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dazais-guardian-angel · 8 months

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Chapter 110 is 13 pages long welcome to hell!!! so in a lot of ways this is just more fuel for a theory that I've had for a few weeks now, that's only gotten stronger with each recent season 5 episode, which is that the last episode of the season is gonna end on 110, and that Asagiri/Harukawa and Bones have been collaborating to make this happen, specifically because it's a major turning point that would be the only good place to end the season on.

When we started getting especially long chapters again (like from 25-35ish pages, with the exception of 107.5, the last two being some of the longest we've ever had), at first I just assumed that Asagiri/Harukawa got freed up from some other obligations they'd been having to cause the extremely short/half chapters, like promotional stuff for the anime/Beast movie, or working on light novels. But then 109 happened, with the "supposed" death of Dazai, and heavy emphasis at the end on how literally everyone is at their lowest point right now, and I got to thinking. 11 episodes is a strangely specific number for an anime season -- why not 12, or 13, or even 10, like you'd usually see? Why have we gotten suddenly gotten two 35 page chapters out of nowhere, that's almost unheard of at this point? They're both beautiful chapters, don't get me wrong (as always), and maybe A/H simply just didn't want to cut them in halves because they felt like the full emotional impact wouldn't hit/that there were no good cutoff points in them, but you can't deny that it's surprising, after all the shorter chapters we've been getting. Why has the anime been going at such insanely breakneck pacing for the most part ever since around the Sunday Tragedy chapters, even more so than it has in the past? So much so that it feels dangerously close to overtaking the manga?

Well, maybe, just maybe, it's because..... Asagiri decided a long time ago that whatever happens in 110 is the only point that feels "season finale"-worthy enough, in an arc that still isn't anywhere close to being completely wrapped up, and so both the manga and the anime have been specifically coordinated to reach that part within 2 and a half weeks of each other?

I've seen a lot of people now think season 5 will end with 109, and as much as my sadistic side would find that hilarious, I honestly don't think they'd do that and realistically don't want it to happen; it'd be so cruel to cliffhanger the anime for years like that, and just doesn't feel like a season cliffhanger BSD would do, a series that is ultimately hopeful and uplifting. Seasons 2 and 3 had a positive, conclusive ending; the only reasons seasons 1 and 4 didn't was because they're technically not really full seasons of their own, and are more like the first cour of another "season" that also came out that same year (seasons 1 and 2 both aired in 2016, so they're more like one big season, and seasons 4 and 5 have both aired this year, so they're also more like one big season, again taking into account how episodes 12 and 50 are not satisfying finales like episodes 24, 37, and hypothetically, 61, are). I really can't see season 5 ending with Dazai and Fukuzawa's supposed deaths, Sigma being unconscious and maybe close to death, Atsushi being vulnerable and limbless again, everyone we love still vampires, and the entire world being basically doomed; that's just too depressing and not like BSD at all. However, having said that, if it doesn't end there, there really isn't any good place to end the season before that, either, that feels in any way satisfying or like a finale at all. And so, to me, that only leaves after 109: chapter 110.

I think things are really gonna turn around next chapter. Like I said, everyone is at their lowest point right now, it cannot possibly get any worse, the framing of Dazai, Fukuzawa, and sskk at the end of 109 is telling us that; this is the time for the heroes to finally start winning again, with Aya being so close to pulling out the sword, and for all the thematic reasons other people have talked about to death that I don't need to go into here again. This upcoming chapter being so short again makes a part of me wary of 110 being "the one", so to speak, I won't lie, but at the same time, it's very possible that it needs to be that short because that's all the final episode of the season will be able to reasonably fit in, since it's already gonna be VERY close if they do make it all the way to 109. And at the end of the day, I don't doubt at all that Asagiri and Harukawa can make these the most monumental and game-changing mere 13 pages ever if they wanted to; a chapter does not at all need to be extremely long in order to be an important and impactful one, even if short ones we've gotten in the past haven't felt the most important.

An additional thought I've had, though this is much more crack territory than all this already is, is that since we know from Anime Expo that a Stormbringer movie at some point is highly likely (judging from Asagiri's reaction when someone brought it up), it's possible that chapter 110 and thus the final episode will involve the long-anticipated return of Verlaine and/or Adam, or at least some other major reference to Stormbringer, that would naturally and smoothly lead into a Stormbringer movie to explain things to people who haven't read the novel. It would make a lot of sense, especially since the s4 OP has the Old World sign behind Chuuya, which might be a hint that this has been in the works ever since seasons 4/5 were first in planning with Asagiri. We also know that Dazai and Chuuya's voice actors apparently struggled to record their lines together this season, which probably relates to 101 and possibly 109, but it could be 110 too.... I could be very wrong, as I'm no expert on this kind of thing, but I kinda doubt they would bring Chuuya's actor in for just the vampire growls, and Asagiri placing heavy emphasis on Chuuya's importance this season in that one interview gives me the impression that he's talking about much more than just 101/109. But that's the least solid evidence I have, that's just mostly based on vibes I get.

So basically, I think a lot of factors -- the unusual episode count, how close the anime is to catching up to the manga with three whole episodes left, the seemingly arbitrary recent chapter lengths, and the climactic events of 109 -- can tell us that 110 might be a very, VERY big deal. Again, there's of course no way this arc is anywhere near close to being finished, with so much left to address and resolve, but since it is currently incomplete in the manga, unlike the previously adapted arcs, if the anime was going to adapt it at all, they'd have to find a place that feels satisfying enough to end this season, knowing there won't be more anime for a long time after this, and so I think they specifically planned for that, from both Bones' and A/H's sides. 10 episodes might not have been enough to reach that point, but 12 or 13 might have been too many it wouldn't have been if Bones actually decided to slow down and let the story breathe the way it needs to, but this post isn't meant to criticize the anime, so maybe 11 was just right. And maybe Asagiri and Harukawa specifically pushed to make recent chapters longer than usual, in order to make sure that the manga reached the story content in 110 the monthly release right before season 5 was to end.

Is this just copium? Absolutely. Am I going to look like an absolute clown in two days when this post ages like milk? Probably. But the evidence is There, so let me just enjoy my delusions until Sunday, okay 🥂🫡

#bungou stray dogs #seriously call me a clown and point and laugh at me if I'm proven wrong all you want #but I really feel like there's solid evidence for this #either s5 isn't gonna reach 109 at all (but I seriously cannot fathom where you would want to stop before then) or they'll go beyond it #if they really do end it with 109....... well i'll give Bones kudos for having the balls to do that ig lol #maybe i'm underestimating (overestimating???) them idk #also just to clarify I don't wanna make it sound like I think Asagiri let the anime/Bones dictate the manga's pacing #like I'm sure these were his/their (him and Harukawa's) own decisions first and foremost #not that (if this theory is true) the anime had a major impact on how the chapters were split and that it-#-would have been extremely different otherwise #i'm pretty confident in that Asagiri does not do anything with BSD he isn't comfortable with #and he doesn't let anyone tell him how to write his story #I just feel like he worked with Bones to make this near-simultaneous release happen #BUT if this is the case I don't feel like it had any major effect on the writing/final product that is the manga #like the last handful of chapters have been so incredible #so I at least am still perfectly happy lol #(i mean i'm devastated and a nervous wreck but u know 🫡 in a good way lmao)#anyway 110 in two days please let this theory be true because I need some fucking hope already #please let Oda show up as Dazai's guardian angel to help (see what I did there-)#it would be the perfect way to end the collective season that is 4/5 with s4 beginning with Oda and now ending with Oda #Asagiri are you reading me are you picking up what I'm putting down please please a ghost Oda is long overdue please-#Oda Verlaine Adam just GIVE ME SOMEONE ALREADY 😭😭😭#MAYBE EVEN A TASTE OF THE FYODOR BACKSTORY TO TIE INTO HIM BEING IN ANIME UNTOLD ORIGINS. THE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS

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whinesandwhimpers · 6 months

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Guardian Angel 1: How'd you go with your human today? Any injuries?

Guardian Angel 2: Just a paper cut. They never get in any serious trouble. I'm really lucky.

Guardian Angel!Reader: *frazzled wings, exhausted from saving explosives-loving johnny mactavish, trying to catch their breath* this fucking guy-

#soap x reader #guardian angel reader x johnny mactavish #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #my writing

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monstrouslyobsessed · 7 months

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vile affection

concept: in which your guardian angel wishes nothing but misfortune for you—just to keep you. —momster

—a/n: well no one asked for a concept and I wanna post smth so here it is!! enjoyyyyy~

side note, i tried to be vague on what religion this story is referencing to so you yourself can implement your preferred beliefs, but unfortunately, catholicism still carried some weights in this one. sorry!! i tried my best dlfkfsdl

—tw / tags: gn reader, implied loved one(s) death(s), implied killing, heavy religious themes, grief, horror, body horror, teratophilia, exophilia, general yandere themes, sfw.

—featured character(s): the guardian angel / the angel, the (unfortunate) priest

A piercing wail erupted from the depths of your throat as you crumbled to the floor, shrieking into your phone, “No, no, nonono! No!”

Not another one…!

Sobs wracked your body so hard the sounds emerged as tiny high-pitched squeaks. Tears blurred your vision to near blindness, distorting the colors into blobs of grey. Your breaths came so harshly they scorched your lungs.

Curling into a ball, you lost control and hyperventilated. With wild abandon, you pounded your fist on the cold tiled floor and released inhuman cries of agony. Something throbbed where your knuckles had split open, staining the hard ceramic surface with your blood, yet you felt nothing. Numbness drenched the overwhelming misery and panic, and your world creased its spinning.

They were gone—every single one of them.

Distantly, a voice, laced with sympathy, pleaded with you not to hang up the phone. Without hesitation, your battered hand moved on its own accord to end the call. You sat there, head between your knees, as you let the device to slip away to clatter and crack against the floor.

Now, there was nothing left, nothing but the hollowing emptiness that gaped deep within your pounding chest, where the love of your life had once filled and kept it warm. Memories of their smiles faded as tears stung your swollen eyes. Wheezing sobs continued to fill the room, oblivious to a strange distortion perching on your bowed back to comfort you.

The funeral was a somber affair, a closed-casket viewing attended by strangers. You remained quiet throughout the priest’s recitation of the psalms, disregarding the whispered condolences offered your way. It took every ounce of your strength not to jump into that casket and howl your grief.

“Poor thing…” one attendant murmured to another, “this makes it the fifth loss in this year alone, doesn’t it?”

The other attendant responded sympathetically, stealing a brief glance in your direction. Anger flared within you, only to fade just as quickly when you felt something brush against your bare neck; feather-soft, cold and intangible. You tensed.

This was not the first time you had experienced these strange sensations—these invisible touches. At times, it would gently trace down your skin, soothing like a caress on the back of your hand, or enveloping you like an embrace around your waist. But, it always felt as though it was petting you with a sharp, scalpel-like claw, sharp and unyielding. These sensations left behind only cold goosebumps and an increasing sense that something was extremely wrong.

Once, you thought it might be the ghost of your loved one—but even you knew such possibilities were ludicrous. It could be your mind breaking apart under the weight of so many consecutive tragedies; less than a year felt like a lifetime of pain. And, by certain, their touches had never felt so…disgusting and inhuman.

There were moments where the hairs on the back of your neck bristled and you heard the faint disembodied crooning, words too indistinct for you to understand. Yet, it vaguely resembled a demonic chorus, singing some eerie song. The lingering echoes, you thought, was just an auditory hallucinations brought on by intense grief.

The phenomena worsened each loss you suffered though. These unseen presences grew more persistent and suffocating, clinging to you like a shroud of darkness. Your instincts would scream at you to flee—but how could you escape from something you don’t even know was there?

Rubbing unconsciously where the invisible entity touched you, you remained in your seat, fixated on the casket. As you waited for the priest to conclude his prayer for the departed soul’s safe passage to the afterlife, you lifelessly watched mourners rising from their seats to form a line to pay their respects.

Your mind was numbed by both exhaustion and sorrow to even count them all.

After the attendants withdrew for the impending burial, the priest motioned for you to join him. A gentle—yet strangely tight smile formed on his lips, as he spoke, “Would you mind returning here after the burial? I’d like a word with you.”

You furrowed your brows at the priest's unusual request but nodded, your agreement barely audible. Whatever he had to say couldn’t possibly be more harrowing than the lonely hell you were enduring. Quietly, you promised to return.

After the burial, once the guests departed for the wake, you found yourself alone in the cemetery. An ache gnawed at your heart as you forced yourself to walk back to the ever-looming church. As soon as you stepped inside the holy building, something strange caught the corner of your eyes.

Startled, you pivoted to see what it was.

But, there was nothing there, just the endless rows of gravestones scattered across the green grass. Your muscles taut with unease, you shook your head and drew a deep, heavy breath. Your sanity was fraying to a snapping point, you thought to yourself.

The weighty doors thudded shut behind you, the sound reverberating thunderously throughout the silent sanctuary, nearly jumping you out of your skin. Following the abrupt noise, you heard a voice beckoning you to follow, as the priest shuffled his feet down the aisle.

You couldn’t help but to notice the nervousness in his steps.

Closing the distance between you, he ushered you past the archway and toward the altar of the church’s fallen deity. Lightheaded and worried at the haste and anxiety he displayed, you allowed him to lead you to a room in the rear of the sanctuary. Rashly, he locked the door behind you and stood there stiffly, pressing his ear against the wooden surface.

“Father…?” You glanced at him, fear swelling up at his odd behavior.

His shoulders tensed upon your hesitant voice and he turned to face you, his eyes filled with unmasked horror. Swiftly, the priest made a sign of the cross and whispered a prayer. With a shuddering sigh, he returned his attention to you.

Before you could open your mouth to demand an explanation, he cut in with urgency.

“Tell me, my child, what do you know of the guardian angel?”

Perplexed, you blinked until his urgent words seeped into your mind. Swallowing thickly, you replied in a hoarse voice, stifling the swelling grief in your breast, “They are meant to protect and to guide you in the times of strife and tribulations.”

He fell silent for a moment, then parted his trembling lips, “Then tell me, my child, why has yours only destroyed? Why did it regard you with such a perverse gaze?”

“I…what?” You gaped, a cracked laughter escaping your lips in an unhinged melody.

Had this man lost his mind?

What could he possibly mean? How could this man assume that the loss of your family was the work of divine beings? How ridiculous—

But upon the stern and fearful look in his eyes, disbelief constricted in the pit of your stomach. An overwhelming urge to flee coursed through your nerves, propelling your legs toward the bolted door. You were disrupted by a sudden yank on the collar of your shirt.

An inexplicable dread settled beneath your skin, as the priest forcefully dragged you backward with unexpected strength. Before you could voice your frustration and demand an explanation, the door buckled.

The wood splintered and the shrieks of a demon reverberated.

A scream pierced the air, laden with terror—but you couldn’t discern whose voice it belonged to. Was it your own? Or was it the priest’s? You remained uncertain, as you transfixed by the sight of something great and dreadful emerging from the sundered door.

An angel.

Except, to you, it was not.

Trenched in crimson, the mangled remains of rotten bodies hung from its many jagged wings. Countless eyes turned toward you, each radiating with worship and desire. A seam split on its featureless face, forming a broken maw that drooled with hunger. Its tongue, as dark as oil, swept away the spattered blood on its pure white skin.

Numerous arms reached out for you, each finger tipped with claws, glistening with something pungent. Its resonant voice echoed your name, tainted with the same twisted desire mirrored in their manic eyes. It repeated those three words, like a disturbing hymn.

I love you.

Blood roared in your ears and fear seeped through your body, paralyzing you. You couldn’t move, your vision obscured by a sudden cascade of tears. Disgust churned within you, sickening you to your very core.

You couldn’t even discern the abrupt swing of one of its arms, releasing the lifeless body from its monstrous sword, as the abomination closed in. A flurry of limbs encircled your shivering form, some caressing while others coiled around your spine.

Its’ many eyes blinked at you and its rotting wings fluttered, its grinning face lovingly nuzzled yours. Against your ear, it moaned its proclamation.

I love you.

The slithering tongue smeared across your lips in a parody of kisses. Your skin crawled at the way it touched you, its embrace suffocating, yet sickeningly gentle. Its affection for you was vile. Unwanted.

Your hands beat its armor weakly, attempting to fend it off, and its crooning changed into something sharp and incensed. Snarling, frustrated that it was unable to indulge itself into its unholy pleasure with you, it grabbed your hands and held them tightly.

Sobbing, you knew you would never be able to escape. Desperate to appease it, your voice rasped out from your dry throat,

“I…love…you…too.”

Its painful clenches softened upon your trembling words.

Love swelled within those golden irises.

—end

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whereserpentswalk · 2 months

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There's a fallen angel in one of your college classes she's extremely obvious about it even though she claims to be a human. You can tell from the way she's always trying to hide the scars where her wings used to be, the slender yet muscular body type she has tears clearly angelic, and the fact that her body is entirely sexless despite her desire to he seen as female, the slightly sad image of a dress wrapped around her flat chest being the first thing people see of her.

Most people are afraid of her. They've heard of the horrors that fallen angels who've gone to the underworld have committed, the things that they've turned into. They assume the worst, treat her like a dog off it's leash. Nobody actually says anything, but they avoid her, get afraid if she seems to angry, or even just too excited. The professors are strict with her, and the students stay away from her. You hear people saying they're worried she's going to hurt or seduce them when she seems to just be doing normal, if a bit awkward things, like they assume she's the demon they fear she is. Even the undead, the werewolves and the wizards who go to your school are a bit afraid of her.

Eventually she asks you for help with homework. She's so afraid when she asks, she says you seem like the nicest person in the class. But still she's afraid you'll hurt her, or mabye she's afraid she'll hurt you. You have to reassure her a bit, but you help her, step by step. She's so afraid whenever she fails something that she's as worthless as she was told the fallen were, or that someone's going to punish her the same way the other angels would have for a mistake. But she's smart, even if she hasn't had the background to know a lot of things her human classmates know.

You decide to bring her when you hang out with some other freinds. You're just walking through the city streets that are near your campus, it's not that big a deal for most of you, but it is to her. She's never really explored a human city before, and getting to do normal things like this is kind of new to her. Everyone knows what she is, but after a few minutes of just existing with her it stops being the focus. And she seems to happy to just be treated as a normal girl.

There's so much she hasn't experienced before. When you walk by a toystore she's weirdly interested in it, and ends up buying a plush there while almost everyone but you and her and too embarrassed to go inside. She was never a child, so it seems like it's comforting to her to get to enjoy something like this when she didn't get a chance to normally.

But mostly she just seems to enjoy being talked to and looked at like a normal person, without being the focus. Her face lights up when someone compliments her hair, angels are called beautiful a lot but they're never called pretty, they're never someone someone wants to be like. She's so excited to swipe her card just to take the subway with you, and she seems so comforted when being hugged goodbye by you, you think this might be the first time she's been hugged in the thousands of years she's existed.

When you're texting with her later you end up venting about your landlord, he really suck, not allowing overnight guests or pets and the like, and having raised your rent by a lot this year. She becomes really upset learning landlords exist at all, and asks you for his name before saying goodbye.

When you next hear from your landlord he's afraid of something, and agrees to remove all the rules your complained to your fallen angel freind about, and lower your rent. You have a feeling your freind did something.

When you talk to your fallen angel freind to compliment her she seems upset with herself. She was always told she'd hurt a mortal and now she has. You explain to her that that's not always a bad thing, that she saved you, as much as she would have saved you if she caught you falling off a building. You explain to her that just because she's powerful, and nobody controls her, doesn't mean that that power is evil. Even when she makes people afraid, she's still a being of good, it's why she fell in the first place.

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becca4leafclover · 5 months

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Thinking about the ending of Purgatory again, how the two people with wings saving people were Philza and Fit.

Phil, everyone knows had the wings. HAS the wings, now, in this miracle of this place, where nothing good grows and yet it's given Phil the chance to regain his lost limbs. Even after they were pushed to their fragile limits and broken again to save Tubbo, Phil's wings still exist on his back after they'd been gone for far too long.

But what about the other person who miraculously had wings? Who never had any sort of phantom pains of lost limbs in all of his life, who touched the sky only through mechanical marvels and the husks of void insects and never craved the feeling of flight as a wingfolk does.

Unlike Phil, who returned from the End challenge nearly sobbing for his children and the healing of his wings, Fit had no such thing when he went through those portals. He went through and grinned at the sight of a pair of elytra, a trusty tool back on 2b2t. He raced through the course and jumped through the other side and physically looked no different.

But who knows how long it's been since the last time Fit touched the void? Since he went to go solve the mystery of his airship's ghost voyage? That was years ago. It was nice to feel- free. Of Purgatory, of Quesadilla, of his mission and all the complications of the past few months. It was just him and the empty infinity below him for a few minutes.

When Fit left the End, he didn't miss the elytra. No, he was no Philza. But his body felt abuzz in a way he couldn't explain. It came and went, a slight background noise or strangely absent. Fit didn't pay much attention to it- his focus was on surviving. Grinding. Winning, for Ramon. But he found himself idly noticing it when he was helping Tubbo, or wandering with Pac, or defending Tina.

Days past, and the end of the world seemed to come from one of their own. Fit saw the writing on the wall of the fate of their kids and knew that he didn't have time to look for a lost cause. He pushed his limits to get to the escape boat. It was intense, but he didn't think for a moment that he wouldn't make it. He knew that not all of his friends would be so lucky. But it was survival of the fittest, and Fit knew it better than almost anyone else.

When Phil and Tubbo made it to the boat on Phil's broken wings, something stirred inside Fit. It was the two leaders of the surviving teams, the two that had just dueled to the death, holding each other like lifelines. These weren't more survivors in a wasteland, they were his FRIENDS. Could Fit really stand here on this boat, knowing if he didn't do something he'd never see them again?

"Give me the lasso, I can save people," Fit offered once Phil collapsed when trying to get up.

The old crow and his young adversary looked at him with wonder. That buzzing feeling was back, stronger than it'd been before. Fit held out his hand for the fraying rope. Fit backed up on the boat's deck and sprinted, planning on jumping over the edge and diving into the water-

But he never fell once he went up.

Fit used all of his willpower to keep going. Find someone- ANYONE, to save one more life so it wasn't just him, the unconscious people he'd managed to get to the boat, and those other two going home. Anyone else.

One minute. Bagi.

Fit screamed her name through the air. She shouted in surprise when she spotted him.

"Fit! You have wings?"

Fit took the second to glance over his shoulder. Wings, on his back, glowing against the hazy red light that covered the island.

"I'm getting you out of here," was all Fit said as he tied the rope around Bagi. He hefted her up, and then took off again.

They made it to the boat with twenty seconds left on the timer. Tubbo had gotten the engine revving and he heard Charlie screaming somewhere inside. He pulled Bagi out of the water, and then everyone's MDA's went off violently with notifications. Their time was up.

The buzzing in Fit's body faded as the boat sped away from the island- and their remaining friends, and the little buddies, and the corpses of their children, and the black dot rising in the sky that spelled total destruction. And the next time Fit noticed, the magic wings that had allowed him to be the hero of the hour were gone too.

It wasn't until they were back on Quesadilla Island that anyone mentioned the miracle Fit had pulled. Phil showed Fit so much trust, in revealing to him his mangled wings that he was able to keep coming back home. And he gently asked- what happened to Fit's? Why did Fit never tell that he had lost his wings too?

"I'm not like you, Phil. I've never had wings to lose."

"...But we all saw them, mate. Were you at least born with them?"

Fit shook his head. "Not that I ever knew. But I don't remember much about where I came from before 2b anyway."

Phil had frowned at that, but left it.

The next person to bring it up was Tubbo, along with Bagi and Pac while they were waiting for their somehow-alive kids to wake up from their comas.

"Hey Fit, what happened to your wings?"

"Oh yeahh! You were my hero, Fit! I don't think I'll ever be able to make it up to you," Bagi said. Fit waved them off.

"Don't worry about it, Bagi, we're all good."

"You have wings?" Pac questioned, his voice filled with such pure wonder. Fit shook his head.

"I... I really don't know what that was. I just knew I had the chance to save one more person, so I did. I wouldn't be surprised if that fucking Eye did something just to try to get under my skin! Good thing I'm tougher than that," Fit said with a smile. For the first time since the boat, that strange feeling prickled along his back.

Bagi frowned, while Pac looked at his whole being with his observant eyes, and Tubbo tilted his head.

"I would have loved to see you with wings... How cool you would look!" Pac breathed. Fit chuckled at that, but couldn't find the words to quite reply.

"What if you did have wings before?" Tubbo said, "Like how Phil had his healed back there?"

"I already talked to him about it. I've never had wings in my whole life. Or if I did, I lost them before I ended up in 2b2t, but that was when I was still a kid. If I ever came from anywhere before 2b anyway."

"They weren't really like Philza's either, when I saw them. They seemed- magical? They weren't really- I don't know the word- they weren't really real. They were all glowy," Bagi added.

Pac hummed thoughtfully. "You sound like a guardian angel that only got his wings in a time of need..."

That struck a chord with Fit. The feeling in him settled pleasantly, like he'd gotten an answer he didn't know the question to. "Maybe, maybe. Maybe you're closer than you think, I don't know. guess we'll never really know unless we end up in hell fighting each other again and have to escape another nuke!"

"Do NOT even joke about that!!"

"I don't know, I kind of want to see my guardian angel fly me to safety..." Pac said, a tease in his voice and cheeks flushed pink. Fit, admittedly, balked at this, and couldn't come up with a response. Tubbo, meanwhile, gagged.

The last clue Fit had to the strange event in Purgatory, was when he was stretching in the new yoga room of Fit's Fitness.

He was alone in the calming space, the tinkling of the water feature an easy background noise. He was doing some final stretches after a workout, to relax his muscles before he called it a day. His sweaty shirt was in the corner by the shoe rack- he really needed to change out of his Purgatory clothes, now that the islanders were slowly starting to be able to put that behind him.

In the mirror as he was just doing a shoulder stretch with his mechanical arm, for the first time Fit noticed a pair of scars on his back.

Now, Fit was familiar with his plethora of scars that covered his whole body. He knew the major ones- the ones that were closer calls with permanent death than he'd like to admit. His scar tissue had layers, with the way that explosions left their marks on the same spots over and over again. But despite the size of these scars, Fit couldn't remember where he got them from off the top of his head. Two long slashes- fairly clean. One was partially covered by the metallic plating that was embedded into his shoulder- maybe that was why he'd forgotten about them before?

It was still weird though. Nothing on 2b2t left such clean slashes. Especially not so symmetrical, or in what really was a vital place... strange indeed...

Fit looked back at himself in the mirror, examining the scars with mild curiosity.

For a moment, pale glowing wings were aligned with those slits. Fit blinked, and they were gone. That fuzzy feeling returned, and lingered as Fit's mind raced.

He had a feeling there was something he didn't know about himself.

#help i meant this to be like a 15 minute ramble about guardian angel fit #how did i end up here at 1 in the morning #WELP ITS HERE NOW MAYBE ILL POST IT TO AO3 TOO #MIGHT AS WELL??#qsmp #qsmp purgatory #qsmp fit #qsmp fitmc #q!fit #qsmp fanfiction #becca rambles #becca writes words

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strawberryspence · 11 months

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i will never let you fall, i'll stand up with you forever

if this makes anyone cry, please don't blame me. someone 👀 gave me this idea... ( @thefreakandthehair / @henderdads )

Eddie loves visiting the beach.

He has gone to two in his life. However, he always longed to go visit more, to pick one too many seashells and collect them all, to play in the water and bask in the warmth it brings. He has been to lakes, lots of them. However, growing up in Indiana doesn’t really entail a lot of beach days.

The sun passes through his skin, warmth and gold against him. There’s a lovely breeze sifting through his hair, intertwining him to the wind. The sand is soft on his toes, the feeling barely even there.

Arwen laughs as the sand washes on her toes, like Mother Nature herself tickling her with her kindness. Eddie watches her carefully, as she giggles and splashes at the water. A turtle comes up to the shore, making her yelp in excitement. It’s crazy how much she’s grown in the last few years, it’s like watching album pages being flipped in haste.

There’s soft snoring beside him, making Eddie turn. Steve’s eyes are closed, his chest humming with every snore. His hair sweeps against the wind, his freckles illuminated by the sun. He’s gotten old, wrinkles and glasses permanent in his face. Eddie doesn’t really care. He’s always been Eddie’s golden boy, he always will be.

He’s clutching a book about parenting, but Eddie doesn’t think he needs it. Arwen’s growing up perfectly and Steve’s doing great.

From a far, Eddie can see Nancy and Robin laughing at the fruit stand. So much time has passed now that they’re holding hands in public and no one bats an eye. They deserve it, he thinks. The happiness and pride radiating from them.

He turns his attention back to Arwen, his heart dropping when he sees her in the ocean, wading through the waves. She’s barely seven, the water stops just above her chest even if she’s still close the shore.

“Steve! Wake up!” Eddie tries to shake him awake, but Steve stays asleep, batting his hands away.

Eddie turns to Robin and Nancy, but they’re too far. He sighs, taking off his shoes, not that it matters. He rushes to the ocean and calling out to her, “Arwen! Come back!”

Arwen turns to him, familiarity shining through her eyes, something that still makes his heart stutter, “Eddie! Come swim!”

Eddie holds out his hand, “I know, honey! But you have to go back to the shore!”

She pouts, “But the turtle!”

“Ask Stevie for one, but we have to go!” Eddie pushes, as he feels the water pulsating around him. He looks around the water, surprised to see that people have run away. There’s something wrong.

“There’s a kid!” Someone shouts from the crowd, “A wave is coming!”

“Eddie! What’s wrong?!” Arwen shrieks when the water sways against them, fear evident in her eyes.

“There’s a wave coming. Hold my hand, honey. Come on. It’s going to be okay.” Arwen nods at him, wadding closer to him and trying to clutch his hands.

“I can’t!” She panics, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

“It’s okay, honey. I got you!” Eddie catches her in his arms, concentrating all his power in protecting her. The wave surges forward.

“ARWEN!” Steve shouts from the shoreline and before Eddie can even look back, the wave sweeps them away into it’s hands.

Eddie’s not really sure how he does it, how he holds unto Arwen and brings her back to the shore. It’s the same adrenaline he felt when he had to dive through Lover’s Lake, following three people he barely know.

Steve runs through the crowd, Nancy and Robin right next to him.

“Come on, honey. You’re okay. You’re okay!” Eddie says, his hair dripping with water. He presses on Arwen’s chest. She coughs water out, bleary eyes opening and looking around.

“Oh thank God.” Eddie sighs, as Steve takes his daughter in his arms.

Steve’s shaking hard, and Eddie fights the urge to reach out, “Oh my god, you scared us.”

“I am okay, dad. I am okay.” Arwen reassures, clinging unto her father’s neck.

Robin wraps a towel on her as the people finally disperse as the commotion dies down, Nancy running a comforting hand against her back.

“Don’t ever do that to us again!” Steve wails pulling her away and brushing his hand through her wet hair, “Does anything hurt? Do you want me to call the doctor?”

Arwen shakes her head, smiling widely at her father, like she hasn't almost drowned minutes ago, "It’s okay! Eddie was with me!”

Steve freezes as Robin audibly gasps, her hand immediately clutching Steve’s shoulders.

Nancy’s mouth opening wide in shock, asking, “Who?”

Arwen, unaware of the tension she has caused, squeals, “Eddie! You know Eddie! My friend! He's always on the beach! He held on to me and brought me back.”

"Is that the reason you keep on wanting to go to beaches?" Robin asks, her own voice quivering.

"Yes! He's only on the beaches! He never goes away!"

“Peanut,” Nancy says softly, “What does Eddie look like?”

“Well,” Arwen looks at him, but he’s not far enough for it be apparent that she’s looking at someone not there, “He’s always wearing a shirt with a skull, like the one Uncle Dustin wears. He has long curly hair and he has pretty eyes.”

Eddie watches as the look on Steve’s face crumbles. It’s like watching his heart break into pieces right in front of his eyes. There has been so many handful moments that Eddie has seen Steve look like this because of him.

From the time Eddie pushed Steve out of the way, from when they were trying to revive him after their fifth and last go with the Upside Down, to the time they were burying him, to the time Steve went to what should’ve been their first date.

“Is he here? Is Eddie here?” Steve asks, sounding so broken and so young. Like it hasn't been twenty years since Eddie Munson died.

Arwen blinks at him, ready to say yes before Eddie jumps, pursing his lips, his dimples dipping, “Honey, don’t say I am here. Tell them I am not here. Please.”

Arwen’s brows furrow in confusion, but she shakes her head, “Eddie’s not here.”

Steve opens his mouth, but no words come out. “Are you sure?” Robin asks for him instead.

“He’s not here.” Arwen purses her lips, her dimples dipping and damn, that’s her lying tell.

Steve sees this almost immediately, recognition flooding in his features. He moves forward to kiss her forehead, “Okay, bean. I believe you. Can you do me a favor?” Arwen nods.

“The next time Eddie comes and shows up, can you tell him something?”

Arwen lets her eyes stray back to Eddie before looking back to her dad, “Sure, dad.”

“Tell him Stevie says thank you for saving his bean.” Steve chokes, but he pokes her stomach to make her giggle, “Tell him that I miss him everyday and I am glad that he’s around. Our metal guardian angel.”

Eddie holds up a hand on his mouth, turning away so Arwen won’t see his tears. He wipes it off, trying to get a hold of himself.

“Eddie says that!” Arwen exclaims in recognition, “He said he was my guardian angel, but he’s my friend.”

“That’s right, bean.” Steve approves, “That’s right.”

“Come on,” Robin pushes, knowing what her best friend needs right now, “I got you some pineapple juice!”

Arwen giggles as Robin and Nancy carry her off, swinging her between their arms. Steve stands still, his arms wrapping around himself as he watches the ocean and sun dance together.

“Eddie.” Steve blurts into the wind, making Eddie turn to him, “I know you’re here.”

Eddie laughs, his vision blurry with his own tears, “I am always here, sweetheart.”

He walks closer to him, watching the tears stream down Steve’s eyes. Eddie tries to wipe them away, his hands going through him.

“I did great, didn’t I?” Steve asks, making Eddie nod, “I am glad you’re here to watch her grow.”

Steve lets his eyes roam around the shore. For a moment— just a split moment— his eyes makes contact with Eddie’s. It fleets away soon after.

“I want to be around for Arwen as much as I can, but when I am ready, when it’s time…” Steve trails, letting his eyes flutter shut almost as if he can feel Eddie’s touch, “Please be there.”

Eddie smiles, “I’ll be there, Stevie.”

Arwen calls out, “Dad! Look at this seashell Auntie Robin got me! It has eyes!”

Steve wipes his tears, smiling at his daughter, “Give me a second, bean!”

“See you later, Eddie.” Steve whispers into the wind, before he starts walking back to his daughter.

Eddie watches from a far, watching as Steve throws Arwen into the air causing another burst of giggles. Nancy and Robin chuckling as they watch the father-daughter duo.

“See you later, Stevie.”

Arwen waves at Eddie, watching her friend slowly dissipate with the wind, like he's going home to the skies and ocean. The ocean is blue and bright, the sky beaming as it meets the ocean halfway.

She smiles. It's okay.

Eddie's never really gone. Not as long as Arwen visits beaches.

Luckily, Arwen loves visiting the beach.

#AHA #heavily inspired by your guardian angel by red jumpsuit apparatus #lex gave me this idea in their words 'i fear i poked the hornets nest'#this is the hornets nest #have fun #wooooo 👻#GHOST EDDIE #tw mcd #tw ghosts #tw slight drowning #steddie #dae writes #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie ficlet #steddie headcanons #steddie fanfics #daeheadcanons

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isbergillustration · 2 years

Text

Guardian Angel

It tells him it’s a guardian angel, but he isn’t so sure. If it is, then it’s doing a pretty awful job.

It’s like a thing dipped in gold, a vaguely human shape that glitters and watches him. At its side shapes flicker, bright and fast, like the wings of a hummingbird. Sometimes it speaks to him. Sometimes it asks him to look at it, and it is so bright it nearly hurts.

The thing showed up a few months ago. His life was going to shit, quite frankly, and this was piled on top. A great big pile of steaming shit topped with a gilded and baffling thing. First there was the breakup, the end of a several years long relationship. Then the job. Can’t lie, that one was probably a consequence of the breakup. Sent him into a deep pit of depression from which he has yet to manage to crawl out. Then he needed to move somewhere with cheaper rent. Look for jobs. He got lots of polite replies, all of them something like thank you so much for applying for this opportunity, but unfortunately we went with someone just a little bit more perfect than you. In the end, he winds up on the midnight to six in the morning shift at an all night supermarket. If nothing else it is usually quiet.

The thing appeared gradually. First he would see a glint of something bright out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned to look there was nothing. But it would keep happening, just as he was headed home in the early morning, watching the sunrise through grainy tired eyes and a dirty bus window. The faint image after he accidentally stared at the rising sun, the green violet silver shapes behind remaining in his vision changing, becoming something else. A figure. Something that watched him.

Then, he would feel that creeping sensation across the back of his neck, that paranoia you get after watching too many movies about axe murderers. The feeling that someone or something is standing directly behind you, waiting to strike. He avoided all remotely upsetting media for a while. No scary video games or spooky movies, no reading the news, but it didn’t help. Sometimes he was certain he felt hands touching him, fingers against his back, his shoulders, but there was never anything when he looked.

After maybe a month of this, the unseen touches and the glimpses of a golden figure, he saw it properly for the first time. He was just getting out of the shower, towel wrapped around himself as he made his way back to the bedroom, shivery with regret of not having thought to bring clean clothes with him, and there it was. Like a lazy statue, or one of those things you see in modern art exhibitions. A shape dripping with gold. It pooled around the figure like a molten metal puddle.

A myriad of eyes stared back at him, wide and shining white against the gold. They seemed to move, or to pop in and out of existence at a whim, and trying to keep eye contact made him dizzy. He felt the knot in his towel start to slip, and grabbed at it, worried about being even more vulnerable when confronted by this- this whatever it was. He looked down for a split second, and when he looked back up it was gone.

After that, it kept appearing. He would see it in his dreams sometimes. Never the focus, but always there, on the edges. Watching. Waiting? One time he got home just before seven in the morning, ready to collapse and sleep until early afternoon, and it was there, sat impossibly at his tiny kitchen table, watching him, like a parent angry at having had to stay up to wait for their unruly teenager to come home safe. He looked at it, and it looked at him, and then it wasn’t there. He didn’t even look away that time, but one second it was there and the next it wasn’t, and the only sign that he was not experiencing serious recurring hallucinations was the golden smear of something on the back of the chair.

“BE NOT AFRAID”

That was the first thing it said to him, and he genuinely wondered whether this wretched thing might be mocking him. It had haunted him, for that was the only way he could think to describe this experience, for two months now, scaring the shit out of him on numerous occasions, and it had the gall to ask him to not be scared?

“I HAVE COME TO PROTECT YOU”

It stood in the centre of his sad one room apartment almost awkwardly, if such a thing was possible for this creature. The top of it was only an inch or so from the ceiling, and it did not look imposing so much as out of place. Wrong.

He blinked.

Still there.

“Fr- from what?” he managed to ask, voice a croaking and weak thing struggling its way out of his throat.

“FROM THE WORLD”

This, naturally, was a worrying thing for the mysterious and terrifying unearthly creature in his living room to say. So, naturally, he did the first thing that came to mind and passed out. When he woke, several hours later, he was laying on his sofa, rather than the floor. There was no sign of the golden intruder.

“What are you?”

He asks this of the empty space across from him. The thing isn’t here right now, or at least he can’t see it, but it feels like its very presence has seeped into his living space. Tiny flecks of gold cling to the wall, to carpet fibres, like the remnants of a child’s glitter project cleaned up but never quite gone. Like finding hair from a dead pet on your winter clothes.

Something shimmers just on the edge of his vision, and when he turns it is there. All eighteen of its eyes watch him. He has counted now. Several times. It is always somewhere between fifteen and twenty, in roughly similar constellations. The thing looks smaller today, no longer looming, and with the ephemeral wing-like appendages tucked away into its body or some other dimension.

“I AM HERE TO GUARD YOU”

“Yes, you’ve said, but why?”

The creature’s voice is layered and deep, a growl overlaid with an insectoid buzzing. It has no discernible accent, or maybe several at once.

“IT IS MY DUTY”

“Set by whom? Is someone telling you to stalk me, to break into my house? To- to fucking teleport here to terrorise me?”

He worries antagonising it will be dangerous, but it claims to want to protect him, and if it wanted him dead it could probably have managed tenfold times by now.

“BE NOT AFRAID”

He sighs, and folds his arms on the table, leaning his forehead against them for a moment. He doesn’t so much see or hear the thing approaching as feel it. Little hairs on his arms bristling, gooseflesh creeping across the back of his neck. Then, a touch. He flinches.

These days, it has become a strange sort of normal. It is not every day, but several times a week the thing will appear to him. Besides the vague promise of protection it does not seem to have much purpose in doing so. Sometimes it talks to him in a language he doesn’t understand, a quiet murmuring voice which does not match the jarringly loud way in which it speaks English. It’s a softer thing. Were it not for the circumstances it would almost be soothing. More than once he catches himself wondering whether the creature is lonely.

#angel #haunting #ghost story #horror art #acrylic painting #artists on tumblr #illustration #my art #my writing #please read it it's not very long #guardian angel #eldritch angel

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skyloftian-nutcase · 8 months

Text

Quest for a Cure (LU in Healthcare War Era)

Sicktember prompt 2 is here! :D @hermitdrabbles56 @socialc1imb I know you wanted to see this plot. :)

(AO3 link)

His entire body hurt so much. It wasn’t the worst pain he’d ever been in, but by heaven it was unpleasant. What was more alarming, though, was the distinct sense of dread that was steadily building in his stomach, a knowledge of oncoming darkness that couldn’t be pierced, a strange peace and anxiety fighting for control as something so unquestionably inevitable slowly edged ever closer.

Time swallowed thickly, trying to open his eyes. By all things holy, I certainly am being dramatic this evening.

Yes. Yes, he was just being dramatic. That’s what the logical side of his brain was saying, at least. The side that was desperately trying to maintain control as it slipped through his fingers. The rest of his mind was registering how utterly weak he was, how he hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in at least two days (from what he could reckon), how someone was at his side constantly, how this virus had hit others and was more than capable of snuffing out its victims.

The darkness was pierced with light, dim and flickering—he really needed to change that lightbulb, didn’t he?—and he saw three silhouettes over him.

Saria? Sheik? No, none of the figures matched their physiques. The blurred edges of those over him started to clear, just enough for him to see familiar faces.

His Lost Boys.

Warriors, Sky, and Wind were watching him with varying expressions of concern. Wind’s eyes were wide and worried, fear evident in his constricted brow. Sky was more distant, anxiety held at bay by sheer force of will but still clearly showing through his expressive face, however muted he tried to make it. Warriors just looked exhausted, a dread shrouding him and making him look far older than he actually was.

Time tried to smile, but he knew it looked as strained as it felt. “What’s with the long faces?”

“You’re definitely not going to work today, old man,” Warriors said with a carefully light tone. “I see the night didn’t treat you well.”

“Are you feeling any better than before? You look awful,” Wind asked, his voice trembling.

Time swallowed thickly. He’d physically been through worse, he knew, but…

He was a trauma surgeon. He fixed things. A laceration was simple, an illness…

Damn it all. There was a reason he didn’t go into internal medicine. He hated how helpless he felt. He hated how scared his boys looked. He hated how he knew in his bones that this was not going to be an easy illness to overcome… assuming he would even overcome it.

“I’ll be up and about soon, Nugget,” Time answered to reassure them, even if he was lying through his teeth. Wind brown uncurled a hair, the tension in his face releasing for a moment, and Time thought he’d almost succeeded. Sky and Warriors, on the other hand, had hardly changed their expressions.

“Please try to rest,” Sky said so softly that Time almost missed it entirely.

Time watched the boy and stretched a trembling hand out to take his. Sky slowly took it. His hand felt so warm in Time’s frozen grip that it brought a little sigh of relief through the surgeon’s lips.

He wanted to say something, anything. Some anxious thought in the back of his mind said this might be his last chance to do so. He really didn’t appreciate the sentiment behind that, but…

If it was his time, then it was his time, he supposed. His gaze passed theirs, up to the ceiling. You have lousy timing, you know. Why would you take me away now, when I have children to look after? To finally find companionship and family, to finally find a purpose once more, to finally feel as if I belong, only to be ripped away and leave them bereft… what a terrible fate.

Despite his ire at the situation, despite his worry for his boys, Time felt his eyes closing once more, and the darkness consumed him.

As the surgeon’s eyes closed and he let out a shaky breath, the three others in the room tensed once more. Sky hated feeling how limp Time’s hold was on his hand, and he stepped away, hugging himself as Wind slid in to replace him. He took a fortifying, slow breath, leaning against the doorway while Warriors took the washcloth from Time’s forehead and dipped it in a bowl of ice water.

“So is he feeling better…?” Wind questioned hesitantly, suddenly not so sure of Time’s reassurance.

“No,” Warriors answered curtly, and Sky winced. The nurse was clearly not pleased with what he was seeing, and it made Sky worry even more.

“You think it’s going to get that bad?” Sky asked hesitantly, his voice quiet.

Warriors sighed as he wrung the cloth out. “I don’t know. I’ve seen it sweeping through barracks, though. It hits everyone to varying degrees. Some people just feel run down and bedridden, and others…”

The rest of his sentence hung heavily in the air.

Wind burst out, “But you guys are medical people! There’s a hospital right here!”

“It’s a field hospital, kiddo,” Warriors clarified as he wiped the sweat off Time’s brow once more. “We stabilize, do emergency surgeries, and then ship them somewhere more equipped to handle a long-term stay and recovery. Besides, the medicine to treat this virus is expensive, they’re not going to ship it out here unless it’s taking out the troops in droves, and it isn’t. Time wouldn’t be staying here, and his illness isn’t something we have medicine for. Either he’s going to get through it or someone will fly him out of here.”

Sky shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t usually fly people from the field hospital to the fully equipped military hospital in the Gerudo capital. He hadn’t seen a piece of land that wasn’t involved in the conflict since he’d finished basic training. The capital was very much in a safe location and therefore not his priority. Time would be protected there, but…

“We’d never see him again! What if they transfer him from there or something?!” Wind exclaimed.

“You don’t know that—” Warriors tried to reassure, but now the teenager was frantic.

“No! This is stupid, why does everyone have to keep leaving—” Wind growled, turning towards the door, and then he stopped with a heavy sigh. “I’m… I’m sorry. I know you’re dealing with a lot.”

“It’s okay, Sailor,” Warriors replied with a kind smile, though Wind didn’t see it.

Sky looked between the pair, and then his eyes settled on Time’s pale face, already drenched once again in sweat. He wasn’t winning this fight and Sky knew it. Thoughts clouded his mind so much he couldn’t put words to them or string a coherent sentence together. He settled for putting a gentle, reassuring hand on Wind’s shoulder.

Then sudden clarity struck him. His lips pressed firmly against each other, and his fingers curled into Wind’s shoulder, catching the teenager’s attention. Sky motioned towards the hallway with his head.

“We’ll be back later,” Sky said to Warriors, who gave a simple nod.

When the door to Time’s room closed, Wind said, “I know I shouldn’t have yelled. Can we do something to help them, though? I can bring Wars food or something.”

“I have a better idea,” Sky said, a smile starting to pull at his lips. “This virus is pretty common to this area. Which means somebody has to have medicine for it closer than the capital. I think the nearest enemy camp in the town ought to be a good place to start.”

Wind gasped, immediately catching on to what Sky was implying. “Hell yeah! I know all the ways to get in there too!”

Sky smiled as the boy’s face practically glowed. There were likely a hundred rules Sky was breaking in even suggesting this, but he didn’t care. Time was seriously ill, and Sky knew the enemy had to have medicine for such a thing. Sure, the local village might not have it, nor would their military base, but many of the enemies they were fighting here were locals, and they had been dealing with this for ages. He also knew from flybys where their nearby camp was – the nearest one, at least, and the one that was based in a town, which meant it likely had the medicine.

And he had a kid who knew how to sneak in and out of said encampment.

It was time to help their friend.

Sky guided Wind to his own quarters. His roommate thankfully was out, which gave him the opportunity to plan things out somewhere as private as possible. He quickly pulled out desert camouflage attire, putting it on and glancing at Wind, who waved him off.

“I’m small, I sneak in and out of there without it all the time,” the kid reassured him with a smile. His easy confidence both amused Sky and made him uneasy. For a moment he realized the gravity of what he was asking of a fourteen-year-old. Time’s pain-stricken face floated into his mind, though, and his anxieties over losing him overruled the concern. Besides, Wind had said it himself – he’d snuck in and out plenty of times. It wasn’t fair to ask this of the kid, but Sky did have to wonder how well they’d fare if the army utilized Wind to take the enemy base down entirely.

That was a matter for another day. Sky couldn’t eliminate an entire enemy base, but he could sneak into one.

But just in case, he packed two pistols and his semi-automatic gun. Just in case. And maybe a sniper rifle.

Wind did, under mild protest, get a camouflage jacket from Sky, both for the elder teenager’s sanity and because the desert was frigid at night.

The pair snuck by the guards rather easily—unnervingly easy, Sky would have to bring this up later—and began their long trek through the desert.

“How long does it usually take to get to the town?” Sky asked before adding out of curiosity, “And why do you sneak in there so much? You know they can kill you, right?”

“It’s like an hour walk from here with the route I take,” Wind answered. At Sky’s alarmed expression, he added, “It’s not a route that vehicles can drive. We’re gonna be climbing. A lot. Hope you can hold on to all your guns.”

“Speaking of which,” Sky said, holding out a pistol and a machete. “Do not use these unless you absolutely have to. Got it?”

Wind reached out hesitantly. Sky quickly asked, “You do know how to shoot, right?”

Wind gave him bewildered, somewhat exasperated look. “Why the hell would I know how to shoot?”

Great. Maybe just the machete, then. “I don’t know, you’ve been wandering a war zone for so long now I figured you had something up your sleeve to defend yourself.”

“I do!” Wind replied excitedly, pulling out a boomerang. “This baby’s helped me out in tough times!”

“Huh.” Sky gazed at the boomerang curiously. “That’s different.”

“It works!”

Sky shrugged. Whatever worked, he supposed.

The adolescent pair continued into the desert night, a chilly wind trying to tear through them. Wind’s path quickly went off the main road, and Sky did indeed find himself climbing nearly sheer cliffs, gripping whatever flora had managed to creep along its walls. He started sweating quickly, feeling his stamin fall, but they managed to reach the top before his grip gave out. Their journey was mostly spent in silence aside from Wind giving pointers on footing, giving Sky plenty of time to formulate different plans.

This medicine had to be in a clinic or hospital. Which meant they’d have to get to that point. Then they’d have to figure out how to sneak into such a facility. It was a good thing he had thought to swipe a few items that Wars had left lying around.

Wind held up his hand suddenly, making Sky freeze. Then the kid cackled, pulling out his phone. “Gotta do the obligatory pre-break-in selfie.”

“Wind!” Sky hissed. “I could get court martialed for this, no pictures!”

“Oh come on!” Wind argued. “I’m not dumb, I don’t share this stuff! These pictures are to show my grandma and sister when I find them, that’s all.”

Sky sighed heavily. To hell with it. Pulling down the black mask that was covering his face he gave a strained smile as Wind winked at the camera with a peace sign.

The edge of the town was surrounded by stone walls. The only entrance in and out was flanked with multiple armed guards. Sky looked at Wind hesitantly, and the kid had the audacity to smirk. Sky was almost proud of him.

Wind moved towards the alpha side of the town wall, pointing to a spot that seemed darker than the rest of the surrounding area. “A lot of places here have old leftovers from way back when. This town’s got old sewage system that they don’t really use, it’s kind of more just runoff for… I don’t know, I guess they get rain sometimes. Either way, we can get in that way because they don’t really use it anymore.”

“And nobody’s guarding it?” Sky asked curiously.

“There’s, like, one guy. And he’s so freaking bored. He plays games on his phone.”

Sky snorted out a laugh and then followed his friend. The pathway was a little muddy, implying that something usually ran through here. It didn’t have a terrible odor to it, though it wasn’t great. Sky clutched his gun tightly as Wind peered around a corner and motioned for him to follow. The mud squelched too loudly for his liking, and with as on edge as he was feeling…

These people wouldn’t hesitate to hurt them. He’d seen what they were capable of. They’d shot down a medical helicopter for heaven’s sake. Still, if Wind had managed to sneak in and out…

Wind pointed silently, and Sky saw the guard in question. He squinted, staring at the man’s phone. Was that Angry Birds?

Slowly, Sky put his gun away, letting it rest on his back, and the pair scooted forward. The man sat close to the entrance, but not directly beside it. If he stayed engrossed in his game, they might actually have a chance. Wind snuck out first, quick and silent. Sky followed suit, feeling his stomach clench so tightly he thought he could throw up, but neither caught the guard’s attention.

Great. Great. They were in the city. Sky let out a subtle laugh, shaking the jitters off as they slipped into an alley. Now all they had to do was find a clinic or hospital or—

Oh, that giant building with the medical symbol ought to do nicely.

“What are you usually doing when you sneak in here?” Sky asked, suddenly curious.

Wind shrugged. “Looking for my sister and grandma. But they don’t really have refugee locations or prisoners here or anything.”

Sky felt his heart hurt. This kid was so determined to find his family. It was no wonder he was desperate not to lose anyone else.

“They’ve got curfews and stuff here,” Wind noted. “Since they turned the whole place into a base and all.”

There went Sky’s next thought to just blend in with the civilians. He supposed they would have to sneak around everywhere, then.

Maneuvering to get to the hospital wasn’t too terrible – the majority of the guards were posted along the walls rather than through the streets. The hospital was a fairly small one, but still more of an official medical institution than the field hospital Sky flew people to. He grabbed Wind by the shoulder and motioned to a bag he’d brought along.

“What’s that?” Wind asked hesitantly.

Reaching in, Sky pulled out a pair of scrubs and smiled mischievously.

Wind’s eyes brightened. “We’re posing as nurses!”

“I am,” Sky corrected. “You won’t fit in Wars’ clothes.”

“How did you get his scrubs?”

“Lost a bet. He wanted me to do his laundry as punishment.”

“…Did you clean them first?”

Sky tilted his head with a sheepish smile. “Well… point is, I have scrubs.”

Wind raised a cautious eyebrow. “So then what about me…?”

Sky’s smile grew more devious.

Ten minutes later, a security guard was knocked unconscious and dragged away, tied and gagged (with a bonus unconscious selfie with Wind winking and Sky looking mildly exasperated), and a wheelchair was acquired as a nurse wheeled his pediatric patient into the hospital.

“Okay, so we need to find the pharmacy,” Wind whispered. “That’s where the medicine would be, right?”

“We need to know what the medicine is first,” Sky replied quietly. “The only way to do that is for you to have that virus.”

Wind gave a quick huh? And then gasped with an oh! And proceeded to start fake coughing so hard the veins in his neck bulged.

“Easy, sailor,” Sky said worriedly, but Wind waved him off. When they stopped at the emergency department doors, Sky got himself together and waved sheepishly at the triage tech. “Forgot my badge, sorry. Mind letting me in?”

The triage tech rolled her eyes good naturedly and walked over. “You’re on the struggle bus tonight, buddy.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sky replied with a chuckle as he wheeled Wind in.

“So uh, what’s this virus called anyway?” Wind whispered as Sky found an empty room to put him in.

“I know the colloquial term is Sand Fever,” Sky said, pausing. “But I don’t know its actual name. I’m hoping that’s enough, though.”

If there was one thing Sky knew he could rely on, it was the chaos in the emergency department. He went to registration and put on a show how there was no paperwork for this new patient and gave her false information for a face sheet. She noted that he hadn’t been triaged, according to the paperwork, and Sky said he had, actually, he was in bad enough shape that they were going to get the info once they brought him back, which wasn’t unheard of for critical patients.

So one false paperwork bracelet later, Sky and Wind found themselves awaiting a physician’s examination for the presumed serious case of Sand Fever. Wind really played it up as much as he could, and it certainly worked well enough that the physician was willing to do a test for the virus. As soon as she left, Sky asked Wind, “How did you fake wheezing? Like this whole thing definitely has my heart rate and blood pressure up, but I can’t fake wheezing.”

Wind huffed, almost proudly, but then he wilted a little uncertainly. “I… don’t know. I tried hard, though.”

Sky’s confidence in the situation faltered a moment, quivering like a freshly hatched chick. Wait…

Dread filled him, and he slowly walked out of the room. He wandered the emergency department to get a lay of the land and distract himself, keeping close enough that he could rush to Wind’s room if anyone suspected anything. He felt incredibly exposed all of a sudden.

After maybe his third lap around the unit, the physician from earlier stopped him. “I put in orders for the Velkisen. Give him an initial dose and then I’ll write a script for pharmacy to fill.”

Sky blinked. What? “Uh, yeah. Okay.”

He repeated the name over and over. Velkisen. Velkisen.

Wait. Was that… was that the antiviral medication? Was… did that mean…?

“Shit,” Sky swore, going back to Wind’s room.

Wind perked up immediately, having been anxiously fiddling with the blanket provided to him. He also immediately could read Sky’s expression and knew something was wrong. “What is it?”

“You’ve got Sand Fever,” Sky said.

Wind blinked. Then he said, “Wow. Okay. That makes sense for the wheezing and achiness.”

“You’re achy and didn’t say anything?!”

Wind stood, crossing his arms defensively. “What differnce does it make? It doesn’t affect everyone the same, clearly I’m not as bad off! So what if I got it from Time! He needs the medicine.”

Sky groaned. “Well, we’re in luck because—”

A script! They were going to get a script!! All Sky had to do was fudge the amount of pills they would need, he could double or trip it, and they could get out of here with everything they needed from the hospital pharmacy!

…Assuming the pharmacist didn’t question it.

And he needed to get the initial dose apparently.

Sky advised Wind to wait and turned quickly, asking another nurse to let him into the medication room because of his supposedly forgotten badge. That wouldn’t get him into the actual dispenser, though, and he knew that. He had to figure out something.

Wait. He knew a trick he’d seen Warriors done a few times to override for medication. All it took was swiping some aspirin out of someone’s bag. Then he poked another nurse. “Hey, I need to return this medication, but it’s not popping up for me. Do you mind checking for me?”

The nurse shrugged and popped in easily enough, and Sky once again felt guilty at how he was abusing the camaraderie that emergency personnel showed each other.

The nurse logged into the dispenser and asked, “What’s the med called?”

“Vil—Vilkon—Vel—”

“Velkisen?”

“Yes! That’s the one.”

The nurse tossed him a look with a smirk. “Long night?”

Sky laughed nervously. “Yeah. I keep tripping over my words.”

“What’s the patient’s name?”

“Last name is Tingle.”

“Looks like it hasn’t even been dispensed.”

Sky made a humming sound and gently pushed by the nurse to look at the screen. “Weird. Well, I guess I’ll just pull it again, then.”

He tapped the medicine name with his finger, and a drawer popped open. When a compartment opened inside, awaiting his removal of the medication inside, he hesitated.

This was an intravenous medicine. He could immediately tell from the vial. There was no way he was administering this to Wind, even if the boy needed it. He grabbed it nonetheless – hopefully it could help Time. The script ought to provide more anyway. With a nod to the other nurse, he quickly made his way back to Wind, who was just finishing a conversation with the doctor.

“How old did you tell them I was, anyway? She hasn’t once asked about a parent,” Wind noted as Sky hastily slid the door closed.

“Eighteen,” Sky answered easily before pulling out the medicine. “Did you get the script?”

Wind waved the paper triumphantly. “I sure did! Tripled the dose, too. Now we just wait until I get discharged?”

“No,” Sky immediately said. “Too much paperwork, too many questions, too easy for people to figure out something’s off. Let’s head for the pharmacy now.”

“That means we have to sneak by the nurses too.”

“Yeah.”

“Sweet! Best night ever! We’re like spies!”

Sky sighed heavily, feeling exhausted. They were going to be dead spies if they weren’t careful. “Let’s go.”

Wind snapped one more selfie, showing his hospital wristband, and then nearly skipped over in delight. The pair tried to look as innocuous as possible as they casually slipped out of the room and into a hallway before following a transporter through locked doors and peeling off to head towards the signs indicating pharmacy.

It was honestly unnerving how easy it was, even if Sky felt like he was going to have a heart attack at any moment. He was going to ask Wind how the kid was so excited, but the more he watched him, the more he saw the nervous ticks, the way the younger one’s hands were shaking, the way his eyes were constantly on alert. Wind was just as scared as he was, but he expressed it through excited jitters.

The pharmacy tech filled the prescription after an agonizing few minutes, and before they knew it, they were slinking through the basement of the hospital with pockets full of pills.

“I hope this is enough,” Sky muttered as they found their tied up security guard. The man was wiggling now, trying to yell over the gag Sky had secured over his mouth. Sky grabbed his bag of supplies, changing out of his scrubs and back into his uniform as Wind threw the spare camouflage jacket back on and ripped off his hospital bracelet, pocketing it. Then Sky grabbed the butt of the gunstock and slammed it into the man’s temple, knocking him out once more. He then untied the guard so he could awaken and get actual help when they’d left.

But he should have known. This mission had been all too easy. Something had to go wrong.

It was blissfully late in the game. They had gotten back to the Angry Birds guard, who had now taken position directly in front of the entrance to their escape route. The pair came up with a plan quickly, and Sky waltzed up to the guard.

“Nice score,” he commented with a smile, and the guard jumped, registered the sight in front of him, and promptly got clocked on the head by a boomerang that he’d missed due to Sky’s distraction. A solid punch to the face did the rest of the work.

Unfortunately, it was time for the soldier to check in based on the radio traffic. Sky grabbed his gun, hissing for Wind to run ahead, and the pair tore into the tunnel. By the time they’d reached the other side, alarms were blaring.

“Head for the cliffs!” Sky yelled. If they could clear them they’d at lease be out of sight.

Instead, a spotlight shone right on them. Wind yelled, running faster. Sky whirled, firing his rifle at the light source, blinking rapidly to see his target. A few blind shots in the general direction eliminated the spotlight, but it also gave away their position just as well.

“Climb! Now!!” he ordered, slipping behind a boulder to give cover fire.

Wind scrambled up the rocks, flinching as gunfire peppered the area around him, though it primarily honed in on Sky’s general location. Sky fired off rapidly, praying he hit at least a few targets or warded them away long enough.

“I’m over!” Wind called. “Come on!”

“I’ll follow you, just go!!”

“Sky—”

“GO!”

Any argument Wind might have had was covered by the wound of bullets slamming into stone, sending dust and tiny, sharp rocks flying. Sky prayed the kid listened. You have the medicine, Wind. Save Time and yourself.

The distinct sound of a gave opening caught his attention, as well as motors. Sky turned his head and saw two motorcyclists tearing out of the main entrance to the town. They wouldn’t be able to get to Wind in the higher terrain, but they could chase him down until he reached the end of the cliffs. Taking a steadying breath, he peered out from his shelter and fired, managing to pick one rider off, leaving their bike spinning out of control.

Their bike.

Sky held his breath and ran. Bullets sprayed the ground around him, creating a trail as the gunner tried to keep up with his steps. Sky nearly slammed into the bike, throwing a leg over and gunning it with all his might.

Drawing close to the cliffs, he screamed out Wind’s name. After the third attempt, he saw the blonde head poking over some stone, the only thing visible about him. Wind immediately perked up, but then he pointed and shouted in warning. Sky turned and saw the other cyclist approaching, gun in hand.

Pulling out one of the pistols he had tucked into his side, Sky fired once, twice, thrice, and the soldier fell. He moved towards the cliff again. “JUMP!”

Wind ran alongside him and leapt without hesitation, arms and legs splayed out wide. Sky reached out for him, managing to catch the falling teenager and helping him climb onto the bike between the pilot and the handles.

“Hold on tight!” He instructed as they tore into the night. Wind kept a continuous lookout, and Sky’s head turned so much it might as well have been on a swivel, but they had gotten enough of a lead to outmaneuver anyone on foot, and Wind started pointing out trails off the main road before any other vehicles could exit the base.

Sky revved the engine again, watching as they accelerated to speeds in the triple digits, and Wind laughed almost as loudly as his namesake that was whipping through their hair. The farther they got from the town, the more infectious the laughter became, and eventually Sky himself was whooping and screaming in delight.

We made it.

XXX

The room felt so quiet. So empty. So cold.

Warriors slumped in his seat, alone with his thoughts. Time had long since fallen asleep, breathing disturbingly shallow. It was high time he take him to the hospital. It was high time he get transported somewhere that could better handle this, assuming it wasn’t too late already.

It was silly, really, to assume such a thing. Time had only been sick a couple days. It had just slammed him all at once. He hadn’t become altered to such a degree until tonight. Some part of Warriors’ brain insisted on taking care of him here, in the barracks, as if telling himself the situation as fine would actually make it so.

But he’d waited long enough. He wasn’t going to risk Time’s life over his desperate attempt to placate his mind. Time would go to the hospital in the capital and be treated and he would be fine. Never mind how quickly he was deteriorating. He would be fine.

He fell apart in forty-eight hours. Will he last the flight? Will they even think it’s worth flying him? Will they risk a pilot, a flight crew, a helicopter to transport someone who might already be too far gone?

Is this my fault for not taking him to the hospital sooner?

Warriors was usually better than this. He could figure out when a situation was going south, he could distance his emotions from the situation. This should be no different.

Except it was different. Because he’d already lost others, and just the mere thought of Time leaving sent him spiraling.

Impa. Lana. Oh fuck, Lana.

Warriors blinked tears away, tried to regulate his breathing. It was time to get moving. He tried not to look at Time, tried to think he was just taking a patient, grabbed his radio to call for an ambulance, when the door to the room slammed open with such intensity it nearly took it off its hinges.

Shooting to his feet, Warriors stumbled and knocked over the chair he’d been sitting on, taking in the sight before him. Sky and Wind were in front of him, breathless, excited, covered in sand and sweat and—was that a smear of blood?! They were wearing camouflage, and Sky was sporting multiple weapons in different holsters.

Warrior felt his body grow cold. “What. Did. You. Do.”

The pair immediately dug into their pockets, hands emerging bearing pill bottles and a vial. Their eyes shone with hope, twinkling brightly like stars in their filthy faces. “We got medicine.”

The nurse’s brain immediately put the pieces together, and his body found itself in a strange, bewildering, clashing state of relief and horror. “You stupid bastards.”

Their laughter at his words was not appreciated.

“You could’ve gotten yourselves killed!”

“Medicine!” Sky barked as if issuing an order, interrupting Warriors tirade.

The nurse snatched the medication, still glaring at the pair. “We’re not done here, you hear me?”

He tore into his drawer to grab a syringe, a flush, and alcohol swabs. The medication, according to a quick internet search, was given IM, which simplified things. He was still taking Time to the hospital, though. But injection first. Dosage check first. Reconfirm the route first.

Time didn’t flinch as Warriors gave the shot. Sky was already on the radio calling an ambulance. Wind was smiling in the corner, looking like a triumphant little imp.

They were imps. Warriors was going to have a freaking heart attack. The lecture he had in store for them would certainly be enough to make them think twice before doing anything like this ever again.

Good Lord. If Time’s illness doesn’t kill me, these two surely will.

XXX

Waking up really shouldn’t have been this hard.

For whatever reason, Time was distinctly uncomfortable. The bed was too hard, blankets too warm, skin too itchy, joints too sore. As he fluttered his eyes open, he swallowed and coughed at the dry sensation at the back of his throat.

What had…? Where was…?

Wait.

Sitting up, Time felt the room spin a hair, paused, and then resumed what he was doing.

“Easy, old man.”

Warriors. That was Warriors.

Glancing to his left, Time saw the army nurse watching him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. Warriors gave a small, relieved smile, and it temporarily hid the dark circles under his eyes.

“You’re okay!” Came from his other side, and immediately Time felt Sky’s hand on his other shoulder as the teenager helped guide him back to his pillow.

“I’m… okay,” Time affirmed, actually feeling like it could potentially be true. He felt… not great, but also not the way he had before. The growing dread, the bone-weary exhaustion, the haziness… they were all gone.

He marveled at it a moment. Couldn’t quite believe it himself. He’d been so sure that…

Well. He supposed even surgeons could be wrong.

“Time!”

Wind practically leapt onto the bed, held in check by the other two, but not even Warriors and Sky could stop him when Time held out his arms invitingly. Wind tore into his embrace, practically flattening him into the bed as Time chuckled, relief flooding his body.

“It’s good to see you boys,” he whispered, tears leaking out of his eyes and disappearing into Wind’s hair.

70 notes · View notes

eyesfuil0fstars · 2 days

Text

Yours To Save

You have an eye for the simple things in life,

the trees,

the notes people stick on doors,

simple drawings on napkins,

pretty,colourful streets

and ancient buildings.

Maybe that’s why you noticed me,

half dead laying down on a street

begging for a miracle or a way to end this

and you came as if summoned,

a guardian angel,the streetlight behind you giving you a halo

as if the universe knew and was making a joke.

And then, a shadow of a feeling long forgotten,

burried so deep in me I had almost forgotten it existed.

A trembling hand reaching out towards me,pulling me in.

“Come here,” you said,voice uncertain yet unafraid,

“come here you fallen bird,

come here you blue star.

I can make something of you.”

You read me like no one else had done before.

You saw the twinkle in my eye and recognised it for what it was,

a craving to feel something.

A begging to live and not simply survive.

And now I’m this,

someone,a marble,a poem made out of everyone i’ve ever loved.

My central piece,my core,my heart,

is solely yours.

I carved a David solely for your eyes.

No museums will hold my bones.

I don’t need them to keep me, to see me.

I’m not art.

I’m yours to keep,

to take apart,

to see,

to judge,

to taste.

I’m yours to save.

#literature #phoebe bridgers #original poem #poem #poems on tumblr #spilled ink #poetry #spilled poetry #notes #prose #art #religion #religious imagery #poems and poetry #spilled writing #saviorcomplex #twin flame #love #guardian angel

22 notes · View notes

redriotinggg · 5 months

Text

When Sanji is bitten by a spider that has eaten the Cupid-Cupid Fruit, the Straw Hats learn there is only one way to cure his illness.

A genuine love confession.

There’s only one crewmate capable of the job.

(read on ao3!!)

—

The Straw Hats have stopped at a small summer island to gather supplies, stock up on necessities, and do any repairs to the Sunny.

When the bulk of the hard work has been done, their captain insists on a bonfire, having found a perfect clearing in the forest.

Sanji’s by the grill, cooking up plenty of burgers, hotdogs, kebabs, and other barbecued treats to fill his crew’s voracious appetites.

He happily watches his crew enjoy their afternoon—Brook’s violin emitting a joyful tune, Nami and Robin engaged in an intense game of cards, Franky enthusiastically sketching something onto a large page, Zoro fast asleep on the grass, and Luffy, Chopper, and Usopp running around as they play their own variation of tag.

Perhaps Sanji’s gaze is drawn to one of his crewmates in particular, following the flow of his curly hair, smiling at the sound of his laughter.

Perhaps. Sanji won’t tell.

“Woah! Look at that!”

The rowdy trio’s game of tag comes to a halt at Chopper’s cry. Luffy and Usopp look to where the reindeer is pointing, their eyes lighting up when they spot the thing that caught his attention.

“Cool!” Luffy begins to race over, but he’s stopped by Usopp.

“Wait! Don’t run, you’ll scare it!”

The trio carefully make their way over to a nearby tree, their attention grabbed by a fairly large spider.

Sanji shudders when he sees the creature. He looks away, focusing on the food. He is not interested in the further details of their exploration.

Luffy, Chopper, and Usopp fawn over the spider, speculating on its species and origins.

“It’s markings kinda look like hearts,” Usopp observes. “They’re even a pinkish-red colour.”

“Aw, so cute!” Chopper squeals.

“I’m gonna name it Cupid!” Luffy declares. “That guy’s in charge of hearts ‘n stuff, right? This lil' girl could be his pet or something,” he laughs.

A bit later, Sanji calls out to them. “Oi, get your asses over here, the food’s ready! And wash your hands if you’ve been touching bugs!”

Saying their goodbyes to Cupid, the boys rush over to claim their dinner.

The crew happily enjoys their meal, thanking Sanji with wide grins that only get wider when he presents them with dessert.

As the evening turns to night, the crew wind down, packing away their belongings and making their way back to the Sunny.

“Are you sure we can’t stay and camp?” Luffy whines. “It’s like, the perfect night for it! We've got the perfect spot!”

“No,” Nami denies flatly. “We didn’t bring the stuff for it and it’s already getting late. Plus, I want to sleep in my own bed. Now hurry up and get going! Franky! Turn on your flashlights, I can’t see!”

“One set of nipple lights, comin’ up! Ow!”

Usopp and Sanji take up the rear, picking up the last of Sanji’s portable kitchen gear. The chef is happily listening to the sniper’s latest tale when he feels a pinch on his ankle.

“Ow! What the hell?”

“Sanji! Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I think something just bit me.”

Usopp looks in the grass, trying to find the culprit. When he does, he gasps. “It’s the spider from before! Cupid, why’d you go and bite Sanji? That’s not nice!”

“‘Cause it’s a good for nothing insect,” Sanji grumbles.

“Actually, it’s an arachnid—”

“You better not have poisoned me, you stupid bug,” Sanji yells at the spider, which scurries away.

“It’d be venom, not poison.”

“You are not helping!” Sanji snaps. “What is this, a Robin impression? Stop with the unnecessary bug facts, this shit hurts!”

“Does it really? You should get Chopper to look at it as soon as we get back to the ship. Here, gimme your stuff, I’ll carry if for you.”

“I can carry it myself, asshole. I’m not that weak.”

“Really? ‘Cause if you’re in pain, the Great Usopp would be more than happy to carry you back to the Sunny.” Usopp smirks and flexes his muscular arms, sending Sanji a wink.

Sanji pretends like his heart isn’t trying to escape his chest and throw itself at Usopp’s feet.

Internally, Sanji is a mess. Externally, he rolls his eyes and hefts his baggage further in his arms.

“You do two push-ups and think you’re a strong guy now, huh? C’mon, let’s go before any other bugs try to make a meal outta me.”

When they make it back to the Sunny, all of their things put away, Usopp continues to hover by Sanji, his concern rising with each passing moment.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Usopp asks. “You’re all red. You shouldn’t be sweating this much.”

“‘M fine,” Sanji mumbles. The way he sways on the spot doesn’t do much to help his case.

Usopp holds him steady, in full crisis mode as he watches the usually stable chef falter. He hoists Sanji in his arms, dashing to the infirmary. “CHOPPER!”

“What happened?” the doctor asks. Usopp puts Sanji on the bed and recounts the tale.

By now, the rest of the crew has come to investigate the cause of the commotion. They all stand in the doorway, shocked to see their crewmate suddenly so ill.

“It’s only been like 20 minutes! Why does he look bad already? Sanji, don’t die!”

Usopp’s dramatic cry unfortunately has some merit. Sanji doesn’t look well. He is the complete opposite of the perfect picture of health he was less than an hour ago. In just a few minutes, Sanji seems to have lost all of his energy. He’s flushed and sweating, breathing heavily and brows furrowed as he fights some type of pain. Even his usually shiny hair is limp and brittle-looking.

Usopp’s heart positively breaks at the sight.

“I can’t make him a proper anti-venom without knowing exactly what type of spider that was,” Chopper states. He clicks his tongue as he looks at the inflamed, red bite mark on Sanji’s ankle.

“Brook, you help me get Sanji out of this suit. Everyone else, get out so I can treat him. Now!”

The rest of the crew gather on the deck, concern on all of their faces.

“Usopp,” Robin says, pulling the sniper from his worsening spiral of anxiety. “You said Sanji was bit by the same spider that you saw in the forest, right? Draw me a picture. We can use it to get information from the locals.”

Usopp nods. He runs off to the galley and grabs a sketchpad nestled between Sanji’s collection of recipes and cookbooks. Before long, he’s got multiple drawings of the spider, complete with colours and accurate depictions of its heart-shaped markings.

Franky and Nami go to the hospital to ask about an anti-venom while Luffy, Zoro, and Robin go ask around town.

On the Sunny, Usopp paces back and forth, biting his nails and their beds away to nothing as worry engulfs him. He peeks into the infirmary, heart breaking a little more every time he catches a glimpse of Sanji’s pained face.

“Sanji will be alright,” Brook assures him when he exits the room. “He’s stable for now. Our cook is strong. He’s got the best doctor caring for him and crewmates desperately seeking out information. He’ll pull through.”

Usopp tries his very best to believe him.

The rest of the crew returns to the Sunny in less than an hour. Everyone, except Sanji, who’s resting in the infirmary, gathers at the kitchen table.

“Turns out that our little spider has eaten a Devil Fruit,” Robin tells them. “Everyone in the area is familiar with the spider that has eaten the Cupid-Cupid fruit.”

“Wait, the spider is actually related to Cupid? That’s hilarious! I’m like a fortune teller! Hahahaha! Ow!” Luffy rubs his sore head, pouting at Nami.

“A bite from the Cupid Spider can do multiple things, depending on who is bitten," Robin continues. "However, it only causes illness in someone who has a requited love but has not actually expressed their love. To save Sanji, whoever is in love with him must tell him the breadth of their true feelings, lest he remain bedridden forever. Or worse.”

The crew sits in silence for a moment, reflecting on the information.

“Alright, who’s in love with Sanji?” Luffy demands.

All eyes go to Usopp.

He is so red in the face Chopper is concerned he'll pass out. His eyes are so wide Zoro wonders if they'll pop out of his head.

"What are you waiting for?" Nami cries. "Get in there and confess your love so Sanji gets better!"

"I-I-I-I-I-I'm not—"

"Oh, please, this is not the time for your anxious, denial bullshit! Go fix Sanji!"

"Can't we just kill the spider instead?" he suggests meekly.

Luffy and Chopper gasp in betrayal.

"That would be a bad idea," Robin warns. "That spider is very well-respected on this island. Causing it harm would no doubt incur the wrath of all the locals. There is nothing you can do but speak from the heart."

"You got this, Usopp-bro! Just tell Sanji how you feel! It'll turn out super!"

On stiff legs and with wobbly knees, Usopp leaves the galley and makes his way back to the infirmary, deaf to the sounds of his crew's encouragements.

Despite his desperate pleas to the universe, Sanji is awake when Usopp steps inside. He looks even worse than before. His skin is pale, covered in a sheen of sweat. His eyes are lidded and he's got bags under them like he hasn't slept in days. But even still, a smile lights up his face when he sees the sniper.

"Usopp," he says, voice quiet and raspier than usual. His smile is no less bright.

"Sanji," Usopp returns, taking a seat next to the bed. "I've got news. So, turns out that the spider that bit you has a Devil Fruit power."

Sanji scoffs. "Of course it does. Just my fucking luck. So, what? It ate the Sick-Sick fruit and now I'll feel like shit forever?"

Usopp chuckles drily. "No, nothing like that. We can actually help you pretty easily. Or, I can, anyway. I just... I have to... to..."

The sniper closes his eyes as a fresh wave of anxiety washes over him. He can't do this! It's too scary! But he has to.

How many times has he been in this position? Forced to watch someone he loves suffer from an illness, unable to do anything but try and distract them from their pain.

This time is different. Usopp can stop this. He can stop Sanji's suffering. All he has to do is be honest.

Well, best to rip off the band-aid.

Taking a deep breath, Usopp grabs Sanji's clammy hand in both of his. "I love you!"

"I-I've loved you for a long time, Sanji," Usopp admits, and the words start flowing, unable to stop. "I don't know when exactly it started, but I know that I do because I think you're so amazing! You're so cool, and strong, and talented. I love that you act all grumpy but you're actually extremely kind and considerate. I love spending time with you! I love it when you tell me stories about Zeff and the Baratie. I love that you always ask me questions when I'm telling you about something because you make me feel heard. I love that you always wrap your arms around me when we party. I love it when you smile at me and dance with me.

"I love how you look in the early morning and when the sun is setting. Well, I love how you look all the time because you're so gorgeous it isn't fair! All handsome and pretty at the same time. You dress nice, and you smell nice, and you make me food and protect me—! Sanji, I love you!

"I'm sorry it took a stupid spider to force me to say it but I lov-"

Usopp's speech is cut off as desperate lips meet his own. He melts into Sanji's embrace, returning the kiss with all he's got. His heart is beating so fast he thinks it might pop right out of his chest, but nothing could possibly take him away from this moment.

When they pull apart, foreheads resting against one another, Usopp is taken aback by Sanji's appearance. He looks as healthy as ever, save for his very intense blush. But his eyes are shining and his smile is hopeful and adoring.

"Do you mean it, Usopp? Do you really feel that way about me?"

"I do. A-And you? D-do you feel...?"

"The same," Sanji promises. "Everything that you said, I feel the same way. Usopp, I love you! I—did you really just cure me with a love confession?"

Usopp blinks, and then he bursts out into laughter. Sanji joins him, the two holding one another as they laugh at the absurdity of the situation, their hearts full to bursting.

"Anything is possible on the Grand Line," Usopp reminds him. "Especially for the number one lover on the seas, the great Captain Usopp!"

"Number one lover, huh? I don't know if I believe that." Sanji pulls Usopp in close, whispering into his ear. "I think you'll have to show me."

"T-that can be arranged."

Usopp leans in and Sanji goes to meet him, lips pressing together again, and again, and again.

#btw robin was 100% lying about the islanders caring about the spiders they do not give af #but she had to make sure her crewmates got together!! what a good friend #poor chopper couldn't go back into the infirmary all night #believe it or not this was supposed to be a drabble or fic outline...... idk what happened #i just wanted an excuse to write sanuso and the strawhats. sue me.#this was so fun i love these two!!! sanji HATES that a bug can be accredited to his relationship btw. usopp loves it.#'she was our guardian angel!! our cupid!!' 'NO!!!!!'#i couldn't figure out how to include this but the more in love u are the worse ur symptoms. which is why sanji was so sick so fast.#he was too gay and too in love WOW that's hilarious. i love them.#sanuso #usosan #sanji #usopp.#black leg sanji #god usopp #one piece #strawhats #red's fic

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