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#Ah Sea of Thieves
cowyolks · 5 months
Note
I would like to make a request
Knight Soap X Princess Reader. I've been dying for it. The King König is amazing!
AN OATH OF ROSE BRIAR
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Pairing: Knight! John ‘Soap’ MacTavish x Female!Princess! Reader
Prompt: It was always nightfall when he’d sneak into your chambers, yearning for love that tears apart at the seams. You didn’t know forbidden love could taste so divinely sweet.
Words: 6.8 K
Warnings: Violence, Gore, Graves is a creep, smut, p in v sex, oral sex (receiving), fingering, creampie, unprotected sex, hint of voyeurism.
A/n: don’t come at me for the action scenes, I know they’re bad lmao. Otherwise I’m proud of this, even though it took me years.
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“Hold your breathe, My Lady.” A sharp tug pulled against your waist, securing your corset even tighter to your body, almost like a second skin. You’d been exclusively told you had to look perfect this week, as your father, the King, was inviting possible suitors for you.
It left an irony and rotten taste in your mouth.
You’d lifted your arms, feeling the soft and thick fabric of your crimson dress fall over the enlarged swells of your breasts and hips. It was gorgeous, laced and embroidered with golden roses. Gold jewelry proudly sat at the hollow of your throat and smooth skin of your wrists.
The maids had done well making you look the part. It was just a shame all of this was in vain. You’d never love any of your potential suitors, for there was already a man that had thieved your affections and ran with it like a sly fox.
And it just so happened he was someone you could never have. Ah, forbidden love.
A sharp tug on your scalp alerted you of the busy hands weaving your ruby crusted diadem over your temples. They’d spritzed your body in perfume and oils, using berries to bring out the plumpness of your lips. You felt beautiful, but a type of beautiful that would burn if you stood too close.
A knock on your chamber door startled you from your daydream.
“The King has requested your presence at the harbor docks, Princess.” His voice warmed your very soul and burned your beating organ. There was no possible way he didn’t know the true affect of his voice, his body, his affection. It was killing you from the inside out.
He was a spectacle.
In the eyes of the public he was Ser MacTavish, first of his name, and knight of the Royal Guard. To you, under the cloak of darkness and seclusion, you referred to him as John, chanting his name as you panted against his lips. He made you feel good, a rush of freedom and adoration that pooled in your gut like rolling waves.
Your maids stepped away, offering you tight and practiced curtesies as you thanked them with a smile. You shifted closer to the heavy door, one of your ladies in waiting pushing the door open.
You adjusted to the gentle summer sun, squinting in the rays and enjoying the balmy warmth of the air. Breeze blew from the Sea, fluttering your hair laced with pearls and beads.
A shift of metal drew your attention to your knight, someone who swore an oath to your father to protect him. Instead, he settled on protecting you, being your main guard and secretive lover. John stood tall and proud in his chainmail, your house crest displayed across his chest.
He had his helmet off, the piece of armor hanging loosely in the crook of his arm. He had a passive expression on his features, but you could tell by the look in his eyes that he was dreading this day as much as you.
You would be married off in less than a week, still you couldn’t help but look at him with greedy infatuation. He’d shaved for the occasion, jaw sharp and shining. His rosy lips contrasted the tanned richness of his skin. Even his eyes, the color of the restless sky, shone in sheer strength and power. His high rank was exposed through the gold beads and occasional shells that were braided through his ebony hair. The middle part was much longer than the sides. He always clipped it after a victory, and you’d never known him to have grown it out.
“Good Morn, Princess.” His deep voice twanged with the lit of his accent, making slight goosebumps ripple through your skin.
“How do you do, Ser?” You stepped forward, falling into step beside him as the two of you climbed down the steps to the bay. Gulls called out from above for their partners, stooping downwards to feed their young.
“Been better, I have. The lady I love will soon love another.” He muttered, hands clenching at his side with what you could detect as wretched jealousy. You noted he was just as miserable about your arrangement as you were. At least he still had his oath—nothing would change there. But you, you would bear a blood bond to your potential suitor. To obey him and provide him with heirs.
You felt bile rise up your throat just thinking about it.
“I doubt she will ever love anyone more than you.” You admitted, knowing then by the twinkle in his eyes it satisfied and gutted him at the same time. The scent of saltwater and seaside jasmine flooded your nostrils as John led you to your father, who was patiently awaiting for the approaching ships.
Ships of different houses, all set upon winning your hand. There would be a festival held all week, the kingdom was already decorated in crimson silks and glowing lanterns for the occasion. It would be beautiful, if it wasn’t for such horrible terms. With the festivals came the games. It was always fun to see the men compete in such activities despite the reason.
You distinctly remember watching the flex of your knight’s biceps and thighs as he tossed a caber the farthest and had won. Pride surged through your veins that day, and you made sure to reward him in the dim glowing light of your chambers.
Now, your suitors would compete for your hand. While it wasn’t necessarily determined that the winner of said games would earn your hand, it was more so a tool to help decide. The Royal Court and your father would pick the best with the most assets.
The only saving grace of this tournament was the fact that several knights under your Father’s command could compete as well. Not for your hand, but just to show the strength of your kingdom. Your eyes would be on your John, as they always would be.
Your knight stopped in front of your father, bowing his head low with one hand clutching the iron hilt of his impressive sword. You performed your own curtesy, gold jewelry clashing together as you moved.
“Daughter…aren’t you the prettiest gem in the Kingdom.” And isn’t that just what you are? A shiny object meant to barter away.
“Thank you, Your Grace.” You spoke clearly, something you were taught at a young age.
“Come here,” Your father gestured to the docking ships. You stepped forward, just as John stepped backwards, always one to watch your back. You could feel his fiery stare bouncing on the bare skin of your spine. Attempting to hide the rush of blood flowing to your cheeks, your eyes pinpointed the rush of banners heading down the enormous dock.
All your potential suitors came from the East, a district called Kortac. The land was split into three countries, all ruled by different Kings.
First, there was King Kim, dubbed Horangi. Most referred to him as the Tiger King, for his ruthlessness in battle that was reminded of a big cat. You’d met him before, he was respectable and kind despite those rumors, but he certainly wasn’t your John.
Then there was King Philip, while he was definitely pretty, you’d only heard bad about the wealthy King. He was the richest of all, as he had his own battalion deemed his shadows. You met his eyes slowly, almost immediately picking up on the greedy gleam of it. It made you shiver thinking of marrying him.
Lastly, was the most mysterious of the three. You didn’t even know his full name, just that everyone referred to him as König. He covered his face, although it didn’t stop the stares. Anyone would be drawn to a man of his massive structure. You’d never met him, but you’d heard how he fought alongside his soldiers, as if he didn’t give a damn about his Royal status.
Your father held his arms out wide, almost as if he was hugging his whole kingdom. “Welcome! It’s an honor to host your districts in hopes of winning my lovely daughter’s hand. You all must be tired from your journey, my guards will show you to your chambers. Rest up, because tonight will be our first game that the princess has the honor of choosing!”
All eyes settled upon your pampered form, making you shift slightly from all the attention. Subtly your eyes met John’s— what was he the best at? You wracked your mind quickly. He was a simple stable boy once upon a time, someone who loved horses and worked hard for the hope of something better. He was tall and strong, quick and witty. You thought of the callous on his hands, from hours of wielding metal and clutching reins. Yes, you had it.
“I chose jousting.” You exclaimed, not noticing the wicked smirk that wound its way across John’s lips. Cheers and war cries broke out amongst the men and common folk, all of them excited to watch the entertainment.
“Excellent! The games begin tonight before the feast to honor the princess.” Your father informed before clapping once as his guards escorted him to his chambers. John approached you again, bowing politely in show of all the new eyes.
“Back to your chambers, princess?” He asked, eyes flickering every once and a while. He looked stiffer than normal, ever the vigilant force at your side. You could tell he didn’t like all these outsiders, specifically around you.
“No, not yet. I feel like going on a walk through the gardens.” You’d always found solstice around the sweet smelling rows of briar and petal.
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Afternoon bled into evening. And with the evening time came the air of excitement. You’d been fiddling with a strand of crimson fabric, the ribbon twisting between your digits absentmindedly.
You tilted your head behind you, wishful stare settling upon your guard, who walked several paces behind. He was dressed in full armor now, the helmet covering the soft flesh of his neck and head. Dark hair still curled out the bottom, whipping around against his tanned neck.
Your eyes flickered around, spotting no one in the private gardens. Still, you cautiously shuffled into the shade and privacy of the marble pavilion, a place where you and your knight’s lips locked and fiery touches met before. John knew to follow you, his form barely making a sound despite the heavy armor.
“Princess?” He uttered, eyes full of what only could be described as pure want and adoration.
You surged forward, lips immediately settling upon his own. A large arm wrapped upon your waist, pulling you off your feet and into his scent and warmth. His bottom lip parted, allowing his tongue to swelteringly lick across your own. You parted for air, a string of saliva connecting the two of you before it broke away.
“Please win tonight.” You begged, knowing that it would mean nothing despite the victory. John had sworn an oath— an oath that sealed his fate. No children, no wife, no lands. He’d have his head on a chopping block if anyone caught him.
“Aye, I’ll do just that, flower.” He swore, smothering eyes falling downwards to your moving hands at his chest. The scarlet ribbon you fiddled with snaked it’s way under armor. You’d tied the knot against the loose end of his tunic, your personal favor. The pads of your fingers brushed his chest, feeling the strong thudding of his heart.
He had your favor, your love, your time all symbolized in that red piece of fabric.
“Go,” you whispered, nodding towards the south, where the growing arena was likely filling up with spectators. He nodded his head once, grasping onto your hand that still stubbornly clung to his chest. He pressed a gentle kiss upon your knuckles.
“Goodbye for now.”
You watched him leave, following the horizon to the stables, where his mare awaited. You’d rushed down to the stands, keeping your head covered and away from prying eyes. After shifting pass several soldiers you collapsed down into the forged steel of your throne, similar to your father’s.
He’d been waiting for you, a disappointing look crossing his features.
“Why were you late?”
“I lost track of time in the gardens. You know how much I love the roses.” You excused, hoping it was enough for your father to put on his act of King and host again. He hummed, before standing. The audience immediately dropped volume upon the gesture of the King.
“Let the games begin!”
Loud uproars broke out though the area, cheers and shouts for their own kings escaping the many districts. You stayed seated, straightening out the sheer fabric of your gown.
A large black Stallion trotted proudly into the area, a knight with gleaming armor the color of obsidian upon the saddle. John’s second in command, Ser Simon. Some called him the Ghost, for his shifty speed and impressive strength in battle. He nodded to your father beyond his visor, shouldering the large lance he held.
His opponent’s horse moved forward as well, a buckskin shire so large you could almost hear it’s thundering steps. Large horse for a large man—König shouldered his lance with precision. You had no doubts he could out muscle Simon, but the Ghost certainly held fast in his speed and intelligence. König’s armor was coppery in color, long since used and well worn in his victories. It was admirable in a queasy kind of way.
A bugle sounded to your left, kick starting the joust with a burst of added cheers.
You watched as Simon’s horse reared excitedly, happy to speed towards the oncoming opponent in long strides. You watched as the Ghost twisted his shield, jamming König’s lance narrowly, avoiding splinters to his chest. You let out a breath as the two made it to the opposite ends unscathed.
The two approached again, this time Ghost was on the offense, shifting his shield before jabbing his lance in the opposite direction that caught König on his arm between the subtle crease of his armor.
Cheers erupted from your own subjects, chanting out the name “Ghost” over and over, with a thumb up, your father declared Ghost the winner.
Next was King Graves and Horangi. A match you were looking forward to as much as watching paintings dry. But alas, you had to look interested for they were your suitors.
Horangi looked on with flashing intelligence, something you admired greatly. If he could think quickly, he’d know that Graves’ left side was always weakly guarded and possibly strike there.
The first bugle sounded, allowing Graves to lead off first with his expensive looking mare. Horangi took off a second later, visor dark and covering the movement of his eyes. The two flew forward, speeding pass with no damage done.
The crowd cheered as Graves boasted from the opposite side, his raised arms making your nose wrinkle in disgust.
The second bugle sounded, this time Horangi was faster, shouldering his shield in determined might. His lance favored and aimed to Graves side, which he narrowly missed after the wealthy king twisted away. The crowd bursted into relieving calls, while the other half sighed in disappointment.
Finally, the last horn blew, and with gaining speed, Horangi aimed to Graves’ unprotected side again, but with a dirty trick, Graves juked his lance to the side, then with a vicious twist brought his shield straight onto the nose of Horangi, essentially flattening him and having the Tiger King fold to the ground with a wounded puff.
It was dirty, but essentially fair. It made unease reside in your gut as your father held up a thumb for King Graves’ victory. Cheers and boos broke out, making you shrink back in your seat with a huff. But then, your eyes caught on the sapphire blues of your knight. He rode on his fiery mare dubbed Themis, tribute to Justice. She was a handsome bay that loved when you gave her sugar cubes in the seclusion of the stables.
John would take on the Ghost. A battle that you knew would be entertaining and competitive, yet harmless. No ill intention would breakout among the knights, that you were sure of.
John rode to his side with a determined exhale, gripping his lance tightly as Themis pawed the dirt in anticipation. The bugle sounded as you shuffled to the edge of your seat, resisting the urge to worriedly bite your lip. He clicked his tongue, urging Themis into a speedy canter as he maneuvered his body in the right position.
Simon, who definitely owned the strength, brought himself tightly together, using his blunt force to push John’s lance away with his shield. The audience sighed in anticipation as the two knights rode to the opposite side unscathed. Under their visors, you could see the hints of amused smiles. At least they were having some competing fun.
The next round started, this time with John taking up a defensive position instead of offensive. Simon aimed his lance at John’s armored chest, anticipating that he’d block with his shield. Themis galloped onwards, huffing steaming smoke like a fiery dragon.
With a heave, Simon thrusted the lance inwards just as John brought his shield up a few inches. Then, with a lightening quick speed, he lowered it again, shoving his lance instead into Simon’s side, effectively teetering his balance. The Ghost fell with grace, landing on his feet in a disappointed dull thud. You resisted the urge to cheer too loudly as your John circled, a fist pumped in honorable victory.
Your father held his thumb up to John, likely the only approval he’d ever receive from the King. You only wish he’d approve of you wanting John’s hand. But Princesses weren’t people, they were tools of power. A simple pawn in the decade game of chess.
The tourney was drawing to an end— just John and Graves left in the competition. You’d completely dropped your resolve, chewing upon your lip as King Graves pranced out on his horse again.
There was a dangerous look in his eye, something that made your stomach spin in knots for your John. Regardless, your own knight held a hard and determined scowl, his chest likely breathing in pure desperation for a victory.
The deafening horn blew again, and John took off in a thunderous offense. He looked calm and collected, ever the cool demeanor when it came to a fight. Themis whinnied in disappointment as both lances missed their marks respectfully, making you let out an exhale you didn’t know you were holding.
Time sped up, your own surroundings moving much faster than your panicked thoughts. The next thing you knew, Themis was squealing, rearing up on her hind legs as John scrambled for a tighter hold on her reins. But you knew your John, your sweet, selfless, passionate John— it didn’t surprise you in the slightest that he dismounted in a cloud of dust. He was always selfless like that, disqualifying himself to check upon his panicked mare.
Themis seized her bucking as John cooed at her in reassuring words, a quick pat pressed into her withers.
Then you noticed the searing red of a laceration. The bleeding wound leaked crimson, but it wasn’t the blood that made your nostrils flare in anger. No, it was thin stripe of such a cut. A cut only made by a stealthy swing of a short sword.
The bastard king had cheated.
Roaring applause and boos echoed across the arena. You had to bite your tongue to resist a uproar of your own, so much so that you tasted warm blood upon your tongue.
You met John’s eyes, his filled with so much apologetic sorrow you had to blink to stop your own from watering too much. It wasn’t that you were upset that he lost, more so that it wouldn’t matter regardless. He was sweetness you could never taste, love that would only burn you.
You’d realized this now. Now so more than ever, when the sight of your own summer roses extended in front of your line of sight.
A crown of beauty and fertility. You couldn’t help but focus on the wicked thorns that pierced your temples as King Graves, the victor, declared you the most beautiful woman in the kingdom. It made you sick that he was the most favorable of the Kings. You’d never wanted to run away more, to spend your days on the highland coasts in a homey cottage your knight had built by hand. Saltwater between your toes and John’s body to keep you warm on the stormy days.
Perhaps, now would be the time to throw away your titles and fortune and replace it with freedom, love, and yearning.
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The evening blurred into darkness illuminated by glowing starlight. A time you relished and anticipated when your knight would slip into your chambers and kiss away the stress and pain of expectations, orders, and rules.
Now, you wanted nothing more than to be excused from this wretched dinner and to sleep until dawn.
The crown of roses sat uncomfortably upon your head, despite all the compliments you had received from the nobles. You’d see it more fair to chuck the bloody thing in the roaring fires bordering the stony hall. Sorrow crept into your soul when you couldn’t find your knight in the sea of feasting people.
Your own roast chicken and vegetables lay untouched. It was hard to even think of eating when King Phillip sat next to you, boasting and smiling with his too white teeth. You wanted to get sick when his hand subtly touched your lower back.
“Father.” You blurted, drawing attention upon yourself. Graves’ retracted his jeweled hand begrudgingly upon the careful look he received from your king. Visibly you gulped, now having the divided attention of not just your father but the three other Kings as well.
“I’m not feeling well. I’d like to return to my chambers if it is quite alright with you.” You asked, nearly squirming at the sharp look he sent you. He didn’t appreciate your resistance to being wed, but you did happen to look a tad lighter than your typical shade. He sighed heavily, but nodded anyways.
“Go get some rest. I’ll have Ser Riley escort you since your own knight is still tending to his mare.” Your heart jumped as your father confirmed where John was. But you knew, in your heart, he wasn’t just taking care of Themis— he was shouldering his defeat badly.
Despite this, you stood, making careful eye contact with Ser Simon. You’d always observed him from afar, growing unnecessarily nervous with the helmeted knight. He was strong and mysterious, not belonging to a house or clan but was simply a nomad that sworn oath. Your John liked him, that was enough for you. After all, He wasn’t so bad when he cracked morbid jokes you likely should never hear as a Princess.
The Ghost held out the crook of his arm, signaling for you to take the cold metal of his armored forearm. You did so quietly, holding the stiffness of your posture until you were through the large doors of the hall.
Simon was always quiet, really only speaking when he needed to. John told you one time, when the two fought under the same battalion that Simon wouldn’t shut up or stop cracking jokes as he dragged a wounded John through the battlefield. Your knight realized then that Simon only spoke to keep him conscious and laughing. Respect and gratitude bloomed in your heart for the Ghost.
“I assume your sickness has left?” The Ghost spoke in his rough voice that reminded you of scratchy bark on Oak trees. Your heart jumped at such an accusing question.
“Pardon?”
“The damn parasite king? Leaching onto our Princess like he’s some Messiah.” He growled.
“Shhh! What if someone hears you speak that way, Ser?” You panicked for his safety, eyes flickering around in a familiar practice of looking for wondering eyes or ears. Simon, didn’t seem bothered, only shrugging in nonchalance.
He steered you down the hall, bicep gently flexing under your palm. It was then when you noticed he took a wrong turn, instead following the lantern light to the stables.
“You turned the wrong hall, my chambers are this way.” You insisted. Simon shook his head, continuing to usher you gently down the cobble path to the growing sound of whickering horses.
“Ser?”
“You speak too much.” Simon imputed, leading you into the old wooden building that housed all the guard’s prized mares and stallions. It was dark inside, the area barely lit with gentle candlelight. Still, you made out the shuffling outline of a familiar body.
John.
It took everything in you not to sprint in his direction. To pull him into an embrace and kiss the worry lines of his face. Instead you stayed planted next to Simon, who gingerly dropped your arm with a knowing look in his eyes. You should have been worried that he knew, but you could care less at the current moment. He was friend, not foe.
“I think I hear the sound of impending doom. I must go before it’s too late.” Simon monotonously quipped in a low voice, tilting his masked face just enough for you to see his wink before he turned on his heel and left you alone.
Your eyes swiveled around, only catching on the taut muscles of John’s back, who didn’t seem to notice you over the sound of Themis’ affectionate whinnies.
You took careful steps forward, not caring that the bottom of your expensive crimson gown was being caked in dust and straw. Instead you couldn’t help but admire your knight. He was shoveling loose hay into Themis’ trough, back muscles rippling in strain. You caught the white material of bandage wrapped tightly and professionally around his horse, obviously the work of his experienced hands.
“John?” You spoke softly, as not to startle his usually alert self. It appeared he only cared about his surroundings when you were his to guard and protect.
Immediately he dropped the pitchfork, the sound muffled by the hay below his feet. Then he turned, so fast that you missed the pure looks of sorrow, surprise and adoration cross his features.
“Princess! I- you shouldn’t be here.”
Your heart strained at the rejection, nevertheless you knew he was frustrated and self loathing. You couldn’t help but approach him, just as he took a leaping bound forward, pushing pass the gate to follow you like a loyal hound.
It was common practice for the two of you to find the dim part of a room. A place where no eyes or ears could possibly look.
Here, his stiffness fled, eyes nearly glowing against the flickering flames.
“I failed you.” His head hung low, knees almost buckling from the sheer disappointment that pushed heavy on his heart. He avoided your approaching form, not taking the time to meet your gaze or see the shaking of your head.
“You could never fail me, John. Not now, nor ever.” Your palm settled upon his stubbled cheek, his body instantly reacting to the touch by pushing further against you.
“But I-”
You cut him off, placing your thumb upon the chapped line of his lip. He’d immediately stopped speaking, his hand going upwards to delicately take a hold of your own. His palm nearly swallowed your entire hand, his calloused fingertips stopping just above your wrists.
“I don’t deserve you, Princess.” He’d absentmindedly brought his thumb across your knuckles, comforting and true that made your body buzz in love and adoration.
You reached upwards, tilting your head just enough to ghost your lips over his own. You’d let him chose if he’d like to take comfort in your warmth. A small grunt of frustration fluttered down his throat, but he took you anyways.
Arm wrapping tightly upon your waist to hold you to his warm body, firm with countless hours of training and bloodshed. His other hand settled upon the back of your neck, fingers sprawling with the purpose to expand you towards his awaiting mouth. A sharp gasp of surprise exited you as he kissed you. It wasn’t his typical sensation of passion and sweetness.
John kissed you hard. His teeth clattering against your own, with his tongue pushing down your throat in a one-sided battle of dominance. He was chasing his frustration through your very body, and you certainly liked it.
“Don’t know what you do to me…” he breathed out as he broke away, only to steer you against the far wooden wall, protecting the back of your head with the back of his hand.
“I think I know.” You quipped back, the heat coiling in your stomach roaring at the sharp look you received.
“Cheeky little thing…” he hissed, one of his hands holding you steady while the other trailed down your collar bone to the top curvature of your breasts. His mouth followed after. Lips pressing searing kisses against your exposed neck, down to the hollow of your throat.
“John.” You sweetly aired, exposing your throat even more to his awaiting mouth.
“I know, flower, I know.” His voice growing even deeper with the lust that coated his tongue like sweet honey. “Turn around.” He muttered, maneuvering your hips so that you could rotate with your back to him.
His fingers quickly found your corset in a familiar action, loosing it enough to help pull down your undergarments. His mouth pressed open kisses down the curve of your spine, making you gasp breathlessly and arch further against him. You felt the hardness of his cock press against your lower back, just as he hissed at the stimulation.
“Fuck…Need to taste ya’.” He growled in a command, typically the only time he did order around his superior. You had no problem following his experienced lead.
You heard the gentle thud of his knees hitting the straw bedding, just as his hand pushed on your hip to pivot to face him. Eyes once the color of the sky now raged like a stormy hurricane, dark and ravenous. It was enough for you to widen your legs more in an invitation.
The tips of his fingers traced the warm skin of your thighs, just as his head disappeared from under the soft silk of your dress. Hot air escaped onto your uncovered heat, making your eyes flutter shut in bliss.
“John,” you whined, oblivious to what he was planning beneath the drape. A growly chuckle sounded, until his lips made direct contact to your throbbing clit, his warm tongue flicking upon the bead in a teasing stroke that had your legs locking as they became pliable at his touch.
“Easy….” His palm made contact with the soft swell of your backside, molding his fingers into the skin that ached and buzzed for just him.
A soft sigh left your lips as he petted you, fingertips touching and caresssing with such accuracy despite the darkness under your dress. You mewled when a thick finger prodded your entrance, sliding nearly effortlessly into your wet heat.
“Fuckin’ hell, Bonnie, always so tight for me.” He growled, voice so heavenly you couldn’t stop your muscles from clenching yearningly against him. You cooed in response as he curled the digit, your own palms finding his shoulders to steady yourself from his burning touch.
“Just for you.” You pleaded, neck pushing back against the wood of the stable wall. Your throat bobbed when his tongue licked a hot stripe, body shuddering in ecstasy. John chuckled at your words, the vibration sending jolts across your core.
“That’s right, Flower. All mine, no sod of a King can have you. Just me, right?” He added another finger, relishing in your loss of control at his confident touch.
“Right, yes.” You gulped, losing yourself embarrassingly quick under his skilled tongue and fingers dipping into you. He picked up speed, noticing the tell tale signs of your body responding to his.
“Oh, John,” you stuttered, eyes fluttering shut as he curled his fingers skillfully, the movement being enough to allow the coil in your abdomen to finally snap.
You gushed around him with a carnal moan, his tongue hurriedly lapping it all up greedily, just as he hummed at the taste. You barely had time to heave out an exhale before his hands found the flesh of your hips, taking hold of you in a lovestruck desire. He placed a sweltering hot kiss upon the inside of your thigh. His massive hands pushed you upwards, allowing himself time to escape from under your crimson gown.
He looked like Eros reincarnated.
Crysaline eyes the color of deep-rooted glaciers bore into your very soul. He had a look to his face, such as a painting crafted of faithful devotion, as if he was staring at something so enchanting everything else dulled in comparison. Your own slick coated his stubble and lips, allowing the light to catch as he licked the nectar off with a satisfied hum.
He squeezed once, twice, upon your hips, signaling that he was to move backwards, his broad shoulders falling backwards upon the straw with a huff. He settled you down upon him, your thighs slotting between his hips as your dress spilled over the both of you.
“Yer’ so beautiful, flower.” He praised, candlelight catching in his blown out pupils. Your heart fluttered at the compliment, as did your weeping entrance.
“Mhm,” You preened, a soft smirk spreading over your lips as you leant to kiss him. With confident fingers, you reached under your dress, making contact with his waistband, sliding the material downwards before reaching his cock. He was scorching at your touch, already throbbing and prepared.
John let out a hiss muffled by your mouth, as your fingertip slid over his tip, smoothing the large bead of pre-cum that had gathered.
A delighted chuckle left your lips as he twitched, you pumped his length slowly, curving your wrist just how he liked it. He pulled away from your kiss with a heave, a growl leaving his throat as he saw the teasing look in your eyes.
“Think you can play with me after all that’s happened today? Watching all those men stare like you’re a piece of meat? You do this after I licked your pretty cunt? No, Bonnie, your going to take my cock like a good obedient princess.”
You didn’t have time to teasingly retaliate, instead you could only gasp as his head slid unforgivably into your heat, a low moan leaving the both of you at the joining. His hands guided your hips, until all of him was sunk around your fluttering walls. He paused, glancing up to see if you were alright.
“I can’t help their stares, I did-” his finger found your lips, pausing your words.
“Don’t speak of them when your full of my cock, eh?”
You couldn’t help but nod, rolling your hips against him in a slow way that mimicked the words “yes I understand. Only you can see me like this.”
“Good.” He aired, his hands once again finding your hips as he roughly guided you against his own bucking hips, starting a fast pace that had your eyes fluttering shut and soft coos leaving your mouth involuntarily.
“That’s it, princess.” He praised, a hand leaving your hip to play with your breasts that threatened to spill out from your undone corset. His palm squeezed the sensitive flesh, sending shockwaves down your skin and goosebumps to rise in ecstasy.
You picked up speed, now rising inches off the straw covered ground before slamming back down upon his length. He cursed, adam’s apple bobbing as his tip met the start of your womb. A ravishing hunger filled your very souls, only satisfied by your intertwined touch and the sound of squelching skin.
He gripped you harder, his climax drawling to a burning close. You felt the all familiar tightening again, knowing that John would only stop fucking you until you finished around his swollen cock.
“You going to cum for me, princess?” He growled, hand falling under your skirts to draw slow circles upon your puffy clit with his calloused thumb.
“Yes!” His circling thumb pushed you over the edge, along with the deep and ruthless plunges of his cock, your eyes fluttered shut, just as your vision blurred from pure ecstasy. Your knight clenched his teeth, but could hardly contain his whine as he plowed deeply, spilling into you warmly.
Together the two of you heaved, lost in each other and not wanting to break your intertwined hold quite yet. You settled, bringing a palm to John’s sweaty cheek as his eyes fluttered shut.
“I love you.” You whispered, stroking the skin in all the passion you could muster.
“Well…. Isn’t this sweet?” A shadow hissed into the night, startling the two of you as you struggled to get up off of your knight in horrified shock.
Before you could separate your hold, your hair was tugged from behind, forcing you to stand and whimper at the fiery hold. Your knight struggled to stand, hastily making himself decent before scanning for a weapon. Except it was too late.
A dagger pressed coldly to your flaming jugular, halting John in place as he glared holes into your captor. You glanced downward, noticing the hand had familiar jeweled rings upon his digits.
Graves.
Bile threatened to expel as John attempted to step forward, until the dagger drew blood and the sharp sting made a lone tear fall down your cheek.
“Ah, ah. Stay where you are, or I kill the whore.” Graves threatened, holding his ground and forcing John to stay planted where he was.
King Graves tutted, a disappointed clicking noise that traveled from his chest to your back in vibrations.
“I always figured you were a whore, had the looks of one. But with your knight…” he laughed, no humor behind his tone as John switched between glaring and panic between the two of you. “You’ve just handed me another kingdom on a golden platter. Once the King knows of this scandal your knight will be hung, and you will be cast out as a whore, unfit for any royalty. That will leave the Kingdom to me, after I kill your worthless father.” Graves growled, a playful lit to his voice as you silently cried.
“Don’t cry….” Graves cooed heartlessly, pressing himself into you with a dull hunger. Your knight growled, eyes darkening as he could only helplessly watch.
All at once, you felt the shallow cut of the blade as a dull shrunk came from behind you, you leant forward at the lack of pressure, knowing you were no longer held captive as John rushed to your side, examining you for any horrific injuries.
You could only turn and watch as Graves’ body fell to the ground, a shrouded figure holding a knife shadowed the area, another person standing close to him as well. One wore a signature mask pulled up to his lips, the other was flushed a pink color, much like you had been before.
König and Horangi.
They had saved you.
“Go. Before your father sends out hounds looking for you.” Horangi spoke, voice airy as he subtly placed a hand upon König’s waist. Huh. Maybe they wouldn’t be so devastated as to not have your hand in marriage.
Tears welled in your eyes as realization set in. You were really doing this, really running away from all the blasphemy that was royalty. You could be free, could be with your John as you always hoped. It would be hard, but your mind was settled the moment you kissed your knight for the first time.
“Thank you.”
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A steel knife sliced its way across stew vegetables. It was amateur chopping at best, but you’ve been practicing for the oncoming winter.
With a hum, you moved to place the potatoes into your pot of boiling cream. The fire burned comfortably in the small cottage made by hand. Stones were masoned expertly to create a fireplace, among with the strong boards of Oak to keep out the salty sprays from the sea.
The door opened with a creak, cold air blowing into the homey space in frozen waves. You suppressed a shiver, but felt warm at the sight of your husband.
He held a stack of firewood in his arms, biceps bulging as he placed the logs down into the crate next to the flames. He shook from the cold, but it seemed he was already warmer as his crystalline eyes locked with yours. It had been two days since he had left for a hunt, the longest you’ve gone without seeing him as of late.
John was growing nervous as the days grew shorter. With the shortening days, came the higher probability of giving birth.
“How are ye’, flower?” Your husband asked eyes falling to your swollen belly with so much love that your face couldn’t help but break out into a smile.
“I say we are better now that you are home.”
John laughed heartily, the sound booming through the whole cottage as he hugged his family close to him.
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weeei-haw · 3 months
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My friends' and my minecraft characters.. but it's sea of thieves au??? here they are from left to right: chimin chonguk- ah wait no
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littlesponge-fics · 10 months
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Chems & Confusion in New Vegas: Part Four
<< Pervious Part | Masterlist
Rating: R / 18+ Warnings: Listed on the Masterlist Summary: Katsuki hates the desert; shame he has to go through one to get to the other side of this god-forsaken wasteland. More so for the fact that there's a gambling town right slap-bang in the middle of it, and Denks is eager to waste all their caps. Ei's got an eye on him though, should any trouble come their way, and Katsuki's always done fine on his own.
Or maybe he shouldn't have spoken so soon. There's a target on his back, and he'll be damned if he knows why.
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Part Four
If Katsuki didn’t already dislike New Vegas, he sure as fuck has a strong hatred for it now.
And that’s putting it mildly; not taking into account the detestation he had for casinos.
There was no way he’s getting into Gomorrah without everyone in the know spotting him with a blink. The same goes for you. He wouldn’t be surprised if he found your faces up on the local wanted board that was sitting outside the main gates.
There’ll be no walking through the front door, or back door, this time; Blue Eyes and his real boss having seen to that. Guards and securitrons blocking all entrances, heavily armed and out gunned by Katsuki’s pitiful arsenal.
He needs a disguise and a way to get in.
His luck’s not run out just yet though. As you both stick to the shadows against the wall that circles the Strip, you come across a passed out NCR Ranger with some pretty sweet gear.
A sniper rifle with a sizable amount of ammo to go with it, and a single frag grenade; useless in close quarters, however, all his good shit may as well be in The Glowing Sea. Who knows where Blue Eyes stashed his stuff. And he just knows the fucker is wearing his Pip-boy.
Then there’s a full set of armour; a definite upgrade from what he’s been wearing for a good chunk of this cross-country trip.
He’s loath to give up his lucky leather jacket, but hey, a find’s a find, and he won’t pass up on this treasure. Katsuki kits himself out in the black chest armour and long brown duster, hiding the rifle beneath it, and subconsciously rolls up the left sleeve, growling when he remembers he doesn’t have his Pip-Boy.
He’ll be getting it back from the thieving cunt. Just you see.
Slipping on the helmet, slash gas mask, over his head, he sees through a red tint of the attached goggles, which will be something he’ll just have to get used to.
Removing it for the time being, he turns to you and holds out his jacket that’s done him well these past few months.
“Thanks.”
Before you can take it, he inquires with a cocked eyebrow, “You still wanna stick around me?”
“My caps.”
Ah yes, how can he forget, nevertheless, he feels there’s a different reason hiding beneath that tough exterior you put on, which has dwindled somewhat.
You’ve been quiet, almost non-communicative. It’s disquieting and has Katsuki wishing for the firecracker to come back.
“Try that shit like you did back at The Tops, princess, and you get nothing. You do as I say, and when I say. Got it?” He glares so the message sinks in, and eventually lets you take the withheld offering.
“I don’t like being told what to do,” you grumble petulantly.
He’s beginning to clock on to that, and he groans at your defiance.
“Wish you’d stop calling me that too,” you sulk, lips puckered like you've sucked on a sour mutfruit.
“Calling you what?” he grunts, manoeuvring a large dumpster on wheels to push against the garden wall of Gomorrah’s outdoor area.
“You know.”
He knows, you’ve been going on about it all night, he just wants to hear you say it. “No,” he blatantly lies, kicking the breaks on the wheels. “I don’t. Why don’t’cha remind me; you know how my memory’s been acting up recently.”
The muscles in your jaw twitch as you clench your teeth together, curling your fingers tight against the leather of his old jacket, most likely ruining it even further.
He smirks in challenge, resting a hip against the rancid garbage container, and enjoying the irritation of you finding the courage to call in response to his raise.
Katsuki can physically see you drag it from the back of your throat like vomiting up last night’s stale booze, popping the ‘p’ and spitting out the rest like a curse word.
Not like ‘fuck’, or ‘shit, or ‘asshole’, but an actual curse that will target his nuts and pass it on to his kids, and their kids, and their kid’s kids.
His grins, because it’s as if you matched his bet by the way you said it, but that snarl you're trying to keep composed tells the truth.
That you folded.
Now to see if the river plays into his hand.
“I like the dichotomy of it.”
“Big fucking word for a raider.”
He steps in close until your eyes are almost crossing. “Ex-raider,” he corrects, and reminds you, “who lived in a library.” You roll them in response, and now he plays his hand, “And I love that look you get when I do, princess.”
First comes the shock of not quite registering what he’s said. Then…
Yes!
That’s the look!
Like you want to stab him, or rip off his dick, take a bite out of it and throw the rest to a pack of mongrels. Eyes like daggers, glinting and sharp as your nostrils flare and huff out scolding breaths. Nails biting and clinging so tightly to that ratty dress and his jacket that the seams strain all the way down the sides to the slit at your hip.  Somewhere deep and perverted in Katsuki’s mind hopes that they give, threads fraying and tearing so that he can see even just the barest hint of tit one more time. You haven't given him that look in a while; he was beginning to miss it.
The slap comes sharp and quick, stinging and leaving a burning throb behind.
On the bright side, at least you didn’t stick him with your knife.
“Better?” he asks quietly, resisting rubbing his cheek. Fuck, did you have some fight in you.
“No!” you huff, crossing your arms. “You may have used your last stimpack on me, and got me out of that room alive, but I won't stand listening to your pretentious bullshit anymore, or you telling me what to do.”
“Pretentious?! Now who’s the one with the fancy words? But, thank you.”
“It’s not a compliment.”
“You look at me like it is.”
Not even a scowl.
He sighs at your unamused expression, and decides to turn the tables. It’s worked for him before.
“Think of it this way,” he coaxes, taking the jacket back with a harsh tug from your death grip, and slipping it around your shoulders. “It’s better than ‘doll’ or ‘sweets’.”
You stand stock still for several seconds, looking up at him, your lips slightly parted, blinking slowly.
Tilting his head in query, he lifts one shoulder and the corner of his mouth, and you eventually slide your arms into the holes so he can zip you up, tucking your SMG in the loose folds as he pulls the zipper right past your chin and nose, until only your expressive eyes are visible.
They look away. “I suppose,” you mumble against the softened fabric.
“See, there’s a bright side to everything.”
“When have you ever thought that!”
He grins. “Since meeting you. Now get a move on, princess; sun’s about to come up.”
He doesn’t miss the way you can’t meet his eyes when he holds out a hand to help you up atop the impromptu stepladder, and this time he thinks it’s out of embarrassment rather than a need to maim after giving you an order, and using his preferred epithet for you.
You're like any other woman really; wanting a distraction from the horrors of the world.
Katsuki isn't a dumbass, he’d clued in pretty quickly that Kai was the one who sent the raiders to take over your orphanage, abducting and forcing your friends into… - he can only imagine, but what he does conclude is sick and unforgivable. So you’d weaselled your way into his presence, taking on a debt that was most likely the reason you’d ended up in his bed, with a thirst to kill and a failed attempt to exterminate the sick fuck.
He couldn’t watch you falter anymore, so…
Yeah, well, he’s gone now - mostly likely, he didn’t exactly stay long enough to confirm. The bastard hardly lived up to the reputation that preceded him and went out rather anticlimactically. That’s what usually happens with the Big Dicks, Katsuki finds. Too comfortable in their flaccidity that they miss the shit that’s coming at them from behind, and they end up getting fucked in the ass before they can even get hard. Katsuki hopes that brings you a little peace, even at the risk of losing his own balls.
Putting on his new helmet, he gives a salute to the ranger, who’s gonna wake up in an hour or two to find he’s been stripped and with no weapon.
“I think she’s starting to like me, what d’ya think?”
The ranger lets out an unconscious snore, and Katsuki shakes his head.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
Two jumps, and he’s on the other side of the wall.
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“You know this place as much as the other?” he asks, circling the perimeter of the garden made of archway and trellises, with you close beside him.
“Only been a couple of times, and never wanted to again after seeing what they get up to.”
So his first impressions of the place were right. The dirty, kinky shit happens here. No wonder Denks switched.
There’s a few people milling about, mainly the working girls, having a cigarette break after a night of hard work.
“Keep your eyes open for Ei. If you find him, Denks shouldn’t be too far.”
“There's got to be over two hundred rooms in this place,” you complain, stepping inside when Katsuki opens a door for you.
“Then we’ll check ‘em all if we hav’ta.”
It’s the complete opposite of The Tops, which was bright and luminous in its colour scheme. Here, in Gomorrah, his pupils adjust to the dim lighting, bathed in shadows and filled with smoke, and the goggles of his helmet begin to glow ominously.
Shit, he’s been missing out, the night vision incorporated in them is impeccable. He can see everything crystal clear, as if it was day time. From twenty feet away, he even glimpses the darkened hand prints from a spanking as a woman enters a curtained side-room, a skimpy scrap of fabric wedged between the blemished flesh. That could be because of the tint though, but it’s there in all its glory.
“Should we split up?”
“No, I’m wonderglue and you're a magnet, we stick together.” Plus, Blue Eyes is in here somewhere, and he doesn’t want that cunt anywhere near you after the last fiasco.
“We stick out,” you observe.
Yes, you do, you would have been better off in just your dress, classier than the attire of the women here, but much more appropriate for the sleazy atmosphere.
And Katsuki can’t risk taking off the helmet to blend in with all the other low lives, and he definitely wouldn’t be seen dead in a schmuck’s suit. It’s fortunate then, that almost everyone who’s stuck around is three sheets to the wind, and the girls are looking too tired to even approach him.
There's no way Denks will still be down here gambling on the main floors, he’ll have found a room and a woman with the way they all wear next to nothing.
On the wall beside the opening to a staircase, is a sign that reads; ‘Private Rooms’.
If Denks is gonna be anywhere, it’ll be there.
“Come, we’ll start checking up here first,” he indicates with a nod.
He follows you up, and immediately knows he’s in the right place. There’s even more flesh on display, if that can be believed. Two women grind provocatively against slim poles upon small stages, their skin slick with oil, making it shine and shimmer under the coloured lights. A handful of men lay sleepy before them on lush couches; and those that aren’t gaze up with wet lips and droopy eyes, are cooked out of their minds on whatever chems that have been made available. It’s looking more and more like a Jet den than a strip club.
If he finds Denks has been on that shit again, he’s gonna revoke his Nuka-Cola privileges. For life.
One stage is empty, and a lone figure occupies the rounded spectators’ seat, head bent and wholly engrossed with, not the tantalising sight of stiff nipples and arousing dance moves, but something Katsuki can’t quite see.
“Is that…?” you start.
Katsuki holds in his relief before he can let it out on a breath of reassurance.
Best to confirm.
Manoeuvring between the cosy, intimate areas, he peeps another figure wedged up against the other, short, pink strands of poufy hair framing a heart-shaped face that’s looking down with intrigue and amazement as the redhead points animatedly down.
The size difference between the two is undeniable and a dead give-away. Where the cowboy hat came from, Katsuki is mystified.
“Ooohhh, what happens next?” she asks over the sultry music with genuine curiosity. “Does she find the Eye of Ra? How will she get out? Quick, I need to know!” she urges, shaking his arm.
After living through a night of hell, it would be none other than Ei who’s had the much more enjoyable time in this shithole out of the two of them; sitting all cosy and shit with a hooker, and showing her his comic book collection of all things.
Why couldn't it have been like that with you? Nah, he l just lets his guard down for one night and gets himself drugged and tied up, robbed, punched in the face, has his manhood questioned by a woman who has more issues than The Boston Bugle, infiltrates a casino, and gets caught in the middle of a shootout with a protectron.
Fabulous fucking night. He’s never coming back.
Ei smiles in return to the woman’s exuberant enthusiasm, like he has a secret he can’t wait to share as he eagerly flips over the page. She’s quick to delve back into the story, pressing a naked breast against Ei’s impressive bicep that’s twice the size of her head, and crossing a stocking-covered leg over the other. He blushes so deeply Katsuki can’t tell where his forehead ends and his hairline begins underneath that stupid hat.
Her dark-rimmed eyes scan quickly, eyelashes saturated with black gunk, and she gasps in excitement, “The Silver Shroud!” she gasps with elation. “He’s come to save her! I thought he left for that Paris place!”
Katsuki hates to spoil the intimate moment, and he is happy to see the big lug safe and sound; no signs of Katsuki’s eventful night having reached him, but there were more pressing matters at hand.
“Oi!” he intrudes, stepping into the space between the couch and the stage, a dozen opened sarsaparillas clinking together when he knocks into the small table.
Ei recoils, and not so subtly arranges himself so that the woman is completely hidden from view behind his giant form. And Katsuki catches the way his eyes narrow and fingers ball into a solid fist as he starts to stand to his full height with a menacing grunt.
“Ei, you daft bastard,” he chides, removing his helmet. “It’s Kats.”
The change is instantaneous, that lovable, affectionate, little - big - shit beams, pulling him into a rib-crushing hug, lifting his feet off the floor, and has him choking on trapped air.
“Ei, Ei, fuck!” he coughs. “‘S enough. Enough!”
He lets him go, and adjusts his hat so it sits straight again, but that smile doesn’t fade one bit, and slaps him on the back with a restrained pat. It only gets wider when he spots you, instant recognition lightening his eyes.
“Told you I’d look after him,” you joke.
If only he knew.
Ei goes in for another impromptu hug, and Katsuki has to stop him with a hand on his chest; he’d snap you in two with how fucking happy he looks. You get a tip of the hat instead.
“No time for that. Where’s Denks?”
A moment of confusion while Katsuki lets him register the urgency he’s trying to convey. He rubs the back of his neck and points vaguely towards a curtained archway, worry beginning to bleed into his scarlet irises.
“I’ll explain later. We need to get him and get out.”
“Is something wrong?” The half-naked woman steps in, and Katsuki has to drag his eyes up to her face with some effort. Did this place have some sort of dress code where all employees are banned from wearing more than two items of clothing?
“No offence, lady,” - he does want her to take offence, because she shouldn’t be sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong - “but you’re gonna hav’ta find someone else to mooch off.”
“Oh, he isn’t paying me,” she smiles beautifully, looping her arm with Ei’s and looking pleased as punch as she looks up at the dope. “He’s the nicest customer I’ve ever had.”
How long has Ei been here, letting her read his picture books? And for free! Katsuki didn’t know he still had it in him to chat up the ladies, even the ones who were supposedly paid to go along with whatever a man said, and all without speaking a word.
When he looks at him, he finds his ears have turned just as red as his face. Besotted, is the word that comes to Katsuki’s mind when he takes in the overwhelming bashfulness of the giant man.
Well, it’s no skin off Katsuki’s nose. Good for him.
“I’m Mina, by the way,” she holds out her unoccupied hand, “but everyone calls me Pinky.”
He can see why, with that hair, and those nipples.
He ignores the introduction. “Pack up your shit, we need Denks.”
Ei nods with determination, and gives the woman an apologetic smile as he stuffs the comic back in his pack, and she pouts in return.
Disturbing some of the drunk and chemmed up customers as the newly formed group jostle their way to Denks’ room; Katsuki finds a door behind the net curtain.
“I can’t hear anything,” you say, pushing your ear up against it. “Must be sleeping.”
Katsuki picks you up and moves you aside.
“Not the time to playin’ coy, princess,” he tells you, grabbing the handle and barging in. “If he’s fuckin’, he doesn’t have time to finish.”
Tit for tat. He hasn’t forgotten his own inability to follow through.
“Oi, numb nuts. Put your dick away; party’s over!” he calls, screwing up his nose at the revolting stench of sex and vomit.
There’s no answer from the naked lump in the sheets, inches away from falling off the circular mattress; and with no woman in sight, Katsuki assumes she slipped out as soon as Denks did.
Not being the first time finding him in such a position, he presses on.
“Oi,” Katsuki snaps, stomping to the edge of the bed covered in pillows and gaudy sheets, and rolls the womaniser over, giving him a harsh shake in the process. “We gotta go, you id...” his voice trails off as he takes in the ashen complexion, blue lips, and bile-stained chin.
“Shit!”
He hears Ei’s friend gasp at the picture presented; you swear out a sad exclamation; and Ei lets out a shrieking cry like a wounded animal, roughly shouldering Katsuki out the way, but he stands firm, using all his strength to keep the bigger man from looking too closely.
A stimpack’s not gonna cut it this time, even if he had one.
There’s no knowing how long he’s been left like this and he’s most likely too late, but he has to try. Just like the pictures in a medicine book he once read, Katsuki makes a fist with both his hands and pumps at Denks’ chest.
Ei’s lady friend comes to the rescue, guiding the usually immovable man to look away and sit on the other side of the bed.
“Shhh, shhh,” she soothes, as he dips his giant frame to rest his head in the crook of her neck. “He’ll be okay.”
One, two, three, four, keeping rhythm as Katsuki counts each one with a pant, when the creak of another door opens, interrupting his flow, and out steps a petite, blonde woman, with two buns of hair sitting either side of her head.
Her shock at seeing a full room, quickly dissipated into a faux pout.
“Himiko, what happened?” asks Ei’s lady friend.
“Oh, dear,” she sympathises. Fake. “He’s passed out again? I guess he shouldn't have had that third hit of Jet.”
Katsuki sees red. “You gave him WHAT?!”
Fuck! He knew that shit was gonna kill him some day. All that hard work shoving Fixer down his throat everyday flushed down the drain. The tin he’s been carrying around with him serving no purpose now. He’s too fucking far gone to even fucking swallow.
Come on, you lazy bastard, now's not the time to be pulling one of your pranks.
Wake the fuck up and breath, goddamn it!
She smiles like a cat he once saw in another book, big grin, wide and unnerving, and mischievous eyes that turn to slits with the way her cheeks puff up.
Ei makes as if to pounce, but you get there first. 
Grabbing hold of one of those buns as she lets out a shriek, you pull your knife from his jacket pocket and flip the blade open with a ‘snick’. “You want me to kill her?” you offer.
Katsuki’s been wanting to kiss a lot this night, but there’s always something to prevent him.
“Just hold onto her!” You do, pushing her up against a wall, and keeping that knife under her chin.
She spits in your face. “Ah, he’ll be fine, unlike some people.”
Katsuki’s nostrils flare with unrestrained outrage. “You fuckin’ killed him, you stupid bitch!” He looks around, frantic, still compressing Denks’ ribs, keeping that blood flowing to a steady beat, and his eyes land on a possible solution.
“And you killed Jin!” she screams. “Touya told me.”
Ah, revenge. He knows it so well. Also, it means the cunt’s still alive.
But fuck; trying to concentrate through Ei’s sniffling outrage, the woman trying to calm him, and this bitch’s taunts, it’s gonna give him a fucking aneurism.
Thank fuck for you, because you punch her in the face, the crunch of her nose sick and satisfying. “Shut your fucking hole, before I fill it!”
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you did to Touya too, you filthy whore,” she blubs through the blood spilling from the broken appendage.
“What he did to me, I think you find you mean,” you snarl back, giving her a nick, blood beading along the metal. “And it takes one to know one, whore.”
“I don’t know what he ever saw in you. Should have killed you before you even had the chance to leave him for Kai.”
Do you two know each other? And what’s this about Blue Eyes?
Katsuki shakes his head, he couldn’t give two shits.
You snort a derisive laugh. “Touya doesn’t love; he owns. Just like every other asshole in this town; Kai included. They’re all as bad as one another. Don’t act like some kind of fucking saint, Himiko, you’ll fuck anyone Tomura tells you to; not exactly a desirable quality now, is it?”
“Is there a bathroom here?” Katsuki pants forcefully, breaking up your spat, focusing on what really matters, and that’s Denks right now.
“Through there,” Ei’s lady says, still holding on to the grieving man, “but what are you gonna do?”
“Go an’ fill it up with as much water as you can.”
“He’s…” she begins to protest, but at a sharp look she scurries away.
Looking to you, he gives a second order, “There’s cuffs on the bed; lock her up. Oh, and grab that radio.”
You falter for a second, looking back like he’s gone crazy. “We’ll deal with her later,” he assures, and you eventually do as you're told without the usual defiance you're known for.
The bitch laughs. “Now who’s the one doing what a man says!”
“‘S alright, Ei,” Katsuki huffs gruffly through his weakening stamina. He knows he’s blaming himself right now, because Katsuki was the one to trust him to take care of Denks while here. In the time he’d been reading picture books, his friend was being fed fucking drugs given to him by a good for nothing whore, bent on fucking over Katsuki for his part in killing her mentalcase of a friend.
Denks’ eyes are open and glazed, and it’s giving him flashbacks. Not nice ones. Memories of the smell of disinfectant and bleach, and burning metal; of people in white suits holding clipboards and scalpels, and body parts grown in Petrie dishes. Of how all that white became red and sticky.
“He’s gonna be alright. You’ll see.”
In return he gets a choked sob and a wet sniff as Ei takes the unresponsive blond’s hand, gentle as he’s ever seen him do, rubbing at the knuckles.
“This one ain’t gonna die,” Katsuki intones with as much as he can muster. “I’ll fuckin’ kill him if he does.” The irony isn’t lost on him; the amount of fucking times he’s told the idiot he would, and here he is lying dead, overdosed on Jet and suffocating on his own vomit.
This time Ei nods, a hopeful faithfulness in him that weighs heavy on Katsuki’s shoulders.
He can’t let him down.
“It’s almost done,” comes his lady’s call, taking her place by Ei’s side again.
With the whore restrained and gagged, you follow closely as Katsuki picks up Denks, one arm at his back and the other under his knees, and carries him to the bathroom ignoring the shooting pain that lances through his bicep.
He really needs to sort that bullet wound out before it starts to fester, but there will be plenty of time for that once Denks is breathing again.
Gently, he places him in the dirty, lukewarm water and shuts of the faucet before it can overflow.
“What are you going to do?” you question, holding on to the radio like he’d asked, and looking like you don’t know what to do with yourself.
“Gonna try and restart his synth component.” He nods to the free outlet next to the sink, “Plug that in.”
And again you give him that look like he’s gone nuts, understanding dawning. Again, smart as a fucking whip. “What the hell are you planning? To make him deader than he already is!”
It’s like he’s tied to you again, and you’re asking those sarcastic asinine questions that really grate on his nerves.
“The real Denks died years ago,” he snaps, snatching the radio cord from you when you don’t move quick enough.
“What?!”
“Those Institute fucks in The Commonwealth murdered him before me and Ei could get there in time. All that was left was this,” he points down at the soaking blond, and plugs in the end of the cable and the socket above the sink.
Fuck! Just looking at him now is bringing it all back. So much blood and so many…
He died thinking he’d been forgotten about. That no one was coming to save him. And he was alone.
And it’s happening all over again.
“They replace people with copies they can control and use for whatever the fuck they need; synthetic’s made to look and act like the real subject so they can slip easily back into families and factions.”
“Wait! You mean he’s a robot?” you ask, flabbergasted. “But he looks so… so real!”
“He’s as real as ever to Ei, makes no difference. ‘S’only reason why he’s here, he can’t let go.” A Lie. And he knows it. There’s more to the story. So much more; he’s just not going to tell you.
That the reason it wasn't already dead is not just because Ei, the oversized, sentimental softie, wouldn’t let him kill it, but because Katsuki couldn’t do it.
After that he could hardly look at the thing for that first year, couldn’t trust it. It was an imposter, replica, wasn’t him, but was all at once. Same mannerisms and same speech patterns, same idiot brain in the same unique shape with the same stupid face, and had that same uncanny way of getting under Katsuki’s skin. 
Everything about it screamed Denks.
“And for all Denks knows, he’s real too, even if the dumbass hasn’t clocked the fact he hasn’t aged a day in over five years, or that he’s immune to radiation, or doesn’t even need to fucking eat or drink,” he finishes quickly, unwilling to waste another minute as he gets colder and colder.
Guilt is a hard fucking pill to swallow.
He had been too late then, he won’t be too late now.
You bite your lip, and Katsuki can see the wheels turning as you glance back towards the bedroom.
Through the doorway, he spies a tense Ei, muscles bulging more than ever before with the resistance to keep in his grief, but freely letting the tears fall. He’s being comforted by the pink woman; his head in her hands as she kneels beside him on the bed, whispers unheard words and strokes his cheek.
“You think this will bring him back?”
It isn’t up for debate. He’s gonna shock that fucker alive whether you like it or not. There’s no two ways about this fucked situation.
Katsuki takes the radio from you and holds it aloft over the tub. “If it don’t, we’re gonna have one pissed off mutant on our hands and a dead hooker, along with a potential casino full of victims. Rampage is not a good look on him.”
She fucking deserves it, the fucking bitch, but Katsuki won’t let him get his hands dirty. That’s a job for Katsuki alone.
“Brace yourself,” he deigns to warn you.
And you step back.
Then…
He drops it.
The effect is immediate.
Water splashes. Sparks fly. Denks spasms like a ridged fish flopping in shallow waters. The lights flicker for a second, bulbs around the mirror bursting, electricity arcing, and then the power cuts out as the smell of burnt flesh is left behind.
He must have moved without thinking, because Katsuki finds himself pressing you into the tiled wall when the ceiling light comes back on, caging you from the sizzling, crackling fireworks.
Katsuki puts it down to him getting used to having you around, stuck to him like a barnacle that he can’t shake - even if it was his idea for you to tag along.
You have your upsides though, you’ve gotten prettier and prettier to look at as the night’s dragged on, and that wild side you’ve let loose a few times has a definite allure Katsuki is finding he likes more and more. Especially now that you’re wearing his jacket and looking at him with pupils that aren’t contracting even with the lights on, dilated so much he can see his own reflection mirrored in them. Your stained lips seemingly redder under the brightness. The whole look put together feels like some kind of ownership - a claim he has on you, that you’d vehemently deny and have his balls in a vice should he give voice to the thought. 
Secretly wanting to say it, he bites his tongue. If what you said earlier implies what he assumes, you don’t want the label. Your independence is something you won’t compromise.
Coughing and spluttering, and the hacking up of stomach and lungs, brings him back; Ei barging in, door jamb straining and cracking from his massive presence as he ducks into the tiny room and takes up all the space before Katsuki can even pry himself away from you.
Ei’s squeal is as high pitched as it's ever gonna be, full of excitement and relief, and happiness and appeasement.
It means Katsuki’s brain wave of a plan actually worked, and he feels lighter, almost, if it wasn’t for the knowledge that they still weren’t safe.
You squeeze his arm, the tension receding a fraction, and he lets out a trapped breath.
“What- what the f-fuck?!” Denks coughs, half hanging over the side of the bath, too weak to stop Ei pawing and fawning.
Katsuki cuts his eyes, detangling himself from you and rounding on the blond. “You’re in big fuckin’ trouble.”
“What I d-do this… time?”
“Jet, you fucking dumbass!” He really wants to get his hands around that fucking neck, then he won’t be able to inhale air, never mind that shit.
“W-We’re on va…cation,” he answers, sneezing out a slew of dirty bathwater through his nose. “It’s all part… part of the fun.”
He tugs him up by the roots of his hair and ignores his pained groan. “I catch you with that shit again, I’ll let you die!”
Ei whines in protest, hugging Denks protectively close, and Katsuki rolls his eyes and let’s go as if throwing him away. “Get him dry and dressed.” He slams the tin of Fixer on the counter, “Make sure he takes one of ‘em, vacation’s over.”
When he turns to leave, brushing by the pink woman hovering near with a handful of clothing - why the fuck’s she’s still here, he can’t quite comprehend - he finds you looking back curiously, an almost imperceptible smile curling around your eyes and lips.
You better not be thinking some sentimental shit, recalling his confession about loss back in that shithole of a room in Freeside.
“And you can keep that smart mouth of yours shut too.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” you tut, crossing your arms and tapping your foot.
You were, he could see that smile twitching into a smirk, and now he regrets not letting you speak. He’s realising he’s liking a lot of things about you; your backchat being just another one of them. “Good, we have unfinished business.”
He renters the bedroom, stands at the foot of the bed, and finds it whore-free, empty cuffs dangling from the headboard.
“Fuck!”
“She’ll have gone to get help,” you needlessly answer, a nervousness seeping into your tone.
Fucking great!
There won’t be any retreating the way he came, and that’s only confirmed when he tries the door that’s been locked, trapping everyone inside.
Ei could easily break it down, but what’s to say there isn’t already an ambush waiting. If there is, there’s no furniture sturdy enough to block them from getting in and shooting everyone dead.
Well, there’s nothing for it; he pulls back the thick blackout-curtains and is faced with a view of the Strip, The Lucky 38’s top continuing to spin as the first rays of morning glint and bounce off the revolving windows.
Opening the latch and pushing the pane open, he sees down below, the concrete awning to Gomorrah’s entrance, and the occasional civilian or NCR Trooper stumbling about in a drunken or chem induced stupor, along with a smattering of securitrons patrolling the street.
He may just be able to get everyone out of this unseen by using the silhouette of the woman’s body as cover, her leg still pointing gracefully to the sky.
“Oi,” he shouts towards the bathroom. “Get your asses out here; we’re taking a shortcut.”
Denks is the first - dressed, thankfully - clutching his head and shambling like a feral ghoul looking for a molerat to devour. Electrical burns snaking and branching down his arms and up his neck. Bastard was lucky. “Man, didn’t you have any Med-X to go with that Fixer?”
No, he can live with his choices, and the pain that goes with it, ungrateful prick.
Next is Ei, hovering behind like a doting mother watching his every step, humming and braced to scoop him up should he fall.
“Ei, you go first, I’ll pass him down.”
“Why?” asks Denks, while Katsuki is in no mood to entertain his questions. “There’s a perfectly good door there, and I left my laser pistol in reception.”
Katsuki doesn't have the patience, or will to explain the shit he’s in. He’ll just have to stay in the dark until they're far, far away from his hellhole. “The gun’s gone, forget about it. Move!”
The window frame goes along with him when Ei squeezes his fat ass through, and Katsuki practically kicks Denks’ slow ass out when he doesn’t move quick enough, dropping into Ei's waiting arms with a groan.
“You're up next, princess.”
“What about her?”
“Who?”
Ah, the pink woman, breasts squashed against her chest as she hugs herself in the too-small slip she’s somehow managed to scrounge, and most likely regretting getting mixed up in this mess. She would have been better off sucking off some nobody than reading those comics.
“I’m okay. I’m just a bystander.”
“You heard her, she's good. Let’s go,” he beckons you with a hasty wave.
“No,” you put your foot down, “they’ll kill her, if they find she helped.”
“She’s the merchandise, the money-maker, they won’t do shit.”
Move your fucking feet, for fuck’s sake.
“Then they’ll beat her.”
“She doesn’t want to. She has a fuckin’ job and a life; you’re gonna deprive her of that?!”
He can’t believe he’s squabbling with you over a fucking woman you’ve never met before this day, or even exchanged so much as a greeting. He can even hear Ei getting impatient from the whining grunts he’s sending up.
Didn’t you say you’d fucking listen to him this time?
No you didn’t, and now he’s wishing he’d made you promise, even if he’s one hundred percent fucking positive you’d go back on it.
What’s with the fucking saviour complex all of a sudden, or has it always been there? Is it to do with that friend you lost?
Whatever the reason…
Fuck!
You cross your arms, stance firm, “I'm not leaving unless she comes with us.”
He wants to rip his fucking hair out!
Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!
He almost screams in frustration, instead he snarls his irritation.
He grabs her arm and directs her to the window, “Sorry, nips, it’s the only way to get her moving.”
She comes willingly. “That’s alright,” she chirps. “I thought I was going to be a dancer. It wasn’t the type of dancing I imagined.”
He bets.
Out the window she goes with a quiet squeal as Katsuki almost throws her down.
“Happy now?” he growls.
“Very,” you reply smugly.
Again, fuck you!
He lifts you over the sill none too gently, wanting to smack that self-approving look off your face when you blow him a condescending kiss.
The tell-tale sound of a tumbler turning, and the jiggle of the door handle, has your expression morphing into a state of panic, gripping his duster, and Katsuki’s heart seizes before his pulse runs at double time.
He pushes you, your fingers attempting to find purchase in the folds of his duster as you tumble, slipping out of his loosened, pushing grasp with an exclamation of disbelief as a bullet whizzes past; Ei’s outstretched arms reaching up, and worry lining those innocent features.
Katsuki manages to duck as another hits the wall, rolling to the side and under the bed, but not before one catches him in the same fucking arm as the last time he got got, and a second hits him in the back.
“Motherfucker,” he curses through clenched teeth, hand awkwardly going to his hip to pull out the stolen revolver he’s been relying on.
Your shouts almost drown out the muffled steps that take their sweet time crossing the carpeted floor. Those footfalls stop at the hole in the wall that was once a window, and Katsuki prays Ei had the common sense to get you off that roof and to relative safety with Denks and the pink woman.
Scuffed shoes turn on their heel and backtrack, coming to a stop right where Katsuki’s head lies.
“Oh, courier!” sings a high-pitched sinister voice.
It’s not Blue Eyes as he’d assumed, it’s someone unrecognisable who’s also under the assumption that Katsuki’s a fucking courier.
That moniker is fast becoming the bane of his fucking existence.
A second pair joins the first, high-top boots that he does recognise, and goes with the bruise on his shin.
“You have something of mine, courier.”
There’s the fucking cunt. So the other must be his true employer, the one he betrayed the small dick suit next door for.
His fingers tighten around the grip, his palm sweating from holding in the agony from the reignited burn in his arm and the fresh one in his back.
Whomever shot him, got him fucking good; new fucking duster already ruined with two holes and soaking with blood as he bleeds all over the forgotten items under the bed; heels and dirty panties, makeup compacts and hair accessories, all covered in a thick layer of dust that tickles Katsuki’s sinuses.
“Don’t forget my chip,” mister sing-song reminds.
Everyone and their fucking mother wants it apparently. And they’re all staking a claim. He bets whoever does have it would be getting a fucking laugh off over this shit if they knew.
What the fuck does this elusive chip do? Katsuki would ask if he gave a shit.
“What are you waiting for?”
Ah, the vapid, vindictive, little bitch has joined.
How delightful.
He should have let you kill her.
“You let my hostages get away. It was your one job; keep them occupied. And now look at this mess. They've done considerable damage to my hotel; Kai will think I can’t handle my business, not to mention House; if he catches wind of this.”
Seems these suits have a commonality in the problems they face. Where’s my chip? Where are my hostages? Where’s my tie that makes me look like a fucking cock?
“Kai and House can go suck a dick. The one you want’s still here; he shot Touya and-”
“I’m fine; auto-doc fixe me up.”
“It’s all that bitch’s fault, she led him here. If it wasn’t for her you’d have the chip and Jin would still be alive.”
It’s obvious she’s talking about you, and it makes Katsuki grind his teeth, though a proud smirk comes through the pain he's still fighting off.
Yeah, if it wasn’t for you he’d probably be dead, and so would Denks and Ei. Saving two out of three ain’t bad.
“So you keep saying,” the boss snips, his patience clearly thin with the woman.
“Touya!” she bemoans, as if that cunt will help her win this pathetic argument.
“Shut up, Himiko,” Blue Eyes replies, not without a sliver of condescension and annoyance. “She’s nothing to do with this, just got caught up with him.”
“You’re still defending her?!”
This bitch has a serious case of jealousy, or resentment for you.
“She’s not here, so it’s a nonissue,” he puts an end to it. “He’s cornered, and his friends have ditched him. He ain’t going anywhere.”
He’s got three shots; just enough to take them all out. But the cunts right, he’s at a disadvantage, like a fucking rat without a wall to scurry along.
Shooting at their feet is a possibility, disable them as he makes a run and jump for it, break a few bones in the process, who’s to say? Regardless, it’s too risky; by the time he gets from under the bed, one of them’s bound to get a lethal shot off, doing him in for good.
Where was a protectron when he needed it?
“Give me my chip and you're free to go. No harm, no foul. We’ll say Jin was an unfortunate by-product of this whole messy business.”
“Tom-”
“Not a word from you,” he cuts her off.
He’s fucked whichever way he swings this. Better to go out fighting than a coward who hides from the inevitable.
“One more stipulation,” Katsuki hazards a try, coughing out a dust-bunny. Fucking hell, didn’t they hire cleaners here?
“Hah,” Blue Eyes laughs. “You really think you can bargain with us in your position.”
“I got your gun, remember? You willing to sacrifice your ankles?” he retorts back.
There’s some grumbling and infighting between the three, and Katsuki waits impatiently for a compromise to be laid out.
“What do you want?” the boss asks with reluctance.
“My Pip-Boy.” Simple, even if it’s a long shot that he’ll live long enough to use it. “And the star cap you fucking took.”
“Give them him.”
“A cap? He wants a cap?!”
“Himiko, if you use that tongue of yours one more time, I will cut it out. Give him his damn change.”
There’s a click and rattle of a latch, and it clatters to the floor in front of his face, followed by the dull plink of the rare bottle cap, before they’re kicked beneath the bed, and Katsuki pulls them closer greedily. 
“Now the chip.”
Please don’t let this kill me, he sends out the prayer, chomping down on metal and then flinging it as far as it will go.
“There’s your fuckin’ chip!”
One beat.
Two beats.
Three.
The cunt is the first to notice, shouting out before his feet aren’t touching the floor anymore as the room explodes, wiping through it and blowing out the rest of the windows with an unrelenting force.
Glass shatters, the blast fracturing through the bed and lifting it a foot off the ground, almost knocking Katsuki out when it slams back down with a crack of splintering wood.
Then comes an almighty crash from outside that rocks the very foundations of the building; the zip zap of electricity sparking beyond the windows.
Before the dust even has a chance to settle, he’s crawling out, trying to hold in a hacking cough from the debris he’s already inhaled, distantly hearing screams under the high-pitched buzz ringing in his ears; the sounds of people running to get away from the aftermath of the explosion, and whatever that thundering crash was.
Through the smoke he sees a glow of red, and shambles to it on his knees, his face tucked into his bad arm as the good holds him up.
He gets the helmet on, which only amplifies the ringing in his ears, and the mask activates instantly, allowing him to breathe in cleaner air as he awkwardly pulls out the rifle that’s been hidden under his duster so he can collapse more comfortably against a torn up wall.
Note to self; don’t ever fucking do that again, he breaths heavily, closing his eyes for a heartbeat, letting his muscles relax and reset before he even thinks of standing.
Thank fuck for that Ranger; his gear. He doesn’t know he’s a fucking hero.
The grip of his boot slips, and his leg lays flat. He could fall asleep right about now; not get up for hours, let the adrenaline from the night finally drain until there’s no thoughts, no constant need to feel there’s something he has to do; always on the move, someone to find, someone to protect. There’s just him and a blessed dreamless sleep, wrapped up in the arms of a mouthy woman, with soft skin and round hips, and a history he never really fully pieced together.
Pain refuses to let him truly forget, and he feels sick, the tang of blood mixing with the taste of soot and ash in the air. Then the red-tinged room begins to spin, causing a wooziness to overcome him, and his stomach contracts, his throat constricting to keep whatever’s still in his guts down.
He can barely lift his arm, lost too much blood, sopping through the material of his sleeve, sticky and warm.
Is this what finally kills him, a fucking gun shot, and lungs full of crap.
What a shit way to go; would rather have suffocated in your breasts, or drowned between the folds of your cunt.
As he’s just about to close his eyes, intent on not opening them again for a while, he feels a firm clamping around his leg, and hears a strained groan as it pulls feebly. 
“Fuck off, ’m try’na die ‘ere,” he kicks back weakly, hardly able to hear his own voice from the ringing in his eardrums. He’s had enough, can’t even be bothered to save his own life until he’s had a nap.
During his explorations he’d found letters from men who knew the end was nigh, knew they weren’t gonna make it. They always had regrets, always lamented them.
Katsuki doesn’t regret much, just a couple of things; that he failed to reach Ei and Denks when they were taken, and getting them to New California, to safety in Vault City.
Oh, and there was you. He’s never not paid off a favour or debt. You never got your caps or completed your night off; instead he turned your world upside down, and who knows where that will leave you.
He laughs through a spasm of dry heaves.
You're a tough one; you’ll be fine, if Ei hasn’t already adopted you like he did that scruffy mutt, Dogmeat.
Denks will try to fuck you of course, and that pisses Katsuki off more than anything, giving him a boost of energy.
What’s with this pity party?
He’s not gonna die. This is a cakewalk compared to other times. He’s been shot and stabbed, and drowned and tortured; broken more bones than he can count, and faced beasts that were more than twice Ei’s height and weight.
This is practically a walk through the Appalachian Mountains in comparison.
The clamp tugs again.
“I said, fuck off.” He kicks harder, and whatever - whoever - it was, gurgles a snarl.
Katsuki finally opens his eyes, and he’s greeted with a face of horror; hair that was once pure as snow dusted in black and grey. Harrowing burns covering almost every inch of available skin, angry and bloody. Veins bulge beneath the thin layers, a burnt crispy-ness curling back from the fresh exposure of the tender flesh.
Scars below the eyes, lips black and charred, contrastive against the pearly white of teeth and pink gums; the whole lower jaw mottled and chafed, leading to a flayed neck, tendons taut and throbbing.
He’s seen ghouls that look better.
Blue Eyes is pointing a gun at him, the one Katsuki stole now returned to its owner. 
“Kill… you…” the ugly cunt strains out through his wheezes and groans. “She… was… s‘posta be… mine.”
What-the fuck-ever. He can try to kill him if he wants, but Katsuki can be petty. Won’t let him be the one to survive longer.
And the audacity to bring you up and claim such a statement. You were no one’s; if anything, you had Blue Eyes, and his fucked up affection for you. The cunt fucking stabbed you, for fuck’s sake. He’d never do that, unless you were into that shit.
And right now, he has Katsuki’s attention. Too much of his attention.
As soon as the cunt finds the strength with those overcooked sausages he has for fingers, he’ll get the last laugh, and Katsuki will never hear you tell him to ‘fuck off’ again in that infuriating and provocative way you do. 
Katsuki’s hand seeks the rifle beside him, which is a bloody fucking bitch because it’s on his injured side. When he does take hold and manages to slide it into his lap, good arm taking it up and poking a finger through the trigger, the barrel is long enough to touch the cunt’s forehead.
“Never was a courier… Never had the chip,” Katsuki replies, exhausted and fed up. “She… was never… yours. Should… have listened. This was… all f’ fuckin’… nothin’.”
He shoots, the muzzle lighting up those blue eyes one last time, and what’s left of his head covers Katsuki in a thick soup of brains and viscera.
Fuck it, he was overdue for a bath anyways.
His vision flickers between red and black, the putrid smell of guts making his stomach churn once more as he fights not to make the stench more unbearable with vomit.
It’s with his last blink, he sees a vision form though the settling particles of filth and smoke.
A mountain of a man fills the doorway; a roar bellowing from mutated vocal cords.
And slipping in from behind, someone much more petite in comparison, hair wild, determination and apprehension etched into a lovely face, eyes wide, shapely leg exposed.
Ah, he can die happy.
“Took… ya long… enough.”
His gruff voice catches Ei’s and yours ears, and they turn in unison.
“We had some trouble in the cloakroom trying to get Ei’s stuff.”
Ei seems to grunt in agreement, his relief palpable as his shoulders drop and chest expands on inhale and rumbles on the way out. Fussing as usual; he drops down beside Katsuki, his mini-gun thudding with a tremendous thump, threatening to make a big hole in the floor, and removes Katsuki’s helmet for him, exposing his face.
“Is that…?” You wrinkle your nose, your disgust evident as you stop to take in the scene Katsuki sits in the middle of. Particularly at the half a body hanging onto his leg, and the other two that aren’t exactly whole either.
He attempts to shake it off.
“The one… and only,” he chortles through a laboured breath. “He won’t be giving you… trouble anymore.”
Surprisingly, you switch, and back is the mouthy woman he remembers spending hours tied in a room with. “You fucking asshole! What were you thinking?” you berate, shrugging off his jacket and stepping through the assortment of body parts.
“What?!” he asks with incredulity. “I took him out… and took that bullet for you… two of ‘em… more than I said.” His words are becoming slurred, and he's having trouble focusing, your features blurring. “Tell her Ei… ‘m a goddamn hero.”
“It’s no time for sarcasm,” you continue to admonish; kneeling in the blood and pressing the jacket to his injured arm and side.
He doesn’t fucking get you, flip flopping from concern, to revulsion, and now back to bitch mode, then concern again. You give him a whiplash and a headache.
“I was talking about the explosion. That was you, wasn’t it? It I thought you were fucking clever, reading all those books.”
“Not as clever… as you enterin’ an exploded room…” He pauses to take a breath. “That ain’t gonna… mop up shit… princess,” he nods at the ineffective material that repels rather than soaks, gritting his teeth when he tries to sit up straighter. “You should’ve… put more study into… medicine and science.”
Helpfully, Ei digs through his pack and holds out a stimpack to you, his hand hovering over Katsuki like he’s scared to touch. Probably remembering all the times he’s been told off.
This time Katsuki wouldn’t have pushed him away.
“‘M alright… big guy. Been through… worse shit… ‘member Andale?… Can’t get rid… - Fuck!.. watch where you’re sticking that!”
“You can be a real baby, can’t you?”
The injection works its magic as he feels the bullets already being pushed to the surface of his skin, just as painful as when they went in, and his vision begins to return to normal. Your concern is clear, hidden below the shallow surface of annoyance.
“You shouldn’t make him worry so much,” you say, now wrapping his arm with a bandage. “Between you and Denks, he hasn’t had the best night. He thought you were dead.”
“Nah, gotta…ssssshitt… outlive ya all. Make sure you idiots… don’t kill yaselves.”
“Can’t do that when your fucking blowing yourself up,” you snip. Ei agrees with a whine, and you give him a nodding smile before turning a scowl on Katsuki. “See, you’re the fucking idiot.”
Still a smart ass through the disquiet.
“‘S not like I had a choice,” he retorts, sarkily, already feeling much better. But the fucking blinding pain is still zinging through is nerves. “Med-X?”
Ei dutifully hands over another syringe, this one filled with blue liquid, and this time Katsuki takes it for himself, jabbing it in his thigh without delay like a fucking drug addict.
Denks would be giving him so much shit.
The sigh he gives out is one of relief, his strength gradually returning now the pain is receding, and he can actually think coherently. Think up better quips should you pursue this back and forth for longer.
You don’t.
So he looks back to Ei, the cropped metal cutting into his rough skin. “Managed to save this for you.”
In the palm of his hand, he holds out the cap, and Ei’s lip trembles as he takes it gently between oversized fingers.
Cupping the man’s face with a hard slap as if to knock away the worry there - he’s been giving him that look way too much recently; you were fucking right again, figures - Katsuki reassures him, “I’m good. Now get me the fuck outta here.”
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With an arm slung around your shoulders, you guide Katsuki down the stairs and through the gaming floor.
It’s pretty much empty except for a few stragglers, naked women and guests hiding under tables and behind potted plants, cowering at Ei whose taken point, focused intently on getting you both out. And then there’s ones who were so drunk and off their heads that they’ve slept through the whole commotion.
Anyone else inside is dead. The suits; every last one of them riddled with bullets, or missing limbs and faces.
“You do this?” he asks, impressed. You really do have big balls to shoot up a casino.
“Ei did most of the work,” you confess proudly. “They didn’t take too kindly to him wanting to get back in with that big gun of his when they stupidly gave it back.”
Place is a mess. Bullet casings litter the floor along with the bodies, and holes decorate the walls and gambling tables. The mirrors behind the bar are shattered, and most of the liquor bottles are broken.
In front, the big man rumbles out an affirmation from deep within his chest.
“Where’s the good for nothin’ junkie?” he finally inquires when you make it to the lobby.
“Here,” Denks calls, looking much better than when he found him, those electrical scars are gonna be with him a long time though, if not forever. He’s crouched behind the reception desk, arms outstretched over the top of it, laser pistol pointed toward the entrance doors.
The pink woman is huddled beside him, a fucking RPG launcher weighing her shoulder down and enough rockets at her feet to blow the building sky high. He makes a mental note to never get on her bad side as he takes in the arsenal they’ve accrued in the small amount of time.
And he can’t deny, it’s kinda fucking hot. He’d like to see you carrying one at some point.
He could open his own store with this lot; pistols, revolvers, shotguns, an assortment of laser and plasma weapons, assault rifles, machine guns, semi-autos, full-autos, enough to supply a small militia. No wonder the casinos confiscate them before entry, otherwise this sort of thing could have happened sooner, and they’d be out of business faster than cashing in a single chip.
He’d take them all if the encumbrance didn’t slow him down. 
“We caught the attention of House’s securitrons when the sign fell from the explosion,” you explain. “He’s not letting us go without a fight.”
So that’s what that crash had been. And now his senses are back to full working capacity, he can hear the metal fucks barking out robotic orders to stand down.
And who is this fucking House he keeps hearing about but never sees?
“How many?”
“About forty or fifty,” the pink woman supplies. 
So a whole fucking army. What a fucking joke.
“Is there no other way out?” Securitrons are tough, way more than the slow and bumbling protectron; they have speed and a plethora of weaponry embedded in their robotic chastises.
Denks shakes his head. “They’ve got us covered from all sides; some NCR have even joined in.”
Great, he’s inadvertently started a war against a whole fucking town. 
Fuck! It’s just one thing after another. Will he ever catch a fucking break?
He takes in a deep breath and lets it out in a fierce huff.
Nothing for it then.
Katsuki removes his arm from around you and stands on his own, throwing up his sniper rifle by the barrel and snatching it up by the stock. “Ei, pink lady, cover the doors. On my signal unload on ‘em before they can fire back.”
Ei grunts, rolling his shoulder to adjust the strap of his mini-gun, and Pinky nods, teetering precariously on chunky high heels as Ei helps her up.
Katsuki picks out a decent-looking pump-action shotgun from the scavenged arsenal, and straps it to his back, then takes a place beside Denks. “This is suicide, Kats,” he unhelpfully points out, like they both weren’t on death’s door moments ago.
They definitely don’t have enough stimpacks to survive this.
“Hah. Just another fuckin’ day for us like always,” he snarks, balancing his rifle alongside Denks’ pistol, and you join with your SMG.
He loads in the maximum six rounds, and pulls back the bolt catch to release the first into the chamber with a satisfying click.
Adjusting the sights, he peeks at you with a squinted eye. You're nervous; he doubts you’ve ever been in such a position, the rest of the night notwithstanding. “You said you wanted to knock over a casino, princess; well now we gotta get out, you ready, Vikki?”
Your frown of fear and unease, melts away into a shaky smirk. “Just say the word, Vance,” you quip.
He returns it with a smirk of his own, pops on his helmet. and lines up his crosshairs, finger light on the trigger. Itchy, and ready to fire.
With Ei and Pinky in place, one hand each on a handle, he lets them loose.
“Fuck ‘em up!”
The doors are hardly open an inch before Katsuki lets off his first shot, hollow point whizzing through the gap and striking a securitron through its flickering screen, cracking it.
After that, it’s a cacophony of shouts and bullet-fire. Beaming lasers and exploding grenades. Crumpling metal and robotic beeps and buzzes.
Ei’s taking bullets left and right as he steps out, giving those lungs a good workout as he roars; that thick mutated skin of his can take the hits though, for the moment.
His lady friend is kneeling just out of sight of the onslaught, propelling those rockets with efficiency over Ei’s head, partially creating a barricade as she bombards them, allowing him to push forward.
Denks is ducking after each of his shots, probably so he doesn’t fuck up that stupid hair and face of his when a stray bullet passes through.
You, on the other hand, have moved, situated yourself behind a couch, a much more accurate spot for your mid-range weapon, and spraying indiscriminately when any of the securitrons get past Ei and Pinky’s wall.
“DON’T FUCKING STOP! KEEP THOSE METAL CUNTS BACK!”
Katsuki helps, capping them one by one, knocking off armour and puncturing tires, so you and Denks can easily finish them off.
Soon enough, a pile of twisted and blown out metal begins to form. Their broken chassis’s sizzling and sparking from a robot’s death.
Then a fucking rocket launches from the outside, landing straight in the middle of the lobby. He just about has enough time to warn everyone before it hits, grabbing Denks and pushing him down as a plume of smoke fills the place.
“Fuck!” the blond sputters and coughs. “We're gonna die, Kats! We’re gonna fucking die!”
“Shut up with that fuckin’ shit!” Katsuki thunders, and yells for him to stay put as he leaps over the desk, landing in a shallow crater of demolished concrete.
With his goggles, Katsuki has no trouble seeing through the smoke and ash, his gaze zeroing in on where the couch used to be. It’s obvious it wouldn’t be there, which doesn’t stop Katsuki’s heart from giving a few staccato pumps, blood stuttering through his veins, clogging his ears and pounding them with the rush.
“Princess!” he shouts, frantic and wild. “Ei!”
He spins, and dips, and dodges the oncoming bullet-fire, searching, still searching, and calling for you, but there’s no reply.
He hears Ei though, his roaring ever louder, his anger more prominent than ever.
Fuck, they were really in the shit!
Then he catches it, a movement, a twitch in the periphery of his vision, a blink and he would have missed it.
The couch is fractured, splintered in several parts, unrecognisable, and you're caught beneath the wreckage, fingers working to find grip, and a weak, coarse yell of his name muffled by the thick debris.
He pitches forward, almost landing on his face in his haste to get across the room, and immediately sets to freeing you, throwing away anything he can get his hands on, and dragging you from the confines and up onto your knees.
Another rocket detonates and it rocks the building, the ceiling crumbling and sending down a shower of plaster.
You look like shit, and prettier for it; eyes watering from the smoke, makeup as smudged as ever as he roughly smooths a hand across your face, clearing it from dirt and your mussed hair.
“Now’s not the time to be giving me a heart attack, princess.”
“Keeping you on your toes,” you gasp, choking on the filthy air. You look to be fine, all things considered, no missing limbs or profusely bleeding wounds.
He removes his helmet, and puts it over your messy head. “Stay low,” he commands, finding your hand and using it to usher you through the rubble. A much harder task now that he doesn’t have his fancy goggles.
“Denks!” he hollers, and gets a faint answer back, he better be where he left him. “Make for the entrance and join up with Ei; use the smoke as cover.”
He gets another reply, but can’t make it out. He only hopes it was a response of agreement and not some bullshit about how they were all gonna die again.
Whatever the outcome, Katsuki doesn't linger, not when his lung capacity is slowly decreasing, and having already wasted a good chunk of it calling to the idiot on the other side of the room.
Keeping his grasp tight, he heads for the light and spots the silhouette of what can be none other than Ei, still standing and going strong, however, Katsuki knows him well enough to see the signs, he’s languishing. His body is a mishmash of wounds; bullet holes that ooze, laser burns that have cauterised themselves, grazes and scrapes from anything other shrapnel that’s managed to hit him.
Having run out of ammo, he’s resorted to using his fists, and those babies pack one hell of a fucking punch, even more so than a powerfist.
At his feet is pink nips; on her ass and injured, leg bent at an odd angle and splattered with blood. She’s not idle, far from it, her RPG’s been replaced with a plasma rifle, and shooting out bursts of that green shit they spew, melting whatever it comes in contact with.
Between the two of them, they’ve created a literal trash heap of securitrons, and the occasional NCR Trooper, and using the destroyed Gomorrah sign as a barricade.
Katsuki retrieves the shotgun from his back and drags you out of the relative safety of the smoke and into the fray, creating a quadrangle that essentially protects the other two from even more serious injuries. And when Denks finally gets his slow ass moving and joins, it becomes a shape Katsuki can’t remember the name of.
Doesn’t fucking matter anyway, all that does is all four of you are firing, and Ei’s laying the smack down on the robots that are still operational and any NCR stupid enough to get in range.
Denks is more involved as he dual-welds like a fucking show off; your finger doesn’t let up on the trigger, using up ammo like it’s going out of fashion; and Katsuki’s pumping that shottie like a handjob that’s long overdue.
“Make a hole, and get to the gate,” he hollers as the army begins to thin; there’s probably only about a dozen and a half or so left, still a lot, but that homestretch is in sight.
If they can get through the checkpoint, they’ll just need to outrun the fuckers.
It’s in the midst of this, a loud rumble, like an engine continually starting up, comes from the sky, and Katsuki looks up.
“Is that a…?”
Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh FUCK!
Officially, and royally, fucked!
Denks doesn’t get to finish the question, Ei’s already abandoned the fight and scooped him up along with the pink lady, to throw him over his shoulder, and Katsuki is pushing at you to move faster.
“Go, go, GO!!!”
A bomber; a fucking real working airplane bomber!
This is like the cherry on the fucking cake.
A shadow falls like a vulture circling prey, and those engines become deafening, shaking the ground and kicking up the dust. A Gatling gun descends from its fuselage, tearing up the concrete and tarmac, and any remaining securitrons that are still in hot pursuit down the central walkway.
Through the chaos, Katsuki doesn’t stop, not even when he takes pot-shots at any stragglers that are in his way. Just keeps on pushing you on and running; past The Tops, past Vault 21 and the fountain until the North Gate is within touching distance. His only thought is to get out, get as far away as possible, before the whole street’s lit up like a stray spark in a nuclear power plant.
Ei’s on the same wavelength, doesn’t even bother to open the gate, just barrels on through, using his mass as a battering ram, breaking down the fence and creating a hole for Katsuki and you to follow through, still continuing to sprint as the bullets chase his tracks, until the road turns to compacted dirt and sand.
The group gets a mile out, and the darkness goes as quick as it came, making a wide circle to start the process again. Only this time Katsuki sees the exact moment it drops its load.
Whoever’s controlling that fucking thing has shitty aim, because the ‘zwhooom’ of the bomb soars right over his position and goes straight for The Lucky 38.
“What the hell?!” he exclaims, out of breath and finally coming to a halt, wondering what the fuck is going on, your warmth pressing to his side as you cling to him and recharge your lungs with wheezing coughs.
Another fly-by, and another bomb, and another, and another after that.
Almost half the disc gets blown to shit, all those windows bursting from their sills, fragmenting and shattering to rain down sparkling daggers of fractured glass in the rising sunlight.
The groaning of metal girders and steel frames twist with the imbalance of weight, and it teeters like a spinning top about to fall.
“Am I missing something?” Denks questions as Ei finally puts him down and gapes at the destruction.
He’s missing a fucktonne, but Katsuki isn’t in the mood to explain. Plus, he can’t with this, he has no fucking clue. 
“I thought they were after us,” the blond continues to muse.
“It could be someone else unrelated to what we did,” you offer, standing up straight and rubbing your side with a wince.
Pinky hums in agreement from within the cradle of Ei’s arms, looking smaller than she ordinarily would as she watches pieces of the tallest casino crumble away. “Happens all the time,” she sighs wistfully. “Just last week Tomura found one of the Legion sniffing around Gomorrah, and they were never seen again.”
“Yes,” you nod. “Kai once sent someone to wipe out the Van Graffs. Apparently, they were charging him double for weapons than what Tomura was paying for them.”
“Uh-huh, I heard about that; he was in a worse mood than usual over losing his supplier. The day after Touya killed one of the girls because she had been planning to run off with one of the Johns.”
Ei whines like he doesn’t like that sound of that last anecdote, and hugs her closer.
“It’s okay big guy,” she taps his bloody chest, “he’s dead now, and we have all the time in the world to finish those comics.” She ends with a smile that must be infectious, because Ei cracks one back, broad and cheesy, and besotted.
Seems he’s found his new adoptee. Makes a change from a dog, or a molerat. Even so, boy is she gonna be disappointed when she finds out he was never able to find the last issue.
“So you’re saying us blowing up Gomorrah, and The 38 being bombed was just coincidence?” Denks scratches his head like he can’t get it around the whole fiasco.
Neither can Katsuki.
This whole fucking night has just been bewilderment mixed with bafflement and confusion.
A case of mistaken identity that started out innocently enough, then turned into a clusterfuck of crossed wires and a refusal to see or hear what the fuck is actually true.
“That’s right,” you affirm. “Just another night in New Vegas.”
“Wow,” he replies, stunned, as though he’s not the one who usually gets them involved in this type of shit. “So what did we do again?” he stupidly asks, looking to Katsuki and you, who are still gazing out over the smoking town.
Looking back on the events of the last twelve hours, it’s rather ironic that Katsuki should be the one to have started it this time.
Didn’t he say he was due for a fuck up when they first got here?
Silently, he holds in a derisive chuckle and aims a sideways glance at you.
“You know what, Denks?” he shoulders his shotgun, and turns on his heel, putting the whole fucked night behind him. “I really couldn’t give a shit anymore.”
The dumbass duo make moves to follow, like nothing happened, returning to how it’s always been. They know the score; it’s time to get back on track, and chalk this useless endeavour up as a diversion, a side-mission.
A waste of fucking time.
“We should head back to Novac, or Primm,” Denks recommends. “I can make our caps back.”
There is no way Katsuki’s stepping foot in a casino again.
“Oooh, I’ve been there,” nips says, kicking her feet over the side of Ei’s arm excitedly. “Did you see the giant lizard? I thought I was a deathclaw at first.”
Ei gives out a happy grunt.
“Though if it’s caps you’re after, I heard a rumour that there’s a treasure at the Sierra Madre.”
It doesn’t take long before the three of them are chatting it up, and out pacing Katsuki as he fiddles with the dials of his Pip-Boy, bringing up the map and referring to the course he plotted out the day before with the old man at the Express.
He gets about twenty feet before he feels something is missing, an emptiness at his side, an annoying nagging that is suspiciously absent.
Over his shoulder he sees you standing in the same spot with your back to him, arms crossed protectively.
He shakes his head. What the fuck were you doing now?
He trudges back. “Oi!”
“Huh?” You seem shocked to see him here. Like he hasn’t been stuck to you all night. “Oh!” you hand him the helmet that’s been dangling at your hip. 
He takes it. “Time to make tracks,” he replies, cocking his head.
You turn away, pressing at the wrinkles between your brows and nod through a yawn, “I do need some sleep.”
“No time for that. Sun’s low, best time to travel before it gets too hot.”
“So? Did you get hit on the head, or did you want something?”
Did you? It’s obvious you're not picking up what he’s putting down. “I need a hacker.”
You're taken aback, a brow raised bemusedly. “Didn’t you say Denks was one?”
“Yeah, but he’s shit. Wastes all the Mentats on piss-easy locks.”
You cross your arms in a fashion that says you don’t believe him.
Cleverest densest woman he’s ever met.
“Okay, you want the truth…?”
He takes a moment to think of a way to phrase this delicately. Then he brushes the thought away. Like you give a crap about delicacy, you certainly haven been delicate with him.
“Your tits are nice.”
“What?!”
He’s definitely got you off guard now, just needs to butter you up a bit before he drives it on home.
“Y’have nice breasts, tha’s all,” he shrugs. Women like compliments, or so he learnt from watching Denks’ attempts, and he’s usually successful, more so than with a locked terminal.
“You said they were lopsided.”
“So? Show me a pair that ain’t. I like them; best I’ve seen in a long time. Wouldn’t mind keeping ‘em around.”
You gape like a floundering guppy, and splutter incredulously. “Are you suggesting I should come with you, because of my breasts?”
There you go, hit the nail on the head. There are other reasons too, but he’ll leave those left unsaid, for now. He’s not known you for long, and you might just run off if he voices them.
He’s intrigued by your past, a vault girl pulled into a world of vice and survival, using your assets to live and to get close to those who wronged you. Not necessarily a unique feature, everyone born in this shit-stained wasteland has an agenda. It’s how you’ve adapted that has him taking notice.
Switching in the blink of an eye like a chameleon. 
Like how he thinks you're beautiful, even with a face full of blood, ash and soot. Likes your confidence and conviction, your values and morals. Loves how you challenge him, defy him, and stand up for yourself, and for others who don’t even ask for it. Your dirty mouth that rivals his own is of particular appeal; spitting out insults at an impressive rate.
And you make him hard when you get feisty.
Eh, he’s a man, it’s his thing.
He’ll let you ride his ass, figuratively, and his dick, literally.
You’re one of a kind, and he wants to keep you beside him for as long as you will allow. Wants to hear you complain and pick fights with him over stupid inconsequential shit, and over the things that matter. Wants to be there when you do something insufferably smart that makes even him feel pathetically idiotic and useless.
He wants to make up for the shit he’s dragged you through and show you there’s a life outside of the one you’ve been living. Take you places; pretty places where there’s no sand, and no people who did you wrong. He’s been pushing away the questions about your relationships with those he’s run into tonight, and now he’s ready to ask them, if you’re willing to answer. Not that he needs to know; your mysteriousness is just as alluring as if you laid everything out. And to be honest, he’d actually prefer to learn you as he goes. Surprise him with something unexpected when he least expects it.
Wants to teach you how to live in the wasteland; use a reloading bench and craft your own ammo. Train and help you take down a deathclaw and radscorpion. Take you to a vault, and watch as you infiltrate Vault-Tec’s systems, learn its past and about the dwellers who lived there.
Wants to fuck you - properly - have you crawl in his bedroll, and put your hands all over him. Put his hands on you! Keep you quiet with his mouth, and drink in your orgasm, prevent you from waking up the others as they sleep just feet away. Or make you cum so hard you even startle a snoring Ei.
Fuck, there’s so much; it’s too soon to part and leave things as they are.
But he won’t say any of that. You might think he’s gone fucking crazy, or use it against him. Just another quality he likes about you; knowing you have his balls in the palm of your hand and aren’t afraid to crush them.
So he bites his tongue on what he really wants to say and instead comes up with…
“Why not? There's nothin’ left for you here,” he shrugs nonchalantly - no need to give the game away, there’ll be plenty of time for that - gesturing to the smouldering remains of the once bright town. “And Denks really is shit. Ain’t nothin’ compared to you.”
Your expression is ponderous, chewing your lips and side-eyeing the vista, humming thoughtfully.
“Come on, I still owe you them caps,” he encourages, entices with a light touch to your wrist. He’s not beyond using a few tricks to get you to agree.
Nevertheless, if you say no, he’ll respect it, hate you for it, because you have no idea what you’ve done to him. But he’ll respect it.
Eventually, you come to a decision - he can tell by the way your arms drop in defeat and turn away from the view to face him properly. “You also owe me that night off you never finished.”
“Oh, I think I can arrange that,” he grins. Not what he was expecting you to say, but fuck, he’s glad you’re the one to bring it up. “Yet, I distinctly remember you saying I was lacking in that department.”
“You’re fishing.”
He is. Fair’s fair.
You sigh heavily, tucking your chin, unwilling to look at him, but giving in anyway and saying what he wants to hear. “You're good with your fingers, and you have an above average cock,” you admit begrudgingly.
He waits.
Staring.
“Alright,” you huff with a look towards the sky. “It’s big! You have a big cock. Happy?”
“Extremely.” He doesn’t mean to sound smug, but what man doesn’t want such acclaim from some like you.
“You're taking a bath first.”
He sniffs dramatically. “You ain’t smelling too sweet yourself, princess. I’ve smelt brahmin less ripe.”
Eyes bright and murderous, you punch him - hard - right in the kisser, causing him to stumble.
“Fuck you!” you spit, fists clenched at your sides, and stomp off in the direction of the others, now some distance away, watching and waiting for a resolution.
Or retaliation.
His heart thuds, tight and swelling in its cage as he rubs at his jaw and licks his lip to the taste of iron.
Your reaction surpassed everything he wanted.
Although, he thinks it’s best to wait to kiss you until you’ve calmed down, or after his lip has healed. Whichever comes first.
Katsuki grins, broad and smug, splitting his injury further.
Fuck you too, princess.
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phantombanquet · 9 months
Text
Main Story: Diasomnia Book Chapter 4 (Translation)
7-63: State of Concern!
⚠️ DIASOMNIA SPOILERS. PLEASE BEWARE!
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Land of Briar - Campsite
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Lilia: Baul, you ended up having another three servings of “risotto”.
Was it that good? Kufufu.
Baul: O-On second thought, there was no crime in the food.
Sebek: I'm glad it suits your taste!
Baul: Ahem! Even... so.¹
Lilia: Ahh. Those Silver Owls have been frequenting this side of the Whistling Wind Valley² lately.
Baul: They ravage the Land of Briar as if it were their own….. Those lowly thieves!
Lilia: Around 100 years ago, one small ship barely landed on a cape where the sunrise could be viewed from the top of a high mountain.
However, in a blink of an eye, those guys grew in number and outnumbered the fairies living in this country.
Now, the Whistling Wind Valley from the east is completely their home.
Baul: Grrrr…… Those humans~~~~!!
If that was the case, we should have just driven them out!!
Lilia: I'm certain Her Majesty The Queen didn't think they would be this much of a handful back then.
Sebek, Silver: ……
Lilia: If they had respected nature, animals, and lived modestly, I would have left them alone, however……
I can't stand that they continue digging up all over the mountains and forest.
We must hurry and deliver Mallenoa-sama's letter to the Eastern Fortress.
Grim: Mallenoa-sama? Who even is that?
Sebek: You bastard³, do you not know about Mallenoa-sama? She is the Young Lord's….. Ah!
……Mallenoa-sama is the Princess of the Land of Briar.
Lilia: It's as the youngster says.
She is the only daughter of the current Queen Maleficia, our master and the Lord of the “Wild Rose (Heidenröslein) Castle”⁴.
Silver: “Wild Rose Castle?” The Royal Castle in the Dragon Capital, and not the “Black Scale Castle”⁵?
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Lilia: A green field with a wetland spreading throughout the south side of the Land of Briar.
In the center of it all, a fortress glares at the scoundrels coming from beyond the Coral Sea and the Whistling Valley…
That is the “Wild Rose Castle”.
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Baul: Mallenoa-sama, who commands the Royal Guards, is the keystone of this country's defense.
We, as the Royal Palace's guards, will be the delegation that delivers a written request to the “Silver Owls” from Mallenoa-sama.
Today, we had just left the Wild Rose Castle.
Sebek: When you say “written request”......
Baul: Isn't it obvious! It is an ultimatum to immediately stop the ill-mannered behavior of the “Silver Owls” in our country!
Lilia: Hah…… If I could fly by magic, I could easily reach their fortress.
Silver: Is there any reason you don't use flying?
Lilia: The delegations that carried the letter to the Eastern Fortress before us have been disappearing one after another.
Sebek, Silver: Eh!?
Lilia: Our job is to deliver the letter.
Next is to search for the missing ones on the way to the destination. And…
To find and destroy the “Silver Owls” who continue mining without the permission of the fairies.
Baul: Guh…… Diplomacy is primarily the work of the aristocrats. Why must the General be forced to do so!
Lilia: Fairies are much fewer in number compared to humans. Ever since the “Silver Owls” showed up, there has constantly been a shortage in labor.
Moreover, the aristocrats were so unreliable that the mere scent of iron made them swoon.
Mallenoa-sama must have also had that in mind, and chose me instead.
Baul: That is…
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Lilia: From now on, we will pass through the Forest of the Night, travel along the green fields, and walk towards the Whistling Wind Valley.
After passing through the Whistling Wind Valley, we will search for the missing ones in the Red Field and at the slope of the Dragon Mountain while aiming for the fortress of the “Silver Owls” at the eastern continent.
Silver: ……It's going to be a long trip.
Lilia: Kufufu. Are you frightened?
Hey, messengers of Night Raven College. Does it look like I still have spare time to attend school?
Sebek, Silver, Grim: ……
Lilia: Even if you break your bones to follow us, you will only be taking a risk and there is not much good left for all of you.
I won't say anything bad, so go back to your school.
Silver: ……No! Now that I have heard you talk like this—!
My desire to have Vanrouge-dono enter Night Raven College has grown even stronger.
Lilia: Ha?
Silver: Indeed, there is not much “magic” we can teach you. However……
I am certain that school life will become an irreplaceable memory for you.
Sebek: Silver……
Silver: That's why, the moment we finish this mission, I will invite you once again—
To our alma mater, Night Raven College!
Lilia: I still won't change my mind once this mission is over…
…Even so, do you still intend to stick with us?
Silver: Yes!
Lilia: Even if your life is in danger?
Silver: YES!!
Lilia: ……
I don't know much about humans…… Could it be that Night Raven College is filled with fairly weird guys among the humans?
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Silver: Certainly, there are many of them who are fairly unique.
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Sebek: The origins, race, and even culture… It's diverse.
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Silver: That is why we learn so much every day.
Lilia: Ha… Have it your way. I don't know anymore.
Silver, Sebek: THANK YOU!!
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translation notes:
¹ - I just want to note that Baul said 「それにしても……です。」 です is a Japanese copula (grammatically links subjects and predicates), and is commonly for politeness. The way I formatted the text was the only way I could think of on how to express what he said. Tldr: Baul is still trying to be polite even if he's being teased so bad rn
² - 「風鳴き渓谷」 Whistling Wind Valley; it contains the kanji for wind 風 and the kanji 鳴く, which is commonly used as “to sing (bird). I decided to literally translate as to not drastically change the original text.
³ - 「貴様」 Sebek usually uses this (as well as Baul and, sometimes, General Lilia) i just wanted to make a note of it lol. Kisama is a derogatory way to address someone, and the closest translation for it is “You bastard”.
⁴ - 「野ばら城」 I believe 野ばら (translation: Wild Rose) is also a reference to Heidenröslein, a poem written by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe about a young man plucking a rose despite the rose's warning not to or else she will stick to him with her thorn forever.
⁵ - 「黒鱗城」 (くりんじょう) Black Scale Castle; it contains the kanji for black 黒 and the kanji for scale 鱗 (of fish, snake, etc. but in this context it's probably dragon scales). Again, I decide to literally translate it as to not drastically change the original text.
personal note: i decided to translate ONLY this chapter because it contained important locations to know for the world building lore. i won't fully translate the entire chapter 4 because of its length.
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nighttimeebony · 11 months
Text
A collection of my thoughts, reactions, predictions and whatnot that I had and wrote down while I was reading The Sea of Monsters. So spoilers for that under the cut.
EDIT: part 1, part 3, part 4, part 5
Ah, I just now realized that Percy’s sword, Riptide, is another nod to his Poseidon heritage
Where the hell was this kind of school when I was Percy’s age? You don’t get grades, and you just get to blow shit up in science class?? I fucking wish
Tyson kind of reminds me of some of the special ed kids I knew in elementary school. Or kids with low-functioning autism. That’s probably what Percy figured, too, since he didn’t know that Tyson was a cyclops at first. Percy is such a sweetheart, and he does his best to treat Tyson kindly and to protect him from bullies. And he does it not to feel better about himself but because he wants Tyson to feel better. And he doesn’t just protect Tyson and leave him alone afterwards and hope he doesn’t talk to him. He genuinely considers Tyson to be one of his friends and he cares about him. I just. I love this kid.
Ah, yes. Tantalus. I remember you. Your son had sex with Percy’s dad.
I like that whenever Percy sees Grover in a wedding dress, he says nothing about the fact that Grover is a boy wearing a dress, he’s just like, “bro, that does not fit you at all, you need a size 9 at least before we can call it kosher”. I love these kids.
I like Silena Beauregard and Charles Beckendorf. I imagine that they're a couple, because it would be a cute reference to the fact that Aphrodite and Hephaestus are technically married. In a very crack shippy kind of way.
I just now realized that the name of Luke's sword (Backbiter) was foreshadowing for his inevitable betrayal. Backbiter is a term used to describe someone untrustworthy, or used to describe a traitor. It’s basically a synonym for “backstabber”. The trickster Norse god Loki is actually frequently referred to with the epithet Backbiter. It could also be a reference to the fact that Hermes is not only a trickster god, but also the god of liars and thieves, which would make sense considering that Luke is a son of Hermes.
Holy shit, Luke is trying to Voldemort this shit!
“‘Percy,’ Annabeth said, trying to keep her cool, ‘we’re going to Polyphemus’s island! Polyphemus is an S-i-k… a C-y-k…” She stamped her foot in frustration. As smart as she was, Annabeth was dyslexic, too. We could’ve been there all night while she tried to spell Cyclops.” I love this book.
Percy’s like, a donut shop in the middle of nowhere is a little weird, but donuts aren’t all that high on my list of threats to worry about. Percy, last book you were almost murdered by Medusa at a diner. I think you should know by now that free food is sketchy as hell when you’re you.
“‘I DON’T CARE WHAT IT SAID!’ Ares bellowed with such force that his image shimmered. ‘You will succeed. And if you don’t…’ He raised his fist. Even though he was only a figure in the steam, Clarisse flinched.” Oh, baby…
I think Clarisse should swear. She deserves it.
Annabeth talking about weaving and Athena’s skill with weaving specifically makes me wonder if we’re ever going to meet or get some other mention/reference to Arachne.
“‘But…’ Annabeth’s voice sounded hurt. ‘What’s wrong with my hair?’” Annabeth saying this broke my heart, but then I remembered that she’s going to be Black in that new live action series, and thinking about this scene with that context in mind hurt me even more considering how Black kids are often shamed and punished for their natural hair texture. I’m just imagining little Annabeth getting made fun of by other kids for her hair and teachers punishing her for being “dirty” or “ungroomed”, and then thinking about the way this cunt is manipulating Annabeth to feel like she’s lesser than because of it. That new live series Disney+ is making better not mess this up.
Holy shit, did C.C. also invent the concept of Instagram?? Why is she obliterating these thirteen-year-olds’ self-esteem???
Oh, because she’s a witch. Yup, Circe, that checks out
Amelia Earheart was a half-blood? I love that. Also, yes! Thank you for mentioning Atalanta, I adore her! She’s one of my favorite characters in Greek mytho-history.
Also, Blackbeard being a son of Ares makes way too much sense
Percy being good at sailing is amazing. Finding that one interest that’s very niche and obscure that’s almost useless in modern society and nailing the hell out of it is very neurodivergent of him and I’m so proud of him for that
“I looked over, expecting to see Annabeth, but the girl wasn’t Annabeth. She wore punk-style clothes with silver chains on her wrists. She had spiky black hair, dark eyeliner around her stormy blue eyes, and a spray of freckles across her nose. She looked familiar, but I wasn’t sure why.” Wait. Is that Thalia?
"'But… you're still getting married?' Grover sounded hurt." Grover, baby, he was going to kill you. This is not about you not being hot enough for him.
Annabeth calling herself Nobody to get Polyphemus's attention—I remember that myth; I read it in elementary school. I thought it was hysterical. It still is. Also Annabeth's burn game is on point.I didn’t know that that hero was Odysseus specifically, but now that I do, it makes a lot more sense.
By the way, isn’t Odysseus related to Poseidon? I can’t remember, but I could swear that Odysseus was a grandson of Poseidon… (two Google searches later). Nope, it was Hermes. He’s a grandson of Hermes, which, yeah, that makes more sense than Poseidon.
"'Not a traitor,' Tyson said. 'And you are not my kind.'" YES, BABY!!
Percabeth. Just Percabeth. I love these children and I love them together.
Percy is one of the best protagonists ever. When Polyphemus was crying and asking Percy not to kill him, Percy spared him. Not because Polyphemus didn't deserve to die, but because Percy didn't want to kill him and felt bad for him. He sympathizes with Clarisse when she's upset, even though she's insulting him and Annabeth is angry with her. He remembers the way Ares had treated her on the boat, and instead of yelling back at her, he treats her with kindness and patience. He lets her complete her quest and have the glory that comes with it, because Percy doesn’t care about getting recognized by the camp for what he did—he just wants the camp to be saved, and as long as the Fleece is delivered to do that, he doesn’t care how. I just. I love him so much. He's such a sweet kid.
I love that Annabeth is the bloodthirsty, petty one between her and Percy.
Holy shit, Tyson's watch thing!! Damn, Tyson!
Percy proudly calling Tyson his baby brother is everything to me.
I love that at this point in the story, Percy is only 13 and has canonically been wanted by the police on two separate occasions.
HOLY SHIT!!!!! THALIA'S ALIVE!!!!!!!!! I AM READY TO LOVE HER!!!!!!!!
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fateology · 2 years
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CATULLUS101 (in the style of A E housman)
i like to think about catullus and housman as a scholar of latin poetry and i’m not the first (i.e. tom stoppard’s the invention of love) - though the most (only?) recorded interaction of housman with catullus is a correction of a comma in 64, and considering his temperament i can see why he preferred horace, for example
but i love the intertextuality you can find between them - that housman-esque solemn tenderness you can find in 101 in particular, housman’s preoccupation with early death…if he ever translated catullus i bet it would have been real good, but here’s my approximation: in loose iambic trimeter (à la with rue my heart is laden, there pass the careless people, much of housman’s poetry), rhymed but not too far from catullus in content :-}
[Transcript:
Through many seas and nations
   I’ve been carried to you;
For wretched rites, my brother,
   My present of death’s due.
/
And ah, your ashes’ silence
   Damns all I say as vain
From me my brother taken;
   So thieving fate arraign.
/
Now still antique tradition,
   what whim of parents past
I carry out my duty
   All drenched from eyes downcast.
/
Accept my offering, brother,
   my always-running cry;
And so into forever
   I bid thee hail; goodbye.]
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nine-blessed-hero · 1 year
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Two Foxes
Universe: TESIV: Oblivion Warnings: None Words: 500 Context: I was inspired by @thenopequeen's tags on this post: "#anvil is home once I have completed the thieves guild #i like to imagine that I go to corvus for advice sometimes". I banged it out in like 2hs between laundry loads so LMK if you spot any spelling errors. Available on AO3
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"Oh, and the Hero of Kvatch called by last night," Dairihill said, "asking to speak to his Lordship. However, your Ladyship and Lordship had just gone in for dinner, so I felt it prudent not to bother his Lordship." Millona Umbranox nodded, as she shifted the papers on her desk. "Did you catch that, dear?" she asked, over her shoulder. "Yes, my love," Corvus replied from where he lounged on the other side of the room, drinking coffee and pursuing the latest Black Horse Courier. "Curious they asked for you?" "I'm sure it's just a social visit. They are, after all, responsible for ending my amnesia and bringing me home." "Mmm. You'll have to invite them to dinner. I never did get to thank them properly." "Of course, my love. Dairihill, do you know if they're still at Benirus Manor? I'll take a walk down after breakfast." "I believe so, your Lordship. Speaking of breakfast – since it's a lovely morning, I took the liberty of having it laid out on the balcony." "Capital!" Corvus stood, readjusting his robe. "Will you join me, your Ladyship?" Millona glanced around to see Corvus extending a hand, giving her a boyish smile. She squeezed his hand. "In a moment, dear. I've a few more items to cover, and then I'll be out." "Very well, my heart," Corvus said, kissing the back of her hand.
~~~
Outside, the morning was already warm and bright. A salt-scented breeze ruffled his hair, as if it was glad to have him back in the castle. Beyond the crenelations, the sea glittered like a spray of diamonds on blue silk. "These are damn fine strawberries." Corvus startled, head whipping towards the table under the bower, hands reaching for an absent knife. "How d'you think they grow 'em so sweet?" the Hero of Kvatch asked. Their feet were propped on the table, and they held up a half-eaten strawberry for consideration.
Corvus smoothed down his dressing robe, regaining his decorum as he took a seat opposite the Hero. "I believe," he said, reaching for a slice of bread and the butter dish, "it has to do with the fertilizer used. Good to see you again, my friend. To what do I owe the honour of this visit?" "Ah, Foxie. Let's eat first, maybe?" "Millona will be out soon. I'd rather not alarm her by finding a stranger at her breakfast table." "Didn't I just hear her inviting me to dinner?" The Hero grinned. Corvus rolled his eyes, a small grin of his own creeping onto his face. "Touché. However, I don't think this is quite what my Lady wife had in mind. Your business, my friend?" The Hero lowered their legs, leaning in with a serious expression. "Very well, my Lord Corvus. I need some advice, regarding the Guild…"
Above, the gulls wheeled in the puffy periwinkle sky while below, the surf crashed against yellow cliffs. And in Castle Anvil, two Foxes conversed over strawberries.
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aza-trash-can · 4 months
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I turned my new and improved Neuvillette backstory headcanons into it's own snippet. Consider it a long-winded answer to the Traveller asking Neuvi about his past
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“My childhood? I’m sorry to disappoint, but it was quite uninteresting. I came into this world an infant, floating in the waters of Fontaine. A kind couple found me and took me in; I must have made quite a sight for them, but they didn’t hesitate to help me. They tried to take care of me, to raise me like they would a human child. They really were good people. But, they had their own wishes and desires to follow, ones where I would hinder them, not because I was a child, but because I’m not human. My reputation, my presence, harmed theirs in the village they lived in. They needed a fresh start without me to reach their ambitions. So, when the opportunity came for them to move to the Court of Fontaine, they took it without a second thought, and I was left behind with all the other things they couldn’t bring with them. I do hope they were able to live full, happy lives in the end… but I digress.
“After they left, I stayed in their old house. They couldn’t bring a lot with them, so there was plenty left for me to take care of myself. None of the other villagers much liked interacting with me, so I stayed in the house and kept to myself. It was an arrangement everyone was happy with, and– ah, well, I suppose this is the only interesting thing that happened.
“I stayed in that house for a few months, but others must have assumed it was abandoned with no one living there anymore. One day, a group of thieves broke in. I don’t know what they were trying to find; the house hadn’t belonged to nobles or anyone of great wealth. It was just a small house in a small village. But, to them, anything must have been a good find. I stumbled upon them when I heard rustling in the kitchen and went to investigate. They clearly weren’t expecting someone to be there, and just stood there, shocked. I didn’t move either; back then, I wasn’t sure what to do. It was a strange feeling I had then, looking at them. My pulse was far too fast, I felt as if my very soul was shaking inside my body. It was horribly uncomfortable.
“I saw something shift in the thieves eyes after they took a good look at me. They must have decided then that I was worth stealing too. Worth far more than anything in the house, seeing as they dropped what was in their hands to grab me. They were rough, but clumsy, obviously new to their craft. All I had to do was bite the hand of the one that had grabbed me to make him let go, and I took off. They chased after me, of course; I was their most valuable item to take now. But a few well placed hydro traps stopped them from getting close enough to catch me again.
“I could sense the sea as I was running. I didn’t know where, exactly, it was, but I knew it was close, so I did my best to head towards it. Not knowing where the sea was, though, meant I didn’t know if I was headed towards a beach or a cliff, but I took my chances. Perhaps it was luck that I reached a ledge. I think, had it been a beach, they would have waded in and tried to catch me in the water. It didn’t feel like luck then. All I remember is trying to stop myself too late and falling off the sheer drop into the sea. The thieves didn’t follow. No sane human would jump off a cliff just to catch something that should have died from that drop.
“I believe all of that was for the better, though. I was a little shaken, but it was nothing serious. I felt much more comfortable once I was in the water, and I knew I was safe there. The seas here were perhaps the safest place for any being of hydro, myself included. And I believe I was happier, too. My life was calm after that, and the only beings I ever really interacted with were the animals. In the sea, it was just the same day, over and over for nearly 150 years.
“Ah, but that’s all for my childhood. Quite dull overall, no?”
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discet · 1 year
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An AU of your AU where one of the girls starts off at Dia Mond's ship instead of Wartwood/Toad Tower/Newtopia.
God that would be so indulgent for me to write about. Fanfic based on my fanfic.
Ah well, what else am i gonna do tonight.
So on a character arc level, I actually think there isn't a bad choice among the three. I think a more fleshed out crew would have something for each of the girls.
Anne: While probably not on board with all the violence so much, but I think she'd vibe with the comradery among thieves. She'd probably have the hardest time with the life at sea bit. Also insist on various quality of life improvements including a movie night where she figures out how to project a move onto the sails. The Civil Wart Episode equivalent ends with the whole crew drawing swords on each other.
Marcy: I think Marcy would have a fucking blast as a high seas swashbuckler. Definitely longest adjustment period among the three just cause of clumsiness. Ends up with a rope tide to her waist whenever she's above deck after nearly falling overboard three times. While Marcy and Dia had a rapport in awiw, it was ultimately marred by the implicit threat to Marcy's loved ones that loomed at all times. Without that and with Marcy making improvements to the ships armaments' and general tactics, Dia and Marcy get along fabulously. Definitely kind of bummed when her electronics run out of power though.
Sasha: Probably the most interesting case study here. Dia, unlike Grime and Yunan, isn't an authority figure. She is a straight up criminal. I think Sasha would be onboard with the crew pretty quickly in the same way she took to being a luitenent naturally in canon. But rather than being a power trip, I think it would be interesting to see her have to value and work with everyone else. No idle hands on a sailing ship. Dia wouldn't be as noble or moral a compass as Yunan is in awiw or indulge Sasha's worst controlling tendencies like Grime does in Canon. She'd be really interesting middle ground between the two. A leader who does care about her crew for their own sake, but doesn't have qualms about kicking down someone in between them and their goals. I think her development there would be really fun.
I think ultimately the catch with all of these is that as a pirate ship, Dia and her crew is gonna be well away from the rest of the plot. You'd have to probably overhaul the rest of the geography of Amphibia to let a pirate ship be relevant to the plot. Though it wouldn't be hard to change things into a island chain? But yeah, I love Dia, thanks for asking about her
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Whale Weekly chapter 1
Alright so there’s my disorganized thoughts about today’s chapter
I’ve written them as I was reading, and holy shit there’s some absolutely unhinged lines from Ishmael here.
ishmael started a little too descriptive, but he quickly evolved into the funniest motherfucker when he started talking abt his experience as a sailor like seriously. "who ain't a slave ? tell me that." ? "I always go to sea as a sailor, because they make a point of paying me" ? calling adam and eve the fucking "two orchard thieves" ?
He feels like a sailor friend who's off to sea but ranting to me about everything and i fucking love it
especially since like yeah i live near the sea, and hes 100% correct about his praise and ranting abt the sea its GREAT i heavily recommand it
> The urbane activity with which a man receives money is really marvellous, considering that we so earnestly believe money to be the root of all earthly ills, and that on no account can a monied man enter heaven. Ah! how cheerfully we consign ourselves to perdition!
fucking preach, my friend, youre absolutely correct
Don't worry Ishmael you're playing a part in a whaling voyage but you're also the main protagonist of one of the most famous novels ever so that's compensation i guess
"One grand hooded phantom, like a snow hill in the air"... yep, sounds like everyone's favorite whale alright.
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regulusmasamune · 1 year
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Sea of Thieves Interaction we had with an open crew Galleon:
Rando: Excuse me Sir! We need you to pull your boat over so we can inspect it
Me: Ah, your first mistake was 'sir.'
Them: Uuh Ma'am, please pull over!
Me: Your second mistake was 'ma'am' :3
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peraltasass · 1 year
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books i read in 2022
✩✩✩✩✩ - ★★★★★
Fiction:
Myth Retold: Iphigenia by Winter J. Kiakas: ★★★★✩ (cute!)
Heroes by Stehen Fry: ★★★✩✩ (too much whitewashing)
Loveless by Alice Oseman: ★★★★✩ (was frustrated that at the end, only one type of friendship (deep, intense, emotional) was once again posited as the “right” type of friendship to have)
Percy Jackson: The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan: ★★★★✩ (read these once when I was like 12?)
Percy Jackson: The Sea of Monsters by Rick Riordan: ★★★★✩
The Wave by Morton Rhue aka Tedd Strasser: ★★✩✩✩ (ik it’s like a big thing but. the writing didn’t catch me at all - maybe it was the translation or maybe it is just not as well written as claimed)
Percy Jackson: The Titan’s Curse by Rick Riordan: ★★★★✩ (ah yes, we all know that girls saying no to love = saying no to men)
Percy Jackson: The Battle of the Labyrinth by Rick Riordan: ★★★★✩ (just stop it with the jealousy between girls jfc)
Percy Jackson: The Last Olympian by Rick Riordan: ★★★★✩ (didn’t remember the ending at all, was surprised by how okay I was with it)
we are the ants by Shaun David Hutchinson: ★★★✩✩/★★★★✩ (am incredibly indecisive about how I feel about this one. made me feel more feeling that I thought at first but also frustrated me quite a lot)
A Thousand Ships by Natalie Haynes: ★★★★✩ (very powerful, I only have tiny notes)
Ulysses by James Joyce: ★★✩✩✩ (I don’t cARE if it’s the bEsT nOvEl Of ThE 20th cEnTuRy, I did NOT have a good time)
Zachary Ying and the Dragon Emperor by Xiran Jay Zhao: ★★★½✩ (I hate to say it but it was too much like Percy Jackson for most of the main part)
One of Us is Lying by Karen M. McManus: ★★★½✩ (did get me eventually; as someone who wrote their ba thesis on the breakfast club it was nice to see the stereotypes deconstructed but also frustrating at times)
Ausser Sich by Sasha Marianna Salzmann: ★★★½✩ (VERY overwhelming at times, but also intensely powerful)
Felix Ever After by Kacen Callender: ★★★★✩ (cute)
Die Götter müssen sterben by Nora Bendzko: ★★★★★ (my new fav book)
Detransition, Baby by Torrey Peters: ★★★★✩
Cracking India by Bapsi Sidhwa: ★★★✩✩ (for uni)
The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater: ★★★★★ (re-read)
The Dream Thieves by Maggie Stiefvater: ★★★★★ (re-read)
Blue Lily, Lily Blue by Maggie Stiefvater: ★★★★★ (re-read)
The Raven King by Maggie Stiefvater:  ★★★★✩ (re-read, still the least good of all of them)
I Was Born for This by Alice Oseman: ★★★★✩ (cute quick and easy read)
Non fiction:
A Year Without a Name by Cyrus Dunham: ★★★★✩ (for uni)
Wir können mehr sein by Aminata Touré: ★★★½✩
Und jetzt Du by Tupoka Ogette: ★★★★★ (@German white people: READ THIS)
Read This to Get Smarter by Blair Imani: ★★★★✩
Queer Gestreift by Kathrin Köller and Irmela Schautz ★★★★✩
My Left Foot by Christy Brown: ★★★★✩ (for uni)
Read This to Get Smarter about Race, Class, Gender, Disability & More by Blair Imani: ★★★★✩
Beyond the Gender Binary by Alok Vaid-Menon: ★★★★✩
Graphic novels, comics, and webcomics:
Tidesong by Wendy Xu: ★★★★✩
Princess, Princess Ever After by Katie O’Neill: ★★★✩✩ (too short!)
This Place: 150 Years Retold: ★★★★★
Mooncakes by Suzanne Walker, Wendy Xu, and Joanette Gil: ★★★★★
Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up With Me by Mariko Tamaki and  Rosemary Valero-O'Connell: ★★★★✩
Suki, Alone: ★★★✩✩ (liked it, wish it had given me MORE)
Fine. A Comic About Gender by Thea Ewing: ★★★★★ (STRONG recommend!)
The Tea Dragon Society by Katie O’Neill: ★★★★★ (too short but SO CUTE)
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moonsugar-and-spice · 2 years
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Chapter Two: A Terrible Mistake
(Read on AO3)
Chapter One
+++
The smell of fresh congee gusted across the deck, the rising sun bathing the Mistress of Fortune in a rosy hue.  
Rizo sat atop a barrel, a bowl on his lap and Acar crouched on his wiry shoulder, swatting away a thieving swipe of the gecko cat’s sticky-toed paw.
Warm fingers of a breeze raked through Lu Da’s mohawk and the engine rumbled pleasantly beneath his boots.  He leaned back against the railing as they cut through the sea, finishing his own breakfast while a crowd stooped around the jam-packed bag.  
Mongkbat, or Nubs as he was known, pulled out one treasure and then another, passing them around with a mangled hand.
“Hey, Captain,” he asked, grinning over his wide shoulder, “what’re you planning to do with all these winnings?”
“Buy a better crew,” Lu Da winked.
Fang dipped a pickled egg into his congee.  “Y’ever lost a game of Fame and Fortune?” he asked around a mouthful.  “C’mon, be honest now.”
Lu Da shrugged and answered, “Sure, on a few occasions. Only one person’s ever beat me more than once though.”
“That right?” He raised his bowl, as if toasting to the nameless victor, or perhaps to their captain in sympathy. “You’ll have to introduce us someday, so we can buy him a drink.”
The others crowed in agreement.
“Wouldn’t recommend,” Lu Da said, plucking up a bite of congee. “She’s even thornier when she’s had a few.”
A silence swooped, and just as quick, the deck erupted in guffaws.
��She?” Fang howled, a crumb of egg tumbling from the short stripe of hair on his chin.
“You lost to a girl?” wheezed Honzen.
“More than once,” Tonqa added, “can’t forget that.”
Marik and Rizo stood by with quiet smirks, the kind that failed to go unnoticed.
“Hey, how come only a few of us know this story?” Fang groused.
“I think we can guess why.”
Lu Da raised a finger, readying to step in with a retort, when a shadow drew his gaze in the doorway up to the quarters. The air transformed again, the throng of men rising to their feet with a chorus of banter and greetings.
Hiteo shifted, eyeing them, and then stepped out at their beckoning.
“Hey kid, how’d you sleep?” asked Lu Da, not entirely sure whether to expect a response.
“I threw up,” he muttered, swiping a mess of dark hair out of his eyes and squinting against the sun's blush glancing off the ship.
Not mute then. 
“Ah, well—”
“On your bed.”
Lu Da’s mouth closed to a flat line.  He nodded and scrubbed his fingers over the back of his head, reigning in his annoyance.  
“S’alright.  We’ll get it cleaned up.  Don’t worry,” he added with a light nudge, “you’ll find your sea legs before long.”
“Porridge?” Marik asked as he walked over with an extra bowl.
Half-heartedly, Hiteo accepted it and Mongkbat pulled up a crate, prompting him to sit.  Hiteo startled, grimacing at the remains of his large hand.
The man once lost two fingers and part of another to a tigerdillo.  It was how he got his nickname.  Mongkbat had killed it to get his fingers back and kept the little bones in a pouch around his neck, along with the teeth of the very animal that had swallowed them.
Hiteo picked at the congee with the chopsticks, taking a couple small bites. His eyes climbed quietly up the bridge as he looked around, watching the dark clouds belch from the smokestacks and dissipate behind them.
“How long until we get there?” he asked at length, setting the bowl aside on the weather-worn deck and looking at Lu Da. “To my aunt and uncle’s.”
“I have a stop to make along the way, in Sao Tong. Trip there should take about a week or two, depending on weather and supply runs. Then from there, just a few more days.”
“Wonder if we’ll run into Admiral Bristles again,” mused Rizo. “That’s always fun.”
Lu Da rolled his eyes.  “I daren’t get my hopes up.”
As things were, occasional run-ins with Admiral Zhao were inevitable.  There had been a handful of incidents to date, but “fun” was only a word he would use ironically.
Truth was, it was the last thing they needed now.  The voyage was slated to take too long already, their current course far from direct to their actual destination.  Even if Zhao wasn’t privy to all aspects of his dealings with Ozai, it would be delicate enough on his return to corroborate why it took longer than expected without the hawkeyed admiral on his case.
Breakfasts were finished, Chenpo heeded orders to drive them full speed ahead, and most of the crew dispersed to their various posts and shifts.
Lu Da had just carried a bucket up from below deck when he was stopped by the distinct feeling of eyes on him.  Hiteo stood there, a few paces away.  Head tilted.  Just staring at him, no pretense of subtlety whatsoever.  
When Lu Da pointedly stared back, he didn’t look away.
Must be a family trait.
“That’s a lot of tattoos,” the boy said finally, giving him a sweeping look.
The container swung as Lu Da stepped forward.  “You should see how long it takes me to paint them on every morning.”
Hiteo blinked, brow folding.  “What?”
Lu Da responded with the bucket, a pickle and a bowl of congee inside, shoving it before him.
“What’s this for?” he frowned, leaning away.  “I don’t want that, I already ate.”
“Your gratitude is overwhelming.  But it’s not for you.  I want you to take this up to the bridge and deliver it to Chenpo.  He’ll be the hungry guy at the helm with half his head shaven, the rest of his luscious locks loose at his back, you can’t miss him.”
“Why do I have to do that?”
“Gonna be part of the crew for a while, you gotta work like part of the crew,” answered Lu Da.  “Afterward, come back and I’ll show you down to the galley.  You can start helping Shu prepare for lunch.”
“But I’m not a pirate!”  His face scrunched as if the word were a bad smell.  “I’m a passenger.  That’s sort of like a guest, and guests don’t have to work.”
Lu Da huffed in amusement, calling over his shoulder, “You hear that, fellas?  He’s a passenger.”
Laughter billowed across the deck as Lu Da bent down, hands on his knees.
“You know what us pirates sometimes like to call the passengers on their ships?”  He paused for the boy to shake his head.  “Hostages.  Now, you can either be part of the crew, or you can be part of the objectively less swag and sexy brig lickers.  Which do you think you’d rather be?”
Hiteo almost seemed to consider, then rolled his eyes down to the deck and took the bucket, dragging his feet toward the door.
“Good choice.”
Men joked and boasted.  Crates scraped.  Cargo thudded.
An hour later, Lu Da’s attention was drawn by Tonqa, a bronze, brick shithouse of a man, who was glancing around and then back at him.  The realization dawned just before he said it.
“I think we lost one.”
“Dammit,” exhaled Lu Da, “thought I told him to come back.”  
He scanned the deck as he marched toward the door, inside, up the stairs.
He heard the kid before he found him.  A theatrical series of “shewng, shewng, agghh!” growing louder as he approached his quarters.  Despite it all, Lu Da almost felt a softening between his brows… right up until the moment he rounded the door.
Hiteo was zigzagging around the room, snarling and brandishing a particular crossbow wildly at imaginary foes.
“Hey!” he barked, suffering a brief episode of cardiac arrest as the kid startled and nearly threw it to the floor.  “Put that down!”
Crossing the room, Lu Da didn’t spare him the chance, seizing it out of his young hands.
“Geeze, I was just—”
“You don’t ever touch this.  Understand?  Not only is it one of a kind, you could hurt yourself or somebody else.”
“I wasn’t gonna shoot it, I was just playing.”
“Soraya’s not a toy.  She’s a weapon, and she’s not for kids.”
His disgruntled pout pursed aside, but the scolding didn’t seem to put him out too much.  Instead, his mesmerized gaze tracked the curves and carvings along her burnished frame, caramel-brown eyes twinkling.
“It’s really cool though,” he said.  “I’ve never seen a crossbow up close before.”
Lu Da couldn’t stop the faint tick of his mouth, pride smoothing out the coil in his bearing.  “Well, she is pretty cool, I’ll admit.  But just, no touching, alright?”
Hiteo grumbled assent as Lu Da mounted it safely back on the wall.
Behind him, he only caught the miffed mumbling in pieces, something that sounded dangerously close to, “...even know how to shoot it,” and, “...get beat by girls.”
Lu Da ground to a halt, turning with a look that pinned him to the spot.  
“Why don’t you say that a little louder.”
“What?” Hiteo scuttled out the door.  "I didn’t say anything.”  
“That’s what I thought.”
The ship creaked in sync with the waves.  Scrubbing a palm over the coarse stubble on his scalp and nursing his ego, he shouted after him. 
“It was one girl.  And Zuzhen’s a mean, pitiless, deadpan little shrew who… ah, dammit, he’s too far, he’s gone.”
+++ +++ +++
After that, Lu Da kept a sharper eye on their passenger, instructing the crew to do the same, but he couldn’t shake the visceral feeling that he had made a terrible mistake.
By late afternoon the next day, he knew that he had.
They were powering through the seas, slicing waves like a hot blade through lard, when the ship shuddered.  There was a horrible grinding, the gnashing of gears, and suddenly they were losing speed.
“What the…?”
Lu Da exchanged a glance with Mongkbat and Rizo.
“Why are we slowing down?” asked the latter.
“It’s Honzen’s shift, the fuck’s he doing?”
Stalking up to the bridge, it was not Honzen he found standing at the helm.  In fact, there was nobody standing at the helm.  
Problem number one.  
Problem number two was laid out on the floor, floundering like some overturned seal turtle, wincing and rubbing the back of his head.
“It was an accident,” Hiteo cried as Lu Da grabbed him up by the elbow, grinding his teeth to stem the flood of words threatening to pour out.  “I’m just a kid.”
Honzen appeared not a second later in the door, apologetic and confused—he had heard a young cry for help and gone to check—right as Lu Da was dragging Hiteo back down to deck.
“An accident,” he parroted as he stopped, whipped the kid around to face him.  “So your legs accidentally carried you to the bridge where you then accidentally tripped through the door to the helm, flipping several switches on your way down.”  
Hiteo crossed his arms and scowled out at the horizon, the wind whipping dark strands of hair loose from his topknot.  The ship was sailing smooth again, reclaiming lost speed.
“Maybe you can’t help being young, but I’d say it’s past time you stop being stupid.”
The boy’s gaze snapped back to him.  “Maybe I will soon as you get your dudou out of that giant wad.”
Behind him erupted a string of errant, stifled snickers.
“What was that?” he challenged.  “Because I could have sworn you just said, ‘Hey, Lu Da, toss me over the taffrail, I’m a useless little fartcatcher who’s ready to die at this very moment.’”
Whether spurred on by a true death wish or old-fashioned idiocy, he bit back, “My family wouldn’t like that too much, you’d be in big trouble.  And anyway, you’re not my dad, you can’t boss me a—”
Lu Da took a swift and sudden stride toward him, forcing the kid to stumble ass-first onto a barrel that flanked the iron taffrail, and bent eye to eye, jutting a ringed finger. 
“First, your family’s gonna know better than to start shit with me, so jot that down.  Second, you’re damn right I’m not, and most importantly, you bet your ass I can, because until we get to Taichun, I’m the closest thing to one you got.  And as long as you’re on my ship, in my charge, you do as I say and keep your paws where they belong.  Which is…” he paused to grab his skinny wrists, slapping them down atop his lap, “right here.  Got it?”
Beyond the pissheaded cheekiness flashed a fruitful glimpse of fear, a tight swallow, the narrowing of his gangly shoulders, and the boy’s gaze dropped and held fast on the mottled iron deck.
“I said, got it?”
Hiteo’s insolent pout deepened.  He didn’t answer.
“You are not moving from this spot until I hear you say it.”
A wave buffeted the hull, tossing a glitter of mist over the rail.  
At last, the boy grumbled, “…Yeah.”
Lu Da closed his fists around the iron rail on either side of his head, a museum of bulging muscles as he leaned closer.  “Yeah, Captain.”
Another stretch of silence.  Hiteo’s upper lip curled and he didn’t raise his eyes to look at him, mumbling a barely discernible yeahcap’n.
Cupping a silver-studded ear, Lu Da tipped his head and leaned closer.  “I’m sorry, come again?  What was that?  Your old man’s a little hard of—”
“Yeah, Captain!” the kid roared in his face, features furrowing in a manner that reminded him of a disgruntled moose lion cub.
A crease played at the corner of the pirate’s mouth as he resumed his full height and gave a single nod.  
“That’s better.”  Lu Da scruffed the dark mop of hair to a resentful snort as the kid jerked his head away.  “Just one big happy family.”
“Hey, Cap.”  Rizo was working on a slice of blubbered whale jerky as he sidled up, jutting his sharp, goateed chin out to sea.  “A little company.”
A small approaching Fire Navy fleet dotted the horizon.  There was no arguing their speed had been well exceeding the acceptable limits; so long as they were alone, it was a risk worth taking under the circumstances, provided they slowed when nearing witnesses.
Honzen knew the drill and had surely spotted them, too, but best to be safe.
“Hey, tell him to let off the—” Lu Da cut himself short, squinting.
The crew exchanged looks and followed his line of sight.
The fleet seemed to be cutting it a little too close to their passage.  A potentially honest, if careless, mistake, though one that could end badly if they didn’t gain distance.  But as they continued closing in, it wasn’t so much that as the now familiar flagship veering entirely, broadsiding their own to obstruct their trajectory, that commanded Lu Da’s attention.
“No way,” huffed Marik.
“Speak of the yokai, and he does appear.”
“Shhhit,” Lu Da breathed through his teeth.  The last thing they needed.  “We gotta hide the kid.”
“Hide me?  Why?” Hiteo asked as Lu Da glanced around, snatched the lid off the metal barrel.  
“If you wanna reach your family,” he said, hoisting the kid inside and shoving his head down, “you keep still in there and don’t make a sound until I say otherwise.”
“But—”
The lid silenced him, jammed on just as the Mistress was slowing to a halt before Zhao’s ship.
The Admiral greeted them starboard, surrounded by Fire Nation soldiers, his arms crossed and wearing the smug smirk he favored like a noxious cologne.
“Pirate Captain Lu Da,” he hailed.  “How ever could I have guessed?  Your reputation is simply determined to go beyond its limits.”
Lu Da put a hand over his heart.  “You honor me, Admiral.”  
“How clumsy of me.  That wasn’t a compliment.”
The edges of Zhao’s smirk curdled.  Lu Da’s grin darkened, showing teeth.
“To what do I owe the displeasure of this unwelcome rendezvous?” he asked, just as something brushed against his boot.
Acar.  The little menace, slinking in between legs and sniffing his way toward the barrel.  
Lu Da tried, discreetly, to herd him away with his foot.
“You seem to be in quite the hurry.  Going, what, 50 knots?  60?”
Lu Da felt himself start to tense and forced ease into his posture again.  “A note of jealousy?  I'm surprised at you.”
Zhao scoffed.  “Don’t be ridiculous.  Some of us are grown men—”
“Yeah, better keep pounding your chest so nobody doubts.”
“And it would behoove you to remember who it is you represent when you sail these seas,” he warned through his teeth.  “Speaking of, an interesting route on which to run into your lot, at such an hour no less.  I can only imagine how busy, being the Fire Lord’s henchman and all.  But, one might wonder what assignment he has you on out this way.”  
He spread his arms and made a show of looking around as Fang attempted to toe a tenacious Acar away from the barrel with his boot. 
“I’d love to tell you, Hotcheeks, but I’m afraid that’s privy information.”
There was a molten crack in his mask, a flush of angry heat.
Hot Stuff.  Broom Cheeks.  An amalgamation of endearment terms from the allied mission with the Navy that Ozai had sent him and his first mates on.  He had to admit, Fancy-tickler had been his favorite, but he thought it best to refrain at present. 
Lu Da could almost swear he saw those sideburns twitch as his teeth ground together.
“Call me that again and you’ll find my fire somewhere uncomfortable.”
A chirrup to his right as Zhao blustered on, and suddenly the words were turning to jumbled noise.
The gecko cat had made it atop the barrel despite their best efforts, eagerly nosing and frisking around the edges, as if it were a game.
All eyes on the Mistress shifted.  The air seemed to tighten.
Before anyone could make a casual move to thwart it, those sticky paws were stealing under the metal lid, raising it off, when just as fast, it slammed down again.  Acar chitter-shrieked and leapt straight into the air, his furry tail a riot of bristles. 
The sound went off like a blast.
The admiral stopped mid-sentence.  Smooth as possible, Rizo slid himself onto the barrel with an affected yawn.  As if the lid hadn’t just slammed shut seemingly of its own volition.
Zhao’s honey eyes narrowed.  “What do you have there?”
Caught halfway with the strip of cured blubber to his mouth, Rizo glanced down and bit off a chunk, garbling around it. “Whale jerky?”
Zhao scowled. He muttered something to the soldiers, readying to drop a plank and come across, when Lu Da cut in swiftly.
“Go on posturing, Admiral, and one of these days I may just swoon.  But today, I don’t have to tell you that I’m on a schedule and this is an unauthorized hold up and interrogation.  If you detain us any longer, I’ll have to include it in my official report.”
The lines between the seaman’s brows deepened with a flare of his nostrils, but after a beat, Zhao took a grudging step back.
“Very well.  Though perhaps we should see just how much weight the account of a glorified thug holds against a decorated Navy admiral.”
“It must chafe, huh?  All that ass kissing, the promotion so close yet still so far, and meanwhile, in walks an—”
A snarl split the air with a blast of flame, sparks seething over their ducked heads.
“Get out of my sight, earth-brained sea scum.”
“That’s Privateer sea scum to you.”
Zhao fixed him with what could only be described as the bastardized cousin of a sneer, giving the signal for his helmsman to engage.
Engines roared back to life and Zhao’s ship moved aside.  As they passed, his keen eyes followed, and Lu Da dipped into an elaborate gesture that vaguely resembled a bow.  If a bow were paired with a rude hand gesture.
The fleet shrank against the horizon and Marik stood between Rizo and Lu Da, fists pulling his dusky knuckles pale.
“I hate the way that ashbreather looks at me,” he grumbled.  “Ever since the three of us were sent on that mission.  Like he’s afraid I might vomit up a bag of dicks and drop them in his lap.”
“Maybe he’s just afraid that if you propositioned him, he might accidentally say yes,” Lu Da said, earning a sound that was half breath, half laugh, ushering a measure of tension from his friend’s shoulders.  “Sozin’s law may have been abolished, but old propaganda dies hard.”
Marik glanced at him.  “Think he’ll say anything to Ozai?” 
“Maybe your soldier’ll cover for you,” Rizo chimed in.
A corner of Lu Da’s mouth pinched downward.  
“Maybe,” he muttered unconvincingly.  There was no great fondness shared between Ta Ming and Zhao, either.  But Ta Ming’s loyalties and bent toward honesty, if put up against a wall, may be too much to hope for.
What was that saying again?  No good deed goes unpunished.
A low, resonant banging of fists on metal.  “Can I come out yet?”
Lu Da heaved a sigh.  
“Let’s just step it up and get this over with.”
+++ +++ +++
Hiteo stumbled out the door.  Water sloshed onto the deck as he dragged a mop and a string of grumbles and gripes behind him, finally dropping the bucket with a belligerent thud.  
“This is stupid.”
“That’s the spirit,” Lu Da said cheerfully.  
Hiteo shot him that moose lion cub scowl.
“I shouldn’t have to work,” he groaned, plunging the tattered head of rags into the water, and began mopping next to Chenpo.
“And I shouldn’t have been suckered in by my sick, crippled, somehow still intact limb of a conscience,” said Lu Da, “but here we are.”
Shu was on the bow, singing a tawdry pub song, while Rizo and Marik sparred upwind.  From the lack of cursing, it was hard to tell who was winning.
Five minutes passed, maybe six, when Hiteo stood up and leaned on the mop stick, as if he might perish at any moment.
“Can I take a break?”
“You just started.”
“Well, I,” he stammered, “I gotta use the bathroom.”
“Sure,” Lu Da replied.  “Soon as you’re finished here.”
His young guest was not pleased.
“I can’t hold it,” whined Hiteo.  “I gotta go real bad.”
“Right now, huh?  This very second.” 
“Really.”
Lu Da studied him, that spoiled, cantankerous moue, and the gears in his head started turning.  
“Fine, tell you what.  Gimme a jiff to get the latrine all nice and cleaned up for you, alright?  Won’t take but a minute.”
Chenpo’s gaze shifted quietly.
“And it so happens, I’ve recently procured these new super soft cloths that’re all the rage, it’s like wiping with a cloud.  I’ll set one out for you.”
“Umm…”  Hiteo looked around, questioning whether to trust this sudden generosity, but received no indication otherwise.  “Okay…  Thanks.”
“No problem,” smiled Lu Da.  “I mean, when you gotta go, you gotta go, right?”
“...Yeah.”
“Back in a flash.”
Popping up to his quarters, Lu Da swiped a pair of leather gloves and a sealed box from a chest he kept shoved in the corner, before taking the stairs down into the hull.
Velvet beans were a peculiar little legume.  Hailed to have all kinds of benefits, from raising dopamine levels to boosting libido to neutralizing the effects of venom, which was great, if one knew how to extract them from their pods.
The unfortunate thing about them, as anyone who had ever done so without extreme care soon learned, was that these fuzzy bean pods and the vines they grew on shed hair like crazy.  And these tiny hairs contained a substance that, if so much as dusted your skin, would swiftly and unequivocally mess you up.  
Grown men had been driven into a frenzy trying to quell the itch they caused, which was how they also got their other name: madness beans. 
Lu Da reached the latrine, pulling on the gloves and unsealing the box to gently remove one fuzzy pod.  He rolled it over the soft cloth in his gloved hand, careful not to leave a mark.  Just enough to ensure a generous dusting of tiny, invisible hairs.
Folding it carefully, he set it in a conspicuous spot by the latrine, replacing the sealed box in its chest, and tossing the gloves in a bucket before returning to the deck.
“All set for you, big guy,” he said, clapping his hands together.  “Enjoy.”
Hiteo dropped the mop beside the bucket, and then hesitated.  He side-eyed him narrowly as he shuffled past, and there was a moment when Lu Da thought the jig might be up, before he continued on his way down.
+++ +++ +++
“Aagghhh!”
Hiteo was writhing, snorting even, making sounds that were almost more animal than human and scratching furiously as his hindquarters.
Lu Da sat on the deck a short distance away, flipping lazily through the pages of his ledger.  Watching the scene unfold with barely contained glee over the top of his book as Rizo walked past and up to the kid.
He stopped, cocked his head over the wriggling brat on the ground, and stroked the trimmed outline of his goatee.
“You okay there, champ?”
“Do I—”  Squirming.  Grunting.  “—look okay?!”
“Hmm,” he said pensively, “let’s see.  Cold sweats, red mottled face, unbearable ass itching.  Let me guess.  He tricked you into wiping with a cloth covered in madness bean hairs.”
The lines of Hiteo’s face twisted in a thunderous snarl.
“I’m gonna… get him… for this.”
Rizo only donned a languid smile.
“Careful, if I were you.  That’s a war you’re not gonna win.”
+++ +++ +++
They arrived in Qinyeong two evenings later, just in time, an hour before the sun would descend to sleep.
Lu Da gave strict instructions for Hiteo to stay onboard with the crew while a couple of them went ashore to stock up on provisions and fresh water.
Shadows were stretching long and thin over the port’s curve of land.  Lu Da approached a booth occupied by a man with peppering hair, his mouth set in a sullen line.  He did not want to be here, that much was certain.
That made two of them.
Three booths later, Lu Da was slapping the final coin down on the weathered wooden stand, bagging up the last of the supplies, when out of the corner of his eye Marik glanced over his shoulder.  
“I thought the kid was supposed to be staying on the ship.”
“He was,” Lu Da said, casting him a brief look.
“Ah.”  His quartermaster smiled wryly, blue eyes creasing.  “Child-rearing is going well, I see.”
Shouldering the bag, Lu Da turned to him slow.  “What do you mean?”
Marik didn’t need to answer.
The shriek that pierced the air from the other side of the market did it for him.
Lu Da didn’t know what was happening, only that one second, he caught sight of the miniature hellion poking about a weedy rock pile and the next, the neighboring vendor’s monkey was flying into a tizzy with the screams of its holder, who clambered to cower atop a stool.
Bowls teetered and crashed as the monkey zipped around the stall, overturning a cart of moonpeaches as onlookers gasped and edged away, alarmed and confused.
Lu Da clenched his fists—so much for not leaving a trail—stalking toward the scene, all hope of discretion abandoned.  
That mischievous glimmer was jarring—a mirror, taking him back in time. It shattered just as quick as Hiteo tensed, snapped upright, skittering back from Lu Da’s approach.
“No, Dad, please! Don’t hit me!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, and Lu Da could feel the growing heat of eyes on him like tiny, searing brands.
A fresh spike of dread-laced wrath quickened his step.  The pirate’s ringed fingers closed around his skinny arm.
“I thought I told you to stay on the ship,” he seethed.
Hiteo sulked silently.
The woman had begun reaming them out from upon her perch, trying to calm her anxious monkey, and Lu Da’s cut-off apologies only seemed to rile her more.
“That boy caused this mess, spooking my poor Koko with a snake.  He ought to be apologizing, too.”
Lu Da’s skin tightened.  He lifted one boot off the ground, checking under him and then around the stall.  No snake that he could see.  But he wasn’t given the chance to ask.
“And you,” she spat, stabbing a finger at Lu Da.  “You ought to keep a better eye if you can’t be bothered to teach your son basic respect.  Though judging by appearances…”  Her eyes raked a path up the tattoos mapping his exposed skin—arms, neck, face—to his piercings and the boorish strip of dark hair running down his head.  “I should hardly expect otherwise.”
A raw lick of anger lashed through him.  He resisted the urge to clapback with some smartassery and instead leveled Hiteo with a look that dared him to challenge him again.
“You heard the nice lady.  Apologize.  Son.”
Hiteo frowned at his feet and managed something that might have passed for an apology from a half-dead skunk fish.
Setting the cart right, Marik started salvaging whatever moonpeaches hadn’t split open or been bruised beyond recognition as Lu Da shoved the lightest of the bags into the kid’s chest.
“Carry this and get your ass back up to the ship.  Now.”
This time, he did as he was told.
Lu Da set about helping clean up the damage until the vendor squawked that they leave well enough alone and get lost.
The little menace avoided him the rest of the evening.  Fine and dandy by him.  Hiteo took his dinner alone and went to bed quietly.  Mellowed, it seemed, by the healthy dose of fear Lu Da had imbibed him with.  
Good.
Troubles were shaken off with music and drinks and several rounds of Hazard late into the night, until finally Lu Da dragged himself to bed.
It took a while for him to find sleep.  And once he did, his dreams were disjointed and strange.
Vestiges of voices.  Echoes of faces.  Some close enough to touch, others lost to time or place.
An endless hall full of doors he didn’t want to open.  Searching, searching for an exit.  The floor, shifting sand beneath his feet and he was swallowed whole, shackles rising up to receive him like the arms of a lover.
The tight embrace of a noose falling pliant, cool and smooth and caressing.  Slithering around his neck, up to his face.
A gentle hiss at his ear.  A feather-light tickle on his cheek.
Lu Da’s eyes snapped open to bright sunlight.  His entire body went rigid, sleep’s fog dispelled on a sharp inhale.
He had just enough time to register the rope of brownish-yellow scales, the forked tongue skimming his nose and tasting his fear, before the breath tore back out of him in a high-pitched scream.
He threw himself back with such force he tumbled ass over head off the bed and onto the floor.  In the corner of his eye, a small shadow darted back behind the folding screen, and Lu Da uttered a string of profanities so colorful it could be tossed into the air and called a rainbow.
Oh.  Oh, he is so dead.
Scuttling back for good measure, he dragged himself up and recoiled again, skewered by those beady black eyes.  
Lu Da pressed himself flat to the wall, along with intrusive thoughts whispering admiration for the prank’s execution, and slid his way across the room.  One eye on the serpent, the other on the crouching silhouette.
So when the boy attempted a break for it, Lu Da lunged and seized him by a fistful of tunic, reeling him up against the wall, nostrils flared.
“Listen here, you little slank,” he snapped, cutting himself off. 
Deep breath, deep breath, watch your tongue, stay c—  
“Keep this up and I will grind your bones to make cement outta your spleen milk, and then pour it into your ears until you like it.”
Footsteps thundered, then a voice rushed, “What’s the matter, what’s going on?”
He braced himself to see Marik in the doorway, Fang’s and Mongkbat’s heads popping in behind him.
Lu Da cut a look back at Hiteo that was half warning, half pleading, and all ire as a wicked light flashed in his eyes.  The young face arranged into a picture of boyish innocence right before he twisted back to answer Marik.
“The captain just told me he was going to crush up my bones—”
“No, he’s—”
“And milk my spleen—”
“He’s lying, kids are liars—”
“To make cement and pour it in my ears.”
Marik leaned on the doorframe, crossing his arms and raising one brow to Lu Da, who silently seethed as Hiteo honed his act.
“You won’t let him do that to me, will you?”
Before anyone could respond, there was a soft hiss.
Gazes swerved to the captain’s bed.  The coil of blotchy golden-brown peered up at them, tongue darting as it slithered between the ruin of blankets.
Marik cocked his head.  “Why is there a snake on your pillow?” 
He glanced first at Lu Da then, pointedly, to the boy beside him, whose blameless façade fractured under the knowing scrutiny.
“Hiteo.”  The kid tensed as Marik brandished his dad voice.  “Good timing.  I’ve just been informed that the latrine needs cleaning.”
“W-what?  But I don’t know how t—!”
“Don’t worry.  Tonqa drew the short straw, he’ll show you.”
His mouth worked, then in a huff, the boy sulked out the door, shoving past Fang and Mongkbat, who had returned with a rod and a sack, all sniveling grins as they approached the reptile.
“Never thought I’d hear the infamous Lu Da scream like a twelve-year-old girl,” Nubs said under his breath.
“Knowledge of which you will kindly take to your graves.”
Marik came to stand beside Lu Da with a smirk.  “Nothing to make you realize how much of an asshole you are like a miniature version of yourself walking around and fucking with you daily.”  He clapped him on the shoulder.  “Welcome to parenthood.”
“Entirely sure you can’t claim this one, Captain?” Fang called out.
Mongkbat chuckled.  Lu Da blew out a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.
+++
Chapter Three
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kdramacrybaby · 10 months
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Black Knight (2023)
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Genre: Sci-fi, Dystopian, Action
Synopsis: In the future, earth has been all but destroyed by toxic air, leaving only 1% of the population alive. People must remain inside for the majority of their lives, and therefor rely heavily on the delivery of precious food and air. The amount of recourses is strictly controlled and limited, so the job as a delivery driver is dangerous, as thieves threaten to hijack the valuable cargo. But for people, refugees, living outside the richer society, becoming a delivery driver is the only way into the safe zones.
Episode info: 6 episodes / Runtime around 50 minutes
Lead cast: Kim Woo-bin (5-8), Kang You-seok (Yoon Sa-wol), Song Seung-heon (Ryu Seok), Esom (Jeong Seol-ah)
Link to watch: You can watch on Netflix for Dramacool
Drama rec masterlist | Drama rant thread (beware of spoilers)
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My very first thought was how much this reminded me of Silent Sea. But seen as both are short dramas about a dystopian world - both produced by Netflix - it doesn't really surprise me.
I generally enjoyed the drama. Amazing world-building, fantastic actors and characters - there is really nothing much to complain about.
But seeing as it's only 6 episodes, it does feel really short - I was on episode 6 with only 20 minutes left, and I could not see how they would be able to wrap it up before it would end... but somehow they did it anyway. And while I was impressed they managed to create a somewhat acceptable ending for the whole build-up they had created, I did feel disappointed that I wouldn't be able to stay in this world with these characters just a little bit longer.
Not sure if a season 2 is even possible, at this point I don't trust Netflix with anything - but I'd definitely watch a season two if it ever comes out.
But yeah, if you're looking for a quick drama to watch, and you don't mind all the dark themes that come with a dystopian drama, this is a must-watch.
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metaldragoon · 10 months
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873/2023 KM done for the year It’s been a while, as the lead singer of Staind might say.  I believe this is my first update since my birthday, almost a month ago! After that run I was really struggling with like overheating in my head, I was getting light-headed and stuff.  It’s gone now though but it really sucked for 2 weeks or so, I could only run like 10 minutes before I felt like collapsing, and I was sweating like crazy, and I’m already a heavy sweater. I was using caffeine pills for my training and I think once I finished that 32KM run and tried to clean up my act, I was just having caffeine withdrawals or something.  Either way, my pace is behind right now, I should be at 881 KM, which is really close to where I’m at so it’s not alarming, but still.  The important thing is today I saw a highly coveted “GUTZ” license plate.  I was flying through a construction zone at 120km/h when I noticed in the corner of my eye this beauty in the slow lane, so I had to just coast for like 40 seconds before the guy overtook me.  I was so excited to see it, I kinda wanted to honk and get him to pull over so I could pose with it... but at least I have this photograph.  Otherwise, not too much to update.  I’ve been playing OW2 a bunch, and my friend bought me Sea of Thieves last night so I might try that out with him soon.  Last week at basketball I got in to an argument with another player so it sort of fired me up, so I was playing much more aggressively the rest of the game and kinda came out of it like “that was fun :)” because it’s nice to really be competitive, but my back and arms are so bruised from it so I was like ah yes this is why we don’t play bully ball every week.  I also signed up for a Half Marathon August 20th, my friend’s gonna fly out and run it with me, and by “with me” I mean at best half an hour slower than me, but it will be nice.  It will be our third HM together and we’ve done some shorter ones too, but he moved away a few years ago so... IT”S BEEN A WHILE!!!
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howlingday · 2 years
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Cardin: Ah, the sea...
Sun: Aye, the sea.
Ren: Makes you glad to be a live!
Jaune: I think that ship is following us.
Sun: Feel that salty spray...
Ren: The sunlight sparkling off the bay!
Cardin: What a glorious seafaring day!
Jaune: It's a pirate ship! We have to outrun her! Alright, men! Are you with me?
Cardin: Oh! A whale!
Sun: Huh?
Ren: Where?
Jaune: They're getting closer! Skull Crusher Cardin, hoist the top sail!
Cardin: Is that a right whale?
Sun: No, no, no! That's not a right whale!
Jaune: They're boarding us! Crew! Help me out here!
Ren: It is a member of the sub-order mystashetti.
Cardin: I think you're right!
Cinder: Well, well...
Jaune: Cinder! So you've been following us! What do you want, Cinder, other than a good eyepatch?
Cinder: I've come for the map to Hell's Reef, so I can claim the treasures of that island you mentioned. A nice feather in my cap, wouldn't you say?
Ren: Look! It's breaching!
Cardin: Ooh!
Sun: Ah!
Jaune: Look, Cyclops, I can't let you take that map. I need it to save Weiss!
Cinder: Then I will take it by force.
Ren: That whale must be 35.12 meters!
Cardin: Well over a hundred feet long.
Sun: And weigh 200 metric tons!
Cinder: I'm sure you already know, Arc, that in a pirate battle, wit always triumphs over might.
Jaune: Of course I know that, One-Eye! Let's get this over with.
Cinder: Every enemy I've annihilated!
Jaune: Oh, yeah? Well, you fight like a cow!
Cinder: No, no, no. That's not right. We do things differently on the sea. All your insults and threats have to rhyme! So, when I say, "All my enemies have been annihilated," you say...
Jaune: Uh, I once found armor that was silver-plated?
Cinder: No! You say, "Breathe your last, for you'll be perforated!" Let's try again.
Jaune: You're on!
Cinder: You're as repulsive as a monkey in a negligee!
Jaune: Uh...
Cinder: (Knocks his sword away) The map. Now.
Jaune: Fine, here. (Pulls it out)
Cinder: You keep it in your chest plate?
Jaune: It's less likely to be stolen that way.
Cinder: ...Whatever. (Turns away) Once I'm done pirating these waters, I'm off to Hell's Reef. Until we meet again, Arc.
Jaune: Thanks, guys! You were a world of help back there!
Ren: It was a rousing battle, Captain.
Cardin: Aye, and it reminds me of a song!
Cardin: We're a vicious band of pirates~!
Sun: A-sailin' out to sea~!
Ren: Once you see our sails~!
Sun: You'll be sure to turn and flee~!
SRC: A pirate I was meant to be~! Trim the sails and roam the sea~!
Jaune: Oh, this is just ridiculous... Come on, men! We've got to recover that map!
Ren: That Cinder will be finished when she falls into our trap~!
Cardin: We're a cloutful troop of rovers~!
Sun: Who can sing in any clef~!
Ren: We can even hit the high notes~!
Sun: It's a shame we're tone-deaf~!
SRC: A pirate I was meant to be~! Trim the sails and roam the sea~!
Jaune: Alright, crew! Enough shanties! Let's get to work!
Ren: A hard day of labor that we'll surely never shirk~!
Cardin: We'll fight you in the harbor~!
Sun: We'll even fight you on your land~!
Ren: When you meet singing pirates~!
Jaune: They'll be more than you can stand.
Sun: Oh! That was a good one!
Jaune: No, it wasn't. Just stop, stop, stop!
Ren: The brass we will polish, and the deck we will mop~!
Jaune: You say you're heartless buccaneers, some thieving bush-whackers, but I don't see pirates, all I see are a bunch of lazy slackers~!
SRC: A pirate I was meant to be~! Trim the sails and roam the sea~!
Jaune: Hmph. We'll surely avoid scurvy with lemons and oranges~.
Cardin: And... uh...
Sun: Hm.
Ren: Door-hinge?
Cardin: No, that won't work.
Sun: I guess it's back to work then.
Jaune: Gee... Now I just feel bad.
Emerald: (Knocks, Enters) Ma'am, we're ready to set sail to... Captain Fall, what are you doing?
Cinder: (Face centimeters away from the stolen map) Uh... (Pulls it away) It's difficult to read in this light, you know!
Emerald: It looked like you were sniff-
Cinder: W-Well, I wasn't! Now, what is so important to interrupt my fanta- I mean reading!
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