#bc i was writing in bits and pieces

[padfootastic]

Forever mine

(james/sirius; loose soulmate au; ruthless, protective sirius!!)

The first time Sirius meets his soulmate is when he’s dying in his arms. 

The thought ‘I’ll end whoever touched you’ hit him with such dizzying force, he had to brace himself against the ground for a minute. 

Sirius hadn’t ever been particularly aggressive, had tried hard to stay away from the murderhurtviolence running through his blood, but in that moment—in that moment, he imagined he was feeling what every single Black had for centuries before him and would continue to do so after.

It was supposed to be a simple errand--a beer run for Regulus who refused to get off his couch until he became one with the upholstery. It wasn't supposed to be like this, him kneeling on the ground, soaked in blood and rain, praying to a god he hadn't believed in three minutes ago

The man--and who would've thought of that huh?-- was tall. Not as tall as him, but certainly far, far larger. Ropes of muscle travelled the length of his well tanned arm; thick, toned thighs lying still on the pavement. For one, obnoxious second, Sirius wondered about the possibility of being picked up and twirled around before shutting that train of thought down real quick. 

How utterly delusional, and he wasn't even the one bleeding out.

He was dressed in athletic wear--perhaps out for an evening jog?--and the fabric was molded to every crevice of his body, thanks to the rain. Before he'd passed out, Sirius had the opportunity, the honor, of seeing huge, brown eyes staring up at him with desperate pleading shining through them.

And that thought, that memory, was what got his blood boiling all over again. 

How dare his soulmate lie here, bleeding, on the edge of death if the holes in his chest were anything to go by, and desperate and alone? If Sirius hadn’t been out for fucking alcohol, if Reg hadnt been a depressed, heartbroken parasite in his house, if that asshole Evan hadn't cheated on his baby brother--if, if, if. 

His soulmate could've...would've been alone, dying, dead.

Sirius slowly unclenched his trembling fingers, letting go of the deathly cold fingers sticky with blood. His other hand was still wrapped around the man's--his soulmate's--back, helping him lean back against Sirius' chest. A sort of quiet, dangerous thrum filled his body, taking away all the restlessness from before. He didn't know what was about to happen next, how the man would pull through, how he would pull through. But he knew this: whoever did this would rue the day they were born. 

 He made two phone calls. 

First, The ambulance--a man is dying, come as quick as possible, I dont know how long he has left. 

 Next, his father. 

 'Father.'

'Son.'

'I need you to find someone for me.'

And that was it. Sirius might've had his differences with his family, might've run away from them in multiple fits of pique, might've even been threatened to high heaven and back but at the end of the day he was still a Black and Blacks looked out for each other. Rule number one. As long as he had blood running through his veins--and perhaps even after that--there was nothing on Earth that could keep them away from each other. 

John Doe. 

That's what it said on the patient chart. John fucking Doe.

All those blood tests, all the evaluations, and what use was it for if they couldn't even conduct one measly identification? 

Sirius resisted the urge to growl out loud; he wanted to throw something, wanted to scream the place down until something happened, but he barely controlled himself.

No. That wasn't the way to go about this. 

Dammit, this soulmate business was quite annoying. He hadn't felt this many emotions in such a short span of time, with such intensity, for quite some time. Perhaps never. That's what made him so deadly as a businessman. Sirius had never once needed to raise his voice, or his hand, to get something done. 

Which is what made his sudden penchant for violence so...jarring. He didn't know how to control it, couldn't keep the bloodlust from seeping into his thoughts. He had half a mind to check his reflection in a mirror--surely his eyes, usually a dark grey, would've turned red by now at the force of his impulses? 

He shook his head at the ridiculous thought, wondering when he'd lost his mind.

(He knew when. It was the moment he heard the bang-bang-bang, the thump of someone falling onto the pavement. It was when he looked down and felt his own flesh ache in response to the holes left in his soulmate's body. It was the outpouring of years of emotions he hadn't even known he'd repressed) 

"Mr...Black?" A hesitant voice brought him back from his memories, making him internally grateful for the distraction. He stood up to face the doctor looking at him with a weird look on his face. Sirius could see why--here he was, dressed in a half undone suit, blood soaking his satin shirt, probably dotted all across the rest of his body, and of course, the dirt stains on his knees. Not to mention, the rain had created an even bigger mess of him. The stares he was getting were quite understandable, really. 

"That's me, yes." 

"Er--the man you came with--are you quite sure you have no idea who he is?" 

This time, Sirius didn't resist the rumbling of his voice as he ground out, "Like I told your receptionist, then a nurse, and finally the constable after that, I found him, just like this, on the pavement. Don’t make me repeat it again for the sake of your incompetence. Now, what is the status of his condition?" 

The doctor cleared his throat, pulling at the knot on his tie. "Well, then, uh. Mr. Black, I'm afraid I can't disclose that information--patient confidentiality, I'm sure you understand." He let out a little laugh at that, as if this was all a big fucking joke, and turned away. 

Like Sirius would let him leave. 

In two quick strides, he'd reached the doctor's side, deftly pulling him into a corridor off the side, pushing him against the wall as soon as they were out of sight. 

"Listen here, Doc," he sneered, pushing him back with his forearm against his chest, "That man in there? He's my soulmate." The doctor paled at the word, igniting dark satisfaction in him. Somewhere inside, deep down, Sirius knew he couldn't have known, but in that moment, it didn't matter. "So you can take your 'patient confidentiality' and shove it up your arse, got it?"

The man nodded so hard it was a wonder his head didn’t fall off to the ground. 

“Un-Unconscious, sir. He’s been bleeding out for too long,” the doctor stuttered out finally, “We can’t guarantee any—”

Sirius pushed harder, cutting him off midway. “Finish that sentence and I’ll cut off your tongue and stuff it down your throat.” The clack of the man’s teeth shutting close filled him with more satisfaction than it probably should have. The silence, however, was too much of a relief for him to think about that just yet. 

No guarantee, he says. He’ll show him ‘no guarantee’. 

Sirius took a deep breath and stepped back, straightening his shirt as he did. He waited for the doctor to compose himself before lifting one hand to smoothen the wrinkles on his coat, ignoring the flinch. Clearing his throat, he said, “Doc. I hope you know who I am?” 

No response except a wrinkled brow. 

“Sirius Black, heir and CEO of Cassiopeia Industries,” he clarified and sure enough, the man went paler than what should’ve been humanly possible. Sirius’ smile was thin, dangerous. “Yes, I see you’ve heard of us. Good, I’m glad. It’ll make this much smoother then.” 

He leaned in closer, close enough he could smell the sweat beading along the man’s neck, the sourness of his breath, could see the dilated pupils. “So you know what I can, and will, do to you if you can’t ‘guarantee’ my soulmate’s life, yes?” 

He didn’t have to say much else then, not after the doctor’s vigorous nods and assurances. 

There were other things to do, after all.

He was sitting on the uncomfortable plastic bench, leg tapping an annoying rhythm on the linoleum, when a pair of sleek, polished shoes entered his vision. Sirius released the breath he’d been holding in since the minute this evening started. 

Father was here.

“Sirius.” 

“Father,” he replied, standing up for their customary handshake. Not too firm, never too loose. Know your place in the world and be secure in that knowledge. Lessons he’d had drilled into his head since before he could speak. 

(He wondered what his soulmate’s handshake would be like?) 

“I’ve got the information you asked for, though I can’t wonder why you would need to get in touch with what seems like, on the surface, a common street thug,” Father said with his usual upturned lip. His eyebrows were slightly raised, which was about as much emotion as he allowed himself to show in public. 

Sirius’ eyes were fixed on a point slightly to the left of his head, on the cream-coloured wall with years of misuse plastered across it in dark spots. “I was out for…an errand today—”

“That brother of yours still drinking his swill, I take it,” came the expected comment. He paid it no mind. 

“And just outside the shop, this man…he was—shot. Four times. Seemed personal.” Sirius’ voice was cold, clinical, recounting with perfect clarity and none of the panic that seemed to be seeping into every inch of him. 

“And you thought today was a nice day to become a good samaritan?” His father’s disdain for a good samaritan was clear in the tone of his voice. Sirius almost smiled at the familiarity of it. There had been many family dinners where he’d suffered through his fathers disgust for ‘a bunch of nosy do-gooders with neither a penny nor any dignity to their name, poking their limbs in where it’s not needed.’ 

“Not exactly, no,” Sirius stalled, knowing he wouldn’t be able to do so much longer. Already, he could see the impatience lining Orion Black’s countenance, the foot slowly tapping on the floor, expecting, no—demanding an answer. “It was my…soulmate. I could feel it. He’s in there right now—“ he tilted his head towards the OR “—and they don’t have ‘any guarantees’ supposedly,”

At any other time, Sirius would’ve been ashamed, no, horrified at the way his voice cracked at the end, wouldn’t have been able to look his father in the eye for a week afterwards but just like his patience had disappeared in the course of his evening, so had his shame, it seems. 

But he couldn’t muster it this time. Not even when his father’s lip curled farther up at the vulgar display of emotion. He didn’t say anything, though, probably dredging up the last of his humanity to do so—merely put a hand into his coat and pulled out a plain black envelope. 

“Do clean up, Sirius, this sort of behaviour is most unbecoming of you.” With one last parting shot, he left the envelope in Sirius’ hands and left, just as imperiously as he’d entered.

Sirius smoothed one hand over the soft planes of the mystery man’s cheeks, touch featherlight and ready to withdraw at a moment’s notice if needed. 

He looked…peaceful, completely at odds with the prognosis clutched in Sirius’ other hand, like his heart wasn’t on the verge of giving up at any time. It was a cruel illusion, a painful distortion of reality, and yet, Sirius wanted it for as long as he could have it. 

“How I’ve looked for you, darling,” he whispered, thumb running repetitive circles over the man’s cheek. “And now that I’ve found you…” 

“Are we doomed to forever live like this?” 

Perhaps if this was a movie, that would be the cue for his soulmate to wake up, to dramatically open his eyes and proclaim his love for Sirius; they’d take each other in their arms and never let go, savor the kind of pleasure that only the other half of your soul can give you. 

But this wasn’t a movie, and Sirius was no hero.

He left soon after that, unable to look, helpless to do anything but. 

It was in the car that he opened the envelope for the first time. It contained two things: a slip of paper with a name and address on it, and a photograph, black and white and grainy, like it was taken with a cheap instant camera. 

He traced one finger over the smiling face, comparing it to the unnatural stillness of the man he’d just left behind, and clenched his jaw. Throwing the photo across the seat, he put the car in reverse and peeled out of the parking lot. 

Tom Riddle didn’t know what was waiting for him. 

“Who are you?” The harsh words were accompanied by a gun aimed straight at his head. Sirius couldn’t be less bothered, however. From the way the man’s eyes were dilated, unable to focus on one point, to his shaking hands that couldn’t even grasp the revolver properly, to the disarray of his jet black hair and clothes—it was safe to deduce that he was more of a danger to himself than anyone else. That coffee table off to the side, for example, looked particularly menacing if he knocked himself over it, which judging by the sway in his frame, he seemed quite likely to. 

“You don’t need to know that, Mr. Riddle,” he replied in a calm, soothing voice. He looked down, adjusting his cufflinks as he spoke. “I’m here for one thing and you’re going to give it to me.” 

“I don’t swing that way, honey,” Riddle slurred, making Sirius grimace in response. The man wasn’t…unfortunate looking but even if he hadn’t found his soulmate—and loved him on the spot—Riddle was not his type. His tastes tended to run a bit more discerning than drunkards in old, run-down motels who couldn’t even hold a firearm properly. 

(Could James hold a gun, he thinks absently. He could teach him, if he wanted, would love to see the way his muscles move as he pressed down on the trigger—) 

“And I’m sure mankind is glad for that,” he said dryly.

“You—” Riddle spluttered, stumbling forward, narrowly escaping the corner of the table (sadly). Sirius looked on in disgust, wondering how vermin like this could’ve even gotten near his wonderful, beautiful soulmate, close enough to not just hurt him but do so badly enough that he’s lying on his deathbed, waiting for divine intervention to save him. 

“This man.” Sirius held up his phone, where a photo of the mystery man lying on the hospital bed, thankfully cleaned of all blood and grime, is looking out at them. “Who is he?” 

“No clue, buddy,” Riddle tried to shrug but Sirius wasn’t having any of it. His patience was already at an all time low and now this clown’s shenanigans weren’t helping. 

“So help me, God, if you don’t tell me right now who he is and why you shot him four fucking times—“ Sirius threatened, finally getting up from his not-so-comfortable perch on the windowsill. Riddle only shrugged again, taking a step back. 

That’s it. 

Sirius moved forward, quick enough to probably seem like a blur to Riddle’s drink-addled mind. In a single manoeuver, he had the man turned around and pushed against the wall, face smushed into the peeling paint. His hands were held in a bruising grip in one of Sirius’ and he gun was safely out of reach from where it had clattered on the floor. Judging by the lightness of it, it had never even been a threat. 

“I’m running out of patience, honey,” he crooned. “I’m afraid I’m gonna have to get creative now.” 

Saying that, he stepped back a little, just enough that he could pull Riddle’s index finger back, back, back until a loud crack and a sob filled the air. 

Neither the cracks nor the sobs stopped for the rest of the night.

"More blood, Sirius?" 

Sirius didn't respond, only continued dabbing at the stained blood on his shirt--his second of the day. 

"Look at me when I'm talking to you, boy!" His father's voice echoed sharply in the empty room. He hated being ignored; that's why Sirius did it, after all. 

"Thanks for the help, Father, I really appreciate it," he said instead. Once he was satisfied that as many of the stains as possible had been removed, he moved onto his hands, lip curling at the dried flakes stuck under his nails. This was always the worst part about these things. 

"And what of all this...soulmate business, then?" 

"What about it?" Sirius looked up, then, meeting his father's eyes through the mirror, grey clashing against grey. 

"Well, what're you going to do?" His father was neutral as ever, but Sirius knew him well enough to see the glint of curiosity in his calculating gaze. 

"What anyone else does with their soulmate, I believe." The resounding sigh at his glib answer made him snicker into his fist. Sirius might be old and powerful enough to make the world tremble at his feet but there was a unique joy in upsetting his father's composure that never lost its charm. 

"Sirius." 

"Father." It was his turn to sigh this time as he finally turned around, taking out his handkerchief as he did. "Here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to go in there, pray to a God neither you nor I believe in but hopefully he does, and sit by his bedside for as long as it takes. Everything else can wait." 

"The business?" 

"We have a board for a reason, incompetent as they might be on a  good day," he fired back. 

"Your brother withering away in your flat?" 

"Nothing new there," Sirius scoffed. "Reg'll be right as rain in a few days. Then he'll be back on his usual cycle of finding another terrible partner, getting cheated on, and coming right back to nest on my lumpy couch."

"That thing really is terribly lumpy," Father muttered under his breath before straightening up with a firm nod. "Very well, then. I wish you the best of luck. Bring your young man around for lunch when he wakes up. I'm sure your Mother would like to examine him." 

Sirius couldn't articulate, in that moment, how much it meant to him that his father said 'when' instead of 'if’ he wakes up. That was something he hadn't even considered so far, afraid he'd break at the slightest possibility that he could lose his soulmate just as he'd found him, didn't even want to put the thought out into the universe and here was his father, perhaps the most self-assured, confident man he knew, saying it casual-as-you-please. 

 He was still reeling from the comment when his father took his leave, getting the last word in as he did, per usual. "And try and get your brother with you, yes? Kreacher would be delighted to see his 'Young Master'."

 It took three days for something to give.  

Every single day, Sirius could be found either sitting in the uncomfortable chair beside his mate's bed, holding his hand, stroking his hair, rubbing his thumb against his hand. There was a...tenderness in him now, one he'd never thought himself capable of. He both loathed and admired it; loathed, because the one person who should be receiving it was unable to, admired because it was a wondrous feeling, this lightness in his chest, the innate urge to give, without expecting anything in return. 

Sirius had been a career businessman, and casual criminal, since he came out of the womb. This was an entirely novel experience for him and he couldn't even enjoy it, for fuck's sake. 

"Wake up, goddammit.” he burst out on the third day of no activity, of hearing the shallow, almost nonexistent breaths of his mystery man amplified by the machines hooked up to him. “I need you, you bastard.”

So focused was he on those wires and the beeping machines and the sterile fucking room that he almost missed it. He wouldn't ever have forgiven himself if he had. 

"Prefer...darling...I think," a voice croaked. The most beautiful, wonderful sound in the world. 

"What--" Sirius whispered in wonder, staring unblinkingly at the wide brown eyes looking back at him, exhausted and drooping and red-rimmed but open. Alive. 

"You called me...darling..." The man repeated, less confident this time, a crease forming between his brows. "Or did I--?"

Sirius lurched forward, grabbing his face desperately with both of his, ready to do anything to get the frown off his face. "No, no, I did--that is, I called you that--darling--that was me. I did it." 

He couldn't even be horrified at the uncharacteristic stuttering, unable to care about anything except the shy smile blooming on his soulmate's face, the warmth of it chasing away all the demons that had taken up residence in Sirius' head since that day.

"Oh," the man exhaled, biting his lip. Sirius leaned further in, entranced by the action.  

"I'm--I'm James." 

James. 

Finally. A name. The most perfect name. 

"James," Sirius breathed out, as if all the air had been punched out of his chest, leaving room only for jamesjamesjameshisoulmatejames. "I'm so happy to finally meet you." 

"I can...tell," he replied, still a bit shy, unsure. Sirius wanted to wrap him in bubble wrap forever and hide him away from the world. He also wanted to entirely devour him at the same time. It was a confusing set of impulses. "I could hear...everything...when I was...y'kno." He made an adorable gesture with his fingers, index finger circling in the air to signify his little...hibernation period. Sirius hoped he could refer to it so casually one day, though he doubted it. 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." James nodded. "Though--I didn't…get your...name?" 

It was Sirius' turn to bite his lip now, not half as cute or sexy, he was sure, only conflicted. Would his soulmate be scared away? Would he even know who Sirius was? Did he want him to? "Sirius, uh--Sirius Black." 

There was a beat of silence, fraught with tension (or perhaps Sirius was just projecting?) before James' broke out in a wide smile, completely eclipsing the brilliance of the previous one. He extended one shaky hand towards Sirius from under the covers. 

"Hello, Sirius Black, it's very, very nice to finally meet you too." 

As if in a daze, completely unable to believe this was happening to him, Sirius placed his hand in James', feeling tiny pinpricks of electricity racing up his arm and down his body in a flash of delicious warmth. He could see, judging by the tremble in James' frame, that he felt the same. 

Their hands clasped (not too firm, never too loose) and Sirius knew everything would be just fine.

#james potter #sirius black #bambibelle #prongsfoot #listen dont judge the title im not good at them #might rework if/when i post on ao3 #(which i prolly will bc im too needy lol) #but this was! the livewrite! #hence the whole thing might seem a bit abrupt #bc i was writing in bits and pieces #so theres little continuity #but fanfiction is fun! so im trying to not be a perfectionist everywehere #so yah #hope u like it! #also i would say sorry for doing riddle so dirty #but theres just something so funny aboout making him such a loser ykno? #pen's writing

[wardingshout]

Zelda goes mushroom girl

#tloz #a link to the past #zelda #link #my art #I was happy with that first one but for some reason decided it still needed a companion piece so I spent way too long on that second one... #I don't think there was any time during the progress where I was happy with it but hfduhdfu at least I got to Attempt drawing moss hell yea #I also at some point sat in Pyu's art stream and said I enjoy drawing legs As I was being murdered by the infamously impossibe (imo) squat. #it's ok I had fun !! but I need to learn how to let doodles be doodles or I'll never finish stuff at this rate dfsuhfd #if everything in my tloz tag looks like it was drawn by different people uuuh 2023 was art crisis year ngl...... #I'm falling back into my old ways rn though #anyway I think about these two a lot I think they're both stone faced and awkward ppl in different ways but they try rly hard to be friends #like I like to think it starts out so incredibly awkward and a bit sad bc they keep stepping over each other's toes accidentally the harder #they try but idk they find comfy middle ground idk in my brain they have a very interesting friendship I wanna get around to drawing it #in a proper way that might make sense.... #if I don't write 200 tags I will die maybe it's bc I grew up on dA or smth #and yes I know how to find 1 (one) type of mushroom /I/ am not mushroom girl unfortunately smh

[duu-kiwi]

I bet aziraphale wrote about the day the universe was made, about the angel whose voice recited the words that created the stars, about how bright they shone, and still shine, in those angel eyes✨🪐

Here you have some detailss and a cropped version with just!! them!!!

edit: prints link !

#Good Omens #good omens fanart #good omens season 2 #there is something something abt the diary(?) that aziraphale writes #that theyve might wrote abt that time too #and i also thought abt the possibility that crowley will found and read them someday #i had like three separate pieces that make this concept a bit more linear? im really excited because i had a really fun time making this #it was challenging but oh so regarding to make a full piece since 2021 #anyways i really love them and they have inspired me to push myself a little further so im really grateful for that #also FOR THIS SECOND SEASON THAT NO ONE HAD THE RIGHT TO MAJE IT THST GUTGRENCHING AND FUNNY AND GOOD?!?! #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #fanart #art #aziracrow #angel crowley my beloved #i hope i nailed the love at first sight eyes on aziraphale bc that was what happened there right? #artists on tumblr #good omens 2 #angel crowley #myart

[kentopedia]

since i've seen others talking about this, as someone who writes predominately lengthy fics (5k+ words), what annoys me the most is that i've seen so many people on tumblr & tiktok specifically say "i hate when writers have too much build-up and don't get straight to the smut, i just skip to it." ???? writers spend HOURS on pieces like that, and to find out you don't really care is very disheartening & is quite literally going to kill not only writing on these platforms but literature as a whole

#ppl on booktok getting upset when there's no smut in a book or it doesn't compare to the fics they've read :// #personally i don't like smut unless i care DEEPLY about the characters and to see that those are the most widely recommended books rn #pains me a little bit #and i write long pieces bc i enjoy them but #to know that people might just skip straight to the smut is upsetting #fics longer than 2k words rarely get many notes on this platform which is so sad bc that is where people get the most opportunity #to showcase their skills

[beanghostprincess]

I really loved your hc about Sanji meeting Yassop and Usopp meeting Zeff and I start to think about like-

What about this with Zosan, Lusan and Lawsan?? This will be SO funny and perfect-

Just hear me: (and yes, this will be with our queen Trans!Fem Sanji)

Mihawk and Zoro going to a dinner with Sanji and Zeff because both want to know their child partner

Shanks going to Baratie 'cause Luffy insisted, and Sanji going too just to say a 'hello!' to her father and properly give the notice she's dating her captain (Luffy forgot to tell this to Shanks and he just discover he was knowing the father of his son's girlfriend when they already are in Baratie)

Law going because Sanji wanted him to know Zeff, and even hating to interact too much, he acepts because he knows how much this mean to her

And like, how you think they will react about the thing of Zeff eating his own FUCKING leg??

Okay, this is really funny- The chaos. Just imagine the chaos. Gonna try to put my thoughts into words (<- Literally a fucking writer. I'm just tired today don't blame me).

Please assume the OP world here is exactly the same but Mihawk and Shanks actually raised Zoro and Luffy. Somehow. Don't ask me how. They see them as their fathers. Zeff and Sanji's story is still the same because they're canonically family lmao. And also Transfem!Sanji as you said btw bc I love my princess.

─┉┈◈Zosan◈┈┉

The thing about Mihawk and Zoro going to a dinner with them is that Zoro and Sanji would try to behave but they would end up arguing in front of them anyway because that's just how they are and Mihawk and Zeff would end up talking alone about them tbh. Zeff offers Mihawk one of his best wines and Mihawk is- Well, you already know how Mihawk is. Their conversation is pretty polite but they keep drinking while the other two are in the background fighting for some meaningless bullshit like: "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO GET HERE FIFTEEN MINUTES AGO, STUPID MOSSHEAD" / "OKAY SO IT'S MY FAULT THAT THE SEA IS VERY ROUGH TODAY AND THE SHIP ALMOST SINKS" / "LIAR!! I'M SURE YOU JUST GOT LOST".

And it's uhhh chaotic. But there's passion and Sanji is mad because she cares about him meeting Zeff and Zoro is frustrated but actually trying to calm down. Zeff and Mihawk are very fond of tough love and passionate couples so these two fighting just means they have strong feelings for each other. However, they end up making up and sitting down with their fathers while they tell anecdotes and try to get to know each other better. Mihawk and Zeff are intimidating af and I'm like 100% sure that Zoro would be scared of Zeff at some point bc he would look at him with that look of "If you hurt my daughter I'm killing you" and Zoro is, for once in his life, scared of a cook. Then that silly topic of "Oh, yes, I ate my own leg to save this little shit of a daughter from starving to death" comes up.

Zoro almost chokes on his food and Mihawk stares at Zeff for a while, looks down at his leg, squints his eyes at him and says: It certainly is a really admirable doing. And just out of mere curiosity, was it good-

Zeff: A little bit of seasoning and less pain would've helped

Sanji: DAD, WHAT THE FUCK

Zoro: Curly, you didn't tell me your dad was cool

Sanji: OH, YES, EXCUSE ME MOSSHEAD FOR NOT TELLING EVERYONE ABOUT MY DAD EATING HIS OWN FUCKING LEG

Mihawk: I say admirable doing because you just met her, right? I would not have done something like this for this bastard right here

Zoro: Thanks, dad

Mihawk: You're welcome I let you and Princess stay with me, don't push it

Sanji: Who's Princess?

Zoro: My sister

Sanji: YOU HAVE A SISTER?

Mihawk: Zoro, you didn't tell your girlfriend about Perona?

Zoro: I forgot

Sanji: I'm going to murder you

And basically, long story short, the night ends pretty well to Sanji's surprise. Mihawk is very nice and polite to her even if he looks pretty dark and edgy, and Sanji can't believe that man raised an idiot like her boyfriend. Then we have Zeff, who shakes Zoro's hand so hard it hurts and whispers in his ear all the atrocities he would do to him if he hurt his precious princess. Things that won't happen, of course. That's why that 'would' is there. But still, he tells him anyway. Just in case.

─┉┈◈Lusan◈┈┉

When Luffy tells Shanks to go to the Baratie together, he doesn't hesitate to say yes because who would refuse to go there? What kind of pirate would he be? Sanji is already there because she decided to go a bit earlier, so Shanks instantly assumes he's just going to have lunch with his son in a very nice place and see Zeff again after a long time. When they get to the Baratie and see that Sanji is there too, Shanks assumes Sanji just stopped by too. A coincidence. He already knows that's Zeff's daughter, btw.

But then Luffy does that thing he always does, running towards someone he loves and hugging them tightly with his legs wrapped around them. And Shanks is just like "Oh, well, that's his usual behavior and he's just greeting his cook" but then they kiss and it's uh, confusing. So Shanks asks what's going on and Sanji is all like "Please, don't tell me you didn't mention this to Shanks" and Luffy just shrugs, turns around, and says "Dad, I'm dating Sanji!" then looks at his cook again smiling and Sanji sighs: "And you obviously didn't tell him this was supposed to be a thing so our dads could talk-"

Shanks: Fuck, am I meeting your dad now? Like, actually meeting him as your boyfriend's dad? That's not- Hey, Anchor, you did not mention this.

Luffy: I'm sorry! But Zeff is reaaaaally amazing!

Shanks: I am well aware that he's amazing but you need to warn me first about this stuff.

Luffy: What? It's just dad stuff-

Shanks: I AM NOT GOOD AT DAD STUFF

Then Zeff appears and Shanks tries to act like a normal father for once (he can't. He fails. It doesn't work) and they actually end up having a pretty calm and fun dinner once he relaxes, remembering that Zeff has always been cool. Luffy is extremely clingy with Sanji, a thing that Shanks already knew but never guessed it was because of them dating. And now that he sees it from a different perspective, it is clear that they're in love, even if Sanji won't stop trying to push the kid away because he's obsessed with sitting close to her and eating food from her hands and things like that. Little shit has a more stable love life than him. That's depressing.

Their laughter and joyful voices fill the whole empty restaurant and Shanks and Zeff are already a bit drunk while Sanji is dragged by Luffy to sit on his lap. And it would be embarrassing but it's not like their dads are looking at them, too caught up in their own anecdotes and stories.

Then Shanks asks how Zeff met Sanji because he knows that's not his biological daughter. He remembers Zeff telling him about his little princess years ago when Sanji was still at the Baratie and Shanks stopped by to eat with his crew. And of course, Zeff explains what happened. Their shared dream and everything. Luffy isn't really listening because he already knows the story and is too focused on his girlfriend right now. Zeff tells them about the leg thing, and Shanks starts laughing so, so fucking loud and hysterically:

Shanks: I DID THAT TOO

Zeff: You did what, too?

Shanks: Don't you notice something missing? Perhaps on the left side of my torso? There hanging? Well- Nothing hanging, actually

Zeff: You did not-

Shanks: I did not, but I lost this useless thingy saving this bastard right here

Sanji: You said you're not good at dad stuff but that's a pretty dad thing to do, huh?

Shanks: I guess so, yeah. We have more things than I thought in common, Red Leg!

Luffy: Except for cooking. Your cooking is awful.

Shanks: My cooking is amazing, Anchor, thank you very much.

Luffy: THAT'S NOT TRUE! YOU ONLY HEATED UP WHAT MAKINO MADE FOR ME

Shanks: But I did a good job!

Anyway, they surprisingly have a very nice and warm meal together without Shanks or Luffy being as chaotic as Sanji thought they'd be. When they're heading out, Zeff just pats Luffy on the shoulder and tells him to take care of his princess and appreciate her food or else he'll make him clean the dishes again but this time for years, quite literally speaking. Shanks sees the couple holding hands when they get out of the restaurant, the redhead staying behind for a second to speak to Zeff. But Shanks is already at that point of drunkness where he starts having a breakdown and he's like "Why does my kid have a girlfriend and my husband left me?????? This is so unfair. They love each other so much, Red Leg, look at them!!!!!!!" and Zeff is like "They're young and stupid too, but they'll grow up. You still haven't. Please get out of my restaurant before you make my onions cry."

─┉┈◈Lawsan◈┈┉

Law doesn't want to meet Zeff, that much is clear. He is not good at meeting new people and even less meeting father figures because God knows he doesn't have a good memory of how his relationship with his dad ended (Rip Cora-san, we miss you). But he goes anyway because Sanji keeps insisting and saying that it's important to her, and of course, Law can't say no to her. Well, actually Sanji just tells him that if he comes with her to the Baratie, she'll wear the Soba-Mask suit (Stealth Black or whatever, Sanji refuses to say those words so-) again for him some time and Law accepts almost instantly. Fucking simp.

So they go to the Baratie and Law is dressed in a white shirt and actual, proper, and almost elegant clothes because Bepo said he needed to do it in order to give a good impression, and Law, deep down, just wants Sanji to be happy. And if getting along with her dad will do it, having to deal with this torture for a few hours is worth it.

Sanji keeps telling him not to worry about Zeff because, even if it's a big step in their relationship, her dad is just a bit scary but a good guy, after all. He will like Law once he knows how much he cares about her too! But Law isn't worried about that, he just fucking sucks at social interactions. Free the introvert from having to socialize, please, he just wants to stay with his girlfriend alone and cuddle and infodump about silly little things and comics. This is highly bad for his mental health (getting out and talking to people).

But, well, turns out Zeff is actually a great guy. Even though at first he looks at his daughter intensely and says: "Why the ex shichibukai of all people? This guy looks depressed too. Have you eaten, kid? You look like a starving man. He looks like a starving man, sweetheart. You're not dating an emo bastard who does not eat" and ends up having an argument with Sanji... He's fun to be around, once he settles for feeding Law everything he can cook. And Law isn't complaining but decides not to mention how much he hates bread because he feels that sentence will end up with him dead on the floor.

However, Sanji is the one mentioning that after a while of seeing Law forcing himself to eat bread, rolling her eyes and taking it from his hands to eat it herself. And Zeff is just like "You should've said so earlier, son! Just eat whatever you like. I feed people for them to enjoy the food, goddamnit!" and Law can only nod and keep eating.

And they actually end up getting along when they start talking more and more. Law starts actually laughing and smiling a little bit and Zeff pats him in the back from time to time whenever he mentions stuff he has done with his powers. Zeff just finds that hilarious. And Sanji is happy they're getting along, but extremely embarrassed when Zeff starts talking about her childhood (Law is enjoying every second of this). Then the topic of how Zeff met Sanji is brought up, and Sanji doesn't really want Law to hear it because she didn't tell him about the leg thing. And when he finds out, he's just...

Law: You didn't tell me your dad did that for you

Sanji: It's not something I like to explain, y'know? I kind of feel guilty to this day

Zeff: You're such a cry baby, Eggplant. I already told her countless times I chose to do that and it ended up saving us both! What's the problem?

Sanji: Shut up, old man, you don't get it!

Law: I do get it. The- Uh- Feeling guilty about your dad sacrificing himself. Without Cora-san... I wouldn't be here.

Zeff: Well, kid, I don't know what your father did, but be grateful instead of feeling guilty. I'm sure he's a nice man if he raised somebody who loves my girl this much.

Law: He was a good man, yes. The best. And- I- I do love her. A lot.

Sanji has a moment where she almost cries, but she doesn't!! (She does. She goes to the bathroom and cries).

When they have to go back to the ship, Zeff stops Law and says:

Zeff: You might need to eat more, that much is clear, kid. But you take care of her and that's good enough for me.

Law: Thank yo-

Zeff: But you also strike me as someone who would die for her and even though I do appreciate the effort because I would do the same, don't die on her, got it? And eat more. Eat what she makes, actually. And you also should check if you're celiac.

Law: I'm a doctor. I know I'm not-

Zeff: Then stop bitching around and eat bread like a man, for fuck's sake.

And, you know, Zeff might be a bit intimidating but he is, after all, a good man just like Cora was.

#this was really fun to write #they all love sanji #i love sanji too #and also they're so iwenfjksndf #the lawsan one ended up being kind of sad #but y'know the other two are funny #one piece #black leg sanji #roronoa zoro #monkey d luffy #trafalgar d water law #red haired shanks #dracule mihawk #red leg zeff #zosan #lusan #lawsan #that lil bit hint of shuggy bc i can't control myself

[willowser]

katsuki jumps, startlingly, when you rub a hand up his back.

he's leaned too far down, bent over the counter at an angle that will give him an ache he'll complain about later, and his head whips up as you come to stand beside him. an e-mail on his phone is what previously had his full attention, but now he looks at you, eyes softening as you lean into his shoulder.

he's never been a very touchy guy. even after a year into your relationship, it's most often you reaching for his hand as you walk down the street; you pressing a kiss into his cheek while watching a movie on the couch; you running a hand through his hair as his breath steadies out beside you in bed.

it's not something you really complain about. you know how he is, knew before anything developed between the two of you, and you can't say it's a deal-breaker. there's little you know about his previous relationships or if he even had any, but you have the painful-gut feeling that affection just isn't something he's used to.

you press a smile into the sleeve of his shirt and his spine relaxes under your hand, finds that awful curve again. he watches you like he's waiting for something, tracing the tender details of your face.

"love you," you say, because do and you want to voice it aloud, put it into his mind even though you know he knows. as expected, his lips flatten into a wavering little line, shy suddenly, and your teeth wet the fabric of his shirt when you smile.

all you get is a little grunt in response and he dips his chin down in a wordless nod, accepting your lovey-dovey assault. it makes him feel a little helpless, you know, but you bring up an arm to wrap around him as he turns back to his phone, ears pink.

katsuki straightens with a dull pop!, stretching his arms up and allowing you to shuffle closer, so that your head is resting on his chest. you press your ear to it and wait, eyes closed, until the heavy promise of his heartbeat echoes like a drum in your ear. it's loud, and after a moment, your own falls into sync, right where it belongs.

"'s'wrong?"

"hm?" you glance up at him, the frown on his pink face, before breathing in the clean scent of his laundry soap. your laundry soap. and then you shake your head. "nothin'. just missed you."

"been home all day."

"i know," you sigh, letting your eyes fall shut again. the sound of his phone locking clicks and you can feel the slight down-slide of his sweatpants when he pockets it. "sometimes i miss you even though you're right here."

you expect — something; another grunt or laugh through his nose, a raspy little noise that voices his confusion. things like this can be hard for him; you know how he is, knew before anything ever developed between the two of you — but you don't think it makes him any less deserving.

katsuki steps back from you a little, and you feel the hesitant rise of his arm before you feel it. his hand comes up to your face — pink and scarred in your peripheral vision — and he tilts your head up, waits until you open your eyes.

when you do, it looks as if a million things are running through his head. his poker-face is good, it has to be, but you can see little bits of his vulnerability shining through. you wonder how long it's been since he showed it to anybody. he almost looks sad.

katsuki squeezes your cheeks until your lips pucker, and his frown deepens when you laugh. "y're so...damn weird."

that's along the lines of what you were anticipating: one of his teasing little insults, warm with a fire he's still learning how to kindle. you don't get the chance to say anything before he's kissing you, eyes shut tight, lashes brushing against your own.

you expect something soft, because affection is a fickle thing, from him — but his hand never falls from your face and his tongue is sliding with yours suddenly, a heated gesture that throws your heart out of whack. you let him kiss you as deeply as he can, until your back arches painfully backward over the counter as he leans into you.

when he pulls away, his lips are a little swollen and his cheeks are burning, as he presses one into yours. "i—jus'—" katsuki tries and then abandons it, a hand curling into the material of your shirt. "i get it." he murmurs, there, into the heated skin of your face, heart beating in time with yours.

things like this are hard with him — but he makes them so, so worth it.

#i like to think he's a lil too rough #wants to hold your face in his hands and ends up squishing you #kisses you with the potential to bruise #bc he's so unpracticed !! #cute !! what a nerd !! #and i think he can be a lil reserved with affection :( and so he knows :( what it means to miss you even though you're right there :( #all the things he wishes he could say and can't :( #hi. #i am actually feeling a bit helpless in the big writing world LOL #i'm happy with what i'm writing ! and will keep writing it ! #but in the back of my mind #i just keep thinking that i want to write something really really good for bakugou #something that matters :( #idk ! i'm just feeling a bit dramatic and off today !! #so have this soft gooey piece as an offering #✿ willow writes #✿ thoughts: bakugou #✿ theme: domestic bakugou

[redrobin-detective]

One of the most frustrating parts of writing for me is working on a scene for hours if not days and being like "this is way too long, people are going to lose interest. I need to cut this down and move things along." And then I scroll back to the beginning and everything I've written isn't even one full page.

#the amount of time spent on a piece vs how long it is internal clock is way off #Yall have no idea I panic on something #esp if Ive been struggling to write and I work on it on and off for a bit so I dont have the full context of how short a section is #it just feels so gd long bc Ive been working on it for the past week

[general-cyno]

sharing some gdocs zolus bc i got possessed last night and actually liked how this turned out

#you know it's bad BAD when I start writing and actually sharing it lmao #zoro's pov is so fun to write. this is mostly opla but kinda mixed with a bit of manga luffy bc his voice is fun #there's actually more (easily wrote nearly 2k at 4am like a madman) but this is my favorite bit #zolu #one piece #opla #tp #my stuff

[yea-baiyi]

the key to understanding hua cheng’s appearance and how he occupies space is that he’s a transmasc goth who’s committed to red and silver as his aesthetic. ok. the layered hair the outfits the boots the chains. he doesn’t shave off his eyebrows and redraw them only because he is a shapeshifter and so his eyebrows grow the way he wants.

#tgcf #hua cheng #my visions n delusions #my hyperfixation demon #anyway footnotes: #the red is because it’s the colour of the eye he was rejected for. the name his mother gave him. the token of his saviour. #and also because they told him he was unlucky well fuck you. fuck you the colour of luck will always remind you of me now #the silver is interesting bc i read about the miao ppl which apparently hua chengs mother was meant to be member of #and only women wear those extensive silver jewellery particularly the neck cuffs #men wear smal pieces but the cultural practice is in women wearing them #so. trans hua cheng is so real so canon #but also he’s literally just a goth ok my entire vision board for him is just #glam rock and goth icons #i had a whole thing detailing his aesthetic in much longer detail but you’ll have to wait for if i ever finish this thing #tbh i might not end up posting a long headcanon piece because i’m really writing this in bits and pieces #turns out a lot of my headcanons are just extensive textual analysis that i internalised? and now i’m writing details turns out it’s a meta

[b4kuch1n]

ough brain is doing SO bad but sometimes. there are colors

#bakuspeech #WIP #cw: gore #the stuffed animal cartoon kind. but still #ask to tag #Im so fucking sorry I keep going like I will draw! (does not draw for three weeks #I. ngl Somethin is goin on up there. I finished writing a Thing and it doesnt solve that #I just. this is my capacitance really I think. I just gotta. accept it. work with it #its always so funny tho bc like I look at whatever it is Im drawing rn and its like hey this looks like shit! this looks ass #and then I keep drawing it. #like this piece is at Least two weeks into something thats supposed to be a pretty quick revised illus for #an old wizard leon design. and like if I werent Bit Off it wouldve stayed that way #instead. this is how its goin #I have not slept for 23 hours. I should uh. fix that #but yeah its just. my brain is wrappin itself around some new ideas n concepts n shit rn #like. I was really afraid I wouldnt be able to paint digitally if Im not on the screen tablet #and its kinda fuckin with me? like obviously I can. I am literally doing the exact same things Im doing on the screen tablet #but now on a graphic tablet #thats just. not getting thru to my brain yet. for some reason. its still generating goo n such #well! what is a guy to do. if not blastin off regardless #sorry. I really should sleep now #have a good night lads! this piece will be done when its done. I am NOT saying more I am not jinxing SHIT #u should change ur pillowcases! it really does send u to another realm

[skunkes]

might sound weird to say as a person with a couple ocs who have Big Horrible Event(s) in their backstories or as a person who has like 3 ocs total bc he sucks at writing and as a person who hopes their ocs arent too Boring with [the thing im about to mention] but the thing about writing [characters] and [people] is that like.

any little thing a person experiences can take up their whole existence... its actually something "fun" to experience as i meet new ppl and do more things. My friend had something happen that she'll be talking about forever. I had several things happen last year that ill never stop talking about, some of which other ppl think werent that bad actually. In the same way I'll forever remember about the way my sister accidentally insulted me almost 10 years ago, it's really interesting and Fun to find and assign smaller things like that to characters...its really Real. some people's dealbreakers are other people's solvable problems etc etc

#(as well as the opposite: Big Event that maybe shocks everyone around em but they genuinely werent shaken by) #though this one is more common and leads to those ''ohh i didnt know that was normal oops'' moments #talkys #inspired by recent me and friend events #and also recent events where i told sum ppl more stuff about Thing and they responded as if it wasnt a big deal. but it was to me. #and also how i thought a part of al's childhood backstory was kind of maybe dumb and not realistically as impactful as id expect #but i saw someone on reddit almost word for word write that as their experience and how its shaped em as a person #and thats it like... the small things are boring and hard to keep track of sometimes #its not like you'll include every single little event your oc was shaped by in their bio #but idk. its like Fun to piece together for fun. to mold a human being #ykwim? wld be silly to tell everyone ''oh my oc struggles with self image due to many instances like... when their sister called em ugly'' #or write it anywhere but it is fun to Know and have in your head. and its real ! #just like if a friend told you about something that happened to em #long post #delete later #sorry i keep saying stupid obvious shit lately ive always been bad at oc making AND socializing so im learning everything late #but anyway yes. idk even as i keep making ocs that are ''similar'' its like. every person so different #people can react to anything in any way for any reason. i love people #this is why i struggle a bit with keeping ocs to archetypes i guess bc like. what is ooc for an oc. people contain contradictions all the #time. you can change yourself at any time. #ok nobody will read this far so ill go to the real insane rambling #part of this has been a part of my chats with talon while trying to get him to share more info #like. yeah ok you're 400+ years old the things that happened to you were such a comparatively small part of your life #but humans dont live as long and think about small things until they die. i dont think time would heal all wounds actually. not all of em #some thoughts just always come to gnaw at your brain. its ok to not be over things. i feel ill never be over some things #and also complainerism can be fun but thats something else entirely wee hee ^_^

[mirrortouchedsea]

(CW for Suicidal Ideation)

Hinata’s breath was heavy as he landed the final move of their act. The tinny music playing from their speakers went quiet and the audience clapped politely. It was always the same song and dance as the crowd moved on with their day. A few of them tossed some yen their way but otherwise it was time for them to regroup for their next performance. Yuta knelt down by the hat with some coins and bills sticking out of it, counting their earnings thus far. 

“Hey aniki! We might be able to eat well tonight! There’s like 3,000 yen in here!” Yuta exclaimed. The idea of a filling dinner made Hinata’s mouth water. Oh what he wouldn’t do for even warm noodles not from a cup. 

Hinata turned to grab the iPod from its place on the speaker, choosing the next song to play. He put the phone back and turned the volume up a little more to play over the evening rush. The music started and he and Yuta moved in unison around their little stage, taking in the crowd. There were some regulars that Hinata recognized, the businesswoman who was perpetually tired but always stopped for their performances and a few kids who looked up at them in awe as their parents were trying to usher them away. There were always new faces too, of course people traveled across the country all the time or took new trains or moved cities, but there was something different about the boy with the bright red hair at the back of the crowd. His sky blue eyes pierced straight through to Hinata’s heart and made him stumble when their gaze connected with his own. 

“Hey, aniki focus! We’re almost done, don't fail on me now!” Yuta whispered, carefully shielding Hinata from the crowd as he regained his footing. Yuta was always so quick thinking. Hinata got back to his position and finished up the routine, eyes looking for that boy he had spotted earlier. He half hoped the boy would come talk to them afterwards while they were packing up for the evening, but when he finally saw that shock of red hair, it was moving away with the rest of the crowd. 

Hinata sighed, disappointed. Maybe that boy would come back someday. There was something about him that drew Hinata in. 

Someone bumped his shoulder, drawing him from his thoughts. “Hey, aniki, are you alright? You seem out of it today.” Yuta’s hand rested on his shoulder and Hinata couldn’t help but smile. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around, the older brother checking in on the younger one? 

“Hey hey everything’s fine Yuta-kun, don’t worry about me. I was just thinking about that delicious dinner you’re treating us too~” He playfully pushed back on Yuta, the red haired blue eyed boy all but forgotten now. 

“Hey! It’s technically our money so I’m not treating you to anything!” Yuta scowled but the smile in his voice was obvious to Hinata. 

“Hehe, then dinner’s on me! Say ‘thank you aniki!’” 

--- 

It was a week before Hinata saw the red headed boy in their audience again. He had all but slipped his mind, but those striking blue eyes were impossible to forget. Yuta was introducing their next performance which allowed Hinata to take a better look at the older boy who had made his way to the middle of the audience. He was tall and what Hinata could see of his outfit seemed ill-fitting at best, along with a headband holding his hair away from his eyes. 

Hinata scrambled to his position as the music queued up and let his instincts take over. Every so often he found himself glancing at the red haired boy, trying to see what he thought of their performance, but his face revealed nothing. 

Why was he so focused on this one boy? It’s not like they didn’t have strangers who watched them sometimes, and none of them had caught Hinata’s attention quite like this boy. He really couldn’t be much older than Hinata, maybe 17 at the oldest. Was he an older brother too? The boy’s eyes made contact with Hinata’s and it took everything in him to not look away. 

Once again however, Yuta snapped him out of whatever trance he had been in and everything was forgotten. 

“Are you really okay aniki? You’ve been out of it a lot recently…” Oh how it pained Hinata to see the concern on Yuta’s face. Nothing was even really wrong per se, but Hinata was distracted nonetheless. 

“I’m fine, Yuta-kun. Geez, can’t your older brother have some peace?” His mouth ran faster than his brain and he immediately regretted it. Yuta’s face flipped through several emotions; hurt, confusion, exhaustion. It wasn’t like him to hide things from his brother, so why was he doing it now? “Whatever, let’s get some dinner. My treat~” 

“It’s our money!” 

--- 

The boy continued to make appearances at the twins’ performances on the street, becoming something of a regular but disappearing before Hinata could flag him down. Hinata wasn’t even sure what compelled him to want to talk to the older boy, but he wanted to say something. He had even noticed that the boy seemed happier and his clothes fit a little better, not like they were just the first thing he grabbed out of a donation pile. 

Finally, after almost a month of trying to say something to the boy, Hinata saw him walk up to their hat on the ground and drop a few coins into it. 

“Thank you!” He said, walking up to the boy. “Hope you enjoyed the performance!” 

The boy froze as if he wasn’t expecting to be greeted like that. There was a slight flush to his face. “I-it’s nothing, don’t worry about it. You uh…you were great?” The boy seemed unsure of how to reply, though Hinata was happy with the compliment nonetheless. Maybe… 

“What brings you here? I mean--agh, sorry! I just mean…I noticed you don’t have a regular schedule?” The words were practically falling out of his mouth and Hinata wasn’t really sure what they were doing. “Like you show up a few days in a row but then go three weeks without stopping by at all!” He was just digging a bigger grave for himself! Great! 

“Ah uhm…I’m not from around here.” The boy scratched at the back of his neck. Maybe Hinata should back off. 

“O-oh, yeah of course. Duh. Are you visiting family or something?” 

“Not quite. I really should get going though. See you…later?” 

“Yeah, see you later.” 

“Hey Aniki, are you coming or not? The food’s gonna get cold!” 

“Coming!” 

---

It was almost a month before the boy appeared again. In the time between, Hinata had come up with a million different ideas for what his life was like. Was he a delinquent who skipped school to hang out on the street with gangs (how scary! But he looked strong enough to fit in)? Or was he a runaway from a city far away, somewhere Hinata only dreamed of visiting like Okinawa? Maybe he had a bad relationship with his dad and ran away, a thought that Hinata hated to admit had crossed his mind more than once. Or maybe he just passed through the city on the way to somewhere else. That seemed to be the most likely option, especially if he couldn’t come very often. 

When the boy did finally show up again, Hinata had to hold himself back from practically jumping him after the performance. Something looked…different about him though. His eyes seemed more tired? Like he hadn’t been sleeping well. Hinata thought of a fight he had with his dad a few weeks ago that made it hard for him to sleep and thought maybe this boy was the same as him in that regard. 

Hinata decided to wave him down after the performance, hat in hand (they had done pretty well! It felt heavier than normal and even without counting everything, they’d probably have enough for breakfast too). 

“Hey! You look tired, are you--did you want to get something to eat?” Please say yes please say yes please say yes--

The boy’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. Did Hinata mess up? Oh he overstepped and now there really wasn’t any chance of getting to know him. Why was he so interested in talking to the boy anyway? Hinata had been asking himself that for a while now and he still had no answer. 

“I…I can’t. I need to go.” The boy turned and ran off before Hinata could ask more. He just kept messing up, didn’t he? Maybe he really was just a burden to Yuta and their dad and the restaurant owner. He shouldn’t have been born and Yuta would’ve been better off--

“Aniki! Sheesh, get your head out of the clouds. How much did we make?” Yuta grabbed the hat out of Hinata’s hand and quickly counted out the coins and bills. “Woah! We could eat a whole five course meal with this…” 

“Think with your head a little Yuta-kun. We’ve got breakfast paid for if we don’t blow it all tonight!” 

Yuta nodded before handing the hat back to Hinata. “So, my pick tonight?” 

--- 

Hinata signed the note, trying his best to keep the tears from dripping on it and smudging the ink. After his blunder with the red haired boy, he hadn’t shown up to their performances for over two months. Hinata was certain that he had messed up and was too forward. He didn’t even know the kid’s name! Why did he think the two of them could ever be friends? 

And on top of all of that, Yuta had become more and more distant from Hinata, as if Hinata just existing was dragging him back from his full potential. Yuta would have been better off as an only child and maybe Hinata deserved this life. Thirteen years living with their father, who had treated them as nothing but monsters, blaming them for their mother’s death and everything bad that had happened since, Hinata had resolved to run away. He’d make his way to the mountains and maybe he’d find someone willing to help him or maybe he’d slip into an endless sleep. 

Dear Yuta-kun, the letter had started. I’m sorry that I’m leaving like this, but I know that I’m just a burden to you. I’m sorry for that. I wish I had more to say but I just want you to be happy and maybe father will treat you better without me. I love you. 

The other letter, already folded and placed on the table, was much shorter, addressed to his father. 

Dear Father, I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better son. Please don’t take this out on Yuta-kun, it was my decision. 

The less words he spent on that man, the better. Hinata folded Yuta’s note and placed it on top before quietly exiting through the front door. 

---

Everything was cold. Hinata slumped against a tree, head between his knees in a last ditch effort to keep warm. Sleep should come soon and he could painlessly move on, at least that’s what he hoped. He barely registered someone approaching him, but didn’t look up. 

“Hey.” The voice was vaguely familiar, but where did he remember it from? A warm hand shook at Hinata’s shoulder. 

“‘M fine.” The words were barely a whisper. The other voice grunted before walking away. It was another minute before Hinata felt something drape around his shoulders and a cup shoved in his hand. Whatever was in it was steaming, warming his fingers. 

“Drink.” The voice said. And he did, the tea was very, very bitter. That voice… 

Hinata looked up, meeting a pair of bright, sky blue eyes. That’s where he recognized the voice from. Did he…live? In the mountains? The boy seemed to recognize him too. He was wearing a headband and what looked like very warm clothes that Hinata wished he had. Hinata finished the tea, trying not to focus on the flavor. It helped at least, in warming him up a bit. 

“Why are you here?” The boy finally spoke again. It sounded like he was unsure if he should be mad or concerned, or both, but he offered Hinata another cup of tea, which he accepted if only to warm his fingers up. He pulled the blanket closer around his body. 

“I…ran away.” Hinata looked downward, as if admitting this out loud was a cardinal sin. The boy gestured for him to continue. “I guess I just…I was dragging my brother down. I’m not really talented at anything like he is and I’m the reason our dad sees us as monsters. He shouldn’t have to deal with a brother like me.” Hinata wasn’t really sure why he was spilling this so easily. The boy was a good listener though, hanging on every word Hinata spoke. Was he shaking? He’d never admitted this out loud before and it felt oddly freeing to say it to someone. 

He waited for a response, anything to chase away the uncomfortable silence Hinata had created with his confession. He really fucked up, didn’t he. He should have just kept that to himself like he always did instead of burdening a stranger like this! 

“I…” The boy started, barely audible above Hinata’s racing heartbeat. “I’m glad you’re alive.” He sounded unsure of his words. Was he just trying to be nice? Of course he was, how else do you respond to a kid telling you something like this? 

“You don’t have to pretend.” 

“I’m not. When I saw you singing and dancing…I think I realized something--” The boy cut himself off, the suddenness of it making Hinata look up. A moment later he heard his brother calling out from the woods behind him. 

“Aniki! There you are!” Yuta tackled him to the ground, squeezing Hinata like he might just blow away in the wind if they weren’t careful. “You scared me! I can’t believe you’d do something like that!” 

Tears pricked at Hinata’s eyes again. “I’m sorry, Yuta-kun. I’m really sorry.” He buried his face in Yuta’s jacket. His nose started to run, from the cold or the tears he couldn’t tell. 

“You aren’t a burden to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you around Aniki!” Yuta pulled back, hands gripping Hinata’s shoulders. “Promise you won’t do something that stupid again.” 

Hinata wiped the tears from his eyes, sparing a glance where the boy had been. It was as if he had never been there at all and Hinata had just hallucinated the whole interaction. He looked back at his twin brother. “I promise.” 

“Now let's get you home and warmed up. Where’d you get this blanket anyway? It doesn’t look like one of ours.” 

“I…” The boy had been real, and he told Hinata he was glad he was alive (even if his explanation was cut short by Hinata’s brother rushing in). “I guess I just found it. There must be people living nearby or something.” 

--- 

The chatter of the night club died down for the night as everyone was getting ready to go home. Hinata’s feet were sore from running around, but it was satisfying to be back in a restaurant like this. It reminded him of his childhood working for the Chinese restaurant with Yuta. 

Rinne, the leader of Crazy:B who had wanted to get closer to Hinata, and by extension 2wink, slid a drink down the bar. It looked like a horrible mix of syrups and club soda, but one sip was all it took for Hinata to drink it all down. 

“Great job tonight Hina! You’re a real natural at this stuff.” Rinne was washing the other glasses behind the bar now as Hinata finished the rest of his soda. 

“Yuta-kun and I used to work in a restaurant so it comes pretty naturally to us!” 

“That so?” 

“Mhm!” Hinata slid the empty glass back to Rinne, who quickly dumped the ice and washed it before tossing the towel over his shoulder. The entire week they’d been working the club together, there had been something bugging Hinata at the back of his mind. “Hey, Rinne-senpai…did you ever watch our shows?” 

“Huh? ‘Course I have, vice prez wants us to work together so I’ve seen a few of ‘em.” 

“That’s not what I mean. I mean like…back when Yuta-kun and I did street performances.” 

Rinne paused for a moment. “Why’re you askin’?” 

“Oh, it’s nothing. You just reminded me of someone who used to watch them.” 

“Well I’m sure whoever it was is proud to see you singin’ and dancin’ on stage.” Rinne had come around the bar and stood next to Hinata, ruffling his hair. “Let’s get goin’ or I’m never gonna hear the end of it from Niki-kun.” 

#shay writes #enstars #ensemble stars #hinata aoi #yuta aoi #rinne amagi #OKAY ITS DONE I'M NOT THINKING ABOUT THIS PIECE ANYMORE. FUCK MAN #its at least finally no longer a wip. that's all i can say #got one person who said they liked it so to the blog it goes!!! #one less wip to worry about yippie!!! #2.8k words of me being a bit silly. that's what this is. #i probably could have extended the end a bit but augh if i thought about it any longer i would literally pass away #fuck that shit #so here we go. enjoy. i have a whole essay about aoi and amagi parallels i need to write one of these days when i reread mainstory #i'm working on reading boarding live rn i have like 9 chapters left. i'd keep working rn but augh eepy #probably just gonna watch an ep of a3 and go to bed or smth #anyway enjoy!!!! feels good to finish something a bit longer #probably no wip wednesday tomorrow just bc this is all i worked on this week... #also this is a second draft i never do that. well not never i've done it before #and this is i think a significant improvement on the first #okay i'm done tag talking for realsies byeeeeeee enjoy

[amiharana]

i come bearing a revalink suggestion,, they’re friends?? rivals?? but Revali’s been trying to rile Link up in a more flirtatious way and it all comes to a head when the champaign’s are out on an expedition with Zelda and oops! someone forgot to bring enough bedrolls for the night, enter: sharing a bed

yk what i mean

HI ANON i'm sorry i took so long to answer 😭 but thank you for the suggestion 👁️👁️ i've written about revalink sharing a hammock, but that was them in an established relationship, so this.... and they were hammockmates (oh my god they were hammockmates)

the premise of my canon-based situationship fic (if i ever get to write it LOL) was going to kinda be like this, a pre-calamity revalink who have decided they are no longer going to be rivals, but not necessarily friends, and then somehow revali catches feelings for link 😄 i just love the idea of revali seeing link and being like "this fucking idiot. i want him so bad." and reluctantly attempting to court him even if he knows that link doesn't understand what he's trying to do. my favorite part of this is that link is completely clueless. he has no idea what the hell is going on but he appreciates that revali is nicer to him :D

(warning: long ass fucking post. but we are so fucking back baby)

imagine revali trying his damndest to work up the courage to go give link a bouquet of swift violets, because (1) he knows it's a hylian courting ritual and link is a pretty simple guy, so he'll probably appreciate flowers, right? (2) revali thinks swift violets are very pretty flowers actually, and (3) they have a functional use in increasing link's speed during a fight when cooked into a meal, and with how often link gets injured in battle, goddess knows he needs the extra boost. imagining revali trying to give the bouquet to link on several occasions, but he always ends up chickening out or he waits too long so the bouquet gets ruined or dies so he has to gather more flowers for a new one, and when he finally gets to actually hand the bouquet to link, he gets nervous and insults link like the dumbass he is 😭 ("being the one with more foresight between the two of us, i predicted you would be in great need of something as simple as these swift violets. perhaps you could stand to learn a meal or two utilizing their innate effects on the field.") and then it turns out link is actually allergic to swift violets KJDHFKJSHDKFJH and revali has to take him to the infirmary in shame

just an endless string of the most cartoonish failures of revali's attempts to court link ☝️😹 because it either ends in disaster or link completely misunderstands the situation, and of course revali gets frustrated that link isn't understanding his advances, what an idiot! and it makes him want link even more! so his advances become more and more obvious until even daruk is like. hey man. please calm down now it's not that serious. and revali is like NO he's so stupid daruk how can he not understand that i am trying to court him!!! how much clearer can i make it? (meanwhile daruk is like 🧍)

but revali's desperate pleads are answered when zelda calls the champions early in the morning into the throne room for a mission 🙇 i'm thinking maybe there have been sightings of a lynel up in the northernmost part of akkala and it seems to be much more powerful that the citadel squadrons can handle, so they've called in the help of the champions. not that i'm actually gonna write about them fighting the lynel though 😹 you know me, i just be creating context and circumstances wherever i go

"they couldn't handle one lynel? revali says, when the princess finishes. "you would think a fortress chock-full of hyrule's greatest soldiers would be able to take at least one down."

"well, i don't see you volunteering," urbosa says crossing her arms, a faint smile on her lips. "would you like to show them how it's done?"

revali shoots her a glare and then tilts his beak up, tossing his braids over his shoulder. "hmph. i normally don't waste my time on something as savage as a lynel, but if it could inspire better archers of the citadel, then i suppose my extraordinary skills may be necessary there." out of the corner of his eye, he glances at link; the little hylian doesn't react at all to his boasting, continuing to stand calmly at attention. it irks something in revali, but he blows air out of his beak and turns his head again. stupid link.

zelda sighs. "well, if we are all settled then, i dismiss you all to begin preparations to leave. we hope to leave just past noon and make it to foothill stable by nightfall."

"that'll be right in between our homes, miphy!" daruk says, placing his hands on his hips and leaning backward to laugh heartily. "ah, we've stayed at the castle so long i almost forgot what the heat of death mountain feels like!"

"i feel similarly, daruk," mipha says, giving a small smile. "i wonder if my father and sidon are doing well..."

zelda bows her head in remorse. "i apologize for keeping you all from home for so long. i did not intend for you to stay this long, either."

"it's alright, little bird," urbosa says, stepping forward to place a hand on zelda's shoulder in reassurance. "it's our duty as champions to serve the land of hyrule and protect it from all evildoing. if staying a little longer is what will ensure this era of peace and prosperity, then so be it; we can be patient." she smiles at the princess, and zelda stares at her with wide eyes for a moment before returning the smile.

"thank you, urbosa, i appreciate your kind words," she says. zelda turns back to the rest of the champions and bows her head slightly again. "i will see you all in a few hours. thank you."

SORRY FOR WRITING OUT THINGS THAT HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH THE PROMPT LMAO. ONCE AGAIN. I JUST LOVE TO SET THE STAGE AND CREATE A CIRCUMSTANCE. i also just miss the lack of champions in totk 🥹 but anyways! zelda & the champions meet at the front of the castle and with some extra personnel (hi impa!) & a battalion, they all set out towards the akkala citadel as the sun hits its peak in the sky.

at this point, you might be thinking, why don't they just travel in the divine beasts since they're bigger and can cover more ground in a shorter period of time? and to that i tell you, 🌸 shut the fuck up 🌸 KJDFHKDFJKH nah but in my head in this point of time, the champions all left their divine beasts in their respective regions because they're all still learning to control them and they would rather not go stomping around on random civilians while traversing hyrule. do you know how insane it would be to be a traveler going through hyrule field to visit the coliseum or something and then all of a sudden, a gigantic stone camel with long ass legs nearly squashes you flat? i would die of a heart attack on the spot.

i also think it's important to romanticize the naturalness of traveling on-foot and it would also be interesting to see how they would accommodate for each champions' needs or habits as they travel together; they have to travel near water so that mipha doesn't dehydrate, revali and daruk leave the main group momentarily every now and then to go burst into the sky or roll down further along the path respectively bc they're sick of walking, etc.

the group reaches foothill stable just after sundown; revali complains that they should have just brute forced it to the citadel since it was just further down the road, but zelda insists that it could be dangerous since ganon's power seems to be growing and they could be ambushed by monsters in the night. as safe as the citadel seems, they shouldn't let down their guard! so revali, not wanting to fight with the literal princess of hyrule, just shuts his beak and trudges along after the rest of the group, the calm warm glow of the stable in the distance growing brighter as they approach. he won't admit it out loud but he's a little weary from travel too 😹

link and zelda board their horses at the stable, and everyone else sets up camp just off to the side of the stable, pitching tents, starting campfires and cooking pots, and passing out bedrolls. but as they unpack and pass out bedrolls, they realize that there's not enough for everyone to sleep comfortably through the night. zelda pays for the rest of the beds in the stable to cover for the rest of the battalion, but it leaves out one soldier who link knows happens to have sleeping problems or something. so he decides to give up his bedroll to the dude; it's not like he needs it as much, he could probably fall asleep straight in the dirt right now if he wanted.

"ah, champion link! i couldn't take this from you—" the man starts, but link just shakes his head and pushes the bedroll into his arms, giving him an insistent look. the soldier accepts the bedroll in defeat, but bows his head. "oh... well thank you, champion, i appreciate it very much!" link nods and turns away before returning to the rest of the champions.

"hello, link— where's your bedroll?" mipha says, noticing the lack of one in his hands. link tilts his head back towards the soldier he had given his bedroll to. "oh, what about you?"

he just shakes his head. "don't need one," link says softly. though he's comfortable speaking with the champions, he's still not used to the way his own voice reverberates against his throat; he hasn't used his voice as much as he should since he took his 'vow of silence'.

"what do you mean you don't need one, little guy?" daruk says, scratching his head. "i might be a goron, but fleshy little hylians like you are made for fluffy beds and—"

but link pays him no mind and strides over to a nearby tree (one that happens to be near the two that revali has set his hammock up at 👁️), drops his stuff on the ground and sits next to it, leaning against the tree with his arms crossed. mipha and daruk both open their mouths to object, but urbosa places a hand on both of their shoulders.

"leave him be," she says, as all of them watch link settle against the tree. "that boy is far too stubborn for his own good. once he has his mind set on something, he won't give up."

"you sure the little guy's gonna be alright?" daruk says, face contorted into an expression of concern. "i know he's tough, but i can't imagine that what he's doing is comfortable at all."

"he'll be fine," urbosa reassures him. she glances to the side, where revali is already keeping an eye on link, sitting at the tree where the farther end of his hammock from the little hylian is tied and tending to his bow. she smirks knowingly; "he's already in good care."

so everyone gets ready for the night; the battalion soldiers are already fast asleep, zelda, urbosa, and impa are sleeping in the stable beds, daruk is rolled up closer to the rockier terrain near the stable, mipha is straight up sleeping in the nearby cephla lake, leaving link and revali to be the only people awake. they're both still sitting against the trees, revali making the final tweaks to the great eagle bow and link polishing the master sword. revali has been stealing glances at link the entire time, watching and waiting for an opportunity (and also working up the courage) to say something. even at the base of death mountain, the cold night wind perseveres and revali catches every single tremor that goes through link's body as he shivers. maybe he could offer to...

"why did you give up your bedroll?" revali says finally. to be honest, he could probably already figure out an answer if he wanted to, but he asks anyway.

link pauses and glances up at him, before returning to polishing. revali's feathers ruffle at the lack of answer and he looks away, beak clenching. while he cared not for link's stance on verbal speech, acknowledging him and not giving an answer was rather unnecessary, wasn't it? especially since link had grown comfortable speaking with the princess and the champions, that should have included revali as well—

"i don't need one," link says suddenly, so softly, revali has to hold his breath, straining to hear the little hylian. link's voice is so quiet, it could be carried away by the night wind and revali is borderline obsessed with it, but the answer he gives is the same one he had given to the other champions. so revali says nothing and stares at link, prompting him to elaborate. "torin needed it more than me."

"torin?" revali questions. he wonders how much of the hyrulean army link knows by name.

"the man i gave my bedroll to," link replies, still wiping at his blade. "excellent fighter, great with a sword. but his chronic pain makes it difficult for him on the field." he sets down the cloth he was using to polish the master sword with and holds it up, appraising the blade. it glints in the moonlight quite elegantly. "giving him my bedroll is the least i can do to aid his comfort."

for a moment, revali is speechless; he had known that link was rather altruistic, always offering to help out even if it was inconvenient to himself. perhaps he shouldn't be surprised at all.

"you didn't have to do that though," revali says. he has stopped tending to his own bow at this point, letting it lay across his lap instead. "isn't it 'first come first serve' with you hylians? you were one of the first to receive a bedroll. you could have kept it to yourself, and i doubt anyone would complain since you're their champion."

link only shakes his head. "he needed it more than me," he insists, still in the same soft voice. "as a captain and a champion, it's my duty to care for my fellow knights. we're only as strong as our weakest member."

"then what about you?" revali says, staring straight at link. "if that's true, you're in no better of a situation than he was in previously."

"i'll survive," link says simply, and then, he yawns. at the same exact moment, another cold night breeze passes by, tousling link's bangs and once more does revali watch, completely entranced by the way link's body shivers in reaction. then, he slides the master sword back in its scabbard before raising his arms to stretch and yawn again. "sleeping on the ground for one night isn't that big of a deal."

and revali sees his chance and it stares right back at him like it's a challenge, like an eye glowing bright gold in the darkness; this is now or never.

"you don't have to sleep on the ground," he says quietly, but he looks down at the bow in his lap when he says it. in the corner of his eye, he sees link's arms pause mid-stretch before he slowly lowers them. he can feel the piercing blue gaze of link's eyes searing right through his cheek feathers and in turn, his heart skips a beat. stupid, stupid link. revali wishes he could despise the effect that a hylian of all people has on him.

"what do you mean?" link says in similar volume.

revali looks up to meet his gaze and swallows at the sight of those terribly beautiful blue eyes sparkling at him in the moonlight. now or never. "you could stay with me," he says softly, before he loses his nerve.

and link's eyes widen. if revali lets his vision blur a little, perhaps he can convince himself into thinking that the pink flush on link's cheeks is just the natural color of hylian skin, or just a trick of the moon's light and the glow of lava oozing down death mountain above them. but nothing can change the fact that he can see the entirety of link's irises, or the slight part in his lips.

"with you? in your...?" link whispers, but in this moment, his voice is the only thing the rito can hear at all. revali gives a single nod. "why?" there's not a single hint of mirth in link's voice, only genuine surprise.

revali looks away. "your heroism makes you foolish enough to give up the supplies necessary for your own survival in order to ensure the survival of others," he murmurs. "look at you, you're shaking in the cold like a loose feather. if you were a rito like i, you wouldn't have this problem."

he hears link snort and glances up at him. link is looking at him fully, a small smile on his face, and perhaps they are far too close to death mountain with the way that heat floods revali's cheeks and makes his limbs melt into the ground.

"and we wouldn't want the princess and the hyrulean army to wake up in the morning finding that their beloved champion froze to death in the night," he continues softly.

"no, i suppose not," link replies, still smiling. but the smile fades in the next moment or two, the pink flush revali had tried to pretend was just the color of his skin returning to link's cheeks much darker than before, as if to goad him. "s-so... how are we going to...?" he trails off, staring at revali with wide blue eyes.

revali blinks, and then swallows. truthfully, he didn't think he would get this far, but there's no backing out now. with his heart grabbing the bones of his ribcage and bashing its head against them, revali stands dusting himself off and hangs the great eagle bow on one of the branches of the tree. then, he turns back to face link, who's still staring at him with wide blue eyes and his pretty pink-flushed face from the ground. he walks towards link until he's standing in front of the little hylian, and then offers a hand.

"well firstly, are you ready for bed?" revali says, attempting to sound irritated, like his own offer is an inconvenience to him. but it's all in vain; his voice comes out too soft, too tender, too fond.

link stares up at him for a couple moments more before nodding, so revali extends his hand a little further out. "hurry up then," he says, voice still so unbearably soft. "i wouldn't do this for anyone else."

so link takes his hand and revali pulls him up in one swift movement. but he pulls too hard, because before he can even register it, suddenly both of link's hands are on his chest, his body pressed up against revali's. instinctively, one of his arms goes to circle link's waist, pushing them closer together, and the rito's ears are full of the sound of link's quiet gasp at the pressure; is he depraved to want to push him closer, to hear it again?

"s-sorry," link whispers, just slightly pushing off of revali's chest. "i didn't mean to—"

"it's fine," revali whispers back. with all his will, he lets his arm fall from link's waist to let him step away, resisting the urge to pull the warm little hylian back into his embrace. hylia above, how could revali ever have offered to share his hammock with such depravities rotting his mind?

revali turns away to walk towards the hammock, desperately trying to ignore the electric pull of the string tying him back to link. he looks over his shoulder back at the little hylian. "come on," revali says, feigning all the coolness, all the suaveness he can muster. the show must go on, after all.

revali slides into the hammock easily, settling into a comfortable position, and then he looks back at link. the little hylian stares down at his body and suddenly he feels self-conscious, his crest feathers ruffling. "are you getting in or would you rather stand there until sunrise?" revali snaps, and then cringes at his own tone.

but link only looks at him with the same wide, blue-eyed gaze sparkling in the moonlight. "yeah," he whispers, "i just..."

"just get in," revali mutters, looking away. "i won't fall out unless you're trying to make me fall out on purpose."

and slowly, so slowly, link grabs the edge of the hammock closer to him with hesitant, gentle fingers. he looks up at revali, who gives him a nod of encouragement, so he continues, reaching over revali's chest to grab the opposite edge of the hammock and begins to climb in. with some fidgeting and struggling, link lies atop revali's chest, their legs somehow tangled together. revali hopes the little hylian can't hear his heart drumming its high-strung song against his ribs.

"you're so warm," link whispers. "i didn't think you'd be."

"how do you think the rito are able to live so close to the hebra mountains?" revali murmurs back. "our feathers are insulative and keep us warm even in the most bitter of winters." he pauses, considering his next words, and then continues. "if you ever return to the village... our artisans are working on a prototype of an outfit to help featherless hylians like yourself brave the frigid temperatures of hebra. they are... using some of my own plumage to make it. if you wanted to truly experience the power of rito feathers yourself, i extend an invitation for you to come visit rito village at your earliest convenience."

"i'd like that a lot," link murmurs in response.

the rito hums in acknowledgement and they both fall silent. another cold wind breezes past and this time, link curls closer around revali's body, sighing quietly. instinctively, the rito raises his wings and drapes them around the little hylian's form in response, pressing him even closer than before. they stay just like this, beginning to drift off to the sounds of nature around them.

"revali?" link says suddenly, pulling revali a little bit out of his drowsy.

"mm?" revali replies. he doesn't try to summon the energy to even pretend to be irritated, only wrapping his wings tighter around link's body.

"thank you," link whispers. "for this. you didn't have to."

revali just hums back, letting the drowsiness pull him under. "go to sleep," he mumbles. "there will be more time for gratitude in the morning."

"okay," link whispers back, and revali feels him snuggle closer. there's a moment of hesitation, and in the next, it dissipates as revali finally falls asleep, feeling link's arms circle his torso, embracing him gently.

in the morning, the champions find them wrapped around each other in the hammock, urbosa being the first. she smirks down at them, a hand on her hip and shaking her head in amusement.

"ah, urbosa, where's link—?" mipha says as she approaches the chieftess. but she spots them right away, snapping her mouth shut and blinking owlishly until it grows in a held-back grin.

"i told you, link is already in good care," urbosa says. she looks past mipha to see daruk and zelda walking over, the latter yawning and tying her hair up. when they see the predicament that revali and link have gotten themselves into, daruk has to hold back a guffaw and zelda just rolls her eyes.

"they took their time, didn't they?" zelda grumbles.

"with all due respect, you should not be the one to talk, princess," mipha says, smiling politely. zelda wrinkles her nose at the zora princess, who giggles behind her hand.

"none of you should be talking at all," comes revali's voice, gravelly and hoarse from sleep. the champions turn back to the hammock, where revali gives them a dirty look with only one eye open. he remains in his position in the hammock, wings still wrapped around link who's asleep on his chest. "speak louder than a summer breeze and i'll show you the true strength of a rito's shot."

"my, my, so aggressive," urbosa muses. "has he made you soft for him already?" revali's glare only intensifies, so she holds up her hands in playful surrender. "alright, i'll leave you two alone. everyone, let's go start making breakfast. we have some time before we need to be at the citadel."

the rest of the champions begin to walk over to the cooking pots they've set up, zelda's head on mipha's shoulder and daruk listing off what his favorite types of rock meals are for breakfast. when they're out of earshot, revali relaxes and lets a breath out through the nares of his beak.

"what'd they mean, 'take our time'?" link suddenly mumbles against revali's chest.

revali blinks in surprise, staring down at the mop of dark gold hair atop him. "nothing you need to concern yourself with," he says, eyes wide. "when did you wake up?"

"been 'wake since 'fore sunrise," link mumbles. "jus' too warm 'n comfy to get up. hope you don't mind."

revali relaxes and sighs. "you're lucky i'm too comfortable to care either," he murmurs. he adjusts the way his wings are wrapped around link's body, and the little hylian hums and snuggles closer. suddenly, revali feels wide awake and he swears his heart could jump right out of his chest right now. "do you plan on remaining shackled to my body for the rest of the morning?"

"if you'll let me," link murmurs in response, and the rito feels like the breath has been stolen from his lungs.

"fine," revali acquiesces, once he feels like he can breathe again. "just this once... you'll have to get up to eat anyway. everyone here knows about your voracious appetite. you're incredibly insatiable for a hylian." it's not like he truly wants link to leave anyway... but link doesn't need to know that part.

link hums. "okay." they're both quiet for a couple moments, until the little hylian speaks again. "thank you again for this, revali. i appreciate it a lot."

revali pauses, his heart skipping several beats now. "good to know you possess enough of a developed brain to not take my gifts for granted," he replies, barely keeping the tremor out of his voice. but the rito's voice softens as he continues. "and... you're welcome. my kindness is not a gift i grant as often as you might think. so treasure it now; you may not be so lucky to receive it so freely again."

"i will," link replies, his voice muffled in revali's feathers. the rito swears he can feel link smiling into his skin. "so thanks again."

revali blows air through his nares of his beak. stupid, stupid link. try as he might to reject and dislike the effect this little hylian has on him, he can't help but crave it more and more. perhaps the bestowal of more of revali's gifts onto link are in order...

#revalink #loz #botw #loz botw #legend of zelda #amihan's revalinkverse #ask #sorry i stopped writing i've been having a depressive episode and i didn't know until a couple days ago ✋ #the way i wrote them here was a bit self-indulgent so sorry if it's not Giving 😔 idc tho i had fun writing again LMAO #happy pride to everyone but especially to this gay ass fucking bird i miss him so much #my revalink headcanon of all time is that revali was the one who designed the snowquill armor for link #paraglider & freeze-resistant outfit all this bird knows is make pretty gift for pretty n danger-prone hylian boy #HOMOPHOBIC ZELDA HAS MADE HER RETURN !!! MY LOVE 🫶 #just love the idea of everyone being in on revali's crush on link #meanwhile link is completely clueless and also stuck in his own head about his crush on revali #revalink but it's 'kiss the girl' from the little mermaid #aghh... i miss the champions so bad. i've started to play totk less and less bc my heart yearns for the champs everyday #and of course i miss revalink in case you haven't noticed ✌️👹 #very slowly making my way through asks and wips this summer. no promises! but i'm doing my best :] #this piece is dedicated to sen who's had to put up with my insanity for the past month i love u ate #ok bye i hope you liked this sorry again i've been gone mwah mwah mwah

[beanghostprincess]

Okay you're making me obsessed with Sabosan- I'm in need to posts about them

Just an AU where they meet during childhood, like, Sabo and his parents go to Germa bc of some politic shit and he don't want to be there so he just walks around.

And be accident he finds Sanji outside the castle, crying, and he knows he is one of the princes since they were already presented to each other. But the boy is hurt and crying so much that Sabo can't not help him.

In the beggining Sanji is scared, but soon he notices the other blonde don't want to beat him like his brothers. They talk all the day and for the first time in Sanji's life, he feels like he made a friend.

When Sabo's family has to go back to Goa, both kids are sad but hope to meet again soon. After this, everything in Sanji's past happens (Sora's death, he being locked and running away).

Month's later, the nobles from Goa go again to Germa and Sabor receive the terrible news that Sanji is dead. This broke's his heart 'cause the boy was sweet and kind and even just being with each other during one day he was sure the prince was amazing.

Since Sanji were 8 and Sabo 9 during this, ge just meet Luffy one year later and all he can think sometimes is how much the two would love each other. But don't matter now, his friend is dead.

Everything happens, and years later he remember everything and all he can think is how he forget them? How he let other person he loves die? The boy is broke bc he lose another person.

And he is going to meet Luffy's crew, hearing his young brother talk about them when he says about a guy named Sanji and- Sabor freezes, he ask about him and this boy is identical to his dead friend- but can't be him, right...? He can't have hope.

When they arrive in the ship, he's knowing everyone and then he go to the kitchen with Luffy to meet said boy and- it's Sanji, alive. Breathing, older and so much beautiful.

And Sanji is looking at him too and- both are in shock. Luffy is there, confused and looking at the two. "Luffy, can I talk for a moment with your friend?" Sabo asks intenting to not show how he is emotional.

"Uh? You know each other?" Luffy ask but go outside the kitchen anyway, they still are silent during some minutes. Sanji is read to say something when Sabo hugs him.

"I thought you were dead" is all he says and the blackleg hugs him back, feeling bad for making Sabo think this.

Both don't say much, but they are happy they're together again.

Agh, you all know I am extremely weak for childhood AUs!!!!! This is beautiful :(

I can't stop thinking about Sanji obviously getting forced to meet Sabo, but he doesn't really want to because he always hates it when important people come over. Yes, his father is more distracted with them, but that leaves them a free day from training, and sometimes those are even worse than regular days. Because even if his brothers already make fun of him and beat him up when they train, whenever they're not doing anything it's even worse because they take their time and it's a complete nightmare. Besides, introducing himself with the name Vinsmoke has always made him want to throw up, even from a very early age, and there's this uneasy feeling inside of him whenever Judge speaks about him normally instead of saying how much of a disappointment he is. He prefers that rather than him lying to strangers because he knows what he says isn't true. He doesn't consider him his son, and he doesn't see him as his father either. It's nauseating.

When Sabo and Sanji get introduced along with the other Vinsmoke siblings, Sanji doesn't want to look up. He has to, of course, but he doesn't feel like being there at all. But he's even more scared of what might happen if he doesn't do what Judge says. When he looks up, he can tell that the kid in front of him doesn't want to be here either. He's good at pretending, though. He smiles politely and shakes their hands and it's obvious that he's been trained to act that way, but he doesn't look at all like a noble. He has a missing tooth and scratches in his hands and face and it's quite obvious that he tries to cover it (not him, his parents) but it isn't working for Sanji. Besides, there's this rage in his eyes that Sanji can't quite place but he knows something is going on with him. That just scares him even more, because, even if it's not the same rage his brothers have in their eyes, it's still rage. If he was a simple kid like all the others that have come to their kingdom with their families, Sanji would not be that worried, but he isn't. And Sanji fears the worst because he can't figure him out.

On the other hand, Sabo wants to jump off a bridge. He would rather drown than be here. Get the kid out of there!!!!!!!! He didn't want to come at all but his parents wouldn't stop pressuring him and tbh it was easier to end this quickly so he could go home even quicker (home being Gray Terminal and next to Ace, thank you very much). So he's on his best behavior so he can just quickly go back home. He hates them. The kids, he means. Rich, spoiled brats that are modified to be that way. To be selfish. To kill. It's disgusting and he despises how the father talks with so much pride about it. But- But he never, not even once, mentions the blond. He talks praise about all of his kids except him, but he also doesn't even mention him. Sabo can tell his name is Sanji because his brothers won't stop teasing him about stuff Sabo can't understand, but he knows enough to get that something's off. Whatever. Not his fight. Not his siblings. Not his responsibility.

But his sense of responsibility and morals are already strong enough to make him overly sensitive to this stuff, so he watches the behavior of the kids carefully. Their parents tell them to go do whatever because they're talking about "grown-up stuff" and they need to form "royal bonds for future needs" or whatever bullshit they keep making up. And, uh, Sabo fucking hates it. The kids are scary as fuck. Like, creepy. Type of thing he wishes Ace were with him for because this is way worse than the things they've seen happening at Gray Terminal. The way they speak about the staff and human lives is just disgusting. With no emotion in their voices other than plain selfishness and cruelty. They show Sabo around the castle and- And Sanji isn't around anywhere? Apparently? When he asks where he might be, that's when his brothers start trash-talking him. Calling him a coward. A weakling. Worse things Sabo does not want to repeat but- But it's just extremely fucked up. But again, not his fight. He can keep an eye on them but not intervene because he really, really wants to go home soon. And he's pretty sure this is just the way siblings talk about each other. Rich, noble siblings, at least. Even if Sanji seemed different, he's still one of them.

Sabo eventually gets bored of them, and also they're disgusting to be around. So he just disappears and hopes they don't give a fuck about him to look for him. That's when he finds Sanji crying outside of the castle. He really knows he shouldn't intervene. He never does when he goes to these meetings. But Sanji seems different. He's crying. These kids, in theory, should not be able to feel like this, right? There's just something so human about him, from the first second they saw each other, that Sabo can't help but want to protect him. He's not much older than him, but still. Sanji looks way weaker and shorter in comparison, and,, And in need of someone. Like he's always asking for help.

And so they talk. Sabo approaches him and the first thing Sanji does is flinching. He thinks Sabo is going to hit him, apparently? What the fuck. Sabo instantly kneels beside him to tell him that he is definitely not here for this, and why the hell would he even think that?? Sanji doesn't reply, of course, he just hugs his knees closer to his chest and looks away, hoping for Sabo to not ask more questions. But Sabo notices this glint of hope in his eyes that he doesn't want to show. Like begging for him to get him out of there. Sabo just sits beside him in a very nonchalant and very not noble way and starts talking. He tells Sanji how he doesn't want to be here either, and trash-talks his family and nobility and starts saying all of these things he only tells Ace about. He usually doesn't trust people so easily, and Ace would kill him for this, but Sanji needs this. And apparently, it doesn't bother him at all to give him this. Sanji starts opening up little by little, hope in his eyes and excitement starting to come out of his voice when they change subjects. Sanji, apparently, isn't like his siblings. In any way. And he likes cooking and sea creatures too! Sabo has a lot of stories to tell about those! And they keep talking and talking and hours pass and suddenly Sabo doesn't want to go home. It's not only fun to be here, but scary to leave if it means never seeing Sanji again and leaving him here. Especially when he tells him about everything his family does to him (because they end up talking about that) and he has to hold Sabo back from yelling because he has never been angrier in his entire fucking life. What the hell does this family think they are? Sanji doesn't deserve this. He's nice. Cute, too. Smart. Extremely sweet and empathetic. Selfless. Kindness itself.

But time moves quickly and they have to return to their ship. He hates leaving Sanji. He really does. But they promise to see each other again! He even gives Sanji his white handkerchief. The one he likes. The one that's all ripped and worn out. Because it's the one he uses the most. The one he uses when he's with Ace! And it has his initials engraved there, but the S is the only thing that can be seen, so it's okay! Sanji keeps it like a reminder of freedom and the fact that they'll for sure see each other again!

But they don't.

Because the news of Sanji dying reach Sabo and he's devastated. It's so unfair. And it's true. He knows he's dead and he can't do anything about it. But he also knows his family had something to do with it because he's not stupid. He has to move on past the rage, though, even if it's extremely infuriating and frustrating. He has to move on. Sanji, on the other hand, doesn't let go of the handkerchief and Sabo's words, even if he has lost all hope. Yadda, yadda, yadda, you know how the story goes. So Reiju helps Sanji escape and he knows he'll probably never see him again, but he still hopes. Sabo thinks, meanwhile, when he meets Luffy, that he'd love Sanji. With how much he keeps talking about food and dreams! And Sanji would love being here too. Well, not really, because Gray Terminal doesn't seem at all like something Sanji would enjoy, but it for sure would be better than Germa. And Sabo would be able to protect him too. It doesn't matter now, though.

Time-skip moment. Sabo remembers his childhood and his brothers and Sanji. And Ace just died. So great. It seems that the world is always against him. He doesn't have much time to think about Sanji because right now the only thing he has in mind is Ace, his fruit, and finding Luffy. But Sanji's image, for some reason, keeps appearing in his mind. He isn't sure why, but it's still engraved there. He tries to forget him, but now that he truly wants to forget, he doesn't. Fuck it. Well. Dressrosa happens. Yay! He got a brother back and Ace's fruit. Yadda yadda. We know how it goes.

He doesn't actually get to meet Sanji in Dressrosa because I'm trying to be loyal to the timeline, so let's say that this is post-wano and pre-egghead (and Sabo is fine and he isn't in the huge mess he's in right now). Sabo goes "oh, I want to pay an actual visit to my brother's crew. I didn't get to meet everyone properly" and that's when the cool stuff happens.

You know, he tells Robin first about it and she informs the crew and stuff. When Sabo gets there, the only one on deck is Luffy, so of course he gets all excited and jumps to hug him and keeps talking about his crew and how much he's gonna love everyone! Like Nami because she's super smart like him!!! And Usopp because he has the coolest inventions!! And Sanji because he is the best cook-

Wait, Sanji?

And it can't be, because his Sanji is dead. His Sanji can't be Luffy's Sanji, right? Impossible. He guesses it might be just a coincidence and tries to move on from Luffy's words. But then he starts meeting everyone and Sanji gets out of the kitchen to greet him and- Oh. Okay. Yeah. That's definitely him. He has not forgotten those eyebrows and blue eyes and bangs. He could tell it's him from a mile away. Sabo thinks it's his memory playing with him, but then he remembers Sanji's sudden death without any explanation and blames his young self for not realizing sooner what truly happened. What's funny is that Sanji had the same reaction, because when Luffy talks about Sabo for the first time, he freezes at the name. But he guesses it can't really be him, and Luffy doesn't talk enough about him for Sanji to make the correlation.

But no, yeah, it's definitely him.

As you said, they both freeze. And it's actually kind of weird because everybody is looking at them, but they're only focusing on each other so it's also extremely romantic. Sabo tries to act calm and collected when he asks Luffy if he can speak to Sanji in private, and Luffy instantly says:

Luffy: It's to ask for extra food, right?! I am not going to steal yours like when we were kids! I don't do that anymore! Usopp: He still does that. Luffy: But Sabo can have whatever he wants! Sanji will make it! But not more than me. I'm sure you're gonna do it just to piss me of- Sabo: Luffy, you can have all of my food if you want to. Just let me talk to him for a second. Luffy: ?? But why?! It's been so long. I want to be with you! Sabo: Because- Sanji: If you let us talk in private I'll give you two desserts. And more meat. We'll have whatever you want tonight. Luffy: OH! AWESOME! Nami: What is this about again? Franky: Yeah... It looks like you two know each other. Sanji: Who says we don't? Luffy: YOU TWO KNOW EACH OTHER? Sabo: No. Not- Luffy. Give us a moment. *They go into the kitchen together* Zoro: First he's a prince and now he's fucking Luffy's brother. Are we sure Curly doesn't have anything else to tell us? Luffy: He's not- Nami: Shut up!! I can't listen to their conversation through the door if you keep talking!

(She doesn't hear them at all, actually, because the others keep talking and Sabo and Sanji are pretty quiet and she gets bored of trying to spy on them).

They don't really know what to do except to stare at each other. Sanji is about to make some joke or something to make things lighter, but Sabo goes and instantly hugs him tight. Sanji feels he's about to start crying. Especially when Sabo says "I thought you were dead" / "Well, I am not" / "I can see that" / "I- I'm sorry. I truly hoped we could meet but- Things have been a little- Fuck. Just. I'm sorry. Judge- My-" / "Yes. I know. I mean. I don't know, but it's obvious you don't want to talk about it now and I know it's your shitty father's fault. Don't worry about it" / "... Alright" / "Is it weird if I don't want to let go of you?" / "Shut up. You're the one making it weird" / "You grew up. Quite a lot. Remembered you so tiny and cute" / "Oh, fuck you, I am not-" / "Still cute, though" / "You were nicer to me back then" / "You were less sarcastic" / "Touche" / "Hey! So you finally got to be a cook! And for the future king of the pirates! How does that feel?" / "Tiring. Exhausting. Frustrating... A dream come true" / "....... You look happier" / "I am.... Hey? Can you keep like- Holding me for a while? Because-" / "It's okay. Yes. If I let go of you I might start sobbing. This is fine. As long as we don't move, we're fine" / "Great". (Also have in mind that this is post-wano so Sanji is extremely sensitive and wants to kind of sort of die. This is probably the best thing that has happened to him lately. Or ever)

And this is getting reaaaally long already so to end this just say that they definitely end up kissing at some point and dating and then uh, things™ happen. But just think about them having a happy ending. I- I want to write a fanfic now. You can't do that to me. Ughhh. What if I did- What if I did write this fic- Thinking thoughts.

#they're my absolute beloveds #they make me go insane yes #aaaaaaa i love them so much i am so sorry this is long kjwefkbfkjeb #i got a bit carried away and i still have more ideas #like sanji telling him he still has the handkerchief like wtf gay people #also sanji cooking for him i am gonna die #and them staring at each other during dinner #and then seeing each other at night while everybody is asleep because sabo stays for a while and #and look can i write this please this was such a good idea and i need it right now in my veins #i know i say this a lot but this time i want to finish this #IF YOU WANNA WRITE IT THO YOU CAN DO IT IT WAS YOUR IDEA AFTER ALL BESTIE #but if you do tag me bc i am in desperate need of sabosan #one piece #black leg sanji #revolutionary sabo #strawhat pirates #sabosan #sabo x sanji

[camels-pen]

can't sleep so have vampire Usopp drabble with sanuso~

Just imagine Usopp showing up after exploring some island on his own, bloodied, limping, leaving streaks of blood all over the place

Sanji left on ship watching duty, is cooking in the kitchen, idly checking with Haki every once in a while to make sure no one unfamiliar shows up

He notices Usopp coming but is right in the middle of something- making food for lunch when everyone returns, but also hashing out food supplies he'll need to buy once it's his turn to leave the ship

So when Usopp shows up, Sanji's distracted, maybe looking at his list, and maybe there's something like this:

"San...ji." There was some odd dragging sound. "Blood."

"Blood?" Sanji looked up from his list and nearly jumped out of his skin. "What the hell happened?!" He jumped the railing to land in front of Usopp, hands uselessly fluttering about his bloodied and broken body. He had to be standing just through pure willpower alone.

"Hun...gry."

Food. Right, yes, Sanji could do food. He could take Usopp up to the infirmary and bring him a plate.

Sanji settled on putting his hands on Usopp's shoulders. His skin was freezing through his shirt. "I've already made heaps for lunch, but I need to patch you up first. Just tell me what you want and I'll bring it to the infirmary."

"Wa...nt."

"Yeah,"-Sanji nodded, starting to get more concerned with the slow responses-"anything you want, Usopp."

"Any... thing?"

"Anything."

With a strength and speed Sanji wasn't expecting, Usopp slammed both of Sanji's wrists against the wall.

"Blood."

Before Sanji could say anything, before he could even take another breath, Usopp surged down to his neck and bit him.

Sanji was about ready to kick him away, regardless of Usopp's current state, and fuming about being caught up in some stupid prank, when he felt the first suck.

"H-Hey Usopp, are you..." serious? Conscious? Under some weird devil fruit power? Sanji didnt know what to ask first.

He never got the chance to figure it out either, as a wave of pure, toe-curling pleasure washed through him. In his surprise, he didn't have time to tone down the full blown moan that slipped his lips.

Usopp continued sucking, though his grip on Sanji's wrists had slackened. His own pleased groans were loud as he drank, the noises right next to Sanji's ear and making it burn with a growing heat.

Whatever this was, Sanji needed to stop it. As a man who needed to defend his love of women, and only women, he couldn't get worked up just by some stupid-

Hun... gry. Usopp had said. Blood.

That- there's no way. Sanji was far past not believing in legends and myths, and his old man was never one to pull his leg on that kind of stuff.

But even Sanji had thought, or maybe hoped, that vampires weren't real.

And for it to be Usopp- Usopp of all people. Sanji knocked his head back against the wall, tears falling freely as his lip wobbled.

"Fuck, fuck!"

The sucking stopped.

Usopp pulled away just enough to look up at Sanji. The way his head was angled, Sanji could see horrific looking bite marks all along his neck, shoulders, under his jaw, down his collar, and disappearing under his shirt.

He had to pause a moment, imagining Usopp having stumbled into a coven's territory. Alone. Probably looking for cool bugs or something else inconsequential, unknowing that he would die within moments.

Sanji hoped it was quick, at least. He hoped this coven wasn't like the one in his books; the ones who would draw it out for as long as possible. Usopp had been gone only a few hours and he must've hobbled to the ship on his own, which could've taken a while, and-

And Usopp was still staring at him, silent, eyes blank, and lips stained red with blood. Sanji's blood.

It hadn't been long since breakfast, but being killed and having all of the blood sucked out of him would probably work up a big appetite.

And, well, Sanji would never let a crewmate go hungry.

So, he put one hand to the back of Usopp's hair- his hair, not his hat, free of it's usual ponytail and covered in leaves and dirt and blood- and guided him back to his neck. Usopp made a questioning noise.

Sanji closed his eyes, let a shaky smile show on his face. He brought his other hand up to press Usopp closer.

"I did say anything, didn't I?"

Usopp didn't respond. After a moment, Sanji felt him lick at the bite marks he left behind- pinpricks compared to the wounds littering his own dark skin- and then, carefully, fit his mouth into those same marks. Once again, he began to drink, this time at a much slower pace.

Regardless of the speed or the gentleness, Sanji still had to fight not to give away how much he was truly enjoying this.

(and then the crew shows up lmao)

#one piece #sanuso #sanji #usopp #vampire usopp #nemo the writing ho #nemotime #zoro will be ruthlessly making fun of Sanji btw #bc hes so obvious about how much he liked it lmfao #tho i suppose the question is: is this a sanji thing or a consequence of the bite itself? #dunno if ill continue this but twas a fun 3am thought that wouldnt leave my brain #thus here we are #also added in his majesty's internalized homophobia for spice. which like. would probably be addressed at some point #idk its 4am now om going to bed #feel free to send asks if u wan #i shoulda had sanji lament more about usopp experiencing death via vampire coven but im startin to get tired i think #if i do a folllow up or smth then ill do it there #and thattt would probably lead to an initial hint of 'hmm maybe i like usopp a little bit more than the other guys' #or some other queer baby step for him

[thetomorrowshow]

glass and grey hoodies

empires superpowers au masterlist (not up to date)

mind the content warnings on this one, folks. in an altered mental state, jimmy attempts suicide several times in the first portion of the fic. the rest of it is an account of his time in the psych ward.

this story takes place between chapters 9 and 10 of ‘poisoned rats’.

cw: past abuse, suicide attempts, blood and injury, hospitals, flashbacks

~

It’s loud.

It’s loud, and his head hurts, and he doesn’t know where he is and he doesn’t like it.

He opens his eyes to see blurry white walls. Figures standing over him. The pinch of a needle in his arm. An ache that spreads from his neck all the way to the tips of his toes.

He’s back on the table, then.

He doesn’t remember what happened before now, but he knows what this means. If he’s back on the table, something bad happened. If he’s back here. . . .

He suddenly knows. They’re going to take it away.

He’d misbehaved enough that they’re going to take away whatever they put in him all that time ago, whatever it is that lets him control his powers and makes his life the least bit livable. And it’s his fault.

He knows what he has to do, then. He can’t go back to that.

The scientists know he’s awake, he thinks, but either they don’t care or they want him awake, because no one reacts to him looking around, taking stock of things the best he can.

There’s some sort of surgical instrument on a rolling table near his left arm. Something sharp. Something that, if he can sit up quickly, he can reach.

He does a little test of his stomach muscles, tensing them and moving as if to sit up. Painful, but certainly doable.

He has to do it now, then. Before it’s too late.

He sits up, and maybe it’s a bit slower than it should be, because there’s a rubber glove of a hand pressing into his shoulder, loud words that he doesn’t understand—but he isn’t slow at all when he grabs the sharp tool and plunges it into his gut.

-

He wakes up again later, still bleary and with a stabbing pain in his lower stomach.

Funny, he thinks. He did stab himself, after all.

The problem is, however, that he survived. He didn’t mean to survive. He meant to be completely out of this world, away from the lab, away from the scientists, away from his master and all the blood he’s spilt.

Luckily, the room is empty. He’s sure it won’t be soon, not now that he’s conscious.

It’s not easy for him to sit up. It’s even more difficult for him to stand, going all lightheaded and woozy from pain.

So, pretty much the norm.

There’s scissors on the counter that lines the right side of the room, no other potentially dangerous items in sight. He glances toward the clear glass sliding door. The curtain in front of it is pulled back, and anyone walking by could see him.

He hobbles to the counter, stuck by a tugging in his right arm that he realizes is because it’s hooked up to some machine of some sort. It luckily has wheels, so he pulls it along a few steps until he can reach the scissors.

His hand is firm when he starts slashing the blades across his wrists.

-

He wakes up restrained after they knock him out again.

He doesn’t like that at all.

Restrained means velcro around his wrists, holding him to the hospital bed. Restrained means quiet sobs as he pulls against them. Restrained means wishing over and over that he hadn’t failed, because now he won’t have another opportunity.

However, they don’t really . . . do much to him. Someone in scrubs comes by every so often, asks him a bunch of questions that he doesn’t care to listen to, and writes things on a dry erase board on the wall. A man sits beside him, also in scrubs, scrolling through his phone and lazily eating a bag of chips.

And that’s it, for a while. He even stops crying out of confusion, just lies there and stares at the ceiling. He’s good at that.

He realizes, eventually, that he’s wearing something like a big t-shirt, but the back feels uncomfortably open. Maybe some sort of sheet with sleeves? It’s got little green clovers as a pattern, and he stares at it for far too long, knowing he hasn’t seen anything like it in all his time here.

The next thing he realizes is that he isn’t wearing a mask. That almost gets him crying again, but he’s overwhelmed by hopelessness before he can even start. What’s the point? Really, he doesn’t belong to himself, doesn’t exactly have a life of his own. This was the natural next step. It’s not like he had any sort of ownership over the mask.

The man beside him talks sometimes, but he’s too out of it to understand. He’s too out of it to process much, really.

He just lies there, drifting in and out of consciousness, dreading the moment the pain will truly start.

It’s late, he thinks, when he feels like his head has finally cleared a little bit—the man beside him is now a sleepy woman, and the lights in the room are dimmed, curtains drawn.

If he does this right, he might get another chance.

It takes a while to get any sort of adrenaline built up, but once he has some sort of spark going, he aims it at the restraint on his left arm. After a moment, the plastic part of the velcro snaps and his hand is free.

The woman looks up at the noise so he doesn’t move, leaving his hand in the velcro as if nothing has changed. After a moment, she returns to the book she’s reading.

The dressings on his right arm should be easy to get through—it’s the type with the cloth tape, the stuff that rips off quick. And underneath is a thin tube, which presumably has a hidden needle.

His next moves are fast. He pulls his hand free of the velcro, tears off the dressing, and yanks out the IV line, the machine suddenly beeping very loudly. He jabs it back into his arm—no needle. Where’d the needle go? Is it in his arm?

There’s got to be another needle—he checks the rolling table still beside him, but of course they haven’t left any sharp items out, they’re learning—

And then his left arm is being pulled back down and held there while another woman rushes into the room.

-

“You’re at the E. James Hospital in Empires City,” a strange woman tells him, and he doesn’t think he can be blamed if he doesn’t believe her. She waits a moment longer, then sighs and writes something on the whiteboard.

When she moves, he can see it. Unresponsive, she’s written.

“You may be feeling a little funny for a while,” she continues. “We’ve got you on some anti-anxiety medication, and it takes a little bit to adjust. Does that make sense?”

Well, it explains how numb he feels. He stares at her, trying to understand her place here.

“We’ll send in someone from psych to evaluate you later on today, but until then, Anthony is going to be here with you. Anthony, could you wave?”

A man—the same man from earlier—waves from the chair in the corner. He doesn’t say anything.

The woman says some more stuff, but he doesn’t take it in. He’s not even entirely sure that he’s conscious.

All he knows is that if he tries, he can shatter that glass canister of cotton balls on the counter. And some of the glass shards are likely to be sharp.

-

The person from psych is nice enough. She introduces herself, but he doesn’t catch the name. She asks him how he feels. She unstraps his left arm when he doesn’t answer and asks him to point at the scale of one-to-ten faces paper that she pulls out of a binder.

He points at the seven, the face that’s orange and frowning. She then shows him a poster that has emotions written on it, attached to images of kids acting out those emotions. She asks him to point to the emotions he feels right now.

This is the first moment when he starts to wonder if maybe he isn’t in the lab. Maybe the woman from earlier wasn’t lying.

The emotions on the poster aren’t complex enough to describe how he feels, but he eventually points at ‘confused’.

He’s not entirely sure what she says after that—he has vague flashes of her asking him to write something, and him not even looking at her (pets can’t write, who does she think she is?) before she leaves, writing a string of numbers on the whiteboard, then using a magnet to pin a list there.

He’s alone, if only for a moment.

She hadn’t left his arm unstrapped—she’s not stupid—but he can break the straps without issue. One splits down the middle, one just cracks enough for him to tear it the rest of the way.

He’s more steady than he was last time. And somewhere, deep down, he knows that they won’t give him the opportunity again. They want him alive.

This is his last chance.

It takes one touch for the glass canister on the counter to shatter. He picks up the largest shard, pauses as he aims it first at his wrist, then at the inside of his elbow as the bandages at his wrist deter him.

There’s an artery in the thigh, isn’t there? And his thigh is practically bare, due to the shirt-thing he’s wearing.

Wait. Is he . . . is this a hospital gown?

He stabs the glass into his thigh. It doesn’t go as deep as he would’ve liked, but it hurts like the devil, breaking through the numb state of his mind.

For a moment, he panics. That’s a lot of blood spilling out over his fingers, his grip on the glass slippery. He doesn’t want to die, does he?

But he has to get out. He can’t live in this place any longer. He can’t take it, can’t be a pet for the rest of his life, can’t kill person after person at the whim of a maniac—

He digs the glass in further, and feels his head go fuzzy before his vision blacks out and he crumples to the floor.

-

For a long time, life passes from blur to blur. He’s aware of what’s going on, he knows he is. He recognizes that the drugs are upped, that he’s a high-risk case and there’s always someone at his side. He hears when they tell him that his wounds are healing well and he’s gained a bit of weight, so they’re sending him on a seventy-two hour hold to the psych ward. They tell him he’ll be safer there.

He floats by all these blurry moments, crying one moment and unresponsive the next. The day they put him in a wheelchair and take him away is a day where he can barely feel anything, thoughts slower than molasses crawling down the side of a bottle.

When he arrives, they don’t give him much. A room. With a roommate. Some clothes.

He doesn’t really process any of it. He just lies on the bed and stares at the ceiling. He takes things that are offered to him—pills, food, water. When a voice tells him to shower, he obediently gets up and limps to the shower. When a voice tells him to go somewhere, he follows them and sits in that place until he’s led back to his room.

He’s not sure how long he’s there before things really start to register, but it starts with his roommate’s voice.

“Are you ever gonna stop being a zombie? When they told me you were a suicide risk, I thought you’d be way more exciting.”

He blinks.

“What?” he croaks, because that really is a weird thing to regain awareness to. His roommate laughs, and it’s a laugh that he recognizes as somewhat sad.

“Yeah, it’s okay, half the people here act real weird for the first couple of days on the meds. That’s what my last roommate told me, anyway. I’ve only been here for a week.”

He doesn’t remember much. But he knows now, with a strange clarity, that the horrible detached memories of that place from before are not of the lab. This may all be a dream, but he hasn’t been taken back to that place.

Taken back? When did he leave?

-

They call him TJ, for some reason. Drugged-up him had been happy to accept that, not really sure that there was another option.

But he’s TJ now, and that’s okay.

Josh (his therapist, who is actually really nice) explains to him, in as little detail as possible, what happened when it becomes clear that he’s confused.

Josh tells him that they know he’s the Canary, that he was rescued by a group of heroes and that Xornoth is dead.

Maybe it’s still the drugs working, but he doesn’t feel much more than a small sense of vindication at learning that. Not that he believes it at first, of course, but Josh explains at length the various pieces of evidence for him actually being here.

He doesn’t really believe that either, not until the next day, when he is suddenly vividly eating green beans in a common room, a dead-eyed woman eating the same beside him.

And Jimmy’s properly here, and he knows he’s here, and he wants to cry from the relief of it. Because that means it had all been real, and Xornoth’s dead, and he’s out.

He’s been rescued. He’s alive.

Maybe he does cry, a little. No one judges him.

Josh is proud of him for having that breakthrough. Unfortunately (or fortunately, according to Josh, despite their emotional exhaustion), that breakthrough is just the first in a line of many.

It feels wrong to talk. He hasn’t willingly spoken in close to a year, and it’s definitely taking some getting used to—but it’s really the easiest of his issues. He still thinks of himself as a pet, he still expects punishment at the slightest provocation, he struggles to remember to walk instead of crawl and sit on chairs—and each of those come with a plethora of their own issues, such as the hour he spent sitting at the feet of a nurse, the closest figure of authority he could find.

He knows he locked away a part of himself, compartmentalized his brain until he could truly be subservient for his master. But reintegration is difficult, and scary, and Josh is his only guide.

“I know I’m in here,” he tells Josh one day, his quiet, raspy voice not an adequate instrument for conveying just how frustrated he feels. He picks a bit at his sweatpants, not quite daring to look Josh in the eye. “I can remember. I know I’m different. Supposed to be different.”

“That’s a very normal feeling for those who have been under the influence of a telepath for a long time,” Josh says gently, and Jimmy just . . . doesn’t bring up that he wasn’t. He knows it’s lying, and he knows it’s wrong, but someone had given him that cover story and it somehow kept him from going to jail, so he’s keeping it.

“Is there anything I can do for you right now?” asks Josh not ten minutes later, when it becomes clear that Jimmy isn’t going to say anything else.

And there is something he wants, actually. The only way to find out is by asking, and he knows logically that Josh isn’t going to hurt him for such a request, but he can’t shake the fear.

“Long sleeves?” he whispers eventually, and he doesn’t miss the way Josh’s eyes fall to the word scarred on his left arm.

“We can do that,” Josh says. “That shouldn’t be a problem. I actually saw a nice hoodie the other day while out shopping, so I can pick that up on my way home tonight. They’ll take out the drawstring, if that’s all good. Or do you want, like, a long-sleeved shirt?”

“Hoodie,” Jimmy says, not wanting to cause more of an inconvenience.

The next day, he’s got a grey hoodie, a little large (but everything hangs loose on him) and without drawstrings.

He wears it every day.

-

Jimmy knows he’s getting better, even if it’s frustratingly slow. Josh helps him map out his progress one day, reminding him that he went from nearly vegetative to actually asking for what he wants.

Sure, he doesn’t really eat the way they want him to (he’s always got one of those terribly chalky protein shakes in hand now), but he’s trying. He wants to eat more, and he always tries to get at least a bite down at every meal (they’re too frequent, too regular, he never gets to eat that much there must be a catch).

And of course, all of his other problems that he hates to get into. Problems that have him changing bandages around his wrists and stomach and thigh. Problems that leave him crying on the floor at random times, mourning pieces of himself that he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get back.

But, like Josh says, he’s getting better. He’s really starting to think for himself again.

Until it all seems to reverse.

One day, he’s fine. He talks about a happy memory (as few as they are) with Josh. He’s brave enough for the first time to actually venture out into the common room, play a game of Battleship with his roommate Peter. He actually considers joining the group therapy session when it rolls around. He eats half his meal at dinner that night. He takes his evening pills without complaint and sleeps through some of the nightly checks.

The next day, everything is wrong.

The next day, Jimmy collapses on his cell—bedroom—on the floor of the place where he sleeps, certain that there are people surrounding him and grabbing at his clothes and pulling on his hair and he thought he was safe, they told him he was safe—

And then he’s back, Peter shaking him and calling for help.

It keeps happening after that. He can’t go more than an hour or so without believing he’s back there, without being strapped to a table or kicked by a heavy boot or having knives thrown at him. Each time he comes back to reality, he’s more exhausted and scared than before.

Josh calls them flashbacks, and as soon as Jimmy hears the word he knows it’s right. He has one during therapy (he’s so hungry, he was left here for hours with no one and nothing and it’s a test, he knows it’s a test), and when he comes to, he’s laid out on the couch with Josh speaking quiet words of reassurance.

“Sorry,” he mutters roughly, and Josh just shrugs and gives him a list of grounding activities, and breathing exercises for homework (not that he has a home to take it to).

It doesn’t work, though. It should work, and it doesn’t, because half the people here dress like they’re from the lab. The whole place smells like a hospital, sterile and awful. He’s alone—Peter had gone home that day. It’s just him, in a white room, and he’s fine by himself, he’s always been by himself, but he can’t help but think that maybe, if his caretakers had put a bit of thought into it, they wouldn’t have left him on his own. Not that he’s going to try again—he wants to be here, to some extent, he thinks—but he’s been alone for so very long and he can’t control what he does while in a flashback.

He tells that to Josh—Peter had apparently been here for a longer period of time than expected, struggling to handle an eating disorder, but had finally been deemed well enough to return to his life (with constant check-ins and therapy appointments). And while that was  all good for him, there don’t seem to be any other viable roommates at the moment—those safe to share already have roommates, but Josh assures him that he’s first on the list for either a new admittance or a leftover patient when their roommate leaves.

Jimmy has another flashback that session, one of a noose around his throat that he is being forced to tighten. He doesn’t know where he is afterwards, or what’s going on, and a smiling man with dark hair who smells funny leads him to a bed and gives him a pill to swallow. Jimmy doesn’t care if it’s going to kill him. He swallows it, and falls asleep shortly after.

The days go on like that. Jimmy wakes up, struggles through a day lived half in the past, at some point panics badly enough that he has to be drugged to sleep, and so on. His eating habits slowly go downhill, only managing half of the daily protein shake that he’d always pushed to finish before.

And he’s really, genuinely trying—on days when he can find his voice, he talks in therapy. He starts attending group therapy, even if he only listens. He sits in the common room and watches TV with other patients as often as he can drag himself there. He tries to eat every meal, tries to talk to other people, tries to get better.

It’s those vile flashbacks throwing a wrench in everything, of course. One day during therapy, Josh theorizes that the flashbacks are so frequent and so awful due to a constant trigger, and when Jimmy wryly points out that he has a lot of trauma around medical situations, Josh grimaces and tells him to keep a trigger journal.

Which only serves to prove what Jimmy had suggested. His most common trigger is the smell of rubbing alcohol or hand sanitizer, as far as he can tell. And right after that is the sound of someone snapping on a pair of rubber gloves. Things aren’t looking all that hopeful until one day in therapy, when Josh mentions a very familiar name.

Jimmy’s drawing during the conversation, little squiggles and spirals around various words—emotions, mostly. It’s something that Josh had introduced fairly early on, a place for him to identify his emotions without getting too far in his head trying to think about them. Here, he can just write them down and move on with the knowledge that what Josh just said makes him feel anxious, or sad, or angry. And then, Josh can ask why that statement made him angry, and it’s easier to explain with a marker doodling in his hand.

“Now, TJ, I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but Major made arrangements for you to be here.”

That draws Jimmy up short. His marker point bleeds into the paper as he looks up, forces himself to speak. “Um—but, the hospital—with the, uh, the hold—”

“Right, but Major had been in brief contact with them—along with some other important people, I’m sure—to make sure you got the help you needed. He offered to take care of any bills, I think.”

Jimmy bites his lip, jots down a quick ‘anxious’.

“He wanted to make it clear that you don’t owe him anything,” Josh says, clearly noticing what Jimmy’s written. “And I know that for a fact—I talked with him yesterday. I asked if he would meet with you, and he said yes.”

And if that doesn’t send his blood pressure through the roof.

What on earth does Major want with him now? To make sure he’s mentally okay before sending him to prison?

Not that that’s turning out very well for him so far.

“I think meeting with Major might help you get a proper goal,” Josh hints, and Jimmy frowns. This whole time, Josh has been on him about getting a goal. Doesn’t he realize that Jimmy hadn’t expected to survive? Doesn’t he realize that Jimmy was stuck with no future but the one that Xornoth had planned for him, that he’d been willing to kill himself to escape it and it’s a little difficult to regain his footing after that?

“It’s up to you, but I think talking with Major will help a lot. I think he’ll be able to open up some opportunities for you.”

Well. It’s not like he has much else to do, does he?

#empires smp #empires smp fanfic #jimmy solidarity #empires superpowers au #esh au #mas writes #031224 #monthly reminder that i am not back yet #if i was back i'd delete that tag #i really didn't want to edit this one bc it's another of the heavy kind #the type that's just sort of emotionally exhausting to work on yk? #so if the editing is a bit lacking that's why #i really just skimmed it #in the main story we already vaguely know what happened in this fic #this is just the description of all of it from jimmy's pov rather than just what we had heard #in bits and pieces #lmk what you think! #love you guys