked quietly.

“Huh?” He mumbled sleepily.

“With us,” you elaborated, “do you want me to leave?”

“What? No.” He said, suddenly sounding much more alert, “Of course not.”

He rolled on to his back and you turned to face him, propping yourself up on your elbow so that you could look at him.

“What will you tell the crew?”

“Nothing,” he said simply, and though you should have been relieved, you only felt more anxious.

“But Laila is already suspicious,” you pointed out, “and Tolya and Tamar are too sharp not to figure it out eventually.”

“Then we’ll tell them the truth.”

“They won’t want me on this ship when they find out what I am, Nikolai.”

“Last time I checked, I was the captain,” he smirked, “I decide who I do, and don’t allow on my own ship.”

“Don’t be stupid, it doesn’t suit you,” you grumbled, “You’ll end up with a mutiny on your hands.”

“Then we’ll leave,” he said easily, as if it was the most obvious solution.

“Leave?” You repeated, not sure you had understood.

He shrugged, seemingly completely unbothered by the idea. “I was always going to have to go home eventually.”

“You can’t just leave. You love this ship!” You protested.

“I do,” he said, turning on his side so that you were face to face, “but I love you more. It’s my turn to give something up. If it comes down to it, I’ll choose you, always.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. Hadn’t you just been thinking that very same thought earlier? He leaned in to kiss you, slow and achingly sweet, and all of your protests died on your tongue. He nudged you gently to turn over, pulling you back against him and wrapping his arm around you, so that you could be the little spoon as you finally went to sleep.

#nikolai lantsov #grishaverse #shadow and bone #nikolai lanstov x reader #smut #my writing #i wrote this #patrick gibson #i love him so much #zoya is my queen but not in this fic

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