#You remember that woman that showed up? Near Shanks?

[dna-d2]

(One Piece Live Action Spoilers, Beware) (Also long post alert, Also Beware) (TL;DR at the end)

(Beware)

So I finally finished watching the Live Action One Piece and BOY LET ME TELL YOU.

(Please note that this is coming from someone who’s read the manga numerous times and is almost caught up on the anime. So this is a time for me to lovingly rant about this show/franchise in general)

I loved it. Like, to start off with, I fucking loved it. It had a couple flaws, and I certainly wouldn’t say it’s the BEST way to experience the story of One Piece, but I had so much fun with it, god.

Like, one of the biggest flaws you see with live action anime adaptations is that they make a bunch of changes, and these changes feel like they were made by a bunch of higher-up suit-wearing dickheads who think they managed to systematically dissect why people loved Dragon Ball so much and gave us the war crime that was Dragon Ball Evolution.

No, OPLA does have changes, but these changes feel like they were made to actually ADAPT the story into a new medium, since this would require a whole different type of storytelling compared to anime or manga. And (almost) all of the changes do feel like they were able to get the same point across as in the anime/manga, just in a different way.

Like pretty much everyone’s been saying, the casting choice was SPOT-FUCKING-ON. Like

HOLY SHIT

Guys, Iñaki as Luffy was absolutely brilliant and you’d have to kill me before I’d ever say anything different, I mean it. The closest I’d have to a character complaint (and it’s really not a complaint, it’s more of a nit-pick than anything) is that Zoro was just not goofy enough. OG Zoro gets caught up in the shenanigans more than he’d like to admit and gets pissed about it and many other things. OPLA Zoro was way more stoic than that. Though I did also like the stoic himbo energy he was giving off too, so like I said it’s not ENTIRELY a complaint. Just a slight nitpick. (And this is nothing against the actor, the actor did a phenomenal job and I will hear no slander against him or any of the others. Especially Usopp’s actor. Dude was perfect in pretty much every way)

And then the only REAL complaint I had. Well, two, technically. And they both center around the final two episodes.

One of the ONLY changes I didn’t like is that the people in Cocoyashi DIDN’T know that Nami was working for Arlong to buy back the village. The anime/manga had them all know about it and play along so that her efforts to help them wouldn’t be in vain, thus when she was double-crossed by Arlong, they had 7 years of resentment against just HIM to get out, and it felt so nice knowing that these guys were more than willing to fight to the death for her in her name and in the name of the years she sacrificed for them.

In this one though, the fact that they didn’t know just made it feel less impactful to me. They hated Nami for years, then just gave her an apology for not realizing what she was doing before deciding to march on Arlong Park. They didn’t even march on Arlong Park. It felt like the writers were rushing this along a little bit, which kinda leads into my other complaint.

I think there should’ve been ONE more episode. Just one. Nine overall. I think they should’ve spent 2 episodes, 7 and 8, specifically on the fight against Arlong, instead of an episode and a half with the resolution to the Garp thing stuck on at the end. THEN made episode 9 the resolution to the Garp subplot. Or hell, I think even just an extra 30 minutes would’ve helped a lot more. But it felt like they didn’t 100% get how to pace it out properly and had to change certain things that resulted in being a detriment to the overall product. I didn’t feel anywhere near as moved during Nami’s scene asking for help as I did during the anime/manga. In those, she looked absolutely broken, pushed so far past her breaking point that she just couldn’t see a way out of this darkness she’d found herself in for years and years. And in OPLA, she just…Didn’t. It’s hard to put to words, but it just wasn’t as impactful to me.

NOW WITH ALL THAT SAID!!!!

This is an incredible show in its own right. If I didn’t have the anime/manga to compare this to, I would have almost no gripes whatsoever. Maybe even none!! I enjoyed the hell out of this from start to finish, and only came out of it with like one complaint and a couple nitpicks. That’s INCREDIBLE for a live action anime adaptation. Not to mention the way that this is already proving to be a great way to get new people into One Piece. (They don’t realize. They don’t realize that this is the gateway show. That this is where it starts. They don’t realize that they’ll be hooked after this. They don’t realize. But I realize. I know. And soon, so will everyone…!!!)

So yeah, OPLA, solid 8/10. It’s not the best way to experience the story overall, but it’s great for beginners and I will watch again for Easter Eggs and further enjoyment. You should watch it.



TL;DR: One Piece Live Action is great actually, and while it’s not perfect, you should watch it and I love it.



#And of course there's everything else #The wardrobe the set design the ACTING #You can just tell this came from a place of love and enjoyment on just about every front and I loved it so much I mean it #Also you remember the first scene? #You remember that woman that showed up? Near Shanks? #Some people think it might've been Boa Hancock but she was probably too young for that #You know who wasn't too young? #THAT'S RIGHT #CROCODILE #THIS IS OUR TRANS CROCODILE CONFIRMATION I'M CALLING IT HERE #ALSO WE GOT OUR FIRST-MATE ZORO CONFIRMATION #AND I AM LIVING FOR THAT!!!!! #But please I beg just make him like #2% goofier #That's all #And please everyone watch this series #I know we're probably not getting past at least Skypeia ever #But I would commit actual war crimes for at least season 2 #One Piece #OPLA #One Piece Live Action #OPLA Spoilers #One Piece Live Action Spoilers #Luffy #Roronoa Zoro #Zoro #Nami #Usopp #Sanji #DNAVerse Discussions

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What would happen if you were sent back and ended up in the orphanage with Tom Riddle—and say you also had magic?

Oh boy.

Well, there's a lot to question here. Judging by the... spirit of this ask, I presume I'm... pretty much reincarnated. I'm in the orphanage, I'm much younger than I am now and a child, I'm pre-Hogwarts age, and I retain my current knowledge.

For the purpose of this ask I suppose I also retain my current mental faculties. Despite being in the body of an eight-year-old, I'm not The Carnivorous Muffin at eight.

Welp, there's a lot to consider here.

First, I probably don't realize I'm in Harry Potter for quite some time and instead assume I've been reincarnated to some parallel universe. It's the 1930's, I'm in England in the depression, WWI has occurred and the vast majority of major historical events I know about seem to have happened in the right order, and this Earth is eerily similar to the Earth I left behind.

Strange that I appear to remember everything of my past life with my adult mental abilities, but alright universe, I guess that's how we're going to play this.

What I do know is that I'm dirt poor, presumably still a woman which does not bode well for my career prospects, and if I want any prospects in life period I'm going to have to fight tooth and nail for it. It'd be great if I got adopted to help with this, and might be nice to have people in my life who love me, but there's a lot of orphans in the world and a lot of orphans who are much less weird than I am.

The orphanage is the orphanage and not great, Mrs. Cole is overworked, the orphanage is chronically understaffed, and the kids are running wild beating the shit out of each other.

Being a girl, I probably don't have to worry about getting the shit kicked out of me quite as much, but I still probably try to keep my head down and don't aggravate the particularly beefy looking orphans.

Yes, there's some very angry gremlin named Tom Riddle around who will shove you down the stairs in retribution, but that's just a weird coincidence. And then supernatural shit starts happening. Billy's rabbit hangs itself, people get injuries when Tom is nowhere near them, and I start wondering if this is really the Tom Riddle.

I'm in Wool's Orphanage, my matron is Mrs. Cole, Tom Riddle is running around lighting things on fire. It's possible, though it could all be a strange coincidence.

Now, how things go from here depends on how controlled my own magic is. Since accidental magic typically does manifest at least once or twice, it probably does manifest for me for.. something. If Tom Riddle's there to witness it then...

Well, I imagine he's very offended. Here he was, special, different, better than everyone else, and then some girl in the orphanage (who dares to get very good grades on her assignments in school) has it too.

And I just stand there, smiling, going "Tee hee".

He probably confronts me to prove that he's better at it than I am, and he probably is unless the universe hates both him and me, but having someone else with the Shining around probably prompts him to take me as his protégé (in part so he can show off and in part because he's genuinely excited to be able to share this super cool talent).

I am now apprentice to eight-year-old Tom Riddle. Whoop de doo.

Well, I don't remember this part of Harry Potter, so now I'm probably confused as to where I am again. Regardless, I try to advise Tom on how to tone it down and not, say, traumatize Amy and Dennis for life and antagonize all the other orphans forever. He probably doesn't take me seriously. What do I know, I can't even light that patch of grass on fire?

Hanging around Tom Riddle gets me a reputation to, given the difference in genders, probably a fairly nasty one at that. When Dumbledore arrives he's undoubtedly told hot gossip about how eleven-year-old Tom and I have had sex in a ritual to summon Satan. Dumbledore takes this seriously.

Dumbledore probably meets us both at the same time and it's a disaster. I tried my best to prep Tom without revealing I'm a prophet, Tom first doesn't believe there might not be others, then doesn't believe they would be antagonist/anything but amazed by how awesome he is.

Well, Dumbledore lights his wardrobe on fire while I sit there. Dying inside. Dumbledore probably also does something to me too, to teach me some kind of lesson about something.

I imagine he temporarily disfigures me/makes me appear very ugly, then sticks a mirror to the wall, that way I realize that looks aren’t everything/being a whore is wrong. Tom, still traumatized over the wardrobe, is no help and my magic’s probably not controlled enough to do a thing about it.

I spend a day looking like a pig, Tom and I are given just enough money to buy new wands and second hand/barely functioning everything else and given the world’s worst directions to Diagon Alley. Thanks, Albus.

Well, months pass, we get our wands, Tom gets excited for Hogwarts and I... start seriously considering the future. WWII is coming, the Blitz is coming, Tom and I live in east London and must be able to evacuate during the bombing of London (which went on well past the Blitz to the end of the war). I also start considering my future in the wizarding world. Do I now actually have career prospects?

Probably not because I’m muggle born and a woman. My best bet is doing very well in useful subjects and finding employment with the goblins, I can’t imagine they have the same hang ups as the wizarding world.

Tom wants to go to Slytherin, of course, I tell him this is a bad idea. “Gee Tom,” I say, “Not sure how I know this but I have this feeling that Slytherin is filled with people who loathe our very existence and will shank us. Why don’t we pick Ravenclaw or Gryffindor instead?”

No one shanks Tom Riddle! Tom says. Tom is still eleven and while he admits that sometimes I may, in retrospect, have been right about certain things that doesn’t mean he wants to go to the house known for hard work. That’s code word for everyone there being a moron and having no other redeeming features than tenacity. As for the other two, Ravenclaws sound like smug, elitist, nerds and Gryffindors like dumb jocks.

Better to be known for ambition, cunning, and actually being competent.

Well, there’s no talking him out of this one, and goddamn it we’re all each other has.

I’m the closest thing Tom Riddle has ever had to a friend in all these years and in the orphanage the only one who could hold a decent conversation with him. And while it’s not my moral obligation to keep Tom from becoming a domestic terrorist, and there’s no guarantee I even can, dumping him for one of the other houses and drifting apart won’t help.

Not to mention that, after all these years, I’m undoubtedly lonely, I’m in this foreign land, and he’s now the closest thing to a friend I have.

Looks like I’m going to Slytherin, YOOOOOLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOO! I shout as a battle cry as tears run down my face. I may have to convince the hat to put me in Slytherin, but like all human beings I am a mixture of many qualities. I’m not cunning in the least, mind games exhaust me unutterably, but I’m full of ambition. 

This confirms every bad opinion Dumbledore had regarding me and Tom.

For the next several months, Tom probably beats the shit out of dormmates who steal his things/harass him. He beats up mine too because feminism (TM) means that he should treat all people equally when guilty of the same crime. I... am not sure I can win that fight so I just resign myself to having to adopt some of Tom’s tactics to make sure I’m not shoved in lockers, have tampons thrown at me, or pig’s blood dumped on me at the prom.

Once again, everyone thinks Tom Riddle and I are dating. I don’t even know if they’re wrong at this point.

Well, being in class with eleven year olds who seem to have had little to no prior education, Tom and I are undoubtedly blazing through class. I imagine I’m bored out of my mind (the Hogwarts curriculum sounds unbelievably boring) and Tom is... well, probably devouring the library but probably also bored. I decide to try and see if I can find some real history texts on this world (there are probably none, the wizarding world seems to only have two historians and both... have a different approach to history than current modern thought as I know it) and discover what magic even is. That shit is fascinating: wingardium leviosa is not.

Dumbledore likely gives neither me nor Tom points in class, I think the house cup is stupid, so I really don’t care. I have no interest in playing quidditch, neither does Tom, so that doesn’t happen.

The second world war starts up, Tom, me, and the muggle borns are the only ones who give a flying fuck. I work harder on figuring out how to get lodging during the Blitz/the bombing of London. Unfortunately, Mrs. Cole hates me too for being the Bride of Satan, so that’s a no go. Third year, 1939, I probably write her in earnest anyway telling her to PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, send Tom and I instructions for the summer/where the orphans are staying/how they’ve been dispersed to the countryside. As a back up plan, I try desperately to shmooze shopkeepers in Hogsmeade during every Hogsmeade weekend to get myself and Tom part time jobs and lodging over the summer. As a back up back up plan, I spend my time badgering Tom to become very good at survivalist wandless magic and if the Lord has pity on me gain some ability in it myself.

Hopefully, either Mrs. Cole or one of the Hogsmeade shop owners take pity on us. If not, then Tom and I are going extreme camping. Given Mrs. Cole (and the brain damage brought on by Dumbledore erasing memories left and right) and the likelihood of Hogsmeade shop owners just not getting it, Tom and I probably go extreme camping.

(Tom, meanwhile, asks Dippet and Dumbledore if we can stay in Hogwarts over the summer. He’s told no exceptions. London’s being bombed, you say? No exceptions. Toodles. Tom is never the same.)

Me, Tom Riddle, a tent we made ourselves, several rabbits we had to catch and skin ourselves, and the pitiful fire that we can keep going through pure will alone because if we try to use real people spells then we’ll get arrested. It has the benefit of making Tom feel very manly and impressive, catching his own food, but both of us are well aware that this sucks.

But hey, we aren’t dead.

Well, I’m sure Tom doesn’t appreciate that and this is where I imagine he seriously starts talking about violent revolution. I imagine much of my time is spent discussing the merits of not violently overthrowing our ant overlords. I imagine a thirteen-year-old Tom isn’t impressed by my pacifism, but he’s not married to Voldemort yet (probably).

Then I imagine the horcrux thing comes up and... Well, I will argue hard against it. Humans die, it is a truth of the universe, and simply something we have to accept. Horcruxes are not a measure against that, they can be destroyed, given infinite time they will be, and the sacrifice they require is too high: human life as well as the very essence of who you are.

What is a soul? I’m not sure, we never really learn in HP canon, but whatever it is, it is in some way the essence of yourself. If you take half of it and throw it somewhere else, you will cease to be you, someone or something else is walking around in your body while the other half of you exists in endless agony.

If you must chase immortality, create a philosopher’s stone (as I darkly wonder why it was that couldn’t be replicated and what Flamel had to do to make it in the first place). On second thought, maybe we should search for the Holy Grail.

Whether I can talk Tom out of this or not is... unclear. I’m going to say that I can, in part because I imagine he’ll want to show the chamber off to me, tell me when he realizes he’s Heir of Slytherin, and in doing so I can prevent the basilisk incident from occurring. Without that, there’s no dead Myrtle, which means no first victim. That summer, when he goes to the Gaunts, I’ll go with him and convince him that it’s not worth it. He can just turn around and leave these people alone, I hopefully can talk him down. Which means no second victim.

I start writing Flamel to see if Tom or I can get an apprenticeship (Dumbledore probably beats us to the chase and poisons him against us, but it’s worth a shot).

Then, should all go well, I can convince Tom to find employment with the goblins rather than shady antique dealers on the bad side of town. Hopefully, I can convince him to never become Voldemort, and instead we travel the world together looking for the origins of magic or something.

Dumbledore goes around taking people’s memories of us in preparation for when Tom becomes a dark lord and I his lady of the night darkness.

TL;DR Apparently my life would become an SI/Tom Riddle fic. So, thanks anon.

#harry potter #harry potter meta #harry potter headcanon #tom riddle #albus dumbledore #anti albus dumbledore #meta #headcanon #opinion

[secret-engima]

Any rambles for any AUs you havent touched in a while? Or recent ones? Or anything, really, haha

Hmmmmmmmmm any AU? *stares out into the vast ocean of possibility* *plucks one out at random*

RWBY. Because I’m having a hyper fixation moment with that fandom apparently.

-Raven AU is gonna be the most chaotic AU. Even more than Dragon Yang or Wolfcury or Noctscar or Azur. Just- so much chaos. This is an OC who KNOWS about the plot up until the end of v7 and she hates it. So much.

-She will aggressively wreck canon at any available opportunity.

-Starting with not breaking up Team STRQ and also adopting Ozpin as her Emotional Support Wizard Man.

-Tbf Raven doesn’t start out trying to adopt Ozpin, it just kinda- happens? Through various happenstances and then she finds him in need of comfort at one point and Raven is 100% a feral gremlin but she’s also a big sister and her instincts just go- ah yes. My Sad Wizard Man now.

-Ozpin is very confused.

-His confusion increases when Team STRQ blink at each other, shrug and go- welp if Raven’s keeping him I guess we’re team STORQ now.

-Excuse you, you are students, he is the headmaster? This is improper??

-Team STRQ: Sure, sure, here have a weighted blanket and some hot coco you like that stuff right?

-Raven takes forever to date Tai, but they are gonna be a pairing and a married couple so are Summer and Qrow because the theory that Ruby is their kid AMUSES THE HECK OUT OF ME and not long after Yang is born Raven kinda-

-Shanks Leo.

-Because he deserves it.

-That causes a bit of Drama but it’s okay in the end.

-Also Raven, when Yang is a few years old: Yo Tai we have a new daughter.

-Taiyang: WHAT.

-Raven: *walks in and plops a confused bby Emerald in Tai’s arms* She tried to steal my lien so clearly she’s mine now.

-Taiyang, still holding Emerald gently even as wary street child looks around with wide eyes: Um- that’s- Raven that’s not how adoption works.

-Raven: It’s how *Branwen* adoption works.

-Raven is also friends with Ironwood!

-And by friends I mean she stumbled across him when she was a student and he was newly graduated and decided to prank the heck out of him in revenge for the future shoot-a-child incident. Then eventually got attached to him when he managed to prank her back a few times.

-At this point Spec Ops just- don’t even blink when they come in to report to the General and find him wrestling the Wild Woman that keeps popping in and trying to playfully strangle him in his office. This is normal. The General will be fine. Leave the written report on the desk and leave before she decides to “play” with the rest of them too.

-Raven met Clover during a Vytal Festival, his team of talented first years against her team of experienced fourth years. Raven got a manic look in her eyes because she REMEMBERS fishing pole lucky man from the show.

-Summer, knowing what her partner’s look mean, sincerely called across the field “I am so sorry for what is about to happen.”

-Clover and his team didn’t have much time to be confused because then the buzzer started and Raven went for Clover with what to Branwen twins is playful mania and to normal people looks like murderous intent.

-One near death experience later and Clover finds himself separated from his team and instead sitting with Team STRQ at one of the fairground stands, being treated to a giant bowl of noodles. He’s not sure how that happened. Or why the teammates of the crazy black haired girl keep arguing over how to incorporate a C into their team name. He’s- he’s not on their team. He doesn’t even go to their SCHOOL. They aren’t keeping him.

-They totally keep him, even if only as a friend and not a stolen teammate.

#SE asks #anon asks #Secret Engima Rambles #Always I Dreamed verse #I love this au so much #I wanna write it #but am slow writer #:( #but I'll get to posting stage eventually

[ragingbookdragon]

The Beds We’ve Made PT. 2

Kurt x De Sardet

Word Count: 2.1K Warnings: Explicit Language, Blood, Violence, Slight Angst

Author’s Note: Might be back on my bullshit but I am writing fics so it counts for something. Enjoy! -Thorne

           It was shoddy luck on their part that resulted in the attack just two hundred meters from the city, more so hers than her companions. As she wrenched her saber free from the torso of the last marauder, her eyes flitted over the field, finding both her companions still standing, though her relief was short lived as Vasco brought a hand to his side.

           De Sardet took a step towards him, worrying, “Vasco, are you alright?”

           The captain didn’t respond at first, fingers undoing the main belt around his waist. It hit the ground and he pulled his jacket open. Her eyes went wide as crimson began to bloom, staining the cream shirt he wore.

           She immediately pressed her hands up against his wound, ignoring how he hissed. “How bad is it?”

           “I don’t know,” he muttered as he shook his head, and she shifted one of her hands to feel around for an exit wound. None was there.

           “Bullet’s still inside. We need to get you to a doctor,” De Sardet affirmed. “Put pressure with your left hand, sling your right over my shoulders.”

           Vasco obeyed and they started down the small hill, coming to the dirt road. The farther they walked, the heavier the Naut became, all but leaning onto her and with a quick glance to him, she knew he wasn’t going to make it all the way to the gate even with her help. Sweat started rolling down his forehead and she cursed under her breath.

           “Vasco, stop. Stop.” De Sardet whispered, gently maneuvering him to the ground, her fingers shifting beneath his to pressure his wound. His tricorn tipped to the ground when he rested his head back onto her shoulder, groaning weakly.

           Síora knelt beside them. “Carants?” Her eyes were wide with worry and De Sardet looked to her.

           “We’re not strong enough to get him back.” She shifted her gaze to the city gates, probably a hundred meters away now. “Síora, go to the barracks and get Kurt. He’s the only one strong enough to carry Vasco.”

           She could tell the native was hesitant especially since it’d been only a week before that the noble had removed the mercenary from her service.

           “Síora, hurry,” De Sardet urged. “I don’t know how long Vasco will stay awake.”

           “I will be swift,” she replied, taking off towards the city.

           De Sardet shifted, leaning around Vasco’s body to lift his shirt. Pulling the handkerchief from her coat pocket, she pressed the cloth to it; it soaked through within moments.

           “Done in by a…gunshot,” Vasco panted. “Figured I’d go…down with my ship.”

           She snorted. “If you’re still able to joke, I guess it’s not as bad, huh?”

           “I don’t wanna die on land.”

           De Sardet grabbed his chin, the blood smearing along the black tattoos. “You listen to me right now. You’re not dying, you hear?”

           Vasco chuckled, though it dissolved into a groan. “Can’t exactly…stop it.”

           “If you die, I’ll have no one to sing sea shanties with.” She gave him a smile, batting her eye lashes. “Don’t wanna disappoint this pretty woman, now do you?”

           He grinned. “Never.”

***

           She burst into the barracks, doors slamming into the walls as she strode forward. Manfred looked up from his desk, at the woman; she looked familiar, but not enough that he could place her.

           “Can I help you, miss?” he asked, taking in the native clothes she wore.

           Síora nodded. “I need to find Kurt. It is imperative.”

           Manfred started to stand. “Can I ask what for?”

           “Caran—De Sardet needs him. Our friend is injured.”

           He nodded, leading the way towards the training grounds. “I understand.”

           Cracking the door open, they stepped out, watching Kurt bark orders at some new recruits who were doing pushups. Before Manfred could even call for him, Síora was sprinting to him.

           “Carants!” she yelled, and Kurt’s head snapped up, eyes wide at the usually calm native so frantic.

           “Síora?”

           “De Sardet needs you. It’s serious.”

           Something flashed in the mercenary’s eyes and he didn’t even wait for her to explain, simply grabbing his sword leaning up against the wall and hurrying after her.

           The recruits had watched them for a moment before glancing towards Manfred who simply commanded, “Back to training, you lot!”

***

           She’d managed to strip Vasco of his coat to keep him cool, but it barely did anything as he’d already sweat through the back of his shirt. His consciousness was dwindling faster than she could keep it steady, ultimately resulting to talk to him to keep him awake.

           “C’mon Vasco, if you think about it, someone has to get us back to Serene when this is all over. Whose boat am I going to take?”

           That did it. His face pinched and she knew it wasn’t from pain as he griped, “Ship. For the last fucking time…it’s a ship.”

           De Sardet giggled. “You know those terms are synonymous, yes?”

           “My foot is going to find your ass synonymous…if you call my ship a boat again.”

           She snorted, running her free hand to smooth back his damp hair. “I’d like to see you try. We both know who the better fighter is.”

           Before he could even make his own witty comeback, the thunk of boots came their way and she prayed that it wasn’t an enemy. De Sardet squinted, and upon making out Kurt’s face in the evening light, she almost cried in relief. The mercenary skidded to a halt beside them, dropping to a knee.

           “Kurt,” she breathed. “Thank the Gods you’re here.”

           He looked Vasco over. “What happened?”

           The captain groaned. “The fuck does it…look like happened?”

           “Well, I see you’re in rare form, captain,” Kurt joked. “How do you feel?”

           “Like I’ve…been through a hurricane,” Vasco ground out and De Sardet shifted behind him.

           “We tried making it back.” Her eyes found the mercenary’s. “Kurt, I need your help to carry him. I’m not strong enough to do it on my own.”

           Kurt nodded. “Of course.” He grabbed Vasco’s arm and pulled it around his neck, one arm going to the captain’s back, the other below his knees. “On three. Vasco, lean in if you can.”

           The Naut grunted. “I’ll try.”

           He looked at De Sardet and nodded, watching as she moved herself to Vasco’s free side to catch him if he fell out of Kurt’s arms.

           “One. Two. Three!” Kurt heaved and pulled him up, wincing as Vasco let out a pained moan. He glanced at Síora. “Constantin is sure to have a doctor waiting on him at the palace. Go and get them. We’ll take Vasco to De Sardet’s residence.” She nodded and started off ahead of them.

           The hurried and when De Sardet kept looking over, he said, “He’ll be okay, Green Blood.”

           She shook her head. “That’s not what I’m thinking about.” Gesturing to them, she asked, “Does he even weigh anything to you?”

           Kurt snorted. “Nah. It’s like holding a few grapes.” He gave her a knowing look and murmured, “Honestly it’s like that time I had to carry you back from the tavern.”

           Her eyes went wide with shock and she cried, “You said you’d never bring that up again!”

           He dodged her attempt to shove at him, though she seemed to remember the injured Naut and stopped.

           “Oh, so I can’t bring up how you told me you wanted to shag—”

           De Sardet audibly growled at him, pointing her dagger in his side. “I will shank the shit out of you if you finish that sentence, Kurt.”

           The mercenary chuckled, but conceded, crossing under the arch, and moving towards the residence. When they neared it, De Sardet opened the door to the guest apartments.

           “Vasco��s room is the second door.” She opened it and let Kurt inside, watching as he set the still-moaning captain onto the bed. Síora came in behind them with one of the masked doctors. The doctor looked between the group and nodded at Kurt.

           The mercenary nodded to the door. “We’ll take care of this.” De Sardet started to make a retort but he fixed her with a look. “Green Blood, please. Let us do this.”

           She pursed her lips and glanced at Vasco, then back to Kurt. “Promise you’ll get me if you need me.”

           He nodded. “Of course.”

           De Sardet let Síora lead her out, and every time she heard a pained yell come from inside the bedroom, she had to fight to stay seated, to trust Kurt.

***

           It was well into the night when the doors finally opened, and the doctor stepped out. They’d said nothing but given a simple nod before taking the coin purse and leaving. De Sardet shuffled into the bedroom, catching sight of Kurt placing a freshly dampened rag onto Vasco’s forehead; he’d fallen asleep it seemed.

           “How is he?” she whispered, afraid to wake him.

           Kurt nodded. “Got the bullet out.” He tipped his chin to the metal ball, no bigger than the tip of her pinky, sitting on the nightstand. “He’ll have one helluva souvenir to show off.”

           De Sardet chuckled, sitting on the edge of the bed, gently taking Vasco’s hand in hers. “Think they’ve got a tattoo that stands for ‘I survived getting shot’?”

           “Probably,” he chuckled, watching as she placed two fingers to the Naut’s pulse.

           “Heart rate is calm,” she decided, softly resting his hand back on his stomach. Her eyes drifted to the side of the bed where Kurt sat on a stool and she inconspicuously took in the blood that stained his hands.

           She stood and walked towards the basin. Ever so carefully, she picked it up and slowly walked back over, setting it down by Kurt’s feet before once again taking her seat at the edge of the bed. De Sardet picked up the rag that was set on the side and dipped it into the water. When it was soaked, she wringed it and gently took one of Kurt’s scarred hands into hers, wiping the blood in silence; though she could feel his eyes on her, she didn’t say a thing.

           “You don’t have to—” she cut him off by turning his hand over, running the rag across his palm.

           “I don’t,” she agreed. “But I want to.” Her eyes met his. “You saved Vasco’s life tonight. Cleaning the blood off your hands is the least I could do.”

           Kurt shrugged, offhandedly mentioning, “He’s important to you.”

           The words sounded so bitter and it made De Sardet smile as she quipped quietly, “Careful there, Kurt. Your jealously is showing.”

           “I am not jealous,” he retorted, scowling when she flashed him an innocent smile.

           “No, of course you’re not. Taking the company of another man, a sailor no less, to watch my back instead of you. There’s no reason for jealously.”

           “You think you’re being cute but you’re not,” he griped, following with, “my lady,” when she cocked a brow.

           “I think I’m adorable,” De Sardet hummed before taking his other hand.

           He watched her for a moment, then muttered, “Not exactly like I could watch your back after you removed me.”

           De Sardet’s hand froze and she met his eyes, simply gazing at him for a long minute. “You understand why I removed you, don’t you, Kurt?”

           She knew he didn’t want to admit the reason to her, even though they both knew it, but he shifted through the shame and nodded. “Yes, my lady, I do.”

           “So, you understand that my anger and resentment has been founded and is legitimate?”

           “Yes…my lady.”

           “Then you don’t get to be pissy with my decision.” Her words were firm, but they weren’t angry, not like they were the other week. They still stung the same though.

           De Sardet wiped the last of the blood from his hand and set the rag down, replacing the basin where it was. As she moved to the door, she heard him speak.

           “Green Blood?”

           She paused and looked back at him. “Yes, Kurt?”

           He seemed to be mulling over his thoughts, looking as if he was going to be sick. “I…would like your help with something.”

           De Sardet arched a fine brow. “And that is?”

           Kurt met her eyes. “I want to track down the man responsible for the ghost camps. For Reiner…for me.”

           She searched his gaze for a moment, then nodded. “Meet me here tomorrow morning and we’ll go.”

           “Thank you, Green Blood.”

           De Sardet tipped her head slightly. “Don’t thank me just yet. We haven’t found him.”

           Kurt huffed a laugh. “With you, we will.”

#kurt x de sardet #de sardet x kurt #greedfall fanfiction #greedfall fanfic #greedfall #kurt fanfic #kurt fanfiction #kurt #de sardet fanfic #de sardet fanfiction #de sardet #siora #vasco

[chillin-at-partys-bar]

Drabble #1 -- Meet Mr. Pierce

((Just a short drabble inspired by this gif because I wanted to write Shanks throwing someone out of a bar. Written in about an hour, 1146 words, so nothing spectacular. I might just write some more drabbles too. If you have any drabbles you want to see, let me know)) 

The brim of his hat was pulled down low enough over his face to cover his scars, enough to distract from the hair. It wasn’t his old straw hat, the one that Captain Roger gave him – nah, that belonged to Luffy now. This hat was a loaner, well, stolen maybe? He wasn’t planning on giving it back. Of course, the poor son of a bitch who had the hat last was dead. It wasn’t Shanks’ fault entirely, and he had tried to avoid the casualty, but if it’s him or the opponent, well. And it was a nice hat too, one of those tricorn ones. It did have a stupid feather in it. Long, elaborate, Shanks got rid of that real quick. Not that he would be embarrassed of having a giant feather, but that was Mihawk’s game, and he didn’t want the loudness of his hat to drown out his pants. With the hat hiding his features, and being one of many in the bar with missing limbs as was the cost of the pirates life, Shanks was enjoying a bit of anonymity. Shanks took the bottle of rum he had been nursing to his lips and frowned almost immediately.

“Something wrong- er, what’d you say your name was?” The barmaid was cleaning a glass, looking over at him. She was a sweet young woman, reminded him a little of Makino, her gentle demeanor a bit of a contrast between her and the rough pirates in this bar. But Shanks had learned over his years to never judge a book by its cover, and never judge a woman by her face.

“Higuma Pierce,” they both knew it was a lie. But she didn’t question. “And it’s just, it’s empty,” he held the bottle up before putting it down and taking out another coin, “The same, please.”

“Please?” Her brow raised. She put the glass she had been cleaning down, taking the coin and exchanging it with another of the same.

“Too formal?”

“Just a pleasant departure from the norm. As you could guess-”

“Hey, sweet stuff,” a man encroached on Shanks’ personal space. The other pirate leaned over on the stained, scarred wooden counter. His shoulders wide, his elbows spread out as though to claim as much space as possible for himself. This was the big man here. At least, that’s how the man clearly thought of himself, “How much?”

“For?”

The woman was confused for just a second. The grin on the newcomer’s face answered the question.

“Watch yourself,” the sweet eyes hardened. Her face showed no amusement though the man chuckled.

“You’re tough, ain’t ya?” His head tilted, “You know who I am, right?”

Shanks listened, keeping an eye on the situation as he quietly drank his rum. She had things under control for the moment, he wasn’t going to put himself into a conflict if unnecessary. His crew was absent, he was here as an anonymous Mr. Pierce. No one more.

“One of the many sad men who come through here, wishing your life had been different?”

“Excuse me? I’m Captain Caloman Gaubold!”

“And I’m unimpressed.”

“I’m a customer.”

“Customers pay for their damn drinks.” She put one hand down on the bar, the other holding the rag she had been using to clean rested on her hip, “And from what I hear about your last score, Captain, you have more than enough – everyone heard your bragging. So pay up or get out.”

“You got a death wish?” He was seething, now on his hands instead of elbows as he leaned farther over the counter. Her gaze cold, hard, but she was backed up away from him, leaning against the bottles of fine liquor that decorated the back of the bar.

“Hey, hey, calm down.”

His voice was enough to snap them both out of their tense exchange. Shanks looked to the barmaid, “I’ll pay for my friend’s drinks,” and then he turned his attention to Caloman, “And you need to do as the lady said, and leave, Captain.”

“Who do you think you are?”

“No one. Just askin’ you to respect the lady with the liquor is all.”

“I’m just telling you: I’ve just come from killing an entire crew and taking their gold, don’t think you all won’t be next.”

Caloman reached for the pistol at his side and Shanks sighed.

“Put that damn thing away before someone gets hurt.”

“You mean like you-”

Violence wasn’t Shanks’ first choice in many situations. He was at a point where he was strong enough to protect himself, but people could get caught in the crossfire. The barmaid could get hurt. People here just wanting a drink could get hurt. The man was angry, and Shanks couldn’t trust that anger to just be targeted at himself. So he put his bottle down with a slam before grabbing the scruff of the back of the man’s neck, slamming his head down against the wood. Then, taking advantage of the dazed man, Shanks got a better grip on him and pulled him along, straight for the door as confused and slightly drunk fellow patrons cleared the way to the double swinging doors at the bar’s entrance.

“C’mon, pal, you don’t gotta go home but you can’t stay here,” he used Caloman to push open the doors, unceremoniously throwing him out into the street. The man groaned, rolling on to his back. Shanks turned to return inside before a thought struck. He turned back to Caloman, grabbing the man’s pistol and putting it on his own person, “You lost this privilege, Captain. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

And he turned to leave again – before a second thought struck.

“Ah, right,” he went back to Caloman, “Pardon me,” he went through the man’s pockets before finding a bag of money, “Not sure how much you owe, but this looks about right. Once you factor in buying a round for everyone as an apology for whatever that was, that is.”

Now that he was sure he had done everything he needed to do, he made his way back into the bar where near all had gone back to whatever they had been doing before. He went to the counter where his rum remained undisturbed, and placed the money bag in front of the barmaid.

“He says he’s sorry. And that this should cover his tab.”

“Thanks, Pierce.”

“Huh?” and then in the moment that followed he remembered his false name, “Right. Me.”

“Gonna let me in on your secret?”

“No, probably not,” Shanks just smiled, “Is that a problem?”

“You paid so, not at all. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“And I mean anything. It’ll be free of charge for you,” she gave him a look he’d seen before. Not to flex or anything. He raised his glass.

“I’ll be sure to.”

She gave a wink and a nod before answering a summon to the other end of the bar, leaving ‘Pierce’ to his drink, wondering if he’d ever run into Mr. Captain Caloman again.

#{drabble} #{character: shanks} #((just something I wanted to do that I thought was fun for me~)) #((hope someone else has some fun with it too)) #akagami no shanks #one piece #drabble #op fanfic #red haired shanks #{rebloggable} #((can turn the aftermath into a thread))

[thewildomega]

Second Chance ch.8

Running towards the hidden entrance to the town behind the waterfall he held y/n tightly to his chest. Looking to the homes he saw all the lights off and knew most were probably sleeping. Refusing to stop he ran as fast as he could to where his home was. Coming up on the hill he saw another smaller home built not too far from it. Using his haki he felt a bit of relief come over him at the familiar presence. "MARCO!" Getting to the door he saw it was small, about half his height, he was back to his old size. "MARCO!" he called again. Seeing a light turn on from inside the window he breathed heavily. As soon as the door opened he looked down to see his son rubbing his eye.

"What the hell is..." Marco asked in a sleepy voice, dropping his hand and looking out his door. Seeing nothing but legs he craned his neck to gaze up at the tall man. Knitting his brows and blinking a few times he snapped his eyes around. Long blond hair, same warm yellow eyes, huge as hell but younger? Way younger. "H..how... I...I don't.... Pops?" 

"I don't have time to explain now son. I need your help. I need you to help her." Seeing his son still frozen he grit his teeth. "Marco now!" he yelled and saw the man snap out of it. 

"Right. Okay." he said firmly more to himself than the man who resembled his late father. "Go take her to your home and I'll grab my things." 

"Marco honey? What is it?" a feminine voice said from behind him. 

Glancing behind his son he saw a woman standing there, wearing nothing but a nightgown. While he was intrigued about who this young woman was he didn't have time right now. Hurrying over to his home he was happy to find his door unlocked, the large wooden door slamming back against the wall as he pushed his way inside. Turning on the lights he moved to his own bedroom and placed her down on the dusty bed. Standing back up to look down at her he took in her size compared to the large bed and knit his brows. Hearing feet running towards them he saw Marco come up beside him and start looking y/n over. When he pulled back the coat and her ripped shirt he saw the bleeding gunshot wound on the right side of her chest, just over her breast and swallowed hard. 

"I need to get her shirt off so I can see if the bullet went the whole way through." Pulling out a knife he started cutting away the blood soaked shirt. 

Helping sit her up and pull off her coat and shirt he tossed them to the side to be taken care of later. Seeing no wound on her back he knew the bullet was still in her. Laying her back down gently he watched as Marco checked her pulse and heartbeat. 

"Her heartbeat is faint. She needs a blood transfusion or she'll be dead in minutes." the doctor said and saw as the large man moved to sit on the floor by the bed table, holding out his arm. "You don't know if ..." 

"I do. I am." 

Nodding he quickly grabbed the things he needed and stepped in front of his father. Finding a vein quickly he shoved the needle in. As soon as the red liquid of life started filling the bottle he stepped back over to the woman on the bed to get her hooked up as well. 

Sitting back against the wall he watched quietly as Marco worked on saving his lass's life. The woman from before had come over soon after he hooked Y/n up to an IV and she gave him a look before moving beside Marco and speaking to him. He heard her weak whimpers and cries as the doctor started digging for the bullet still lodged in her chest and it sent a sharp pain through his chest. The woman who he had overheard Marco call Zella helped in holding y/n down for the painful procedure. Once it was out he saw the bright blue flames come from his hand that pressed over Y/n's wound. 

Healing her as much as he could with his powers he grabbed his supplies to start stitching the wound close. Wrapping the wound in bandages he looked over her other injuries to start on them. 

After a good two hours he heard Marco let out a sigh and step away from the bed to turn to him. "She should be just fine." he told the younger version of his pops. Looking behind him he rose his chin. "Zel, go get some stuff an clean her up will ya?"

Seeing the woman nod and make her way out of the room he looked back to see Marco looking at him with lowered brows. 

"How? I don't understand how you are here. You died, Ace died, we buried you both..."

"It's complicated..."

"I don't care tell me. Tell me how you just show up here, alive and young after almost two damn years." 

"Two years?" he repeated, his face falling and his eyes going a bit wide. Seeing Marco's face serious he took a deep breath and tried to take it all in. He had only been in Y/n's world for almost two months but it had been near two years here? Looking back up to Marco he saw the woman return with her arms full of different things. Noticing the bathing supplies and such he stood and walked over to his dresser. Taking out one of his few shirts he held it out for the woman to take. "It'll be big on her but it will work for now." he said and saw her nod, a kind smile on her face. Glancing back to y/n one last time he swallowed hard and walked out, hearing Marco follow behind him. 

....................................

All the while Zella who he learned was his son's wife, cleaned y/n he had told Marco everything as Marco took care of the stab wound on his forearm that he had forgotten about. He told him how he had washed up on the shore of the lake and how y/n had found him. He told him how when he had woken up he was somehow young again. Telling him about y/n and her world Marco stayed quiet through it all, ever the clam and collected one. Refusing to hold anything back from him he also spoke to him about the strong connection the two had towards each other. Lastly he spoke to him about the events that had just occurred before the two of them had been sent back here. 

"She is your soulmate then?"

Humming he grinned. "Yes."

"Does she know that?" 

Taking a deep breath he let it out in a long sigh, "No. I don't believe they are a thing in her world." 

Nodding Marco looked to where Whitebeard's bedroom was, thinking about the woman who had all in all saved her father's life. "So what is she like, Y/n?" he asked and couldn't help but grin when he saw the way his father smiled. 

"Oh she is kind, so very kind and quiet. She's a hardworking woman but she never complains. She also has a temper as well though." he said with a chuckle at the end but then felt his smile fall away some. "But... she's been hurt before. I don't exactly know how, she hasn't opened up to me yet and I haven't pushed her on it." huffing a bit he looked to the blond and smiled, "You'll like her though, she's been making me take vitamins and eat more healthy." 

"She's a keeper." 

Laughing he smiled and leaned back into the chiar. "Now, tell me, what's happened since I died." 

Rubbing the back of his neck he looked into the large yellow eyes and started relaying the events from the last 19 months. He told him about how the crew and some others, along with Shanks buried both him and Ace. Then he told him about the payback war they had had with Blackbeard and his crew. Admitting the defeat he grit his teeth. and bounced his knee. "We all disbanded after that. With Teach and his crew, then the World Government after us I thought it would be best if we went our own ways.... I didn't want to do it but..."

Sighing he crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. "It's alright son, I understand. You did the right thing." 

"It get's worse." Seeing his father look back to him he blinked slowly, "Because of Teach beating us the World Government named him the new Emperor."

"What?" 

Nodding Marco saw the man's massive muscles flex. 

"What about Ace's brother, that strawhat runt?" 

"Luffy. I don't know, no one has heard anything from him since a about a week after the war. He showed up at Marineford again with both Jinbe and Rayleigh..."

"Rayleigh?"

"Yep. Luffy didn't attack anyone or start any trouble. All he did was go up and ring the OX bell before taking off his hat. There were many pictures taken of him, it was put on the front page. After that he left and no one has seen him or any of his crew since."

Humming he lowered his brow in thought. He didn't think the boy was giving up, not from all the stories Ace had told him. Before anything else could be said he heard the door open and looked towards his bedroom to see Zella walking out with a y/n's clothes in her arms. 

"I cleaned her up as best I could. There was a place on the back of her head that i don't think you saw but I cleaned it and bandaged it as well." Zella told her husband who nodded. 

"I'm going to go take a look at it real quick." 

Watching his son walk out of the room he looked to the young woman and saw her smile at him. "Well hello my dear. I hear you are my son's wife." 

Nodding Zella looked to the large man. "Yes. It's so nice to be able to meet you, Marco has told me all about you. I don't understand exactly how you are here but I am happy nonetheless. Marco and the rest of your children missed you dearly." 

Grinning he hummed. "I missed them as well. I do hope you are taking good care of my boy... not making it too easy for him though right?" he asked and heard her chuckle lightly. 

"Not at all."  she assured him. Remembering something she held out the items she had found in the woman's clothing. "Here you go, I found these in her clothes, I don't think they would do well in the wash." 

Taking the items Zella handed over he saw y/n's phone, notebook and a few other items.  

"Of course. I am going to wash her pants and other clothes but I am afraid her shirt is past the point of repair."

"Thank you dear." Seeing her nod as Marco walked back out he looked to him. 

"Yea that's a nice sized bump on her head, it's got a small gash as well but not enough for stitches. She may have a slight concussion and her head will probably ach for a few days once she wakes. Nothing some herbal tea won't help though. Still once she wakes she will need to take it easy, she did lose a lot of blood." 

Nodding he stood and saw Marco cover a yawn. "You both should get back to bed." 

"Sounds good. If you need me you know where to find me. I'll be back over to check on her in the morning." he told him and saw him nod. Looking up to his father he smiled "Goodnight pops." 

Grinning he kneeled down to hug his son, "Goodnight my son." Watching them both leave he set the items down on the table and moved towards his bedroom. The light was off but with the light from the living room he could still see fairly well. Walking over to the bed he looked down at her and saw wrapped up under the covers. She had bandages on her cheek and wrapped around her head, he could also make out the light bruise on her lip and jaw. Her skin was still flushed but not as much as it was. Dropping his eyes to her chest he could only see so much with the blankets pulled up to just under her shoulders but he knew she was wearing his shirt. The white fabric looked more like a sheet on her than anything with the first few buttons undone and some of the bandages peeking out. The slowly rise and fall of her chest told him she was sleeping soundly and he let out a sigh of relief. If Marco hadn't been here then there was no doubt in his mind that she wouldn't have made it, the very thought making his heart clench. Threading his fingers through her hair he heard a small groan and noticed her lashes fluttering a bit, her brows knitting together in discomfort. Crouching down beside the bed he continued stroking her hair and then her unmarked cheek with his thumb. "Yer alright lass, go back to sleep darling." 

Hearing the deep, comforting voice you relaxed and did as it commanded. 

Seeing her drift back off he grinned. Standing back up he tugged the covers up over her a bit more before going back out to the living room. Looking towards the couch he gave a sigh and rubbed the back of his head. While there was plenty of room for both of them on his bed he didn't want to risk making her uncomfortable or worse hurting her. So couch it was. Turning off the light he walked over to the old sofa and layed down on it, his feet hanging off the side. 

.................................

Groaning giving a whimper when your whole body seemed to ache you slowly lifted your hand to your face to rub your eyes. Feeling a bandage and then another one you knit your brows and then started attempting to open your eyes. At first they instantly closed from the bright light but after a little bit you managed to get them open and take a glance around the room you were in. First thing you noticed was the ceiling, it was wooden with large beams running along it. Turning your head to the walls you saw them to be made of what looked like plaster, the trim and door made of the same wood as the beams along with the floor. The room itself was of nice size with a dresser, side table and the huge bed you were laying in. It had to be a California king with white sheets and deep blue bedding. Seeing a window on the far wall with white curtains you tilted your head a bit at the view outside. From where you laid you could see what looked like bright green grass and a large mountain in the far landscape, a clear blue sky above. Just where the hell were you?

Thinking back to the last thing you remembered you recalled the incident at the bar, those men, they had robbed the place and then you had taken off after the man. The two of you were fighting and then he... he tried to... he was going to rape you but he hadn't. Edward had shown up, he had saved you. Then him and the man had fought and the guy had pulled a gun. He was going to shoot Edward so you jumped in the way. Glancing down to your chest you pulled the large shirt... gown, whatever it was away some and saw bandages there. You had been shot. Your memory went a bit fuzzy after that. You could remember Edward yelling, the other man screaming and then the ground shook but then Ed was there. He was holding you and he was so warm, you could hear his heartbeat and then nothing. 

Letting out a long breath you laid your head back on the pillow and thought. Had you been taken to some hospital? You had never heard of any hospitals that looked like this. Blinking you decide to go find out what was going on. Trying to sit up you bit your lip to muffle your cry as every injury on your body seemed the throb. Sitting up on the bed you were overcome with a coughing fit and covered your mouth with one elbow while the other hand moved to clutch your chest. Whimpering when your head felt like it was going to split into you closed your eyes tight, your face scrunching up in pain. Once you had gotten a bit used to the pain you opened your eyes and looked around the room again. Dropping your eyes to your own body you knit your brows and lifted the large shirt hanging on your body. It was way too big but it didn't look like a gown and... sniffing it you leaned back some, you knew that scent. Was he here, was he okay? Going to stand up from the bed you heard one of the two doors open and froze. Looking up you saw a man come walking into the room but there was something off about him. Why was he so small? He had blond hair on the top of his head and when he looked up to you, you saw he had glasses on as well. Was he a dwarf? 

"Oh. We weren't expecting you to be up so soon." Marco said to the woman with a smile. Walking over to her he looked up to her, "Pops will be happy. I'm Marco by the way." 

Marco, Edward's son? How was he here? Had he somehow been teleported to your world too? Licking your dry lips you looked down to the man. "Hello. I'm y...y/n." you told him, your voice cracking a bit.

"Yes I know, the big man has been talking about you nonstop all day." he chuckled. 

"Edward is here?" 

"Yea, well not here, he went to grab a few things from town but he should be back soon. In the meantime though I'd like to check over your injuries." Stepping forward some he saw her a tad bit uncomfortable and grinned softly. "It's okay, I'm a doctor." 

Nodding you tried to relax some "I know Ed talks about you a lot as well." 

"Hopefully good things." he smiled. 

Sitting still as Marco did his exam you listened to him tell you the extent of all your injuries and that you would have to take it easy for the next week. Rubbing your face you sighed, "I have to call work and tell them..."

Rubbing the back of his neck he looked off to the side, "Ah yea well about that..." He didn't get to finish his sentence as he heard a door shut and then the footsteps coming towards the room. 

Seeing him look towards the door you followed his eyes as it opened, standing in the frame was him, "Edward?"

Looking over to the bed his face split into a large smile when he saw his lass awake and sitting up. "Y/n darling you're awake." 

"Yep, doing good too. She should be able to get up and move about a bit but nothing too exerting." Marco told them. 

"I'll make sure of it." Grinning and giving a nod he saw Marco look to the flowers in his hand and raise his brows. 

"Well I am going to head out. I'll get Zel to bring over your clothes." 

"Thank you." you told the small man and saw him nod as he turned to walk by Edward, only coming up to the man's knee. Hearing another door shut you looked back to Ed and saw him move towards you. 

Holding out the bouquet of white flowers he smiled and rubbed the back of his neck. "Here ya go lass." 

Looking down at the daffodils you felt a warmth in your chest that flowed up to your cheeks. Smiling softly you reached out to take them from him. "Thank you Ed." Observing the beautiful flowers you smiled, there was even a purple ribbon tied around them and already you could smell their pleasant scent. Raising your eyes back to him you saw him only looking down at you with a soft smile. 

Moving to sit on the bed beside her he took a deep breath, "You know you had me scared there for a moment darling. I didn't know if you were going to make it." he said, looking down and feeling his lip twitch. Looking up to meet her eyes he glanced to the bruises and cuts on her face. "You took a bullet for me and while I am grateful I don't ever want you to do something like that again." seeing her brows knit he shook his head when he saw her go to speak. "No. You are never to put yourself in danger like that again. Promise me y/n." 

Taking a deep breath you said nothing and saw his brows lower. 

"Y/n." he grunted.

"I can't make a promise that I don't know I will be able to keep." you said softly and saw his hand move up to rub his face and pinch the bridge of his nose. 

"You have to be the most stubborn women I have ever met." he grumbled. 

Giggling a little you grinned and smelled at the flowers. "I'll take it as a compliment." seeing him give you a small glare, making you smile more he shook his head. Looking towards the window again you saw rolling green hills with a few other homes or buildings here and there. This didn't look like anywhere in Montant you had ever seen. Knitting your brows you took another look around the room that now you thought about it looked more like a bedroom. Seeing a white hat sitting on the dresser with yellow trim and what looked like a pirate symbol on the front you also noted the other personal items here and there throughout the room. Before you knew it you heart started beating a little faster. "Umm Ed.... where are we?"

#edward newgate #feedback would be appreciated #edward newgate x reader #Whitebeard #whitebeard one piece #one piece whitebeard #whitebeard x reader #marco the phoenix #soulmate au

[whirlybirdwhat]

Accidental Family Man Au

remember that one ask where I talked about some projects? This is one of them. Enjoy dad franky!

So it begins with Franky – a back alley repair in the illustrious mechanic city of Water 7 – a miracle engineering city, they call it, with intertwining roads of cars and rivers. Venice, if Venice was made of concrete and had a road system above its water system, twisting above houses and everything.

Franky used to be one of those engineers that created those miracles, but an accident later, and he’s the scourge of the city and half bionic, making his living in back alley repair shops where you either pay with cash or your life.

He never said he was a good guy, did he Ice Burg?

 He still has connections though – and these connections lead to Iceburg, and to the Straw Hats.

 Iceburg’s the mayor, of course, and while he doesn’t care much for his public image, he knows that if he starts accepting money from shady kids who showed up to his doorstep possibly covered in blood with a woman who he swears he’s seen before beside him, that maybe Water 7’s people will take a hit for harboring criminals.

But hey, He knows a guy already doesn’t he?

So he sends these kids and their broken van down to the Franky House to see if he would fix their beloved, broken, van.

The Straw Hats never reach it, because the woman (Robin) gets kidnapped and a fight breaks out, leading to the separation of the group,

So the story really begins with Franky and the little broken down RV called The Going Merry, previously belonging to the kid who’s standing in front of him, begging him to fix it.

More Hcs Below cut including actual dad Franky stuff lol

That kid is Usopp, and he’s asking because Franky’s the only repair man in the illustrious city of Water 7 that will possibly accept the cash that Usopp has to offer.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he attempts to kick the kid out and gets kidnapped in return.

Oops

 So, Franky’s introduced to Ennies Lobby one of the worst places this side of the country – where people go and never come back, and hey, whats this kid doing kicking down the door?

Safe to say, Franky is rescued, and learns a little more of their story.

And Safe to say, Franky sees the woman they are going to save (him, and a bunch of teenagers and some 12 year old brat) and he near damn falls in love with her on sight and definitely does when he actually talks to her.

They save Robin, and start running – of course, Merry the van is just barely struggling to save all their added weight but they make it but also merry’s totaled.

So Franky shows them his pet project, The Thousand Sunny, supposed to be his super get away, home a way from home rv but with a few modifcations… the Straw Hat Gang has a new home. And a new crew member.

Franky learns everyone’s stories and about all the absolutely shady shit they are into. He learns he fits right in.

 And then… then the moments start happening.

He helps Usopp fix up the Sunny, and teachers him about cars and such. 

He and Chopper start bonding over bionics and medical shit that went into building his body. 

Zoro and him geek out over comic heroes (this, at least in zoro’s part, is canon the big nerd.) 

He helps Nami out with some headings and listens to her troubles. 

Sanji and him go fishing one day and it’s the most surreal experience of Franky’s life because this teen is in a three-piece suit and catching giant fish out on the shore of some lake? What? 

Franky gives Luffy advice and pulls him out of fights and shows him cool robot things.

 And its two months in when Franky realizes – here is it actually typed out lmao

“In all honesty, Franky doesn’t know how it happens.

Well.

He has a vague idea.

(Can you save her? Please? Merry’s the best.)

But still – tracing the events that led up to him frantically calling Ice-for-brains at one am in the morning at a near abandoned gas station on the west coast was a hard task.

“Hello?”

Finally.

“Ice-for-brains,” He starts using the familiar name.

“Flunky? The hell? What are you calling me now?”

“Iceberg.” The use of his real name quiets him. He knows this is serious. Franky takes a deep breath, and exhales, saying the next words in a single breath. “I accidently became a dad to six crazy teenagers. Help.”

…

“Goddamnit bastard-berg this is no time to laugh!””

AND THEN HE GOES ON TO HAVE MORE DAD ADVENTURES INCLUDING:

Organizing the kids at Sabaody Park

being emotional support for all these kids trauma please world, give them a break

doing his best to say no to allowing luffy to swim with sharks but giving in anyway

being a component (aka fierce menacing bodyguard) in his daughter’s nami’s schemes

breaking up fights

 Attempting to ground known criminals who may or may not be stronger than him

Modifying the RV so that they can have Brook and Jimbe on it as well

“MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS!”

Overthrowing the government in at least three different countries because his kids wanted to

Doing experiments with illegal fireworks on Usopp’s behest

“Do you want to play catch” “Franky that’s dynamite that we found in the stach what the fuck- “Do you want to play catch” “…Yes.”

Explaining Safe Sex to teenagers who have biggers worries such as the government

Teaching them all how to drive. He thinks hius heart has popped out of his chest.

Snoring loudly on their tiny couch and everyone just dogpiling on him

Also I had this in my notes

So that’s a thing that’s going to happen!

Uh anyway uh PART TWO – THE OTHER FCKING STRAWHATS

Note: Everyone is aged down three years from pre TS ages  to enforce the fact that 1) the government is fucking nuts for assigning bounties to these kids in this au 2) give more dad moments as while we all need a dad in our lives at any age it gives me more plausible reason here 3) plot related issues and the fact that this story takes place over several years and 4) the image of a 14 year old taking down the government is hilarious to me.

So.

Moving on.

Luffy – 14 years old and an absolute bastard

Luffy grew up in the port city of Fuusha as a way for Garp to keep an eye on him because of his family connections and make sure nothing bad happened to him -  didn’t quite work out.

dads a terrorist, his brothers a world class criminal, his gramps is an abusive piece of shit but also weirdly protective marine officer, his family’s complicated. 

 he grew up in the seedy underbelly of the city and made friends with a lot of criminals (who helped him get out because hey that five year old who used to steal our food is a brat and maybe we should help him get out before he becomes to chaotic (too late) and becomes our friend (also too late) )

Among these criminals are Shanks, who wanders through once in a while, Buggy, begrudging friend,  Jimbe, because he has connections, Crocodile, because this brats a bastard, and Rayleigh, among others.

Annoys them to make him his friend, continues annoying them afterwards.

 He just thinks they’re neat.

Luffy leaves two months after Ace, his brother under Dadan’s, the local gang leaders, roof, leaves because Ace can’t tell him to stay behind anymore

but the govt got word now he’s on the run – Coby helps him escape

As such, Luffy grows up with a very very skewed moral compass as in canon but a bit more, and now literally is almost ten times more feral as he should be.

  His goal is now to do whatever he wants, without people telling him what to do or that he can’t do that – He’s going to be free, damnit.

Franky understands and learns over time to adjust his Parenting Skills accordingly

Zoro – 16 and illegally owning a motorcycle because he thought the best way to improve his skill was to go out and hunt down people to fight, and of course he needs a motorcycle to do that, doesn’t he?

 He was pulled over for speeding then taken in for being underage

 He is also caught up in some bad stuff (fight circles, bounty’s, etc. this kids 16 and breaking grown men’s spines.)

Then comes Luffy who was also arrested for dine and dashing and is in the back seat.

 Luffy, who after the police car pulls over, punches out the police officer, unlocks Zoros cuffs and tells him “Drive”

 So they drive

“Hey, hey Zoro. Join my crew. It’ll be fun.”

 “Anything you say captain”

 knows Luffy for three seconds and is immediately down to murder with him

 Its great

He wants to become the greatest sword fighter still, which is still a thing in my fantasy modern world, so anyway, picture this 16 year old going up to you and tell you to fight but he has a sword in his mouth and in both hands and the most dangerous look in his eye.

 He and Luffy immediately rob a sword shop to find him new swords after they meet, it becomes a thing later on where they will steal (horribly, they literally crash in through the window every time because they have no subtly) something small from each city they visit. 

Nami - 15 year old pick pocket in the city where luffy and zoro stop, just trying to scrap up some money to pay off her family’s debt.

 Bellmere’s still alive damnit.

Nami thought Zoro and Luffy were police originally (because they are driving around in stolen police car) and tried to pull the ‘oh officer help me’ card when the people she stole from chased after her

 To her surprise, it was two kids her age in the front seat.

Luffy: “get in”

 she gets in

they dont talk about it

The people who were chasing her was Buggy’s gang who Luffy waves at as he goes by

 Buggy sends a message to Shanks which is essentially “hey that brat u liked is still alive”

And Shanks is like “oh thank god” not knowing the terror he has unleashed upon the world

A month later Arlong has mysteriously disappeared and the Bell-mere farm is flourishing while the second daughter becomes a world class criminal.

 Bell’meres never been prouder and it gives Nojiko a great conversation starter.

Usopp’s 14 and lives in a trailer park called syrup alone

Has a business where he sells odd herbs and such, passing them off as anything that will get him some money – think of it as Toad Oil from Wano but with some popgreens and such mixed in.

His goal is get enough money to stand on his own and leave the park but its slow going. And then…

 Luffy punches the heck outta the creep that was creeping on the owner of the park, kaya, and think’s Usopp’s stories are super cool.

Usopp wants to go with them, to explore the world With Luffy.

At this point, the Straw Hats have realized that driving a stolen police car around is a bad idea

so they take the huge van - a gift from Kaya named The Going Merry, and set off, using Nami’s stolen funds to get them by.

Sanji - 16 year old who longs to be a chef with the best food and just wants to feed people who need it

He hates government cause they don’t feed people and has a lot of petty grudges and helps Zeff run a lot of kitchens to help people.

 He’s still the Sous chef of the Baratie and still has a penchant for kicking unruly customers around. Baratie has a less then stellar reputation for service but the food? The best in the land.

 He feeds Luffy the food.

  Luffy likes the food.

Luffy kidnaps Sanji

Zeff worries about it but he can’t do jack since he actually is not Sanjis legal guardian (he kidnapped the kid first on accident after they both were stranded. He still tries to call anyway, and is proud of the change his son is making in the world. He’s currently working to get suspicious government people off his back about his missing Sous chef with the unique curly eyebrow…

Anyway, Sanji becomes the cook for the strawhats and is really happy because everyone likes his food and he can help anyone along the way and send business to the baratie

Its a good deal for him, and with all the places he visits his skill grows as a chef.

Chopper - 12 year old prodigy who really wants to be a doctor but both his legal guardians are out of the way

Hiruluks dead and Kureha, against her will because she’s still beautiful at 100 dammnit, is in a nursing home trying to break out

 Chopper has nowhere to go but still tries to pursue his medical career, and this fucking twelve year old does so by patching up people from bar and gang fights.

The Straw Hats pick him up and Usopp hacks into a govt control thing to sign him up for online medical course

Kureha’s proud and gives him a book of pressed cherry blossoms that was Hiruluk’s

  He cries

Chopper gets lots of practice for medical stuff with Luffy and Zoro who like to fight in fighting rings just for the heck of it, and for the money that Nami wants.

Robin – 25 year old depressed archeologist (and assassin) they found in a mafia in the next country over (Vivi’s)

Crocodile’s running it, aka Luffy’s criminal uncle number 500

 Luffy’s pissed about it and smacks him into the dust because it’s his friends country, and then drags Robin along because she needs to have some adventure, and hey, they are checking out the ruin’s next, wont that be cool?

 So robin comes along as the ‘adult super vision’, at least in Nami and Usopp and Chopper’s mind.

She learns that these kids have some how been able to dodge school, and starts teaching them the basics of what they would need to know, and then any thing else they want to know. (Zoro, she finds, is extremely good at math while Sanji enjoys chemistry. Nami and Usopp catch on quick, while Chopper has his own studies already but enjoys talking to her. Luffy dislikes learning, but if the promise of pirates or foods or letters that wont spin in his head is involved, he’ll gladly sit down for a bit. He especially loves the stories however.)

Robin finds herself inching dangerously into mom territory, and accepts it whole heartedly after meeting Franky, who she finds handsomely hilarious.

She has a shady past but is slowly opening up about it, and knows she will watch the world burn for this crew.

Y’all know about Franky already so im gonna move on.

Brook – super fucking Old musician they found on the street looking for his dog Laboon

 He used to be a star but lost his fame but doesn’t care – he  only wants to make people happy with his music.

Luffy just straight up just drags him into the sunny, its becoming a habit of him kidnapping people, that’s not how you make friends Luffy (or at least it shouldn’t be – he always seems to make it work.)

 Everyone just goes with it at this point while Franky sighs and triie sto figure out how to make a giant RV even bigger

The Crew find out his dog is living in luffy’s home town and used to play with Luffy when his friends weren’t around. They vow to go back once everything dies down, but in the mean time Dadan gets a new guard dog in her house hold

Usopp posts one (1) video of Brook (on Halloween in skeleton make up) and he instantly becomes a revived star, thriving on the mytery of the Skeleton Soul King.

He now posts videos from around the world of him singing but its impossible to predict where he will be next, and he’s invisible with out his make up to the internet, so its good for the whole criminal thing.

Jimbe

(best) Criminal uncle 501

 No one knows exactly how he knows luffy beyond luffy himself but they are 90% sure its something to do with the underground warlord system that Luffy has connections too

 He gives the best hugs, Uncle Iroh but without the well-meaning manipulation.

 He’s tired of responsibility that he has in his underground position and kinda wants to fuck off to the Caribbean but then he meets luffy again and is like this is better

He Leaves the fishman gang behind with subordinate in charge and joins strawhats

He becomes stressed - “Why did you choose an archeologist and a man who wears speedos for adult supervision, how are you alive, do you need a hug, do you know basic math, have you even gone to school, oh thank god Robin is here - ”

Two minutes later

“Do you have code names, can I have one,”

 He’s a big faker the dummy everyone can see right through you, you’re aren’t on this crew if you have common sense

Between dad moments, essentially its just the Straw hats breaking in and causing havoc where ever they go, building their bounties and being a found family.

That’s it for now, but please ask questions! Sorry this was so long lmao, ill also add something for Vivi later!

#hvdfjsagkuh agh now ill never write it cause typed this all out WHATEVR #UGH TAGS #franky #luffy #icebarg #monky d luffy #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #zoro #nami #usopp #sanji #chopper #robin #brook #jimbe #dadan #garp #dragon #ace #sabo #op #opau #one piece #modern au #accidental family man #jinbe #jimbei #whirlywhat #whirlywrites

[eyeslikefoxglove]

Episode 20 - ChenQing Syndrome & Tangents everywhere

Hello cupcakes, and welcome to episode 20. How’s everyone doing? I hope y’all are as safe and can be. I’m pretty sure I need to sleep for at least 24h because I am exhausted so forgive me if I’m suuuuuper low energy.

On another news I am officially mosquito bait. Yay.

I don’t know if I said so in the previous commentary but I Do Not Vibe with eyeballs so yeah.

Speaking of eyeballs, here is what happened the last time my mum and me consumed a medical drama in public. We decided to go to the cinema to watch The Physician, and in the intro credits there is a tray with a pair of eyeballs by a scalpel and my mum, who’s a GP goes (without lowering her voice of course):

“Those are not human eyeballs, too big, they’re probably cow’s”

I swear the whole row just turned around to give us A Look and I haven’t felt more like a serial killer since I started giggling (again in the cinema) watching Death Proof. So there you have it, I lose my shit when tv doctors do bad medicine and she makes ominous comments that make me want to explain to everyone that no, we don’t dismember people for fun.

Listen, necromancy is whatever, but “Imperio-Ing” people into harming themselves and making them hallucinate by playing the flute is what would freak me the fuck out about WWX ngl. I mean, I know he’s a good egg, but he’s Havana Syndrome-ing this bitch and that gives me chills.

Oh I love this shot of one WWX’s eyes cast in light. Cinematography on point as always.

Ok ok ok I am going to go on a terrible tangent in here. I know that in the book shit was even worse, with the cannibalism and JiaoJiao shoving a whole chair leg down her throat but there’s something that’s always caught my attention. If I’m not mistaken she bit off WC’s dick. Now call it a coincidence that WWX took advantage of, but, because I’m The Worst ™️ it made me think. If I’ve learnt something about Criminal Minds is that you don’t go after someone’s bits unless:

a) you’re a sexual sadist and can’t get off any other way (which WWX is not nor is he killing for sexual gratification)

b) those bits have gone near you when you didn’t want them to and it is revenge.

I mean, same way I didn’t want to make you wonder what WWX ate trapped in a mass grave for three months I don’t want to make you think about this but I need to get if off my chest.

Oh hey, now that I think about it the cannibalism could also be personal because again, they yeeted him into a palace full of corpses where “nothing grows”. God I hate my own brain sometimes.

Did these two just walk up to the front door of the Supervisory Office? I mean, the guards are all dead so it is fine, but that’s one shit strategy.

... that’s one ineffective way of tying a hangman’s noose.

JC IS BEING SOFT WITH WQ OMG!

YOU ARE BREAKING MY HEART. STOP. (Watch me go read ChengQing fics after this is done)

JC: is there anyone more wicked that the Wen Clan?

Me: *takes a deep breath* how much time do you have?

Gotta give it to WWX, the boy knows how to set the mood.

Yup yup I’m cackling.

Go my creepy necromancer son!

(Once again, I cheer when someone gets shanked)

(Once again, assume I’m screaming about the cinematography)

Bless LWJ’s brain cell, I remember when I first watched this being super worried about these two also getting ChenQing Syndrome.

So is the Red Woman an actual entity or is she an anthropomorphization of what he’s doing to them? Am I assigning too much Poe to this scene?

JC and LWJ straight up jumped through the ceiling to save WWX I love them. (But think, if they’ve been slightly slower and WZL had realised there wasn’t a core to melt, oh the delicious delicious canon divergences we could have)

Now that’s an effective noose.

THAT HUG WAS TOO SHORT! AND WWX WAS GOING TO RECIPROCATE BUT JC STOPED NOOOOOO. (Again JC looks like he gives the best hugs)

Misdirecting WWX is misdirecting.

Aaaaaand you can see the PTSD start to rear its ugly heard the second they want to know where he was the last three months.

WWX: *starts spinning bullshit*

JC: *relaxes his frown and eyerolls*

Aw bb he was really worried. I mean, it is still misdirection but I can see how JC inexperienced as he is with trauma (and dealing with his own) could interpret that as his baby brother just being himself.

Aw they’re falling back into being their soft yet prickly selves I die.

Nope LWJ! I know that you’re worried and shit but the last thing you want to do to someone with WWX’s trauma is trigger their fight or flight response by asking questions and making them sound like accusations.

(Also, interlude to say, WWX seems super reluctant to admit he fucked with the talismans, which fair enough, I’m thinking his trauma conga line is probably making him think he’ll get in trouble if he admits it or they’ll start distrusting him. But really looks like simple curiosity to me)

I’m just gonna scream incoherently at my screen because they are doing it fucking wrong.

Me with other fandoms: KISS GODDAMNIT

Me with this one: COMMUNICATE

DRAG HIM (ok GusuLan) WWX. I know LWJ only wants to make sure WWX is safe and healthy and loved but listen, he doesn’t have the full picture, he is still somewhat naive about you know, the amount his idols can disappoint him. Yes, it is exacerbated by WWX raising his hackles and his overall paranoia but; GusuLan is where the Sect Leader and the second in command (I know Netflix calls LQR “grandmaster” but I also know the translation is incorrect) decided that lashing their own family was an appropriate corrective. I’m not even going to go into the genocide victims or the reasons for the punishment but yeah, lashing. It hasn’t happened yet, but the potential is there, and as much of a self-sacrificing idiot as WWX is he must have some survival instincts if he lived in the streets for years, I’m not saying they don’t get negated when someone he loves is in danger, but you know, they have to be there. I think his brain has been *Kill Bill sirens* about GusuLan for a long time and now the guy who lives and breathes by their rules wants him to go back? Yeah I absolutely think it is valid that he thought the “help” he was gonna get would be horrifying punishment to “put him in the right path”. Do I see a fuck ton of parallels btw GusuLan and abusive Bible-thumping religious fanatical groups? Ok yeah, my b probably, but I Can’t Unsee.

And again, I know LWJ just wants to keep him safe and I know he’s an awkward potato but this one is on him. WWX is in no emotional place to play “guess WangJi” and it might make his soul shrivel up and die inside but a Long Conversation should be had.

Ok, allow me to go on another fucking tangent, there aren’t enough already. I’ve seen posts saying that western people misinterpret LWJ’s short and blunt speech (is short speech something you say in English?) as him being awkward/clamming up/not liking to talk when it actually is considered a very elegant thing to be able to get your point across with as few words as possible, because our culture values eloquence. First of all, I’ve seen that point made with the English language, and I’m Spanish, I don’t know if it affects my point of view but we also have the same idea of getting to the point ASAP here, it isn’t like the height of elegance but it is very common. That’s not my reasoning to say LWJ is an introverted/awkward potato, although it influences it. Because I’ve seen the show a few times, and because YiBo is the patron saint of micro-expressions, I’ve caught several instances in which, after pleasantries are done, a stranger tries to talk to LWJ and he get the tiniest “oh shit people want to have a conversation someone save me” look on his face. The most notable one is when YunmengJiang is trying to get into Cloud Recesses.

Just because someone can be a good conversationalist doesn’t mean they actually like to talk to people or be around them.

Bless JC to the rescue.

Btw regardless of me going off about LWJ’s lack of communication it doesn’t mean I’m not side eyeing WWX for unleashing on people who are not at fault for his trauma.

LET MY YUNMENG SIBS BE HAPPY GODDAMNIT

So that’s all for this episode. I’m so sorry for my tangents, I can’t contain myself. Thanks for reading!

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #mdzs live action #foxglove watches cql #foxglove watches the untamed #lan wangji #wei wuxian #wangxian #jiang cheng #yunmeng shuangjie #yunmeng bros #commentary

[brian-wellson]

(( CW — this one is disturbing, possibly triggering. ))

I.

“More wine?” asked Jennifer. The sommelier moved effortlessly across the room toward the assemblage of bottles she had brought from her own collection. Her long, white dress barely brushed the gleaming, varnished floor, a stark contrast to the black gemstones of her necklace and bracelet set.

“Mmhmm,” replied Cliara. “Something from the northlands.” The ren’dorei’s ears twitched in anticipation. Wellson had never seen her dressed up before. True, while not a traditional outfit, her ugly Winter Veil sweater was festive enough. Plus, it reminded him of Trin, and the night she —

“Let’s see... I have a 30 year Alterac Pinot Noir, and ... hm,” muttered Jennifer as she searched through the bottles. “A few different Gilnean brandies of various ages and vineyards.”

“Brandy,” said Cliara. Jennifer did not move. Cliara rolled her eyes. “Please.”

Jennifer smiled and poured out a rather generous amount of brandy. “VSOP, from a old vineyard in the Highlands,” she said, placing the snifter in front of the ren’dorei. After watching her try the brandy, Jennifer turned to Glenice — a woman who had, not unexpectedly, attempted to look anything but the naval investigator she was.

“Three fingers, scotch, thanks,” Glenice said, never taking her eyes off of Wellson.

He was sitting at the right side of the still-empty head of the table. Across from him, Cliara; next to her, Jennifer; across from Jennifer, Justine; at the opposite head of the table, Glenice. Others had joined and come and left, too. Henry and Elunara. Birdhat. Gwen. They had come by to say hello and have a bit of eggnog; well, all except for Gwen, who picked something from her hair and had hesitantly given it to him as a present. All the while, Wellson and Justine and Nihil had been cooking, together, just as they had in years prior. Their dinner was largely over. The cottage was filled with the scents of roasted fowl, braised boar shank, maple glazed parsnips. And, of course, the stone-fruit pies baking in the background.

Everyone who had attended that evening was rather tipsy at this point. Wellson glanced out toward the dining room. The fireplace crackled, like a good dwarven hearth fire. The guests were laughing, talking; he wondered why these particular people had even shown up in the first place when his true friends, they had not. To be sure, Wellson had to admit that he was confused. With the exception of Jennifer and Cliara, none of the other attendees had been invited. Indeed, the others believed to have invited — Kyara and Juniper, Dr Thalsian, and Quai (and her horrible brother) — had not shown up at all. He had not expected them all to attend, though a raven message or two would have been nice. He grimaced to himself.

“You good, boss?” asked Justine as she dusted the pies with confectionary sugar. In the background, Nihil, her half-elf lover, was filling the port glasses.

He looked over toward Justine. “Fine,” he replied with a chuckle. “Though I am starting to tire.”

Justine set down the confectionary sugar. “Go sit down. Wait. She will show up,” she said.

Wellson nodded. She will. She always does.

II.

He took his seat next to the empty head of the table. Soon, pie and port were delivered to each guest. The dark berries of the pie reminded him of Gooseberries or of cherries. They smelled heavenly, a rich bouquet of dark jam; he had been insistent that they boil the berries down as much as possible. The black juices ran out of the pie, and — when set against the white porcelain of the dishes — looked like small pools of blood.

“Now, I know it’s customary to have a glass of port prior to the pie, to raise a glass to those we love,” he said, nodding toward Quai’s empty chair, “and to those whom we may even begrudgingly respect...”

Glenice looked up toward him. She massaged her scarred throat, took a stiff shot of scotch, and nodded.

“However, Quai would kill me if I drank this without her here, so I think that is something we shall avoid,” he said, adding, “Besides, there is some in the pie already.”

“At least you know something about your partner,” quipped Glenice. She took another hit from the scotch.

“That’s not really fair, Major,” said Justine, raising her voice. “He knows far more about you than he’d ever say.”

Glenice shrugged, remaining silent.

“Besides,” said Nihil, “it wasn’t you who found the person who hurt me.”

Wellson looked over toward her. Her delicate elven features flashed into a bruised and disfigured mess for an instant. An image of bloodied brass knuckles flashed through his mind. He blinked. Everything was normal. What was that?

“Yeah, yeah,” said Glenice.

Wellson cleared his throat. It was getting a bit stuffy in the room. He took up one of the garnishes he had used for the boar shank. Like an orchid, it was pink and white, though with voluminous (half-eaten) petals. He turned it over in his hands. He had missed beauty such as this — this simple flower, these respected peers, a room which, even while stuffy, still smelled delightful. The fire continued to crackle on as the group enjoyed their pie. Cliara and Justine, they actually managed to get along quite well, despite the latter’s well known dislike of anything sin’dorei related.

“How is the monster hunting business,” asked Wellson.

Cliara looked slightly embarrassed. “Fine,” she mumbled. She dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “I’m trained well, out in the field. Seen some crazy things. You know,” she said.

“Make it up to Northrend yet?”

“No, don’t think so.”

“Avoid Grizzly Hills.”

“Why?”

“Just... please do,” he said.

“I go where the business takes me, Brian,” she said.

“Fair,” he conceded.

As the pies were eaten, a growing feeling of malaise began to sink in. Was she coming? he wondered, flipping the velvet box in his pocket.

“She’ll be here, boss,” said Justine. She knew.

“And I,” said Glenice, way more than half-in-the-bag, “need a gryphon ride home. What do you think, Commissary Hotchner?”

“Indeed.” Jennifer nodded. “As much as I would love to stay for a toast, I do have my own life to which I must attend.” She shook her head. “No one likes executing a funeral in the cold,” she said. Jennifer crossed her lips with her fingers, a black ‘x’ it had left behind faded to nothing. Wellson could feel himself doing the same, though not remembering why. “And I do not wish to keep the Vicar waiting. You know how impatient she can be,” she said.

The group bid the two good evening. Justine and Nihil, neither of whom were drinkers, left for the back bedroom, and, soon enough, Cliara was called away via her commstone; apparently, there was a ship heading north, toward the dwindling war, and she was needed. A gust of wind blew the door open, and she excused herself before vanishing into the dark. She did not close the door. Grumping to himself, Wellson stood. He wiped his brow. Certainly the fire was not this hot, he thought. And, just as he was about to shut it, Quai was there, standing before him. With a woman.

III.

“You came...” he gasped.

“Oi, ya, so did I, bruv,” said the other woman.

“J-Jocelyn...?”

The two long-departed siblings stared at each other for a moment. Wellson saw the glint of his mother’s charm bracelet on Jocelyn’s wrist. A lump formed in his throat; he could swear that, off in the distance, he could hear her being hacked to pieces...

“You gonna let us in or make us freeze?”she asked.

Wellson gestured. “C-come in, please,” he said, hurriedly.

He watched as the two entered the room. They moved timidly. Maybe they were just cold still, he thought. “Please, please come in. Let me take your overcoats. We can dry them by the fire,” he said.

The two women exchanged a confused glance. They took off their overcoats as suggested. He hung them on a black, cast iron coatrack near the hearth. It no longer felt as hot as it had. He massaged his chest; his heart, it was skipping beats. Seeing Quai made him nervous, apparently.

“I ... am so glad y-you made it,” he iterated, taking his seat. He gestured for Quai to sit at the head of the table. She did so reluctantly. Jocelyn wandered into the kitchen. “Justine is going to be thrilled to see you,” he said.

Quai raised an eyebrow. “Justine?”

“Mm... I had the Major and the Commissary here, too, but they’ve ugh —” he said, gripping his stomach. Quai began to look about the table, eyes locking onto the half-eaten flower. In addition, there were glasses of all kinds, wine and liquor bottles of rare vintage, and not a single crumb on the table at any other place-setting than his. Perhaps more alarmingly, while every seat had an unconsumed glass of port, her’s did not. And the boot flask she had given him was the table’s centrepiece, where a candelabra should have been.

“What did you have?” she asked. She took his hand. It was clammy. “For dinner, I mean.”

Wellson undid his collar. “Roasted boar-shank, garnished with an orchid; local duck, stuffed and baked; maple-glazed parsnips; and an amazing stone-fruit pie. Nihil did an outstanding job.” He offered her the best smile he could.

“N-Nihil,” stammered Quai. Not good. “Where are they now, Justine and Nihil?”

Wellson’s face flushed. “The back bedroom,” he said.

“Jocelyn!” Quai called.

“Wot ya want now? I was just gonna have some of this fuckin’ pie. Smells fuckin’ great, lady.”

“Before you do,” said Quai, her voice singsong-like, “Check the back bedroom.”

“But... but pie!” whined Jocelyn.

Quai frowned™. “Do it now.”

Rather alarmed by Quai’s tone, Jocelyn stomped through the cottage. “Some fuckin’ reunion...” she mumbled.

After she had left the room, Wellson removed the small velvet box from his pocket. He opened it. The ring inside, it shined — sparkling as so many nights under the stars.

“My grandmother’s ring,” whispered Quai. A tear slipped down her cheek.

“Will you...?”

“Brian...”

Quai took the ring, turning it over in her hand.

“Your g-grandfather s-said...”

“I know,” she said, softly. She placed the ring back in the box. “I will take this, ok? Keep it safe until...” She shifted uneasily.

Jocelyn stumbled back into the room. “Ain’ no one back there,” she said. “Pie. Now.”

Quai snapped her fingers. Wellson did not hear it; Jocelyn did, though, and she stared. “No pie for you,” Quai spat. “Nor for anyone else.”

Wellson was confused. No pie? For his own sister? He blinked his eyes. The elaborate, warm decor he had envisioned began to dissolve. Chestnut turned to decrepit, grey wood; an overchair into a stool. His once white-clothed table, barren except for his own paltry meal, and glasses here and there. No fire in the hearth. His cheek twitched. “Quai, I don’t feel...” he managed. His mind began to ring:

...we have a pact...

“Stay here with me?” he sputtered.

She replied. He could not understand her. She swiped at the glass of port in his hand, but missed. She watched as he drained the glass. The port would end it — she knew.

“T-this was all f-for you...” he said, eyes locked onto the ring in the box. “Y-you... Andrew... to live...”

Quai said something once again. Her voice was louder, yet he still could not understand her; her words, they made no sense.

As the room grew dimmer and dimmer, Wellson felt his sister come back into the room. He could feel himself being laid on his side. He could feel his body go rigid, back-breakingly so. He could no longer see. His heart was skipping beats, slowing over time. Someone forced something into his mouth. He could feel himself vomit. The whispers in his mind finally died away. For the first time since Darkshore, he felt peaceful.

“Q-Quai...” he whispered. “Elune help...”

He reached an unsteady arm upward. Someone took it. Someone told him he was going to be ok, that they would see him recover. His body felt like it was being squeezed, like before he had left the Manor. And then, then he could hear screaming. He could hear crying. And then everything simply faded — until nothing remained.

Nothing.

— — • — —

( @quai-mason @jocelyn-wellson / @glenicemorcant @mastersommelierjennifer @justinegrotius @seattlebourne / @killerkyara @juniper-rose-blower @thalsianiii // cc: @risrielthron )

(( Disclaimer: If you or someone you know is in crisis, please call your doctor, call 911, or go directly to the Emergency Trauma Centre. ))

#wellson #uh oh #wow rp #wyrmrest accord #darkshore #death scene #in state #the end

[wooden--spoon]

Family is who you choose

On Thursday my grandfather passed away, he was seventy-two. Due to the current limits put on our society, I could only take part in the funeral via a pixelated Zoom feed. It still doesn’t quite seem real, like all of my emotions are muted, or coming through a sieve.  

 I only met Papa once in the first six years of my life — I lived in the United States, he lived in Malaysia.  However, in September 2002, my family left Minnesota to move to the north coast of NSW. At the same time, Papa left Malaysia, along with my teenaged aunties, Rachel and Leah.  Together, my mum, dad, brother, aunties, Papa and myself lived in a loud brick house with tile floors on the banks of a murky canal for the next two years. When I first met him he had tanned, angular features and a hair line that would foresee my owns recession. He could be a grumpy SOB, often locking himself in his room for hours on end reading, barely saying a word to anyone. He was in contrast to the grandfather I had left behind in Minnesota, but over the years I learned to appreciate the ways he showed his love, which was almost always through his actions rather than his words. By the time Rachel, Leah and Papa moved out, we had lived up to what we technically already were: a family.  

 There are seven people that called Papa dad. Not all of them had his blood running through their veins, but all of them were his children. He was the head of our family, a family that has stretched across the globe and then retracted again. Growing up in Australia I got to know every one of them, living near them all throughout my life. Now in the age of Covid-19, we cannot be together to remember him.  

 Many of my relationships with family are built on food, however with Papa it was not the force of our bond. For us it was always sport, and in later years’ politics. But in life food is ever present, so there are always memories. Sadly, as many anecdotes from his eulogy attest, his cooking was never spectacular. In his final decade he wrapped his head around a slow cooker, but prior to that it was mostly unbalanced pastas and maybe a snag here and there. Still, there was a cheese plater on the table whenever we arrived, and a bowl of chips whenever the footy was on.  

 I know when this mess is over, we will all be together to remember him. For now, we have to settle for our memories. One night comes to mind that illustrates just how special a man he was, and the sort of family he created for us.

 ****

 Papa and Kate’s place in Goonengary sits atop tall stilts, a fading hardwood abode hovering above the forest. It is surrounded by a deck that stretches out into an undercover area where we celebrated Papa’s 70th birthday two years ago. From the deck you can see miles and miles of valley.  Far away, the hill on the other side rises up — a dark green sheet of wilderness.

 On right side of the deck were around 80 bottles of Papa’s Russian roulette homebrew. Some bottles (the good ones) are light and bubbly.  The rest (around a third), either explode in your hand or fizzle out, flat as a tack.  In my experience growing up around the man who brewed them, his moods could be the same. Sometimes exuberant (particularly on topic of his beloved Bombers), sometimes barely able to illicit a groan of discontent at the state of the world. The only way you can tell what you are going to get is by unscrewing the lid.

 The quiet there is that perfect Australian bushland quiet, broken only by birds and the sound of wallabies crashing through the thicket. Although sometimes humans do interfere, that day as we arrived, the cursing of my father reigned supreme while he struggled to park the van in the uneven spots provided.

 Kate and the dog, Bella, a black as midnight Kelpie/Labrador with a strong snout, met us at the top of the stairs.  Kate is the final woman in Papa’s life, a life that had produced children in all along the east coast as well as across the Indian Ocean. Kate is tall and sharp.  Her hair sits short and trimmed, giving her the air of being in charge, which she is.

 As always she greeted my brother Gus and I with a tight embrace, and a peck on the cheek.

‘How good of you to come all this way!’ she said loudly, easy in her role as de facto grandmother.  

 Around the back of the house, beyond the deck and up a tree, my uncle Adam is attaching a light to some branches, his feet perched unsteadily atop a wobbly ladder. His partner Tammy watching nervously from the safety of the ground. When he saw us, he hopped down with the agility of a man who has spent more than his fair share of time sailing.

 ‘Where’s Joey?’ my dad asked, sauntering over from the finally parked van.

 ‘Asleep, as per usual.’ Adam replied, referring to his ex’s daughter who had long ago become a functioning member of the Dennis family.

 Seeing my dad and Adam together brought a warmth to my chest and a smile to my face. They both stand short and stout, much like their father; all with small bellies, short legs and strong arms.  No doubt my future is similar, but now is not the time for fretting.  

 Born in Victoria before spending their early youth in Papua New Guinea where Papa had been an economic advisor, my dad and Adam had been inseparable. Boarding school in central NSW had only brought them closer. Now middle-aged, living in Sydney and Brisbane respectively, it is odd to think of the distance that separated them. I looked over at Gus, rubbing his eyes into action, I was happy he would soon be joining me in the Victoria. Now, two years later, the distance is reinstated, only we’ve swapped places, he in Melbourne and I in Brisbane.  

 That night the deck bubbled with the conversations of a family reunited, eager to gain snippets of information about each other’s lives:

‘So how is Melbourne?’

‘Are you still working at so-and-so’s?’          

‘Jeez, time really does fly doesn’t it?’

 Across the table sat the youngest contingent of the family, my cousins Josh (ten) and Piper (six). Both still had beautiful wispy curls, the type of hair that Gus had had when he was a toddler, before it turned into the dirty blonde bird’s nest it is today. It had been over a year since I saw either of them. I tried to hold back my comments on the topic, remembering the monotonous feeling of being on the other side of the conversation at family events like this.

 Despite the all-around contentedness, everyone had food on their minds. That night we were treated to a caterer, which was lucky, as Papa was known for his stubbornness around the BBQ and his ‘well-done’ (burnt) lamb chops; blackened meat that had still united us. I remember him showing me mint jelly for the first time when I was around ten, smearing on the flubberesque jelly from a Masterfoods jar onto his shank. He improved on the Webber over the next decade, but back then it was a saving grace.

  With the caterer in charge, smoke and steam emanated from the grill and covered the crowd in a blanket of hunger. We were in for a treat.  

 When we were called in it was worth the wait: spiced chicken thighs with the skin charred from the grill, were still bursting with lean white meat inside. The cartilage, a Dennis favourite, was easy to pull from the end of the bones, crunchy and ever so forgiving when chewed.  Alongside the chicken was a salad brimming with cashews and zingy from citrus. This was not the food of a usual Dennis gathering. Afterwards, all that remained were empty plates and stained white table cloths.  

 My aunt Leah took the role of MC, a little awkwardly at first but after a few sips of bubbles she was rolling. Slender and Malaysian, not many would pick her to be related to me, or anyone else here for that matter. Sadly, Rachel couldn’t make it, but was sending her regards from Germany via a pixelated skype call.  

 Leah brought Adam up to make a speech, a role handed to him as the only sibling who would enjoy making a speech. He pulled out his gift to my grandfather: two golden garden gnomes.  The first bowing cheerily, the other just as jovial, its middle finger raised to whoever may walk by. ‘They represent the lessons I have learned from my father, the gnomes of acceptance and resistance.’ The statues looked an awful lot like him and his father — only neither of the gnomes had Papa’s scowl in their repertoire.

 Ending on a teary note that further reflected how we all felt, looking into Papa’s eyes, Adam summed it up well, ‘you taught me family is who you choose.’

Julius Dennis

[dxmichelle]

The 12 Days of Fic-Mas (Day 10): Sapphire Road Snippet

Ideally, the entire chapter would have gone up, but I simply ran out of both time and motivation to get it done by the end of this challenge.

Instead, I have the entire first section of Chapter 6!

Hermione reached up once again and pulled at the bars to the window, and like the other three times she had already tried this – they didn’t budge. She had woken in the tower facing off the cliffside of the castle overlooking nothing but a vast desert standing between the Witch’s fortress and a large mountain far in the distance.

She sighed, rubbing at her arms as she turned back around. The tower was cold. Whoever put her in here took her beaded bag, and with it, all of her supplies. Which made her pause – who pulled her from the flowers? They made her so tired when they were trying to cross. Was it the winged cat creatures that brought her here? Seto wasn’t in the room with her, so was he elsewhere in the castle? Or did they leave him, possibly injured or worse, back in the fields?

A stray flower petal was stuck to her shirt and she plucked it away. She didn’t seem to be hurt. At least not physically. There was something, a feeling that she couldn’t place, that something wasn’t quite right. At the least, she guessed it was from waking, disoriented, from a nap that was anything but restful.

How could it? She had succumbed to some sort of magical sleep, and woke on the floor of the tower room that was sparsely furnished. A small dais sat in the center of the rounded room, with a tall, hard armchair set up in front of a massive crystal ball that had to be at least ten times bigger than anything she had ever seen in Professor Trelawney’s classroom. Both the chair and the crystal ball were covered in a fair amount of dust. Clearly, no one had spent much time in here.

The door to the tower was large and felt incredibly heavy when she pounded on it before, and it was predictably locked. If anyone heard the knocking from the other side, they didn’t acknowledge it.

There had to be a way to get out of here. Hermione gave another glance about the room. A broken mirror hung near the barred window, a small table bare of any decoration stood along the opposite side. She didn’t see anything that could get the door open, or knock the bars off the window.

There had to be something around she could use. The last thing she wanted was to find out what the Witch had in store for her. She needed to get out and find Seto. They could regroup and come up with a plan.

She swallowed, anxious, as she peered as well as she could out the window and down the tower. It was a long way down. Getting out safely that way was out of the question.  She tilted her head to see around one of the window bars and felt something cool against her neck.

Hermione froze. She wasn’t wearing any jewelry. But when she moved to stand before the broken mirror along the wall, she saw herself wearing a strange, metal collar. It definitely hadn’t been there when she and Seto entered this world, or he would have said something. He was observant; there was no possible way he would have completely overlooked it. Someone must have placed it on her while she was unconscious.

But why?

Some sort of runic inscription wrapped around the center and around to the back but it was impossible to tell what it said and didn’t look like anything she had ever seen in her three years of studying various runes.

Hermione reached up to tug at it and immediately yanked her hands away the instant they touched it. It was hot. …But how was that possible, to be cold on one side and the complete opposite on the other? If she really tried to take it off, she was likely to burn her hands. Not an ideal scenario.

…Until she knew what it was for, it would just have to stay on.

The latch on the other side of the door clicked and it swung open. Two winged cat creatures leapt inside, followed by a rather short woman in a tall pointed hat and glittering red shoes that clashed horribly with her pink dress.

The Witch flashed Hermione a wide, sugary smile, one Hermione was all-too-familiar with, and like all the times she had seen it before, knew it couldn’t possibly be genuine.

In a world where everyone they had so far come across resembled people that Seto mainly knew from Domino City, it was quite a shock – yet surprisingly fitting – to see the spitting image of Dolores Umbridge standing in front of her

“Well,” said the Witch, her voice full of the false sweetness that Hermione remembered from those two years at Hogwarts, “Isn’t this lovely? It isn’t often I have visitors! How very nice of you to come and visit me in my loneliness.”

“I didn’t come here by choice,” Hermione said.

Umbridge raised her eyebrows innocently. “Oh? I thought I was doing the proper thing and rescuing you from my garden. The very one you and your friend were attempting to cross to reach my castle. Only a fool would make the journey through the flora without proper protection…and you just waltzed right in.”

So it was the flowers that did her in. Suspicions validated. “What have you done with Seto? Where is he?”

“Seto? You mean the boy who was with you?” Umbridge’s wide smile transitioned into something awful. “Nothing. By now, he’s probably dead.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped. “What?!”

The Witch stepped closer to the crystal ball in the center of the tower and raised her hand over it. “Come, see for yourself.”

Hermione eyed the Witch cautiously before stopping on the other side of the crystal ball in time for the grey smoke inside to start to swirl around and change colors. It finally cleared out showing the field of flowers , and Seto, sprawled out in the flowerbed alongside the edge of the hidden sapphire road. The faint bits of smoke still swirling inside the ball made parts hard to see, but she thought she saw bits of red along the side of his face, and she had to hope those were only broken flower petals resting on his skin and nothing else.

Knowing that the cat creatures had tried to attack them more than once though…the odds were not in her favor.

Umbridge circled around her. “I’m sure you’re aware by now of the natural sedative emitted by the flowers. Why, if one isn’t careful they could go down for a quick nap without anyone else the wiser. And naturally, the longer you breathe in their deceptively pleasant aroma, the more potent it is. And if there isn’t anyone to wake you, why, you could just sleep forever!”

Umbridge slyly grinned at her cat demons. “I had instructed my pets to collect you both, after all, but I’m afraid they didn’t feel safe. Not after he roasted one of their own.”

“But – he would have been asleep!” Hermione said, “There was no need to leave him there!” She turned back to the crystal ball, pressed her hands against the cool surface and looked down at Seto again. He appeared to be sleeping, but she could only see him from about the neck up. What if one of the creatures ran him through with his sword, and then just left him? He could be dying and they were so far through the field that no one would be able to safely get him out without succumbing to the flowers’ magic themselves.

“Please,” Hermione pleaded, starting forward towards the Witch. She must have gotten a step too close for one of the cat monsters swooped down, snarling at her, and she immediately froze. “Don’t leave him there, he could die!”

“Well, he could already be,” the Witch said with a dismissive laugh. “Bringing him into my castle would have been out of kindness. But he managed to severely hurt one of my little darlings. I don’t need that sort of danger in my home,” Her grin widened. “Besides. I don’t need him. Only you.”

What? “…Why?”

Both Umbridge and one of the creatures took a step forward, and Hermione took an equal step backwards, hit the armchair with the back of her leg, and fell into it.

“Why, because you have the gift, dearie.”

The what!?

The Witch tilted her head, studying Hermione carefully. There was a look aimed at her that she couldn’t quite place. They’ve never truly met before, yet there was some sort of angry recognition on the girl’s face. But to draw a blank look when speaking of something so obvious – did she really not understand?

“The gift,” said the Witch, “Magic. You are a crafter of spells, are you not?”

Hermione glanced back again, briefly, at Seto in the crystal ball and then back up at Umbridge. “Why does that matter?”

Umbridge laughed, and started circling around the chair like a vulture. “Oh, it matters a great deal. You came from Scarletton City, did you not? Surely those illustrious do-gooders told you all about me.”

She stepped up suddenly on the step before the chair and loomed in, smirking as Hermione shank back, startled. “So, tell me. What did old Mayor Kaiba send you off to do?”

Hermione avoided her gaze.

“Tut tut,” said Umbridge, tilting Hermione’s chin back towards her. She snapped her fingers with her free hand, and the picture in the crystal ball faded back, leaving the original murky smoke. “Eyes on me, dearie. Play nice, and maybe, I’ll send one of my pets to fetch your friend out of my garden.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at her. “You don’t know? We can’t be the first people to come to your castle. There have been others who came from Scarletton City and were never seen again. What did you do to them?”

“Well now, it depends, doesn’t it,” said the Witch, looking fondly over at her two demon pets. “I’ve transformed a number of pesky intruders into soldiers for my bidding. But they didn’t have the gift that you do. Pesky troublemakers like you have to be treated a bit more…delicately.”

“Why does it matter if someone has magic or not?” said Hermione, “If you’re capturing them and transforming them into monsters, what harm can they possibly do to you? You’ve killed people, and ruined others’ lives…for what – a pair of shoes?”

Umbridge’s grin widened. “Aha, now we get to the heart of our little matter. You came for the Ruby Slippers. But why – what did the Mayor tell you about them?”

Hermione glared at her.

“Well, you’ll have to do better than that if you want me to go after your friend.”

Hermione scowled. “That’s it’s the most powerful artifact in the land…and that the Enchantress kept them in Scarletton City to keep peace across the realm.”

“Is that right?” the Witch laughed. “Is that what you were told?” She shook her head slightly and began circling around Hermione again. “The Ruby Slippers are indeed powerful, but they don’t belong on some pedestal in that glass prison back in Scarletton City. The Enchantress has no claim to them. I forged the shoes for my sister, known as the Witch of the East, and she was senselessly killed by the people and their lust for power. The shoes are rightfully mine and no number of traveling ‘heroes’ sent by the capital city are going to get me to give them up.”

She eyed Hermione, eyebrow raised. “What do you say about that, hm?”

“I have no reason to trust anything you say,” said Hermione, “For all I know, you’re lying to me.”

“And the Mayor of Scarletton City is any more trustworthy?” The Witch snorted. “You’ve known him just as long as you have me.”

“The people of Scarletton City aren’t the ones attacking anyone. You came and got your shoes back from the town, yet your minion still terrorize the towns,” Hermione snapped, “If it was just a matter of collecting a family heirloom, the attacks should have stopped. Face it – you’re benefitting too much from the power trip that the shoes give you and you use it to take pleasure in hurting innocent people! Perhaps the Ruby Slippers are better off locked up where they can’t be used to harm anyone!”

“And that’s not your decision to make,” said the Witch. “I will do whatever is necessary to protect what belongs to me. The little soldiers-for-hire that the cities send out – I don’t care about them. What’s another new pet to help maintain control over the land? But every now and then…”

She planted her hands along the sides of the crystal ball and loomed over it. “…Someone comes along with the gift.”

“Like us…”

“Oh yes. You are a problem that I soon will have eradicated.”

“I haven’t done anything to you,” said Hermione. “And clearly Seto and I aren’t powerful enough to touch you. We’re not a threat!”

“Mm, nice try, dear,” said Umbridge as one of the cat demons snarled. “Passing through the country on a nice little bounty quest? Of course you are a threat to me.”

She straightened back up. “But I needn’t worry for much longer. Your friend is going to die out in the garden. By now he’s probably breathed in enough of the poison that he won’t wake. And with the two of you having traveled so far into the thick of the field, there is no way anyone would be able to save him without succumbing themselves.”

Umbridge flashed a sugary triumphant smile. “And as for you…I think a change in scenery is in order.”

Hermione drew back. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t risk someone with magical gifts overcoming my transformation spells. It’s far too dangerous for me to keep you here. Which is why I have sent word to the Nome Kingdom. A courier will be here at dawn to transport you to the Nome King’s mountain, where you can join the rest of those so-called ‘heroes’ in mining for enchanted stones. And then I won’t have to worry about you ever again.”

“What’s to say I won’t escape and come back?” said Hermione. There was no way she was letting herself get shipped off like owl mail.

Umbridge let out a high-pitched cackle. “Oh, dearie. No one escapes from the Nome Kingdom. And even if you managed to do the impossible and get out of the caverns, you won’t be able to return to Šwt without magical means.”

Sensing the next question on the tip of Hermione’s tongue, Umbridge’s smile widened and she raised a hand to briefly pat at the base of her neck. “I’m sure by now you’ve noticed the gift that I gave you…”

She didn’t bother waiting for Hermione to acknowledge her. “That collar will suppress your magical ability, rendering it useless.”

The cat demons in the room swarmed around her as she moved towards the door. “I’d make yourself comfortable, dearie,” said Umbridge, barely turning her head to look back to Hermione, “Until the Wheeler’s arrive, this room is your new home. And I wouldn’t try anything funny about getting out. My protectors aren’t very fond of you and your friend. And without any magic to protect you….

She let her words sink in, and then smiled another one of her awful smiles. “Sweet dreams, hero.”

#michelle writes fic #12 days of ficmas #sapphire road #yugioh #hp #crossover au

[tomboyneedshercoffee]

Who’s In Charge?

Summary: Y/N is first in command and makes sure everything in the glade runs smoothly but whenever a Greenie comes, they always seem to doubt who’s in charge. 

Word Count: 1.3k

Author’s Note: I’M BACK HELLO! So this is something I’ve been thinking of for a while and I just really had to push through the writer’s block to get this done. If you guys like this one, I was thinking of writing Y/N and Minho’s first interaction that is briefly mentioned in the story. Good to be back and sorry for not revising it!

Warning: dumb old greenie

part one || part two 

“ Where am I?”

“ Why can’t I remember anything?”

“ Who put me here?”

Those were the three W’s every poor soul asked once they got out of that steel box. It became the same old routine, the Greenie would scramble out of the box and look around, their eyes almost bulging out of their heads once they saw the walls surrounding the glade.

After, they would precede to either run in a random direction, crumble to the floor and cry, or stand still, completely shocked until someone snapped them out of their thoughts.

While it was pretty entertaining to watch Greenie’s scared out of their mind, it did make you feel a bit guilty since you were in their position years ago. All you can remember from your first day was a few boys staring back at you with awe and confusion because finally, a girl was trapped with them.

You can’t remember exactly how you felt at the time, but when you got out of the box, the first thing you asked wasn’t where you were or who the boys were, instead it was who’s in charge.

In only a couple of days, you proved to not only show initiative but also leadership skills that most of the boys lacked. Your redeeming qualities earned you the title of first in command and while it came with a lot of perks, there was only one thing that annoyed you about the job.

“ Y/N, we got a fresh Greenie for you,” Newt called from the other side of the door, earning a slight groan from your mouth.

You got up from your desk and walked to the door, opening it to reveal Newt alongside the new boy.

“ Newt, Greenie,” You nodded to them as you walked in between them,” I’d love to give a tour but I’m actually on my way to talk to Gally about some things. Is it okay if I catch up with you two later?”

As first in command, you did feel as though you had a responsibility to make sure things ran as smoothly as possible and maybe just maybe helping Greenies get situated with the whole ‘ we’re trapped in a maze and surprise now you are too’ thing but you weren’t up for answering the same damn questions.

As you started to walk off, you felt an arm tug you back, making you almost collide with the Greenie.

“ Please, just tell me where I am,” he pleaded as you mentally checked off question one in your mind,” please.”

You sighed and looked over to the fields and in the distance, you could make out the runners coming back from the maze,” We call this place the Glade- it’s where we eat, sleep, and work.”

You shrugged the greenie off of you but before you could get away, you felt his arm grab you again.

“ Okay, you’re going to have to stop doing that before you end up in the medjack with a black eye,” you threatened as he quickly let go of your arm.

“ Sorry sorry, it’s just- I don’t remember anything. Why can’t I remember anything I-I don’t even know my own name and why am I here? I mean- who put you guys here? You obviously didn’t volunteer to be put here,” his eyes suddenly open up wider and he looks almost pale,” did I volunteer? Why would I volunteer to be put-”

You clapped in front of his face to shut him up and looked over to Newt for help but he only smiled in amusement,” Look, your name will come back to you in a couple of hours, maybe even a day or two but that’s all you will remember. I don’t know who put us here but whoever did is going to get a piece of my mind. Is that it?”

The Greenie nodded and as you started to walk towards Minho, you heard the Greenies voice ring out once more,” Can you just tell me who’s in charge? I tried asking Newt but he brought me to you instead and I still have more questions to ask.”

You stopped in your tracks and pressed your lips together in a thin line. Keep it together Y/N, maybe he doesn’t think you’re in charge because you can’t answer all of his questions. It’s not because you’re a girl you’re just terrible at greeting Greenie’s.

“ What if I told you that I actually run this place?” You said as you stuffed your hands into your pockets, turning to face the Greenie.

A laugh escaped through his lips, not even trying to hide his amusement,” Come on, you? No offense but I doubt a girl can keep this place from falling apart. Seriously, can you just tell me where I can find him?”

You nodded and exchanged a look with Newt, trying to keep yourself together. Why was it so hard for Greenie’s to understand? Everytime a boy would come up in the box, they’ve doubted that you were the one in charge and everytime without fail, they would ask around to make sure you weren’t lying.

As you took a step towards the Greenie, Newt took one step back, not wanting to be anywhere near your wrath.

You put on a fake smile and looked the boy up and down,” Greenbean, I know it’s hard for you to understand since your acorn brain is still developing but I’m the first in command. I may be a girl but that doesn’t mean I can’t kick your teeth in whenever you say something incredibly sexist. I’m a girl who’s also a badass and frankly, the smartest person in the Glade. Not only that but any boy here will tell you that I’m the scarier than a Griever when I’m pissed off.”

You pointed over to the walls and watched as the Greenie turned slightly pale,” You don’t know what’s in there, but I do and let me tell you, it isn’t pretty. If I ever hear something stupid come out of your mouth again about my gender, you will figure out what the hell a griever is, you got that?”

The Greenie, who’s face started to actually turn green, nodded and avoided eye contact with you. You tried to hide the smile on your face after your intimidating speech, feeling proud that you didn’t even stutter once.

Newt opened his mouth to say something but you interrupted him as an idea popped into your head,” Newt! Why don’t you take him to Ethan so he can start right away? A slopper sounds like the perfect job for now, don’t ya think?”

Newt smiled at you and patted the Greenie on his back,” Come on, she let you off the hook. Let’s leave before she changes her mind.”

You watched the two of them walk away and for the first time in a long time, you felt extremely proud of yourself. For almost three years, you let guys get away with doubting you and your leadership position but it finally felt good to stand up for yourself.

You waved Minho over to you as he jogged over, smiling warmly at you.

“ Hey shrimp, did this one finally believe that you’re the boss of this dump ?” Minho asked, slightly out of breath from his run.

You crossed your arms and nodded towards Newt escorting the new guy,” Not at first, but I made it clear who was in charge. I scared the klunk out of him and I might have went a bit overboard bringing up Griever’s.”

“ Oh come on, a little scare tactic never hurt anyone plus you gotta show him who’s boss. Maybe he thought you were too cute to be in charge.”

“Minho.”

Minho shook his head and gave you a cheeky smile,” I’m kidding, but at least I wasn’t like that when I came up.”

You let out a scoff as you remembered your first interaction with Minho.

“ I gotta say, I love a woman in charge,” You mimicked Minho’s voice as he playfully shoved you to the side,” even back then you were still a dumb old shank.”

“ Oh come on Y/N, you know you love me,” Minho teased as he placed a kiss on your cheek.

You wrinkled your nose and wiped your cheek with the back of your hand,” Yep, still not into you.”

#maze runner #the maze runner #tmr #maze runner x reader #the maze runner x reader #tmr x reader #newt x reader #maze runner imagine #tmr imagine #the maze runner imagine #newt tmr x reader #minho tmr x reader #minho imagine #newt imagine #tmr newt imagine #tmr minho imagine

[dahlthir-blog]

   ➜ Astorel Calenhad has been accepted!

Welcome to Dahlthir, Locky! Your application for Astorel Calenhad has been approved. Since we are in our soft opening we will not be posting roleplay blogs yet but you can send one in for us to keep safe and sound in our inbox!

The character portion of the application can be found under the cut. BackstoryBall Z is my favorite show! But, ah you really fleshed out her character background! You can see what she carried from her childhood all the way to the present. How she befriended her first bear and how she lost them was aaaa. WHAT A GOOD BEAR. SULDAL WAS GREAT. And though it pains me that Suldal is gone, I’m glad that we have Baranir. Their dynamic is one I already love!

Other Characters: N/A

Faceclaim(s) & Series: Marcille (Delicious in Dungeon)

Character Name: Astorel Calenhad (“Loyalty”, “Green place”, both in Sindarin)

Housing: Back room at her tavern, Amongro (“Bear’s Mount”)

Age: 120(-ish; elves don’t tend to bother after 100)

Appearance: An elven woman with near-untameable auburn curls, their only semblance of order being the braided half-ponytail at the back. They frame a rounded face forested with freckles that simply accentuate the vibrant shine in her emerald eyes.

She stands at 5’7”, and has a graceful physique with plenty of power hidden away in her slender limbs. After all, how else would she have managed to tame a bear? While she doesn’t have too many battle scars, her torso has a few long ones from her attempts to tame the bear, and her mount has a lot of arrow wounds and cuts that have long since healed.

She is commonly seen in a scarlet, off-the-shoulder, short-bell-sleeved, velvet dress that features gold ribbons around the neck and sleeves, embroidered with a simple pattern in red. A leather corset slims her figure, and a belt with a small pouch attached by string hangs loose at her waist. The dress reaches past her knees, and hides the upper half of her brown leather boots with block heels. Long gloves reach from her middle fingers to just beneath her shoulder, and she often wears tights in a matching material.

Are they a part of the Adventurer’s Guild? (Recruit or Full Member): No – she was a full member at one point, but left. Why? Find out next time on BackstoryBall Z.

—- How long have they been part of the Guild: -

Warnings (If there are any triggers in your character’s background please list them here!): Blood

Personality (Please list 3 positive and 3 negative traits. Can simply be bullet points or can be expanded!):

(+) Naturalist – Due to her race, she has high affinity with both flora and fauna. Animals find themselves calm more easily around her, which is what enabled her to eventually tame her mount, and she can ‘feel’ a plant’s life force to see what it needs to thrive. While she understands that some elves are vegans/vegetarians, she sees a natural order in the food chain, and so welcomes eating meat. However, if nature is being harmed unnecessarily, she will certainly find a problem with it (which is one of her main problems with humans – their need to constantly expand and destroy the natural world around them.)

(+) Knowledgeable – As she was once her party’s sole Mage, it often came down to her to have the highest intelligence. You’ve gotta store those spells somewhere, you know? Not only that, but her experience as an ex-adventurer means that she has plenty of tips and relations to give out to aspiring heroes, which makes her tavern a hot spot for parties looking for good information (though at a price.) She was a co-strategist for her party of sorts, meaning that she at least helped in making a number of unique (if somewhat crazy) tactics.

(+) Charismatic – Whether it’s because of her good looks, or charming mannerisms, nobody knows, but Astorel finds herself getting along with others easily. This is particularly useful when she’s gathering information, but it often gets her unwanted attention from drunken customers. Thankfully, she tends to have one entire bear on hand to help scare them back to soberness (or at least out of the shop.)

(-) Stingy – Though it’s not a necessarily good or bad trait, Astorel has become very good with handling and making money after setting up her tavern with the help of her old party. She knows her way around a deal, but this also makes her reluctant to spend money on something that’s not essential, and a little greedy in negotiations.

(-) Invasive – She has a bad habit of trying to listen in on conversations to pick up new information, or bothering people until they tell her something she wants to hear. She’s gotten a little better at spying, and is trying to find spells to aid her, but all attempts have at least earned her a funny look. It doesn’t particularly help that she’s not much of a liar when she’s put on the spot.

(-) Perfectionist – If she knows she can do better, she’ll stop at nothing to make it a reality! Her determination to do her absolute best is what gave her the drive to continue her taming attempts, despite multiple injuries, and she often approaches things in her own way to get the most comfortable method.

Background:

Astorel was born in the wood-elven town of Amofileg, a relatively small settlement in a forest south of Arkhwood. Her mother was proficient in using magic to strengthen the traditional practice of archery, while her father had no usage of mana as he had never bothered to train it. From him, instead, she learned how to barter for money by tagging along his visits to the market as a child, mastering haggling surprisingly early on. Once her mother realised what he was teaching her when she tried to bargain on getting a new spellbook, a firm grip was held on his long ear to make sure that he didn’t teach her anything else crooked.

(It didn’t particularly work, and in fact only encouraged them to practice their tactics in private, but the sentiment was there.)

While most would use this strategy training to become a thief, Astorel simply adapted it to whatever she needed her charms to work on. A lot of things tended to go her way, and if they didn’t, she would try again and again until either she succeeded or her target gave up and just gave her what she wanted so she’d stop bothering them. The good equipment that this earned her, along with the magic training from her mother, lead her down the path of becoming a Mage that specialised in trap-setting and enchantments. Because of this, she was recommended to go out and hunt to gain experience, and she was absolutely ecstatic about the idea!

Well, she was until she was attacked by a large pack of goblins, and in her panic, managed to drop her spellbook. Normally, this is where the story would end, if not for the beast that thundered in after them. As her breaths slowed, shallow as they were, she tried to assess the situation, only seeing a blur of action and devastation as her bellowing saviour ripped through the crowd.

She doesn’t like to admit it now, but she fainted soon after. Her first experience with battle had gone atrociously, but somehow, she wasn’t dead.

She later awoke, still in the forest, with surprisingly minor injuries and someone hunched over a campfire beside her. It had fallen dark, and she couldn’t help but feel slightly betrayed by the fact that nobody had come to check on her, but such thoughts were interrupted the moment the stranger spoke, making her jump so hard she nearly flung herself into the fire.

As they spoke, she learned that this person was a beast tamer, and the animal that had saved her was actually a bear that they had aimed to capture. Though they couldn’t explain, they distinctly remembered it turning suddenly and charging off on a moment’s notice as if it was protecting a cub that it had left behind. That, they said, was the sign of a bond that was born to happen.

She also learned that the name of what she was eating was two words that she had hoped never to see next to one another – Goblin Shank – which promptly ruined the mood, but didn’t dampen her spirit even a bit. Not even as she spat it out and searched desperately for a ‘purify’ spell.

The tamer lead her to where the beast was now resting after its battle, scarred and worn. Its ears turned even at the gentle footsteps of the elf, and a low rumble coated the clearing where it lay, trying not to bleed too heavily. She didn’t need to hear another word of the tamer’s advice – she wouldn’t let this noble beast that had saved her life die so unceremoniously; taking her spellbook in hand, she flipped to her healing spells, and softly recited the enchantments under her breath.

Then, recklessly, she stepped forward, and placed her mana-charged hand onto its wounds, not backing down until it batted her away. Pain coursed through her, but she knew it was nothing compared to what the beast felt. Again and again, she stepped forward, and again and again, its claws ripped at her, clear signs to keep back, until she looked as beaten as the bear did. As she pressed her hand against it, one last time, she braced for the attack that could easily have felled her, but never came.

Both she and the tamer let loose bated breaths as the bear finally leaned into her hand, having realised that she was the one to heal it, and forging a powerful bond in the process; the two had lost blood for each other, and would continue to fight for each other’s safety for years to come.

Years, until they finally had to say goodbye – not torn from each other in war, but peacefully, in the comfort of the forest near Dahlthir. The bear, having come to be affectionately known as Suldal for how often it had to speed into the fray to save her, had left but one gift – a child, born to become her next guardian.

Elves were supposed to be used to outliving their loved ones. Yet, as she stared into the eyes of Baranir, she could only see a cub, now lost and alone in this world. She couldn’t stop the tears from cascading over. Her breath was wrenched out of her, bursting into sobs as she drew the child near and wondered if trapping Suldal into a life of war was truly the best life for her.

Thus, she swore not to repeat her mistake again – she quit the guild, and with the help of her old party, set up an inn for those with more mettle than her to rest in, connected to a tavern to drink their troubles away. To this day, the brave fighters that joined her have free access to everything they need, as a way of repaying their help for her leaving the front lines.

Both her and Suldal’s armour lays worn and scarred in the back of the tavern, but are still maintained. Call her sentimental, but she feels that it helps to honour the memory of a lost ally.

Level:

4 General Powers/Abilities/Unusual Traits Description:

She possesses most of the natural elven traits – heightened hearing, good night vision, and so on – but is also an accomplished Mage, having developed her skill as a reliable way to attack while mounted. While she once rode into battle, boasting her race’s high mana and blasting spells here and there, she now generally uses the smaller spells for more mundane uses.

Specific Powers/Abilities/Traits of Note:

As she was once the sole Mage of her party, she has learned spells of both Black and White Mages, ranging from elemental attacks like a Fireball or Earth Spikes to peaceful uses like healing, levitation, and a making a ball of light, although she much prefers using traps and enchantments to turn the tide in her favour whenever she can. Her attack spells are quite powerful, but she’s lost her touch for master-level spells like large explosions over time through lack of practice. They still remain in her spellbook, though are more likely to backfire and use much more mana than normal if used now compared to when they were recorded.

One of her current favourites is one she nicknames ‘Refill’, an alteration of a simple water spell made to help top up drinks from a distance (after being paid, of course). It also makes for a great party trick.

Extra:

Her bear’s name is Baranir (“fiery male”), and is the son of her original mount, Suldal (“wind-foot”). As much as she pretends she can understand him, she has no idea what he’s saying, and mostly does it to tease gullible adventurers. She’s learned basic songs on an acoustic guitar to help with entertainment in the tavern (and to skimp out on paying for an actual musician). It’s lucky she’s a decent singer.

#dahl acceptance

[mythologygirlfanfic]

The Art of Lying: Chapter Two

Story Summary:

I was reborn as a coward and a liar, yet I was alright with that because that is what I had been.

Rating: T

                                                                   Chapter One: The Art of Baby Life

Being a baby again was more than a little traumatizing and I was extremely thankful I didn’t remember my initial test run. I had the soul of an old woman, old enough to be my new caretakers grandmother, so having them change my soiled diapers and the breastfeeding was all sorts of uncomfortable.

The biggest nightmare however was delivered messily wrapped to me by whom I assumed was my new father. The man meant well, that was easy to see. (And wasn’t that the fiasco when my vision developed enough to see, the first thing greeting me was a monstrous seeming man, thanks to my own miniscule height, hanging over my crib and making horrific faces. He was certainly startled when I started screaming like a banshee.) He was apparently very excited to have a progeny as he loved to tot me everywhere to brag to anyone who would listen and even those who really didn’t want to. At least, that is what I was assuming he was doing as he had a huge small his face and constantly gestured towards me where I hung helplessly in the sling across his narrow chest. I still didn’t really have a grasp on the language to be one hundred percent sure.

Heck, sometimes he would even boast to me about himself. Taking me out to the backyard and propping me up against a mountain of fluff, slightly musty pillows as he shoot down can after can from a rather great distance. I was duly impressed, though I had never really been one for guns. My gurgles of awe and happy shrieks never failed to make my father’s grin grow even wider as he preened. The man lived for praise and it was even better if that praise was coming from his wife or daughter.

Yet, those were the good times. The times were I didn’t have to contain my sobs of absolute terror and wish that eye-bleach was an actual thing or that my faulty memory would kick in and just erase it from my mind. Oh, how I wish I were just being dramatic here.

One of the things I failed to consider when I first realized I had been reincarnated was any and all possible cultural differences. It was something I rarely thought about in my past life and not something that I thought would be important in this new one. I had been proven wrong. Many times over, in fact.

My skin crawled just thinking about it.

“Usopp-chan,” my father practically crowed as he all but danced into my view. “It’s bath time!”

I swore.

It was a shame everything just came out in babbles, drool dripping down my chin like a leaky faucet. I doubt my father would have understood English anyway. As it was he was simply cooing over how adorable I was, as he gently picked me up from the blanket I was set upon earlier.

‘Bath time’ were some of the only words I had picked up so far in this world, mainly because I dreaded it so much that I didn’t want to be surprised anymore when it was going to happen. The first few times had been enough, I craved the extra seconds needed to get my mental preparations set.

Plus, I would know when to close my eyes.

In my previous life I had been born in America to a family that was pretty much ‘no touch.’ We didn’t ever really hug or give congratulatory pats on the back and we certainly didn’t bathe naked together with our parents, which was what was going on right now. My original upbringing in no way prepared me for this. I closed my eyes and tried not to cry.

I could still recall the first time this had occurred. I was unsuspecting and naive, not to mention totally unprepared. I wailed like a broken alarm clock with not only no off button, but with a full-charged battery to boot. That had actually almost put a stop to this ‘bonding event’ as my father dubbed it entirely. I would have happily let it end to, if I had not noticed how upset and off put he was about me apparently hating him. Honestly, I was rather easy to guilt trip, even if I could lie better than the world’s greatest con man.

So, as my father jabbered happily to me in a language I was nowhere near fluent, I let myself drift off, just waiting for it to be over. All the while praying this wouldn’t turn out like it had for Kazuma in KonoSuba , I certainly didn’t remember making any deals with a stuck up goddess, but I didn’t want to count anything out.

I could only take so much misfortune.

My mother, while wonderful, had a nose longer than Pinocchio's after he lied once or twice. It was that facial feature that brought light to not only who I was reborn as, but to where exactly I had been reborn. Well, that and my name.

I was in the quiet, uneventful  place known as Syrup Village. As well as the sole child of Yasopp, a future pirate sailing under ‘Red-Hair’ Shanks, and Banchina, a woman fated to die, her one wish to see her husband again remaining unfulfilled. It was a punch to the gut when I realized both parents would eventually leave me. I had been becoming very attached to them and their easy expressions of love.

Truthfully, it made a small ball of resentment towards my father to start to roll in my gut. I made every effort to suppress it. He hadn’t left yet and I shouldn’t hate someone for something they have yet to do, this wasn’t Psycho Pass, it was One Piece. Perhaps, now that he had a daughter instead of a son, he wouldn’t leave at all. It was wishful thinking, yet I let myself hope.

It was a fragile hope, especially when on rare occasions my father would cradle me in his arms, taking me to the outskirts of the village, just to sit on the shore for hours. The waves lapping at his feet and a longing in eyes that almost hurt to see. Still, it was a hope I desperately clung to.

I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind, getting back to the more pressing ‘here and now’ problem - my nose.

I was roughly five or so months old now, just having learned to sit up on my own. Which was a humongous chore in itself with the amount of strain I had to put on my weak muscles to do so. Of course, the first thing I did was check my appearance and, let me tell you, getting yourself placed in front of a mirror was not easy.

I had hoped that now that I was a girl version of Usopp, I wouldn’t have inherited my mother’s nose. Truth was, while in the show, his nose never bothered me, in fact, I found it kind of endearing, I had a lot of insecurities about my appearance that jumped lives with me. Before I had been on the chubby side with acne that refused to leave me, even well out of my teens. It didn’t really do much for my self-confidence, especially when in middle school boy’s started to ask me on fake dates, never showing up, while their supposed girlfriends’ would sometimes come by to mock me instead. I couldn’t really remember any of their faces or names, just that it had hurt  - a lot. Scars had been left behind and I’m not just talking about the ones caused by the pimples, but people held more power to harm others then I think most teenagers knew.

It was during this time, appearance became a huge deal to me. I felt inadequate compared to other girls, causing me to not only stress eat, gaining even more weight, but to throw myself into my hobbies, subjecting myself to self imposed solitary confinement. I didn’t dig myself out of that dark cell for a long time after, never truly escaping.

It made me feel like some sort of dastardly villain now, especially since I knew looks didn’t mean everything. Yet, knowing and accepting  were two completely different things. It didn’t help the twistedly grotesque feelings I had that Banchina was the sweetest mother anyone could ask to be reborn to. I truly, deeply loved her and her calm, affectionate manner. It was easy to comprehend way exactly Yasopp was so smitten with the gentle woman.

Still, I couldn’t help how I felt, often finding myself wishing I took more after my father in the facial features department. While, he had nothing distinctive about him, there was more of an appeal to being a ‘Plain Jane’ than a girl version of a living puppet.

Mother seemed to pick up on my agitation as she swiftly swooped me up into her arms, rubbing the tip of her nose against mine. I withheld a cringe. “Why such a frown, my little seashell?”

Seashell. Mother loved to call that, a cute nickname she had dubbed me with long ago. She had told me the story why, and, while my understanding of the language still wasn’t supreme, I got the gist of it. Father had proposed to her with the prettiest seashell he could find, combing the small beach encasing our island for weeks, before settling on one. It was a conch shell, a mix of blue and pink, and when the sun hit it just right it glittered so much one could easily mistake it for a precious jewel. It was beautiful.

Mother said it reminded her of me. At first I had been confused because there was no way I believed I was that pretty. The confusion most have shown on my face as she explained how, like the shell, I represented the love between father and her. Pure and unconditional.

It was the most mushy thing I have ever heard, but mother told it with such stars in her dark eyes, that I couldn’t help but to believe her if only for a second.

Leaning back slightly in her arms, ignoring the way her hold tightened in fear of dropping me, I reached up and carefully gripped her nose. A gummy grin splitting across my face. Mother gave me a smile brighter than the sun in return, a finger gently looping around my own nose.

It was at that moment I vowed, for this woman, I would try to get over my inferiority issues.

#The Art of Lying #Chapter Two #One Piece #Fanfic #Fanfiction #MythologyGirl #MythologyGirlFanfic #Usopp #fem!usopp #rated: t #reincarnation #original character #Banchina #Yasopp #also posted on AO3 #also posted on FF

[meanwhileinoz]

30+ Reactions From The Latest Game of Thrones Episode That Will Make You Say ” I Can Relate”

Game of Thrones will always get severe reactions out of us

Whether it’s some character pulling some shady crap, or another character who you absolutely love, just dying. For no reason. It’s the GoT theme. At any rate, the recent episode, Stormborn, got a lot of reactions.

Allow me to sum it all up the best I can.

F*ck Theon the Dickless.

#1

#2

#3

jon snow: *chokes littlefinger* littlefigner: harder daddy jon: what littlefinger: what #GameOfThones7

— khaleesi 🏳️‍🌈 (@sampriice) July 24, 2017

#4

#5

#6

How can Jon get to dragonstone in one episode and it takes 6 seasons for Arya to fined her way to winterfell #GameOfThones7

— Jennifer Wright (@canipejc) July 24, 2017

#7

#8

#9

#10

#11

Yara: He’s my protecter

Theon: #GameOfThrones http://pic.twitter.com/SuP4BpOkMR

— Labile (@lshattock7) July 24, 2017

#12

Arya: Goes to Winterfell. Jon: Leaves Winterfell.

Me: #GameofThrones #ThronesYall http://pic.twitter.com/n85oJG5F0c

— Denizcan Targaryen (@MrFilmkritik) July 24, 2017

#13

Things I’m here for: Jon choking Little Finger and threatening to kill him if he goes near Sansa #GameOfThrones #GoTS7 http://pic.twitter.com/DpCiEW1SY0

— Jon Winterfell (@JonWinterfall) July 24, 2017

#14

Euron Greyjoy best entrance into a battle I’ve seen in a long time #GameofThrones http://pic.twitter.com/jaG6UHzoL2

— Ben Goodwin (@BenGoodwin05) July 24, 2017

#15

Um. Whatchu gone do with no 🍆 tho #GameOfThones #GameOfThones7 http://pic.twitter.com/WiCDP3w5AP

— Erica (@2fitcpa) July 24, 2017

#16

When Nymeria walked away from Arya #gameofthrones http://pic.twitter.com/TJpzfPXH5n

— Darshan Shah (@shahjdarshan) July 24, 2017

#17

#GameofThrones  Euron: Come save your sister.

Theon:http://pic.twitter.com/aBTXNHAESn

— MoneyLine (@MoneyLineapp) July 24, 2017

#18

“I want to see you……” #gameofthrones #GameOfThones7 http://pic.twitter.com/pyqY0vtOMl

— Clayton Licciardello (@YouGotOwned175) July 24, 2017

#19

Dear Theon. #ThronesYall http://pic.twitter.com/3NKG3TEl53

— Irene C. Beloya (@eneri17) July 24, 2017

#20

My face when Theon just jumped off the boat without helping #GameOfThones7 http://pic.twitter.com/MuyGPEfTE2

— Majin (@MoePicasso) July 24, 2017

#21

Me watching Samwell remove that greyscale 😩 #GameOfThones7 http://pic.twitter.com/Eut1G6ADqb

— Shannon de Cógáin (@shanruss07) July 24, 2017

#22

When you’re expecting Theon to finally redeem himself and then you remember… #GameOfThones7 http://pic.twitter.com/LUxGEGo5qX

— Greg Lewis (@gtlewis12) July 24, 2017

#23

Theon really took a look around and said nahhh #GameOfThones7 http://pic.twitter.com/gYE15LtDvO

— Tyler Shank (@tylershank77) July 24, 2017

#24

Jon and Daenerys FINALLY meet next week?!!?!??? Me, waiting for next week’s GoT.. 😩😭 #GameOfThones7 http://pic.twitter.com/OOH0XTW1yx

— Shannon de Cógáin (@shanruss07) July 24, 2017

#25

*Melissandre shows up* “THIISSSSSS BIIIITCHHHH”- Me#GameOfThones7 http://pic.twitter.com/p6qbaGc3J6

— Cassidy Herman (@C_Herm) July 24, 2017

#26

Ugh of course Jorah is writing Danny a love letter, don’t we have better things to do? #GameOfThones7 http://pic.twitter.com/qfULzJQtIZ

— Lucy on the Ground (@lucyo21) July 24, 2017

#27

Oooo she bout to give him a lil taste b4 he leave 😏 #GameOfThones7 http://pic.twitter.com/k8XiTdS5iB

— jada lightfoot (@jadalitefoot) July 24, 2017

#28

Now Sams daddy gone fight for cersei #GameOfThones7 http://pic.twitter.com/nsHtsBLXnc

— jada lightfoot (@jadalitefoot) July 24, 2017

#29

Every time that say they have 3 dragons I die laughing. Like we not winning against that 😂😂😂 #GameOfThones7 http://pic.twitter.com/8A49AO7lfw

— Air-Rum (@__aarum) July 24, 2017

#30

“We are currently working on solution to stop 🐉”. Sounds like a day in IT worlds #GameOfThones7 http://pic.twitter.com/tjIBbLNHiM

— siddharth sharma (@sharmasid) July 24, 2017

#31

when you’re the one left in charge of making plans in the group text #GameOfThrones http://pic.twitter.com/S0IRh5FCdu

— emma lord (@dilemmalord) July 24, 2017

#32

Amazing! This Woman’s Secret to a Long Life? Ignore Men! #GameofThrones http://pic.twitter.com/H3piLhGss5

— Chelsea Cirruzzo (@ChelseaCirruzzo) July 24, 2017

#33

“his queen invites him to come to dragonstone … and bend the knee” #GameOfThrones http://pic.twitter.com/6RkcaaOyBx

— emma lord (@dilemmalord) July 24, 2017

#34

Everyone looking at Theon Greyjoy like…. #GameOfThrones http://pic.twitter.com/Yls6mRdbDB

— Jon Snow (@LordSnow) July 24, 2017

#35

#GameofThrones Sansa (before Jon left her in charge): “you can’t go, you can’t abandon your people” Jon: You’re in charge Sansa: http://pic.twitter.com/IM0SaHvUD4

— Salim Stark (@SalimAlSamar) July 24, 2017

#36

Theon’s new book… #GameofThrones http://pic.twitter.com/jTpxHAIy5w

— Tyrion Lannister (@GoT_Tyrion) July 24, 2017

#37

Me after watching tonight’s episode #gameofthrones http://pic.twitter.com/LiwrrvmCn8

— speechless (@officialtoast97) July 24, 2017

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#ENTERTAINMENT

[readbookywooks]

And yet they’d never found an exit. And despite that, despite the utter hopelessness of the situation, they still hadn’t given up.

At dinner Minho had told him an old story—one of the bizarre and random things he remembered from before—about a woman trapped in a maze. She escaped by never taking her right hand off the walls of the maze, sliding it along as she walked. In doing so, she was forced to turn right at every turn, and the simple laws of physics and geometry ensured that eventually she found the exit. It made sense.

But not here. Here, all paths led back to the Glade. They had to be missing something.

Tomorrow, his training would begin. Tomorrow, he could start helping them find that missing something. Right then Thomas made a decision. Forget all the weird stuff. Forget all the bad things. Forget it all. He wouldn’t quit until he’d solved the puzzle and found a way home.

Tomorrow. The word floated in his mind until he finally fell asleep.

CHAPTER 32

Minho woke Thomas before dawn, motioning with a flashlight to follow him back to the Homestead. Thomas easily shook off his morning grogginess, excited to begin his training. He crawled out from under his blanket and eagerly followed his teacher, winding his way through the crowd of Gladers who slept on the lawn, their snores the only sign they weren’t dead. The slightest glow of early morning illuminated the Glade, turning everything dark blue and shadowed. Thomas had never seen the place look so peaceful. A cock crowed in the Blood House.

Finally, in a crooked cranny near a back corner of the Homestead, Minho pulled out a key and opened up a shabby door leading to a small storage closet. Thomas felt a shiver of anticipation, wondering what was inside. He caught glimpses of ropes and chains and other odds and ends as Minho’s flashlight crisscrossed the closet. Eventually, it fell on an open box full of running shoes. Thomas almost laughed, it seemed so ordinary.

“That right there’s the number one supply we get,” Minho announced. “At least for us. They send new ones in the Box every so often. If we had bad shoes, we’d have feet that look like freaking Mars.” He bent over and rummaged through the pile. “What size you wear?”

“Size?” Thomas thought for a second. “I … don’t know.” It was so odd sometimes what he could and couldn’t remember. He reached down and pulled off a shoe he’d worn since coming to the Glade and took a look inside. “Eleven.”

“Geez, shank, you got big feet.” Minho stood up holding a pair of sleek silver ones. “But looks like I’ve got some—man, we could go canoeing in these things.”

“Those are fancy.” Thomas took them and walked out of the closet to sit on the ground, eager to try them on. Minho grabbed a few more things before coming out to join him.

“Only Runners and Keepers get these,” Minho said. Before Thomas could look up from tying his shoes, a plastic wristwatch dropped into his lap. It was black and very simple, its face showing only a digital display of the time. “Put it on and never take it off. Your life might depend on it.”

Thomas was glad to have it. Though the sun and the shadows had seemed plenty to let him know roughly what time it was up to that point, being a Runner probably required more precision. He buckled the watch onto his wrist and then returned to fitting on his shoes.

Minho continued talking. “Here’s a backpack, water bottles, lunch pack, some shorts and T-shirts, other stuff.” He nudged Thomas, who looked up. Minho was holding out a couple of pairs of tightly cut underwear, made from a shiny white material. “These bad boys’re what we call Runnie-undies. Keeps you, um, nice and comfy.”

“Nice and comfy?”

“Yeah, ya know. Your—”

“Yeah, got it.” Thomas took the underwear and other stuff. “You guys really have this all thought out, don’t you?”

“Couple of years runnin’ your butt off every day, you figure out what you need and ask for it.” He started stuffing things into his own backpack.

Thomas was surprised. “You mean, you can make requests? Supplies you want?” Why would the people who’d sent them there help so much?

“Of course we can. Just drop a note in the Box, and there she goes. Doesn’t mean we always get what we want from the Creators. Sometimes we do, sometimes we don’t.”

“Ever asked for a map?”

Minho laughed. “Yeah, tried that one. Asked for a TV, too, but no luck. I guess those shuck-faces don’t want us seeing how wonderful life is when you don’t live in a freaking maze.”

Thomas felt a trickle of doubt that life was so great back home—what kind of world allowed people to make kids live like this? The thought surprised him, as if its source had been founded in actual memory, a wisp of light in the darkness of his mind. But it was already gone. Shaking his head, he finished lacing up his shoes, then stood up and jogged around in circles, jumping up and down to test them out. “They feel pretty good. I guess I’m ready.”

Minho was still crouched over his backpack on the ground; he glanced up at Thomas with a look of disgust. “You look like an idiot, prancin’ around like a shuck ballerina. Good luck out there with no breakfast, no packed lunch, no weapons.”

Thomas had already stopped moving, felt an icy chill. “Weapons?”

“Weapons.” Minho stood and walked back to the closet. “Come here, I’ll show ya.”

Thomas followed Minho into the small room and watched as he pulled a few boxes away from the back wall. Underneath lay a small trapdoor. Minho lifted it to reveal a set of wooden stairs leading into blackness. “Keep ’em down in the basement so shanks like Gally can’t get to them. Come on.”

Minho went first. The stairs creaked with every shift of weight as they descended the dozen or so steps. The cool air was refreshing, despite the dust and the strong scent of mildew. They hit a dirt floor, and Thomas couldn’t see a thing until Minho turned on a single lightbulb by pulling a string.

The room was larger than Thomas had expected, at least thirty square feet. Shelves lined the walls, and there were several blocky wooden tables; everything in sight was covered with all manner of junk that gave him the creeps. Wooden poles, metal spikes, large pieces of mesh—like what covers a chicken coop—rolls of barbed wire, saws, knives, swords. One entire wall was dedicated to archery: wooden bows, arrows, spare strings. The sight of it immediately brought back the memory of Ben getting shot by Alby in the Deadheads.

“Wow,” Thomas murmured, his voice a dull thump in the enclosed place. At first he was terrified that they needed so many weapons, but he was relieved to see that the vast majority of it was covered with a thick layer of dust.

“Don’t use most of it,” Minho said. “But ya never know. All we usually take with us is a couple of sharp knives.”

He nodded toward a large wooden trunk in the corner, its top open and leaning against the wall. Knives of all shapes and sizes were stacked haphazardly all the way to the top.

Thomas just hoped the room was kept secret from most of the Gladers. “Seems kind of dangerous to have all this stuff,” he said. “What if Ben had gotten down here right before he went nuts and attacked me?”

Minho pulled the keys out of his pocket and dangled them with a clickety-clank. “Only a few lucky toads have a set of these.”

“Still …”

“Quit your bellyachin’ and pick a couple. Make sure they’re nice and sharp. Then we’ll go get breakfast and pack our lunch. I wanna spend some time in the Map Room before we head out.”

Thomas was pumped to hear that—he’d been curious about the squat building ever since he’d first seen a Runner go through its menacing door. He selected a short silvery dagger with a rubber grip, then one with a long black blade. His excitement waned a little. Even though he knew perfectly well what lived out there, he still didn’t want to think about why he needed weapons to go into the Maze.

A half hour later, fed and packed, they stood in front of the riveted metal door of the Map Room. Thomas was itching to go inside. Dawn had burst forth in all her glory, and Gladers milled about, readying for the day. Smells of frying bacon wafted through the air—Frypan and his crew trying to keep up with dozens of starving stomachs. Minho unlocked the door, cranked the wheel-handle, spinning it until an audible click sounded from inside, then pulled. With a lurching squeal, the heavy metal slab swung open.

“After you,” Minho said with a mocking bow.

Thomas went in without saying anything. A cool fear, mixed with an intense curiosity, gripped him, and he had to remind himself to breathe.

The dark room had a musty, wet smell, laced with a deep coppery scent so strong he could taste it. A distant, faded memory of sucking on pennies as a kid popped into his head.

Minho hit a switch and several rows of fluorescent lights flickered until they came on full strength, revealing the room in detail.

Thomas was surprised at its simplicity. About twenty feet across, the Map Room had concrete walls bare of any decoration. A wooden table stood in the exact center, eight chairs tucked in around it. Neatly stacked piles of paper and pencils lay about the table’s surface, one for each chair. The only other items in the room were eight trunks, just like the one containing the knives in the weapons basement. Closed, they were evenly spaced, two to a wall.

“Welcome to the Map Room,” Minho said. “As happy a place as you could ever visit.”

Thomas was slightly disappointed—he’d been expecting something more profound. He took in a deep breath. “Too bad it smells like an abandoned copper mine.”

“I kinda like the smell.” Minho pulled out two chairs and sat in one of them. “Have a seat, I want you to get a couple of images in your head before we go out there.”

As Thomas sat down, Minho grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil and started drawing. Thomas leaned in to get a better look and saw that Minho had drawn a big box that filled almost the entire page. Then he filled it with smaller boxes until it looked exactly like an enclosed tic-tac-toe board, three rows of three squares, all the same size. He wrote the word GLADE in the middle, then numbered the outside squares from one to eight, starting in the upper left corner and going clockwise. Lastly, he drew little notches here and there.

“These are the Doors,” Minho said. “You know about the ones from the Glade, but there are four more out in the Maze that lead to Sections One, Three, Five, and Seven. They stay in the same spot, but the route there changes with the wall movements every night.” He finished, then slid the paper over to rest in front of Thomas.

Thomas picked it up, completely fascinated that the Maze was so structured, and studied it as Minho kept talking.

“So we have the Glade, surrounded by eight Sections, each one a completely self-contained square and unsolvable in the two years since we began this freaking game. The only thing even approaching an exit is the Cliff, and that ain’t a very good one unless you like falling to a horrible death.” Minho tapped the Map. “The walls move all over the shuck place every evening—same time as our Doors close shut. At least, we think that’s when, because we never really hear walls moving any other time.”

Thomas looked up, happy to be able to offer a piece of information. “I didn’t see anything move that night we got stuck out there.”

“Those main corridors right outside the Doors don’t ever change. It’s just the ones a little deeper out.”

“Oh.” Thomas returned to the crude map, trying to visualize the Maze and see stone walls where Minho had penciled lines.

“We always have at least eight Runners, including the Keeper. One for each Section. It takes us a whole day to map out our area—hoping against hope there’s an exit—then we come back and draw it up, a separate page for each day.” Minho glanced over at one of the trunks. “That’s why those things are shuck full of Maps.”

Thomas had a depressing—and scary—thought. “Am I … replacing someone? Did somebody get killed?”

Minho shook his head. “No, we’re just training you—someone’ll probably want a break. Don’t worry, it’s been a while since a Runner was killed.”

For some reason that last statement worried Thomas, though he hoped it didn’t show on his face. He pointed at Section Three. “So … it takes you a whole day to run through these little squares?”

“Hilarious.” Minho stood and stepped over to the trunk right behind them, knelt down, then lifted the lid and rested it against the wall. “Come here.”

Thomas had already gotten up; he leaned over Minho’s shoulder and took a look. The trunk was large enough that four stacks of Maps could fit, and all four reached the top. Each of the ones Thomas could see were very similar: a rough sketch of a square maze, filling almost the whole page. In the top right corners, Section 8 was scribbled, followed by the name Hank, then the word Day, followed by a number. The latest one said it was day number 749.

Minho continued. “We figured out the walls were moving right at the beginning. As soon as we did, we started keeping track. We’ve always thought that comparing these day to day, week to week, would help us figure out a pattern. And we did—the mazes basically repeat themselves about every month. But we’ve yet to see an exit open up that will lead us out of the square. Never been an exit.”

“It’s been two years,” Thomas said. “Haven’t you gotten desperate enough to stay out there overnight, see if maybe something opens while the walls are moving?”

Minho looked up at him, a flash of anger in his eyes. “That’s kind of insulting, dude. Seriously.”

#MazeRunner