#& he was right! i went for an electric blue to pop instead

[emdotcom]

Making ppl behold my shiny pokemon recolors.

Shout out to @lightkrets312 for input & advice on the Mismagius :uu

[remedyturtles]

not a single person here who's worthy

@tmnt-write-fight gift fic for @duckythetoddscout for their first prompt:

Batman crossover- Dick Grayson (any age), or any other batkids really, meeting the turtles. Any iteration.

wordcount: 2844

this is the absolute peak of self indulgence, as i've been into batfam for over ten years, so this prompt sung to me. i really hope you like where i took this haha :) title from idle worship by paramore. warnings for kinda panic attack but otherwise nothing big.

[]

If asked, Leo would claim that he'd borrowed one of Donnie's tablets so he could watch deep-dive video essays.

And he did. Sometimes. But mostly, he'd poked Donnie into info-dumping about the different tracking apps he'd developed so Leo could set it up and watch for anything... weird.

It was a totally normal reaction. Even though he'd had to listen to Donnie explain that blah blah blah mathematical model of a four dimensional continuum measuring relativistic effects -- whatever. What mattered was, Donnie had a map of New York corresponding to a graph of time-space-junk, and if it spiked, shit was happening. And it was so totally normal of Leo to sleep with that graph playing on the tablet next to his head. Just to make sure that nothing weird was going on. Right?

Yeah. Right. So totally normal. Which was why he told absolutely no one about his quiet little obsession, and why he more often than not laid awake staring at the screen instead of sleeping.

He'd grown used to the little anomalies, after sneaking out multiple times to check on blips. He'd yet to find any connection, whether it was latent mystic energies or some weird science thing due to gravity, he had no idea. Leo stopped having an irrational lurch of panic in his stomach at the small fluctuations on the screen. However it did not prepare him for the huge spike he saw at two thirty in the morning when he should've been sleeping after a long night of patrol. He'd almost convinced himself to fall asleep, too, when the screen suddenly lit in a red flare twenty times the size of any anomaly he'd seen so far, right in middle of Soho.

Leo's blood went cold. His brain ran through multiple possibilities, as his body moved, grabbing his swords and lighting up in an instant -- portalling directly to the coordinates.

The air was sparking when Leo emerged. Crackling pops of electricity fluttering to the ground. And despite what Leo's brain was anticipating, there was no pink fleshed aliens, there was no mechanical suits lit with red, there was only a groan from the rooftop, distinctly human and annoyed.

For a too-long moment, Leo's brain sprinted to catch up with his body, as he'd left his sense in the sewers. He was still wearing the hoodie he'd slept in and his swords were cooling down from his frantic portal. He was barely awake, despite the stop-start surge of panic, and it was damn lucky that there wasn't some alien waiting here for him, as he was woefully unprepared. And alone. What had he thought he was going to do?

"Well, shit." The person laying on the roof said. He was crackling with his own electricity, sparks fading slow, and appraising Leo with a watchful eye.

Which. Now that Leo was pivoting to the human beside him, was dressed quite… unique. A black body suit, with blue stripes arching finger to finger over his shoulders. And a mask on his face, hiding his eyes completely, with a head of dark hair. When Leo looked at him, he grinned. 

"Hi. Are you the welcoming committee?" The stranger asked. 

"I'm…" Leo shook his head, gathering his bearings, and extended his sword out to face the intruder. "Something like that. Who are you? Where did you come from?"

Bemusedly, the stranger raised his hands up, showing himself unarmed. "I'm not recognizable? Have I landed somewhere that doesn't have heroes?"

Heroes. Leo's hand shook for a moment, as his body struggled to keep the sword up. That was a concept Leo really didn't want to think about, especially not at two in the morning when he'd been scared half to death thinking for a split second that the Kraang had returned and he was a failure to everyone who ever had the misfortune of believing in him. 

"That's… we don't have anyone like you." Leo decided to answer, instead of claiming himself to be one. 

"Is everyone in this universe green?" The hero asked, cheerful about it. Even though Leo could tell he was still sizing him up, shifting into a better position. 

"Not many." Leo said, flat. "Mostly human. Like you are, I'm assuming."

"Human. Unless you ask my brother after I've subjected him to the fifth Disney movie in a row, at which point I'm apparently considered a monster. Any chance we could lower the sword now? I'm promise I'm one of the good guys. Here, let me introduce myself. I'm Nightwing." Heedless of the sword, Nightwing stuck out his hand to shake. 

Leo juggled conflicting desires, wanting to stay on guard versus wanting to play along and gain information, and compromised by lowering the sword but not taking the hand.

Nightwing didn't actually seem to expect him to, pulling away just to lean back on his palms and look at the skyline. "Woah, is this New York? It's been ages since I've been here, but you don't forget that view."

"Where are you from, then?" Leo prodded, keeping his sword at his side, ready. Tense. Feeling small and kind of stupid in the hoodie that was too big for him with the effortless sheen of the costume before him. 

"Gotham City."

"Never heard of it."

"Strike two for alternate dimension. That's fine. I won't be here long anyway." 

"No?" Leo wondered.

Nightwing seemed to be enjoying the view, unbothered by his armed welcoming party and no longer sparking with energy. "We were fighting a gentleman who installed a dimension hopper into his weaponry, so there's contingency plans in place. As soon as my family is done kicking his ass they'll swing by and pick me up. I give them… twenty minutes. Maybe half an hour, if Babybird and Little D get arguing without me to break it up."

Leo couldn't help but glance around at the scenery, trying to see what had enraptured the hero so much. All he could focus on was the construction cranes and the holes in the skyline where they'd lost infrastructure during the invasion. If Nightwing truly hadn't been to New York in a long time, maybe he didn't know the difference. Or maybe it was different in his universe altogether. 

"Your whole family are heroes?" Leo asked instead.

"Everyone of them." Nightwing's mouth twitched at the corner. "Even the ones who maybe should've waited a little longer before getting into the family business, but who am I to judge?"

Leo got the impression he'd been doing the gig a long time himself, just from the lazy grace that he carried in the suit. Reluctantly, he let the swords relax at his sides completely.

"Those are beautiful katannas." Nightwing complimented. 

"Thanks." Leo said reflexively. He held up the blades, marvelling for a moment how the ninpo markings disappeared and left no trace.

"You popped over here pretty quick. I wasn't expecting my appearance to make any waves. The last time this happened I ended up taking a nap on a beach for a couple hours. Welcoming committee, protector of the universe, whatever you wanna call it." 

Leo was already shaking his head. "That's not me. I just… I stole some of my brother's tech and I was just watching for any time-space bullshit and caught the wave you made. So I portalled over to make sure it wasn't something coming to take over the world, or whatever. It's stupid."

"Doesn't sound stupid." Nightwing smiled at him, and it kinda hurt for some reason. "Well, hey, you better stick around and make sure I don't take over the world in the probable-twenty-five minutes I spend in this universe. Have a seat, kid, pull up some roof." 

"I'm not a kid." Leo protested, but slowly lowered himself to sit, folding his swords over his knees and tugging at the edge of his big hoodie. 

"You're what, seventeen?" Nightwing guessed, right on the money without even trying. "Same age as my second youngest brother, though he's probably a bad example on what does and does not constitute a kid since he was briefly the world's youngest CEO of a multi-billion dollar company. The point is, I'm twenty-four, and I've been doing this hero biz for more than half my life, and I can give you some hot tips if you want."

"I'm not a hero." Leo immediately denied, tongue feeling big in his mouth and heart going too-fast. 

"You don't need a fancy suit to be a hero. You just need to show up when things need protecting." Nightwing gestured at him. "And look at that! Here you are."

"Not me." Leo's face burned and he didn't want this guy to get the wrong idea. "Maybe my brothers are heroes, but I'm the screw up. I'm just trying to… make up for my mistakes." 

"Ah." Nightwing's smile tinted a new colour. Shaded sad. "Listen, kid. What's your name?"

"I don't have a superhero name like yours." Leo said. 

"Hell, there's no secret identity to protect here. My real name is Dick. Well, Richard. But my friends call me Dick." 

Oh come on. Leo had to do it. He quirked a little smile and asked, "How do you get Dick from Richard?"

"You ask nicely!" Dick crowed, delighted. "Oh, thank you! No one ever sets me up for that one anymore."

Leo chuckled, shoulder loosening, and said, "It's Leonardo. Just Leo is fine though."

"Da Vinki?" Dick memed in a pretend gasp. 

He couldn't help but laugh again. "Yeah, that's me. All my brothers and I are named after renaissance artists. Or, alternatively, by our colour coding. So I'll answer just as fast to 'blue'."

"Hell yeah blue." Dick wiggled his blue finger stripes at him. "Got a red brother? Mine is a pain in the ass. I love him but if he 'borrows' my motorbike without asking one more time I'm gonna make origami out of his classic lit collection."

"Red brother, yeah. That's Raph. I'm probably more of a pain to him than he is to me. And he's not into books, that's Donnie. Books and tech." 

"Ah, tech is all Tim. The walking contradiction – genius level IQ who dropped out of high school. Picture a kid skateboarding in a suit to his board meetings. Though I'm not sure what colour we'd assign to him now, probably yellow since Jason's got a pretty firm hold on red." Dick tapped off his fingers, looking fond. 

Leo hummed and said, "Yeah, Don's purple, and my youngest isn't yellow but orange. Mikey's like that too – bright like the sun. Loves with everything he has. Joy and warmth and all that."

Dick burst out laughing so hard he had to hold his stomach, and dramatically wiped a tear away. "Oh, boy, yeah. No. The similarities very much end there. Our youngest is a baby assassin who we have to remind daily that he cannot maim people for minor inconveniences. But he's doing great, really. He's come so far from where he started. And despite the severe exterior, he really loves animals and art."

"Hey, there's something. Mike loves art. Actually, do you wanna see? I've got pictures on my phone." Leo tapped his foot at top speed, a little excited, because he never got to interact with normal people who didn't already know Mikey and get the opportunity to show off his talent like this. 

"Hell yeah I do." Dick shuffled closer, leaning in to see his phone and exclaiming over the bright pieces Leo had treasured in his camera roll. Then Dick showed off some remarkably lifelike pencil art pieces done by his youngest brother on his own phone, as well as the zoo of animals apparently he kept. Including a cow? 

"Are you the oldest?" Leo asked, when Dick made a comment about 'all his baby siblings'.

"I am. There's more of us, a couple sisters and another brother, but I'm the oldest of all of them." Dick didn't seem too concerned. "Let me guess, you're the second oldest?"

"Depends on what order my twin and I are deciding on for the day, but yeah. Raph's the oldest." Leo said with a shrug. 

"That makes sense." Dick said. 

Leo scowled and tried to elbow him. "What makes you say that?"

Dick dodged effortlessly and huffed. "You remind me of my second oldest brother. He feels like he has a lot to prove. And no idea that we don't need him to prove it, we'd just rather he was there."

Leo wrinkled his nose. "Dude. Come on. You don't have to put me on blast like that."

"Sorry." Dick laughed. "I'm a detective. And I'm really bad at turning it off, especially when I jump into a alternate dimension faced with a kid in a hoodie and a sword who's shaking way too hard to be doing okay."

Shit. That was a bad first impression. Leo groaned and covered his face with his hands. 

"Can I ask you one thing, though?" Dick wondered. 

"Might as well. Dig the knife in." Leo mumbled. 

"Why did you come alone? If your brothers are more like heroes than you, why is it just you in the middle of the night?"

"I wasn't thinking." Leo said, too quick, and it wasn't really the truth. He sighed. "I told you, I'm just trying to make up for my mistakes. They… they didn't need to be dragged into this if I could just fix it myself." 

"Hm. Well, get ready for the hot tip, because once I'm in big brother mode there's no stopping me. I told you that being a hero is showing up when people need protecting, but being a hero for a long time is not showing up alone. You shouldn't be wandering around New York by yourself to face an unknown threat, especially if you're not ready for it." Dick leaned in closer, rather serious. 

Leo shook his head, annoyed, turning away and tugging at the end of his sleeve. "Now you're really reminding me of Raph. Now all you need is a hot temper."

"Oh, believe me, I've got that too." Dick winked, but there was a severity that rang true. "But that's not necessary in this moment. If I'm your Raph and you said that you're more of a pain to him than he is to you, then yeah, you're my Jason. But listen. I don't care that Jason's made mistakes. Because that kid suffered more than anyone could believe, but he came back to us, and he is trying. And there's no amount of pain that he could cause me that would ever eclipse how much more I love him."

That was… seriously uncomfortably close to his own experiences. Just thinking about the idea of suffering sounded a lot like the snap of a portal closing him into hell. And coming back from it, and trying to be the hero he never could. 

"You don't have to prove anything to them." Dick said, quietly. "They'd just rather you were there. And if your tech brother is half as good as mine, he probably knew the moment the energy spiked and I bet they're wondering where you are."

It was that moment that Leo realized he'd left his phone in his bedroom, plugged in and charging, and if they had been trying to contact him he'd have no idea. He groaned and covered his face again. "Shit."

"Go home." Dick said. "My ride'll be here any minute." 

"Yeah. Yeah." Leo shook his head, like he was trying to shake out the cobwebs. There was no way Donnie hadn't realized what he was doing with the tablet now, he was going to have some explaining to do, especially at the part where he ran off to deal with a threat entirely alone without telling anyone where he was going. He gave Dick a sideways glance and said, "Your Jason loves you too, you know. He's stealing your motorbike so you'll have to talk to him. We always listen more when you're yelling because that's when we think you're telling the truth."

"Maybe I'll yell at him more how much I love him, then." Dick shrugged, amused. "Get it through his thick skull."

"Thanks for being patient." Leo said, and realized in that moment he probably really needed to verbalize that one to Raph. 

"Thanks for coming home." Dick replied, sadder. 

Behind them, the rooftop shimmered with a different portal.

"Ah, great timing. They're early, someone must've gotten antsy." Dick grinned, hopping up to his feet with an acrobatic stretch. "Hey, Leonardo?"

"Yeah?" Leo said, getting up too.

"It was great to meet another hero." Dick saluted, approaching his portal.

Leo's mouth was dry. He nodded back, and said with a small croak, "Yeah. You too."

He watched until Dick disappeared. Then before he could summon his own portal, he heard three voices gasp, "Leo!" before he was tackled to the ground. 

His hands were shaking again as he held onto them. He didn't really have to go home, when home came to him.

[strangeshoepatrolbandit]

Sunshine follows with Sunfall P.t. 3

Warnings: kinda ooc Jason, awkwardness, mentions jasons death, mentions a gun, and shooting someone.

This is a pretty short chapter, and I promise more Jason interactions in the next chapter!

Series Masterlist

~☆~

Even though your name and Bruce's name is on the paper work to your apartment, you prayed that Jason couldn't find a way to get to you.(if he even tried) Yes he is Judith's father and the one who decided to leave, but in the entire year that he was gone you decided that you and her do not need him. You didn't want him to come back and act like everything was fine, just like he did when he returned after his death. He came back to you differently than before. You knew that. He knew that. And he made that clear when he became Red Hood.

He just never admitted it because he didnt want you to not like the new him.

You didn't want Judith to go through the whiplash of her father leaving, then coming back like he had been there the whole time, like he was happy.

"Momma?" Judith's sweet voice spoke.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Are you okay?" She asked.

"Yeah."

You watched as she ran her spoon through her bowl of cereal, what she eats for breakfast on the days that you work. Speaking of, you have to be there soon.

"Hurry up, I've got to get you to school."

×

After Judith's breakfast, she gathered her things, and the two of you went down to the main lobby, stopping so you could get some mail. A certain envelope caught your attention. Nothing was special about it other than the missing return address. You quickly opened it up and gasped at the contents, 1000 dollars.....

×

The sound of a bell chiming alerted your co-workers of your arrival. Beverly, the older woman who has worked at the building for 15 years, was on the floor, serving some coffee to an older man. The two of you exchanged smiles as you went to the back so that you could set your stuff down and clock in.

"Hey, N/N," Taylor, the cook greeted. He was a nice kid, nineteen years old, and making his way through college trying to become a teacher. He had mentioned one time that "He will look professional one day, but he’s just doing him for now." In regards to his electric blue hair and the peirceing in his nose.

"Hey." You quickly shot back, trying to get situated.

Another co-worker of yours entered through the back door, "Hey, Carlee."

"Y/N!" She beamed.

"Thanks for babysitting last weekend."

"Of course!" She smiled even wider. "I love Judith!"

"Where's Tessa?" You asked, looking around the room.

"Not here yet." Taylor informed.

You let out a noise of acknowledgment before Carlee spoke up, "I've gotta go wait some tables."

You and Taylor mumbled out a few words of encouragement, hoping she didn't serve anyone too bad. Just as you yourself were about to go and serve tables yourself, a body flew past you, "Sorry!" The woman spoke.

"Good morning, Tessa." Taylor spoke.

"Mornin'!" She enthusiastically greeted, "I was ALMOST late."

"Well, you're not, so that's good." You mumbled, looking up at the clock that hides in the kitchen. You turned the corner, trying to leave the room that you were in, but instead ducked right back inside.

Muscular white man.

Black hair with a white streak.

Scars on his face.

Black leather jacket.

Jason Peter Todd.

Tessa and Taylor took notice of your frantic movement. "What's wrong?"

"My ex-"

"Hey, that guy in the booth over there is asking for you." Carlee interrupted you, popping back into the kitchen.

"Oh God." You whispered, a look of horror going across your face. "Tell him I'm not here."

"I kinda already said... that you were here..." She trailed off, casting you a worried glance. You took in a deep breath before looking back out of the doorway. He was sitting in a booth furthest away from the door and was occupying himself with a cup of coffee.

"We'll keep watch." Tessa told you, gesturing around the room. Taylor even turned down the stove and walked over to the doorway.

You nodded your head and wiped your face, trying to prepare yourself. Carlee gave you a soft pat on the back, causing you to let out a sigh and finally walk out of the kitchen.

With the way Jason was sitting, he was able to see you walk over, but he kept his gaze out of the window next to him, opting to watch you out of his peripheral.

"Yes?" You tried your best to sound audible as you stood next to the booth. Jason turned to look up at you, staring with an unreadable expression. His hand rose up and gestured you to sit down across from him. "I'd rather stand."

Jason let out a sigh and slowly licked his lips. "Um-" He started but cleared his throat instead.

"I'm sorry, do you need something?" You tried to treat him like any other person. He let out a short chuckle and looked in front of himself. "I- Uh- I left you some money." He finally spoke.

"Mhm." You hummed out.

He started playing with his fingers. "You ran from me the other day."

"You just shot someone and still had the gun in your hand." You deadpanned.

Jason let out another short chuckle, "Yeah, I suppose I did.."

"Seriously, do you need something?" You asked again, growing impatient.

"I-i um," He stuttered out, "I saw Jude."

"Yes, she's my daughter. I took her shopping with me."

"Look, I know you hate me-"

"You're right."

"Y/N, please-"

"Please, what Jason? Let you back in? No thanks." And with that, you walked off, not leaving the kitchen until Jason left.

~☆~

Taglist: @keira324 @dakotali @22nranjan @skepvids @harpy-space @godknows-shetried @mirrorball-6 @macncheese69420666 @parkjammys @yyxy27 @burningkidanchor @elleclairez @amecchii @chickennugghon @marvelworldlover @oakexists @p0tterhead934 @makhaia @cassini-among-the-stars

@tsukishimarawr

[ladytauria]

ohohoho... In a hoarse whisper, “Fuck, you’re killing me here.” jaydick yeaaaaboiiii

iiii went a little overboard on this 😂it ended up over 7k, so i won't b posting the whole thing here, but have a preview ;)

(editing to add as a warning/heads up: jason is trans here, and i use both male (cock/dick for clit) and female (cunt) terms for his genitals <3)

>> six little deaths <<

“Fuck, little wing, you’re killing me here.” Dick’s hoarse whisper makes Jason smirk. He settles back against Dick’s chest, popping another kernel of popcorn in his mouth, making sure to wiggle his hips a little as he does.

The hot, hard length of Dick’s cock presses into Jason’s ass through his thin, cotton shorts. It makes a thrill rise in Jason’s belly, knowing he has such an effect on Dick.

Cook, suave, charming Dick. Everyone wants him. But—right now at least—he wants Jason.

The thrill is sweeter knowing Dick won’t do anything. Can’t, not with Bruce sitting in a recliner half a couch away.

He feels Dick’s slow, hissing breath. Smirks to himself, and then raises his fingers, sticking them in his mouth to clean the butter and salt from them.

Dick grips his hips tight enough to bruise.

Jason chances looking at him, fingers still in his mouth, and finds those normally electric blue eyes dark and stormy. His thighs clench.

Dick grabs his wrist. Jason doesn’t resist as Dick pulls his fingers from his mouth. The look on his face— Jason half expects him to kiss him, Bruce be damned. His pulse is a staccato beat in his chest.

Dick doesn’t kiss him. Instead, his lips brush Jason’s ear, and in a voice thick with promise, he whispers, “You’re going to pay for this later.”

Jason shudders, head to toe, skin going tight and prickly. Fuck, yes, please. Dick is always the perfect amount of mean—that’s half of why Jason likes working him up so much.

The other half is being at the center of his attention.

Jason rocks his hips, relishing in the shocked, almost pained gasp he gets. “I’m counting on it.”

Dick growls. Under the blanket, he grinds the heel of his palm over Jason’s groin, and Jason gasps before he can help himself, bucking up into that hand as sparks light up his veins.

“Boys.” Bruce’s deep, commanding voice makes Jason shudder again; red staining his cheeks. For half a moment, he thinks they’ve gotten caught, but then Bruce just says, “Don’t make me separate you. You can get through a movie without fighting.”

“Sorry, Bruce,” Dick says. He doesn’t sound very sorry at all. “We’ll be good.”

He splays his hand over Jason’s belly—a possessive, proprietary move that already has Jason trembling—and presses, a steady, even pressure that makes him want to squirm.

Conscious of Bruce’s attention though, he doesn’t. Instead, he just takes it; breaths getting faster, deeper, until he’s nearly panting. Dick’s hot length against his ass is starting to feel less funny and more taunting.

How much longer is left in the movie? Jason stopped paying attention somewhere around the first fifteen minutes. He tries to focus on it now, ignoring the way his underwear has grown sticky with his arousal. It’s hard to focus, but—based on the music, the snippets of dialogue… they’ve got to be getting close to the end, right?

Dick rubs his belly a little—Jason bites his lip to trap his moan. A little of it sneaks it out anyway, a soft, “Nnn,” that makes Dick shiver under him, and press a smile against Jason’s shoulder.

It would be an asshole move to excuse himself to the bathroom, wouldn’t it? He wouldn’t like, touch himself or anything—it’s tempting, but. Dick can be kind of a sadist, and that’s fun, but he’s already in enough trouble for starting this shit in the first place. Getting himself off without Dick’s permission is just asking for worse, and Jason’s got stuff to do tomorrow.

But he would like to step away for a second. Just a second, so he can catch his breath and not give up the game before they’ve even gotten started. If he leaves, though, then all Dick will have is a blanket to protect his bulge from Bruce’s eye…

‘Course, that’ll be a problem either way, won’t it? They’ll have to get up and go to bed eventually, so. That would at least give Dick a chance to figure something out. So really Jason would be doing him a favor, right?

Right.

Jason squirms a little, and then says, “I gotta pee.”

“Do you want me to pause the movie?” Bruce asks.

“Um. No, I won’t be gone that long, and uh. I’ve seen this one before.” He hasn’t. Dick lets him go, although the brief look they exchange before Jason scampers out of the room tells him Dick is more than aware of Jason’s fib.

Jason’s little wink probably didn’t help matters, but. Oh well.

In the bathroom, Jason washes his face with cool water before sitting on the closed toilet and getting his phone out. He checks his email—some review bloggers he follows have posted new reviews, there’s an author newsletter, and oh! One of his favorite fic authors posted something new. He opens that to read later—tomorrow, probably, although it’s short enough…

No.

He’s already pushing. Don’t borrow trouble, Mama used to say, and while Jason may not follow her advice to the letter… he at least tries not to borrow more than he’s prepared to handle.

Jason clears the spam from his email, unsubscribes from some things he’s been meaning to for a while, and then stands, stretching. He splashes a little more water on his face—and turns, ready to go back, only to bump into a hard, warm chest.

It startled a squeak from him, all that color flooding back into his face.

“Hello, little wing,” Dick purrs, crowding him against the sink. “That was a neat little escape you made.”

Jason’s heart beats rabbit quick in his chest. “I don’t know what you mean,” he says. “I had to piss. Didn’t figure you’d appreciate me going all over your lap, is all.”

Dick snorts. “You had to go get yourself off, you mean.”

“I didn’t get off!” Jason scowls. “I know better.”

Jason has to tilt his head back in order to meet his eyes. He can feel his knees trembling. The ache in his groin pulses, slow and steady like a heartbeat, the crotch of his underwear uncomfortably damp.

“Like you knew better than to start something in front of B?” Dick raises an eyebrow. “Y’know he lectured me about making you uncomfortable?”

Jason’s face burns. “I…” He draws up his chin. “Maybe you shouldn’t be such an asshole all the time, then.”

Dick scoffs. “See, and that’s why I don’t believe you.” He pats Jason’s cheek—the condescension in it makes Jason shudder. “That’s alright, little wing. I’ll just have to check.” He pinches Jason’s cheek, then, making him whimper, hole clenching both at the promise and the way Dick’s voice drops when he says it. It’s not quite Nightwing register, but it’s close, and—

Jason shudders again.

He wants.

“Take your shorts off, Jason,” Dick murmurs, and Jason hooks his thumbs in them without hesitation, letting them slip off of his hips and fall to his ankles.

“Good.” Dick pats his cheek again. “Turn around. Hands on the sink.”

Jason feels like he’s on fire. He turns slowly, spreading his legs until his thighs no longer touch. Dick guides him backwards, Jason shuffling his feet to keep from getting caught in his shorts. His crotch is soaked.

Dick traces the hem of his panties. “Would you look at these,” he purrs, snapping the band.

The back of Jason’s neck burns.

When he bought them, he’d thought it would be funny. Oh, ha-ha, a pair of panties designed to look like the bottom half of the Robin uniform. It’s less funny now.

Jason’s grip tightens on the edge of the sink as Dick pulls them down to bunch around his mid thigh. The bathroom air is cool against his slit, and he swears he can feel every droplet of slick gathered there. He bites his lip.

Mistake.

Dick spreads his folds—Jason bites so hard he tastes blood, feels it bead on his lip. Can’t help but look at himself in the mirror; the way his curls halo around in his head in perfect dishevelment, his face blotchy red, bottom lip fat and swollen.

He looks like a fucking slut.

“You’re so wet, little wing.” Dick’s tone is almost scolding.

Jason wants to cry. Jason wants to raise his hips in offering, rise onto his tip-toes and beg for Dick’s cock.

Stop being so fucking easy, he scolds himself. Can’t play too hard to get, either, but he also needs to stop damn-near creaming his pants any time Dick gets a little intense. Dick’s attention is heady. Addictive. Jason doesn’t want to give it up if he can help it, and that means keeping a careful balance.

Luckily, Jason is used to giving men people what they want.

He swallows down the urge. “Whose fucking fault is that?” he grits out, letting his eyes drop again; staring at the marbled sink instead.

Jason yelps when Dick swats him. It’s not hard, he’s taken worse, but the unexpectedness of it…  The threat of it… It makes him swallow.

“You know damn well whose fault it is,” Dick says, voice low and vaguely threatening. It makes Jason shiver, cunt fluttering. “But we’ll be talking about your behavior later. For now…” Dick probes a finger inside of him. Jason’s cunt welcomes it, swallowing him greedily. His middle finger finds Jason’s t-dick, stroking small circles around it.

Jason whines helplessly, legs quivering as he fights to stay still. He’s so— He’s so sensitive.

Dick teases him, giving him only the barest stimulation, moving so fucking slowly it’s almost agonizing. Jason is panting by the time he’s done, sweat beading at his temples. His fingers ache, knuckles white.

“Hm. Looks like you were telling the truth,” Dick says. He takes his hand away, and Jason can’t help the way he whimpers, meeting Dick’s eyes in the mirror.

There’s a thin sheen of tears in his own now; the sclera red. Dick looks unaffected—save for his eyes, crackling electric blue that cut Jason to the core.

“Clean yourself up, little wing,” he says, wiping his fingers on Jason’s thigh before patting Jason’s ass. “I told Bruce I’d check on you and apologize before going to bed. You should go say goodnight to him.”

>> continue reading <<

[bomberqueen17]

kitchen colors

so ok it's the weekend and we were snowed in for a week and i've done a ton of unpacking but it's all invisible yay

but dude was making low-key plans for the weekend and i was like NO WE MUST GO TO THE HARDWARE STORE AND GET PAINT SAMPLES

i had to like. drag him to look at the paint chips idk why it was so difficult.

So we haggled and hemmed and hawed and held chips up in various spots and eliminated almost everything I'd brought home. Nothing would do as the accent color. But the wall color... we narrowed it down to Behr's Thai Teal, Celtic Queen, or Bella Vista. Celtic Queen was their pthalo-est green; Thai Teal and Bella Vista are almost the same except Thai Teal is dustier and Bella Vista clearer. Dude felt the cabinets having a dusty cast meant the wall should do, and I strongly felt the opposite. He yielded to my intensity of feeling on this.

But none of the colors I'd picked out were suitable as a trim color to pair with either of the teals or the green, so we'd have to go look. A lime green, perhaps, or a bright orange?

I also felt that painting the bay windowsill a strong color was the wrong choice, so we decided it should be a high-gloss white, but of course a shade of white that didn't clash with the white countertop. Not having a sample of countertop, I instead brought a spare backsplash tile with me to the hardware store, so I could tell what color of white I needed (ugh).

Thus ensued Hell: Trying to pick which of the hundred colors of white would match the tile without being too obviously not-white (which would clash with the white-white plastic of the electrical outlets and the plastic window frames, which I am not painting. The outlet and switch plates are getting painted or replaced with something decorative, sure, but the actual bit you put the plugs into is staying as it is, I'm not painting that shit). But, fortunately, Dude comes of graphic designer types, and came through for me.

[image: a man's hands, holding a white subway tile and several basically-white paint chips, in front of a hardware store display of paint chips in every shade imaginable of white, beige, black, or gray. This is my idea of hell.]

We tried lime green with the teal. It looked banger as fuck, but the only problem was, it also looked exactly like a really classic IKEA duvet cover pattern from about 2000. I could not paint my kitchen to look like the duvet cover Dude had when we met. That is not going to work out, psychically.

I picked a brilliant orange, and also hated it. It looked like... the 1970s. it looked. Too much. It popped but like, in a slightly upsetting way. it was giving Miami vibes, in an early-90s kind of way.

I dithered, and finally Dude went and picked a less red orange, in fact called Joyful Orange. That looked much better, and I got sample pots of Joyful Orange and Bella Vista to take home. (They are SEVEN DOLLARS each can you believe. Ah well.)

[image description: In the center of the photo, a section of wall trim is painted bright yellow-orange, next to a section of wall painted deep teal. To the right, a blue-washed cabinet corner, the white tile backsplash, and a section of counter with the tea kettle on it; to the left is the paler yellow in the distance of the living room, with a bunch of blurry stuff piled in the middle of the room.]

It's. Sort of parrot colors? But it's bright and it's bold. I like it in every lighting situation. So I think this is what I'm going with.

And then for the outlet covers, I got one lighter shade of turquoise, and then dug out my craft paints. I bought a couple of spare outlet covers at the hardware store-- forty-eight cents apiece? I'd be crazy not to-- lightly buffed them with some fine sandpaper, and went to town. This is just the first layer, once it dries I'm going to go back over and try to add realistic veining and like metallic glitter and such to make them look like turquoise gemstone material.

[image: lying on a crinkled paper towel, a US-style outlet cover is mottled in shades of turquoise paint, in an irregularly-textured pattern.]

Ah maybe I should do a layer of clear coat and then do the veining? We'll see. I'm not sure.

[neonponders]

Part 26 for @wrecked-fuse ‘s pocketverse 🥐

Part 25

( pt. 7′s art 🎩 ) ( pt. 9′s art 👀 ) ( pt. 14′s art 💨 ) ( pt. 19′s art 🦇 ) ( pt. 20′s art 🍳)

~ on ao3 ~

• • •

Eddie didn’t bother with the front door. He came around the side yard, waving a hand, while the large black butterfly that was small Eddie tried to keep up with his strides. Like an instinctive warning had chimed, large Eddie pauseed to catch him, and set a huffing and puffing little guy on the table.

“Good morrow, all.”

Small Billy said outright, “I thought you could fwy?”

“Short distances! I’m not a dwagon,” little Eddie defended.

“He’s trying,” the bigger Eddie consoled and gently extracted Chrissy from a gingham shirt pocket that did not look like his. From the hard grease smear alongside the buttons, they could guess it belonged to Eddie’s uncle, who alternated shifts at the local chemical plant and automotive factory.

Little Steve greeted, “Mornin’, Chwissy. Want some fwuit?”

She started to answer, but little Eddie’s pathetic collapse made her attend to him first. Little Steve and Billy helped her get him up as he whined, “Don’ step on my wings.”

Large Billy nodded backwards toward the kitchen. “There’s coffee in the pot.”

“Sweet,” Eddie said, glad for an escape out of socially obligated nonsense.

Billy’s eyes drifted over the littles, before settling on his own, who munched on a morsel of peach. Billy nudged the little’s back for his attention. “Is it good?”

“It’s zippy. Wike, it’s not all sweet. I wike that.”

“Me too,” he crooned in his morning baritone. A small smile curved Billy’s face as his little walked between his fingers to sit on the back of his palm, examining his silver banded ring by knocking a tiny fist against it.

Meanwhile, big Steve asked, “Chrissy, what do you guys like to eat?”

She threw her hands up with a jubilant, “Croissants!”

Steve’s brows flew up, disappearing under his hair. “Oh.”

Eddie emerged from the house with a mug of coffee. “The Pillsbury kind. Do you know what that is, Harrington.”

Steve sighed as he pushed himself up. “Yeah, the can is green, right?”

He smirked at Eddie, who stood by, unamused before he decided he might be allowed to sink into a seat. Billy heard the beep of the oven turning on and considered mini croissant sandwiches to be a good start to the day. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

“She’s not, and she’s got like church or whatever.”

Billy snorted, but any inclination for a reply went silent as he watched Steve sneak behind Eddie with a familiar blue cylinder, mostly brown now since he’d torn off the outer layer of paper. He thwacked it against Eddie’s chair, causing the dough inside to burst and the cylinder popped.

Eddie went rigid like an electric current had passed through him. Steve snickered and bent over to lean on the table, showing the littles. Small Billy and Steve exclaimed at the stickiness while Chrissy poked it once, preferring to sniff and say, “It smells nice.”

“Croissants coming right up,” Steve announced, only to have small Billy flagging him down.

“Take me with you!”

He set his hand down for little Billy to get settled on his palm and offered to little Eddie, “Let’s get you some water, huh?”

The poor guy looked drunk off of a cube of peach, but he climbed on and little Billy held his hand to make sure he stayed on for the ride to the kitchen.

It was Eddie’s turn to ask, “Do you like to cook?”

“Sometimes,” Billy responded.

“Your little guy sure seems to enjoy it.”

“I like people who cook even more,” he said before going in for a sip of his tea.

Eddie joined him with his coffee. “Subtle.”

They listened to little Steve and Chrissy chitchat until little Billy’s voice piqued their interest and they took the littles to the breakfast bar. Little Billy took great pride in helping Steve roll up the dough, especially licking off jam when it leaked out of the croissants with jam filling.

As soon as little Steve was standing on the counter, he exclaimed, “Biwwy! Why’rwe you slimy?”

Instead of getting an answer, Billy poked his cheek and licked the jam off little Steve’s face. “Because it’s yummy.”

Big Steve put the tray in the oven and promptly started filling the Barbie pool with warm water. A morning in the pool doubled as a bath.

Eddie watched his little pick up an escaped blueberry and offer it to Chrissy. “Wanna share?”

As they passed the jammy fruit back and forth, Eddie remarked, “I didn’t expect mine to be the prudent ones. If you’re not careful, they’ll eat each other.”

Large Billy countered, “They’re only in danger of me eating them.”

Small Steve shook his head as he stepped onto the towel laying like concrete around the pool. “Siwwy Biwwy. If you nom nom us, then you’ll be wonely.”

Billy loomed close to the counter, face sneaking up behind little Steve. “Or you’ll always be where I can find you.” He snapped his teeth, causing the little guy to jump.

“EE! Hey!”

He grinned like a wolf and made kissy noises. Steve stomped over, cheeks aflame until his momentum made him fully run into Billy’s lips, hugging his face. “Meanie.”

A strange burst of pain hit Billy’s jaw, making him lean back and realize small Billy stood next to Steve, glaring fiercely. Large Billy realized, “Did you just kick me?”

The little guy inhaled so deeply, his chest lifted like a cartoon character. “DON’T SCARWE STEVIE!”

To large Billy’s credit, he kept his voice mellow. “The little guy’s been bossing me around all morning.”

“IT’S GOOD IF IT’S STEVIE!”

On quiet, careful feet, Chrissy approached little Billy and rubbed a hand on his back. Like wind almost blowing a candle out, his anger collapsed before he recovered. Between deciding not to fight anymore, and simply being too tired, little Billy grabbed Steve in one arm and held Chrissy’s hand as he stomped over to where little Eddie stood on tiptoes to slurp down a bottle cap’s worth of water.

Big Billy stood up, only to face Steve with one hand on the counter and another on his hip. "He’s sensitive in the mornings.”

“He’s always sensitive,” Billy snapped, then diffused once he realized what he said.

“That’s why we jazzercize,” Steve finished and then exhaled, “but there’s no jazzercise on Sundays.”

As the uncomfortable quiet of waiting for the oven to finish filled the room, Eddie knocked his rings against the counter before eventually admitting, “Should I go, or...?”

However neither Steve nor Billy answered at first. Billy turned the oven light on to see inside the window, while Steve’s head sagged to the side. Eddie rolled his eyes. He’d thought bringing his littles over would be a nice break but these two were a piece of work -

The front door burst open, and Eddie heard Robin yell, “Kitchen?”

“Yeah,” Steve droned with a look at Eddie as if to say, That’s why you might as well stay.

Robin strolled in, smiling at the smell, only to freeze with her hands up as if to catch something. “Why is the energy weird in here?”

“Billy needs to apologize to Billy.”

“Again?”

Eddie snorted, earning glares from everyone involved. He shrugged happily. “I’m feeling so great about myself. Ignore me and continue.”

To everyone’s surprise, Max strolled in. Her stepbrother frowned. “Where’d you come from?”

“A lake,” she sassed.

Robin elaborated, “I cut through your street and she was skateboarding. I gave her a lift on my bike.”

“I was cleaning off my wheels,” Max finished as she took a seat next to Eddie.

Steve chimed, “Thanks,” before he watched little Billy tote little Steve over to Max and demand entry to her hoodie pocket.

With them cradled in the pocket on her lap, she lifted wide eyes at her brother. “What happened?”

Blue eyes lolled in their sockets. “Little guy can’t take a joke.”

“So...like you?”

Billy’s lips pursed, a sure sign he was about to spit fire, but Max beat him to it with, “Our parents leave for the week.”

That relaxed Billy’s mouth. “Right. Sunday...”

Max confirmed, “They’ll want to see you before they go.”

“Yeah,” Billy played off indifferently, but he stood up off the counter beside the oven and said, “I need to change clothes.”

“After they’re gone, you can make it up to B with a sleepover.”

Both Billy and Steve froze. Robin tried and failed to hide a smile. Max did far better in keeping her humor to herself. “I mean, Steve doesn’t have to do all the work. I’m sure knocking over all your hairsprays and colognes will make B feel better.”

The muscles in Billy’s jaw clenched -

The oven timer beeped, and Chrissy jumped excitedly. “They’re ready! Yay!”

[thescribblings]

LONG POST AHEAD! All words and it's just about my lil au!

I've just gone through my tumblr blog and realised that i haven't actually posted about my theory (and au canon) about why nardo's ninpo was "broken" when he popped up in the present, so now I'm gonna infodump as much as i can remember about it!

How should i put this..

So, is his ninpo broken? No, but it is definitely damaged. I'll explain that in a sec, but first: what did he do to fuck himself up so bad?

He completely neglected his health, skipped meals, gave his rationed water to others, and completely ignored his need for rest and sleep. He didn't think this was a problem, especially when he started feeling less and less hungry, despite not eating properly. Less thirsty, even though he still wasn't drinking nearly enough. And less tired, despite staying up for days, at times.

Now, he didn't really notice this shift, and neither did anyone else with the uh, apocalypse going on. But what actually caused it?

His ninpo, of course! His ninpo started sustaining him, literally keeping him alive. It's kinda like his body switched to survival mode and just preserved itself with his little built-in life source!

Why is this so bad? Because it has severe consequences. One of the side effects of this is that during the decade where his body was forced to sustain itself, it got so used to him not eating, drinking and sleeping that when he got back to the present he couldn't eat proper food for weeks, and it took months before he could eat foods like pizza.

Hell, he couldn't eat a peach without throwing it back up 20 minutes later after being in recovery for two weeks, a peach.

But as i mentioned earlier, his ninpo dulled his hunger. So it even made him nauseous anytime he tried to eat more than once a day when he had access to food again, and it took a lot of trial and error to find the right routine for his recovery.

Now, it may have been sustaining him, but it was not doing more than the bare minimum, so he was, uh, severely underweight, to say the least.

But enough about that, his sleep. I've mentioned him basically not having a sleep schedule in previous posts, and here's why! He literally couldn't sleep due to his ninpo, he didn't feel tired until after long missions, and even then he couldn't sleep until he literally crashed, and went out like a light for the next day.

This let him handle a lot more work around the base, but it also made his insomnia absolute hell for him. Instead of your average insomnia, he, like i said, didn't feel tired whatsoever. And this didn't just magically go away when he was suddenly safe in the present. In fact, it still pops up in 'manic episodes' where he just.. stays up for a few days.

This is why he looks so chronically exhausted lmao, he's got some permanent eye bags for a reason

Little important info rq, in my au the brothers can boost each other! Physical contact is needed, so let's say donnie just used a lot of his ninpo energy creating a complex blueprint, and is now pretty drained. If leo reached out and pressed his finger on donnie's arm, he could actively send a flow of his own ninpo energy to replenish some of what donnie used up. In this scenario, after the boost, donnie's next few ninpo constructs would be Leo's electric blue instead of his pixelated purple! Until he's used up the boost leo gave him, that is. There is no limit as to how much they can boost each other, but they usually just use it as a pick me up during lengthy battles or in scenarios similar to the one i described here.

So, what does this whole situation mean for his portals and all that hamato stuff? Well, he couldn't talk to karai or communicate with his ancestors and fallen family members anymore whatsoever after his ninpo was drained for the first time, so he went about.. nine years without directly communicating with them before he had 'recovered' enough ninpo energy to speak with karai in the present (let's be real, he tried as soon as he had more than two grapes worth of energy stored up)

This impromptu (and secret) meeting with karai actually led to some rather plot heavy things happening as soon as he left the hamato minscape, but let's not talk about that yet.

What about his portals? So, he lost his ability to portal when he'd just turned thirty, and during those first 14 years of the apocalypse he gained experience and training, along with some rather impressive skills with his portals, and he greatly improved the size of his portals (this happened specifically when he lost raph) and the number of portals he can open at once, along with the precision of where and when they open and close.

He does regain his ability to portal when he's been given a boost by mikey, and he immediately tests it out by teleporting an apple around the kitchen in a showy manner. And i personally love the thought that his portals would mostly be mikey's fiery orange, with little swirls of electric blue throughout them when he does this

But! I've completely lost track of what i was typing, so let's get back on track.

One of the side effects is spazzy ninpo. long after he's recovered, if he uses up too much ninpo energy during a battle his ninpo will get spazzy for the next day or two, what this means is that it's basically switching between survival and rest every few minutes, making him crash over and over until his body and ninpo are both drained, and until his body remembers that it can just rest and replenish. A boost would help him recover faster, but usually, it's best to let his body figure it out on its own

Especially since nardo can be a bit of a workaholic at times, as you can probably tell if you've read this far. So if he's being forced to have a rest day or two by his fucked up ninpo after overusing it in battle.. i think he might need that rest.

Have nice day

Okay, so i can't remember what the exact reason for this post was, but hey, lore/infodump ig :]

Oh, and if he got cut off from his ninpo by the krang, he'd have died pretty early on in the apocalypse. Oh well, good thing that didn't happen, lmao

[movedto-mrs-bluemarine]

All Night Long

It's MY anniversary, and I get to post WHATEVER I WANT

Cut for NSFW content

"Do you want the full Bluemarine package, Sweetness?"

She took one sweeping look across his bare body. The back shirt he was wearing was pulled up to his neck, exposing everything; his chest, his soft stomach, every knick and scar accumulating on his perfect, pale skin. Her ocean blue eye took into account every little detail about her boyfriend. Including the sizable lump hidden in his boxers.

He said something. She had to peel her eye away from the mouth watering treat before her.

"Yes, sir."

"Then get over here."

Suffice to say the way she clambered on to Wes' lap wasn't the most elegant. Neither of them minded. She was cautious of his crotch, and the cold metal of his right leg, but she did it with ease. Her hands slid against his skin to feel the bumps and grooves in his body, traveling behind his head. Her breasts pressed against his chest as she coddled his face close, purring in a seductive tone. "My... All of this, for little me?"

"Every single inch." Wes breathed. His nose brushed against hers as he spoke, tempting her so. But she must be patient. Good things come to those who wait.

She caressed his face more, starring into his beautiful icy eyes as he watched her's. His hands found her waist, drifting lower to squeeze the meat of her thighs with his big hands. Her lips never found his, instead they moved against everything but. She decorated his face in gentle kisses, leaving a trail of blue lipstick where she went. She loved every inch of his face, to his pointy nose and his pale cheeks, running red with blush, down to his thick neck, where she bit and sucked her mark of love for all to see. Wes would let her have her fun, just this once. He would let his love do unto him as she pleased.

She pulled away from his neck with a pop. An uncertain eye didn't meet his, as her finger ran circles into his right pectoral. "...Are you sure you want to do this? I know you wanted to wait till our wedding night... This feels, wrong, somehow."

Wes pulled her closer, cupping her neck and appeasing her with light pecks from his lips. "I'm sure. I think I've kept you waiting long enough, right?" A new, foreign feeling. His fingers playing with the lace of her special panties, bought just for the occasion. His touch so close to her nether regions stirred the familiar vibration of unsure excitement. He made her feel giddy, like she was a kid again. Except that constant ache in her back was a friendly reminder that she was anything but, but that meant she could do even funner things with the love of her life.

Wes kissed the skin of her ear, "I'll plan something extra special for our honeymoon, instead." God, that voice. It was music in her ear. Just the simplest phrase sent the hair on the back of her neck shooting up. Her lips turned up into an evil smirk.

"Wes~, you little flirt." She sang in his ear, as her hands flew up to his shoulders, pinning him down quickly to the mattress with a grunt. Wes looked up helplessly at his girlfriend, bathed in the orange light of the nightstand lamp, sitting above him, looking like the Greek goddess she was. "If that's the case... I'll have to enjoy you to the fullest."

His black shirt was ripped up to his chin again. Her lips were against his chest, pressing opened mouth kisses into his skin where she went. The digits of her fingers played with the skin above his briefs, a faint tickling sensation made Wes' left leg twitch in anticipation. An electrical feeling was in his veins, he felt it in everything.

"Go easy on me." It was worth a shot. He was ready for anything headed his way, but something in his gut told Wes he would be waking up with a bruised hip.

She pretended to mull it over, the blonde rolling her eye, one of the hands not holding her body up was gently pawing at the evident lump between his thighs while she hummed.

"Hm... I'll consider it."

[mprimn]

I hate POP MART figures.

My first impression to them is just slightly more expensive gachapons. Most of them aren't even that pretty. Especially the ones called LABUBU. They're somehow very overrated in my country despite those ugly teeth they all have.

So imagine my surprise when I followed my friend into a POP MART store in Shibuya, only for me to ended up buying one instead of them. We were browsing through the different designs (while trying to be as quiet as possible because there were so many customers from our country it's kind of embarrassing) when one set stood out to me. It got me staring into the glass container for quite a moment.

An Alice in Wonderland themed POP MART :

Like. Wow. The artist actually did their homework on this one.

We usually have a favorite to aim for when opening blind boxes or doing gachas, right? Which is why I usually look through sites like mercari first so that I wouldn't have to waste my money on hopeless gambling. But I don't hate a single design in this set at all. The in-store price wasn't so different from the resales on mercari either, so I grabbed one from the shelf, headed to the counter, and cracked the box open...

I have acquired The March Hare. He is now sitting on the top shelf along with the goods I bought and the doujins my friends asked me to buy for them. I should start thinking about when to deliver some of these back home because my single luggage cannot fit them all.

Other than my character development arc towards POP MART (I still hate LABUBU though), I have to mention how I almost got a heat stroke while riding a bicycle to the train station.

It wasn't even that hot in the evening. I checked the weather report and everything before heading out. Yet right after I parked my bicycle and went up to the ground floor, my eyes became blurry and I couldn't stand straight. I somehow managed to make my way (literally half crawling) to the nearest vending machine and was saved by a bottle of cold water.

Who would have thought that summer in Japan can be this hot? Even the exchange students from SEA complained about the heat. Some of them who already returned told me that they'd rather tolerate summer at home than whatever is going on here. Global warming is real and it's getting to us.

Summer isn't a good season to save money, but since I've never experienced snow in my whole life, my real challenge would be in winter. An electric fan is enough to help me through the summer. But the freeze I felt to my bones when I arrived in Narita Airport during spring?

I will need those money for my heater bills.

It has been stormy lately because of the passing typhoon, but that didn't stop me and my uni classmates from reuniting in Tokyo a couple weeks ago. We stayed together in an Airbnb and it was a very chaotic experience. I wasn't really close to any of them but watching them throw hands at each other (in a friendly way, I suppose) had been entertaining. Though, the Airbnb caretaker who lived upstairs probably hated us to the core because we were being loud almost every night.

Before heading to Tokyo, we were invited to watch an annual fireworks show in a reserved area thanks to a Japanese friend. I've only seen fireworks from afar during new year countdowns so I wouldn't lie when I was a bit frightened by how close the explosions? bangs? were to where we were sitting. Let me show you some photos I took.

Here is what the area looks like. I, of course, brought the plushie with me so I can pretend we were dating under the fireworks light.

And here are the fireworks! The show was about an hour long if I remember correctly.

The blue one was screenshoted from a video but I personally think it's the best photo.

There were smoke everywhere once the show is over. Everything smelled burnt. Like we were barbeque sticks on a grill or something. It became really crowded when everyone started heading home at the same time, but the Japanese friend's family was very kind and took care of us so well. Apparently, the father used to live in our country and is still a huge fan as he kept telling us he couldn't wait to visit the capital again in a few months. We wish him the best.

Now that I'm getting hungry (it's midnight) I shall end the post here. I will try to upload some smaller posts so that I can make up for the months I have missed.

The way I actually had a draft for this post days ago but ended up rewriting everything again just because. You will forever be in my heart, little draft.

[eakdoeseurope]

Marseille, day 2, part 3

Bike tour time! So when I was researching Marseille (I did do a little research), I discovered that one of the main attractions is the Calanques. What is a calanque? Well, I've now apparently seen three of them, and I still don't know. I think it's like a mountain?

Or maybe it's the part that isn't the mountain, like a doughnut hole? Whatever, they're a natural wonder, and I love me a natural wonder. There's a hike that's accessible by bus, but I came across an e-bike tour of the calanques and I thought, "hey, I can ride a bike! I can totally do that! Easy peasy!"

(Narrator: "It was not, in fact, easy peasy.")

See, I thought the hard part would be figured out the electric motor part. But it was a pedal assist thing so the bike took care of that for me. No, the real problem is that the closest I'd ever been to mountain biking was going down the 46th Avenue hill by Oakland Lake near my house as a child. And that is not the same thing.

I'm not a good biker, as I discovered after about five minutes on the bike. The tour guide went up a steep embankment and then stopped on the plateau to wait for all of us to regroup. Everyone in front of me followed suit. I attempted to as well, but I misjudged the amount of momentum I would need, and came to a stop with only my front tire on the plateau. The bike started rolling back down the embankment, and it was too heavy for me to keep it in place (because of the motor), and l didn't have the presence of mind to hit the brakes, so I rolled back down the embankment with it and landed flat on my back with the bike on top of me.

My pride was more wounded than anything else, thankfully. And I was near the end of the pack so only a few people saw it happen. I do wish I could have seen it from a third-person perspective; I'm sure it looked hilarious.

Anyway, that was a harbinger of things to come. A fair portion of the trek was on gravel roads dotted with larger rocks, and many of the roads were also being used by cars and hikers. Oh, right, and we were going up and down mountains.

Going up was actually okay. I mean, it was hard work, even with the e-assist, but going down the mountains, I was 50% sure that at any moment my bike was going to skid out and I would slide off the road and fall down a literal mountain. I had my rear brake fully engaged for pretty much the entirety of the descents and I think I got tendonitis in my neck from how hard I was clenching my jaw the entire time.

In theory you're supposed to keep to the right so cars can pass you on the left, but when the right side of the road was the cliff side, I made the executive decision to stay to the left instead. And I am alive today thanks to that decision (I assume).

There was a group of guys in their early 20s in the tour group who were acting like the worst version of guys in their early 20s -- immediately removing their shirts, refusing to wear their helmets, taking smoke breaks, showboating by popping fucking wheelies. I couldn't have rolled my eyes harder. Who are you trying to impress, dude? The only hot girl on this tour is here with her boyfriend.

There was also a middle-aged man who did his own showboating, but that just involved going off the trail to show how he could do real mountain biking, not like us trail-riding plebs.

After one of our descents, we wound up at a little inlet beach, where the water was shockingly blue.

I took off my shoes and socks and waded in the water. It was a little cold, but nice.

Of course, then we had to head back up. You wouldn't think the trip up would be more enjoyable, but biking up a mountain is much less terrifying than biking down a mountain. I was actually surprised by how much quicker the trip up was than the trip down.

See that light patch of lighter turquoise water where the land goes in? That's the beach we were at. I biked that.

The tour guide offered to take a picture of me looking sweaty and exhausted in front of a beautiful vista, so here's that:

Then we just had to get back to the starting point, which involved more descending down gravel roads, and then some comparatively pleasant biking through the city. I returned the bike and treated myself to some "I lived, bitch" gelato (flavor: Kinder Bueno).

To get back to the center of Marseille, I decided to take a ferry rather than the subway; it would take longer, but be more scenic. There was some mild confusion while boarding because I assumed that I could use my 72-hour transit pass, which supposedly included buses, trams, subways, and ferries. But it did not include THIS ferry, so I guess it just included the ferry that goes across the Vieux Port? So I paid €5. Which is honestly pretty cheap for a 20-minute boat ride. The most annoying part was that there were two women sitting near the boarding point who for some reason found it hilarious that I thought my transit pass would work on the ferry. Truly, they were acting like I tried to swipe a MetroCard or something.

We did indeed have lovely views from the ferry, and the spray from the boat's wake was nice and refreshing.

We got a good view of the Cathedrale La Major as we approached the Vieux Port.

Then I limped back to my hotel and took a much-needed shower. The end.

[jacks-tracks]

Blog bits

Lazy as it is here, I have done a few things. My daily morning walk always includes some nature study. Fringing the beach sand and growing well down it, but still 100 yards from the water, tiny flowers grow in matts. Sprawling across the sand are little pale blue morning glories. Closed at night, they open and track the sun, blooming only a few days. Where there is water. like along the accesses. climbing morning glories are lush and covered in big deep blue trumpets. These too track the sun, but last just a day, replaced by new buds that set up overnight. Given that the native vegetation is twisted grey green scrubby trees, none exceeding 10 feet, thorny and too thick to penetrate, the lush flowers are the exception. The rainy season is over, and a 5 month winter drought is in place, not even much dew. Butterflys flit quickly along the tree line, all large winged,and ranging in colour from stark white to an orange the shade of a Buddist monks robes orange. They never seem to land, making photography vexing. Did get a white one on wild marigolds and will try to attach that shot. Will my phone connect with this computer?

Bird life has lessened as the suburbs have been developed, trees remove'd, yards paved. Swallows and sparrows of course, the former nesting in the tubes and braces of the electrical wires, and sparrows seem to exist everywhere in the world. Yellow breasted fly catchers a re common, kiskadee! Had bird come calling , low"chack chack" and a louder toowhee. I imitated the call and a very interested bird came hoping through the trees and inspected me. He was a bit smaller than a crow, jet black, with brilliant yellow wing bars and undertail. Very pretty, and not happy with my calling. He gave up on me and instead ate the green seeds from a local tree covered in brown pods like peas. Even the leaves are feathered, lacy. I hear the barred breasted woodpecker, who nest in cactus holes, and thought that was what came into the fig tree that overhangs my hanmmock, but it was a tawny brown, almost russet bird who shyly hopped past. I really should not imitate the birds as it means they are using up energy finding me instead of foraging.

Surfs up. Normal waves this time of year are 3 to 5 feet, but some offshore disturbance cast big boomers ashore for 3 days .Surfers flew in from Panama. Disappointing, because while waves grew to 15 then 20 feet, they were falling straight onto the beach, so there were no corners or angles to catch. 50 surfers battled through that thundering set of waterfalls to get in position, then sat for hours waiting for the right wave, which never came. Once in a while a bodyboarder would fly foaming across the falling face, leaving a roostertail of spray, before disappearing into the deeps.They get pounded down by the crashing wave, bob up in the frothing foam, and wisely paddle ashore. Where the flooding inshore flow turned back out and washed a stream of sandy water seaward, the waves were undercut and smaller. Here is where timing allowed surfers to get out from the beach to deeper water, sliding up the 20 foot wave faces, and just managing to slip over the crests. At the end of the day, the surf competition was cancelled. and a few broken boards went off to the repair shops.

November is festival month, and a regional dance contest produced several local groups in elaborate contests. Held at the local plaza, and guarded by a phalance of machine gun toting marines, 1000 people, Moms and kids, a few seniors, and lots of local dignitarys filled the uncomfortable folding chairs facing a spotlit stage. Opened by said dignitaries, there were interminable self congratulatory speeches, ignored by the happy kids in the bouncy castles, riding the decrepit carnival rides, or feeding on snack food. The chocolate ice cream was pretty good! There were balloon popping games, ring tosses, and a gun range with bb guns firing at 10 foot distances towards prize targets. I saw several boys take dozens of shots, never hitting anything. Those guns must have bent barrels. Older boys leaned closer and did hit a few, but the catch was to win a prize required knocking down three targets, impossible! Tiny trains circled a twisty track, filled with squealing kids, until the track shorted out with big sparks,and the train stopped. That was live rail under their feet. Wonder how it went when it rained? Dodgem cars , cracked and chipped from ten thousand collisions, were not in use, but a rotating set of cages flung people up into the night sky, hopefully not falling apart. Seen in the daytime , rust was the common covering, and old bolts just waited to fail.

After a woman sang poorly, the dancers arrived from uptown, having danced all the way down the. main drag. A dozen men wearing rooster feather helmets and wierd conquistidor masks circled to the off beat of a brass band endlessly. They were followed by women in traditional flouncy skirts . dipping and twirling, flashing multiple layers of underskirts, and wearing flowered bonnets. They were exceeded only by a similar group who while in matching dresses, wore paper mache towering hats shaped like crosses and what looked oddly like baskets of buns. No doubt some deep signifigance. Little kids dressed as vaqueros spun about, looking tired from their mile long street dance, Men and women did the chicken dance, prancing and wheeling in a double line. They twirled elaborate sashes, balanced straw hats on their heads, and the men clutched bottles of mescal, offering shots of the muddy brew to the spectators. All this to the off time and ear splitting rumpus of bad brass bands. Mexico where old sousaphones go to die.

That counts as my big night out, cultural event. More prosaically, I went to the Split Coconut bar to hear "Volcanoe" a prog rock band. they got better after they'd swilled a few beers. Live music, ya gotta take it when you can. No doubt later in the year more venues will open. The Split will have a Thanksgiving turkey dinner thursday, and I'll try that. I rarely eat out, keeping a tight budget, but treats are good.

[septembersghost]

need you to know everything in this reply is perfect to me 😭

the johnny cash comparison is SO good, i'm glad you said that! i was discussing this with my mom the other day - in some of his later tracks and performances, you hear him leaning more and more into the country roots, and it's fantastic. (idk why this is the example that popped into my head, but take songs like "don't think twice, it's all right," at its core it’s still quintessential elvis, but he's evolving and experimenting/maturing too). even earlier with the memphis sessions, the blue eyed soul and country sounds are crystalline. as the rock of the 80s transitioned more into the subgenres like metal and grunge, country started to fuse some with both pop influences and a resurgence of southern rock (i was thinking about how roy orbison had a revival in the 80s as well). i just feel like so many things were happening sonically and with the songwriting in that world that elvis would've been perfectly suited for.

"He was reaching a point in his life where he could reflect on everything he'd gone through and turn it into meaningful, spiritual art that I think would have been very satisfying for him creatively." *nods* i'll cry if i think about this too much because! it would've been amazing and he deserved to have that...

"he had kind of a perfect vibe and voice for some of the later '70s and '80s megamusicals." YOU GET ME. i keep thinking about this!!! the rock influenced musicals were very different from what came before and i'd just be so interested to know what he would've thought of them and if he'd have gravitated towards any of that music.

"I think all the time about an alternate history where ALW is like thinking about rock influences and ends up casting him instead of Steve Harley for Phantom of the Opera initially." shared brain cell because this is exactly what i was fantasizing about too. el's voice on the original cut of the title track, with the electric guitars? *___* ugh it would be spectacular. I'VE HEARD THIS SONG (oh jungle room sessions...) BUT DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS ALW/TIM RICE I'M LOSING MY MIND?

"it also sometimes makes me feel sick if I think about it too much because of how easy it is to ignore the people in our lives or celebrities in our culture who are hurting and need love. It is easier to love the dead because they are made into images again." same. i know you've seen me mention this, but it truly is something i grapple with over and over again regarding love and reverence for these figures who sometimes seem to transcend mortality, and the way we love them being...indirect? yet no less true, and always deeply personal. (and of course you are VERY right about the people directly in our lives as well.) it's often hard to parse. with celebrity culture, the reason why i find myself curious and invested with the artists i admire as people is that it's the only way in to dispel that flat dimension of the image in some small way. finding out about their foibles and hurts, along with the extraordinary talents and successes, it doesn't diminish them for me, it clarifies that humanity and i find it makes me cherish what they created even more. the dead can be perfected and polished, but only holding that aspect reduces the complex and still beautiful tapestry of who anyone was. and demanding perfection is so futile, people are far too layered for that. there will always be separation because of course we can't be close to them directly - or like, you and i couldn't love and celebrate el when he was alive, since we weren't yet alive - but the best we can do is lend them compassion for their humanness while celebrating their art, remember they were vulnerable and real, and not only that glimmering icon, but we can still have stars in our eyes over them too.

that quote of ann-margret's is true and breaks my heart. my mom was telling me how the news of his death went around campus instantly, and everyone, fan or not, knew who who he was and shared a similar shock, but she also remembers how quickly it turned cruel. he's been done so many disservices, but the caricature that certain aspects of our culture turned him into with an almost gleeful malice at points is just devastating to me? i don't know how people could be giving these glowing eulogies and re-examining his legacy and asserting his gifts and artistry while in the same breath relegating him to that the way they did. he deserved so much better for so long.

something i also consider a lot is...i feel when someone dies tragically, we too often view the prism of their life from that point, as if it defines everything else, but it shouldn't. the sorrow can be acknowledged and wholly felt without blotting out the triumphs and joy - it's like we need to do better to remember the life, the spark of that person, which is where the real soul of them resides.

"it's so important to restore their humanity to them and to carry those memories forward, but on the other hand, sometimes the image, hard as it was to live up to, was the gift they wanted to give to their fans, something that they created and shaped specifically to bring others joy. So those creations become so much more precious to us when they are all we have, and it's almost like the effort falls to us now, after they put so much work and love into their art, to receive it and protect it and use it as a way of knowing them better." you phrased this beautifully. yes. it's that constant dichotomy, to recognize and empathize with the humanity, with the fact that they were real, flesh and blood people, and yet to treasure and protect the beauty and gifts they gave us that do feel somehow larger than life and miraculous, and remain incandescent.

in a timeline where Elvis had been in good health and lived longer or even was still alive! what do you think might've happened with his career?

this is a great question, and i love it despite it also making me unspeakably sad. obviously so many things would have to change for this to happen, and there are endless hypotheticals that can be asked about him - what if he'd gotten, and been willing to accept, help with the pills and his other struggles, what if he hadn't been trapped in vegas, what if he'd left parker, what if he had had the chance to make dramatic pictures and choose/record more music that inspired him rather than the movies and soundtracks he ended up having to do for so long, what if he hadn't been drafted, what if his mother hadn't died when she did - any one of these changing potentially changes the whole course of his life. but let's say nothing is different except he's healthier and survives. keep in mind elvis would've only been 45 in 1980, and, all things being equal, his voice would still have been strong and clear and beautiful. i don't think he's the type of person who ever would've wanted to stop creating and performing. the 80s gets us into an interesting time with music, disco fizzles out, a bunch of fresh rock and pop and country sounds rise and flourish, hip-hop begins to enter the mainstream. another big thing that happened was the revitalization of broadway, with particularly flashy, sweeping musicals. barbra streisand, who'd primarily been recording various forms of pop as it shifted for a good decade or so, along with her successful film soundtrack music, returned to her roots and released the broadway album in 1985 (one of my albums of all-time), when el would've been 50, and it was seen as a gamble, but turned out to be a huge hit. elvis may not have been a musical theatre performer in that sense, but he had a natural affinity for drama and flair, so it'd be cool to know if he would've taken to any of that or incorporated aspects of it (in my head, he'd totally enjoy the phantom of the opera). the rock sounds, the r&b, the fusions in pop and country, all of that would've piqued his interest, i think, because he was so passionate about music and was so skilled (and such a sponge for it across genres) at adapting it. so he could've experimented with new sonic forms, kept expanding his abilities and repertoire. i'd love to imagine that he'd have flown away out of vegas and finally gotten to tour the way he wanted. i even think he would've added innovation to the culture and music happening at the time. if he'd remained well and found creative outlets that inspired him, it's something he could've kept going on and building for a long while. i feel certain he would've done more gospel records too eventually, while still staying current at the same time. i imagine any of that would've somewhat altered how his legacy has been viewed, especially the wrongfully disparaging commentary. maybe he'd be like some of the other artists we've seen, paul, elton, bob dylan, billy joel, and so on, and kept playing well into his 70s. maybe eventually he'd have retired instead and taken time for himself (and you asked career specifically, but i hope he could've found some personal peace and love that he kept looking for too), but...part of me really does think he never could've left making music or being onstage and sharing that love and energy with an audience, as long as he was able. he would've found those songs to keep singing. which is what he did do in life. if only he'd had more time.

kind of off-topic/an aside, but i honestly believe he'd be so, so touched, and so amused regarding some things (i simply know he'd dissolve into that contagious laughter), that the young women on the internet, even a generation behind me, (after i explain the internet to him, i will tell him <3) are listening to and watching, and writing and reading about, and making countless fanvids and edits/gifs/etc for him in 2023. i hope in 2027, when he's been gone for fifty years, all the fans right now, new and old alike, still hold onto part of what they're currently experiencing. there's something indescribably wholesome about it (even in the thirst posting tbh, because it's still his power?!). i just cannot fathom any current star having this effect decades later, including the ones i adore. not because they aren't great, not because they aren't creating wonderful, lasting work, they undoubtedly are, but so much has shifted in how we absorb and keep and pass that on which alters it along the way. elvis' status as the best-selling solo artist of all time could *maybe* be broken eventually (although it's not in the foreseeable future), but it won't actually be comparable because streaming and everything within the industry has vastly changed. another difference, unfortunately, also lies in the tragedy. i hope our current young musicians have long careers and carve out happy, peaceful lives free of as much of that torment as possible, but the immense sadness and mythic rise and fall of it all are why we culturally still cling so much to certain people - as i've oft mentioned with EP, MM. to those eternally young and heartbreaking figures. if they'd experienced recovery, and lived the long, contented lives we wish they had, would we be this captivated by them now? or do we look into the abyss of their absences and hold them closer to keep them alive, to understand and feel that connective empathy? it's deeply human nature to be drawn to trying to understand the shadow of that darkness chasing their light. we want them to live and we can't give it to them, so we find ways to bring them to life instead.

i wish he was here to know how beloved he is, and i wish he was here because it would mean the trajectory of his life was far more gentle. i wish he was here to laugh with us about it and see us singing and dancing along to his music as if it was brand new, but i do believe he often looks down at us like:

[endless-summer-soldier]

moonage daydream (i)

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

summary: when you learn that Bucky knows nothing about music, you start introducing him to some of your favorite bands. as your hang outs become more and more frequent, you start to catch feelings for the super soldier.

warnings: alcohol, references to a family death, implied sex

word count: 1.3k

series playlist

series masterlist

X

“Keep your electric eye on me, babe. Put your ray gun to my head...” you sang to yourself as you cleaned up the med bay. It had been close to six months since you’d been hired under Helen Cho to support the Avengers. Blaring music in the med bay as you cleaned up quickly became your ritual.

“Press your space face close to mine, love. Freak out in a moonage daydream, oh yeah…” You heard the door to the med bay open and you turned to identify your late night visitor.

“Sargeant, what can I do for you?” you smiled, turning down the music a few notches.

“Couldn’t sleep...was hoping you could hook me up with some sedatives.”

You gave him a stern look. “Bucky…”

“This is the last time. I promise.” You didn’t break his eye contact, contemplating his plea. “Please Y/N.” He had just returned from a mission and you could tell he was exhausted. He only came to you when he was truly desperate. He never gave you any details about why he couldn’t sleep, but you could see the pain in his eyes.

“Fine, but next time I’m giving you melatonin instead.” He chuckled as you went to search for some Lunesta. He leaned against the counter and tapped his Vibranium digits on the counter in time with the music.

“I like this song. What is it?”

“What is it he says,” you joke with him.

“I’m serious.”

You place two small blue tablets in his hand and reply, “You really don’t know who this is?”

“It’s not my fault I was stuck in a block of ice for decades.”

You rolled your eyes as you filled up a glass with water to accompany the pills you had just given him. “You can’t keep using that excuse. You’ve been thawed for five years.”

“Well…I’ve been busy.”

“This,” you said, dramatically placing the glass of water in front of him, “is Moonage Daydream by David Bowie. He is one of the most influential artists of the century.”

“Never heard of him.”

“Oh that hurts.”

“I like this song though.”

“Okay, have you listened to any music from the last fifty years?”

He gave you an awkward smile and shook his head no.

“Nothing?”

“Sam keeps giving me recommendations but I’m not sure I trust his music taste.”

You took a deep breath, “Okay, I am officially offering you my services.”

“And what does that entail?”

“We’re going to hang out and I will introduce you to a bunch of great bands and artists.”

“You would do that?”

“I can’t have you coming into my place of work and asking who David Bowie is.”

“When’s our first session?”

“Tomorrow. Now go get some sleep.”

He popped the Lunesta and drank the full glass of water. “Looking forward to it,” he grinned at you. “Goodnight Y/N.”

“Night Sarge.”

X

“Well it's about time,” you said, opening the front door to let Bucky in.

“I’m three minutes early,” he scoffed.

“I know, I was just getting bored here by myself.” It was the first time you had hung out with Bucky outside the tower and you were a tiny bit nervous, mostly because you weren’t sure what to expect.

Bucky walked comfortably into your home and said, “So...are you gonna give me the tour?”

“It’s a one bedroom in New York City. What’s there to see?”

He chuckled and made his way into the living room.

“Do you want a drink?”

“Yeah, sure.”

You pulled out a bag of limes and a bottle of tequila and turned to him in the living room, “How does a margarita sound?” you said with an eyebrow pump.

“A margarita sounds wonderful.”

“Coming right up,” you replied. He followed you into the kitchen and watched you effortlessly mix a pitcher of margaritas.

“So this must be the kitchen,” he commented.

“How’d you guess?” you joked.

He proceeded to walk down the hall and open the next door in the hall. “Closet,” he called, closing the closet door. He took a few more steps and opened the next door. “Bathroom,” he stated, poking his head around inside. He completed the tour when he reached the last door of the apartment.

“So this must be…”

“The bedroom,” you finished, placing a margarita in his hand. His gaze moved from your bedroom door to your eyes.

“Go ahead, take a look if you’re so curious.” He opened the door ever so slightly and peered inside to your room. You were racking your brain trying to remember if you left any dirty clothes on the floor. He carefully closed the door, turned to you, and genuinely said, “Very nice.”

You rolled your eyes and walked into the living room.

“Alright, you ready to get to it?”

“Born ready,” he made himself comfortable on your sofa as you pulled out a crate full of records.

“To be honest, I’m shocked that people are still using turntables.”

“Hah. We took a break from them for a few decades but they’ve come back recently.”

You sorted through the records, looking for one in particular.

“Aha!” You pulled out the bright blue album and held it up to Bucky.

“Best of Bowie,” he read.

“As much as I would love to play you Bowie’s discography in chronological order, I thought a Greatest Hits album might be a better way to start.”

“I trust your judgment,” he nodded. You removed the record from its sleeve and placed it securely on the turntable.

The two of you listened to the full album together as you sipped on your margaritas. It didn’t take Bucky long to realize he liked the sound of Bowie. He threw a pillow at you from across the room because you kept saying, “Oooh, this is a good one,” before each track. “Just let me listen,” he complained. You kept track of the songs he really seemed to connect with and started a Spotify playlist for him.

“What did you think?” you asked as the album drew to a close. You topped off both glasses with the remnants of the pitcher. You hadn’t realized you’d been drinking that much until you emptied the pitcher. You were keeping pace with Bucky, forgetting that he seldom felt the effects of alcohol. That left you feeling more than tipsy while your guest felt perfectly fine. Bucky rambled on about his thoughts on the album and you just sat there, feeling warm and fuzzy, lost in his words. A small smile crept onto your face.

“What’s that look for?” he challenged.

“Nothing,” you shook your head, “I’ve just never heard you talk this much before.”

He chuckled, “Is that a nice way of telling me to shut up?”

“Oh no. Continue. I’m enjoying it,” you smiled.

“What can I say? Good music puts me in a good mood.”

“You have a really nice smile,” you genuinely stated. Bucky could usually be found with a brooding scowl on his face.

His eyes connected with yours and it was almost as if he was studying you. He didn’t know how to react to a comment like that.

“It’s just a compliment, you don’t have to be all weird about it!” you joked, to diffuse the situation.

“I’m not being weird.”

“Sure, whatever you say.”

“I should get going though,” he stood up and you followed his lead, walking him out. “Thanks for introducing me to the genius that is David Bowie.”

“Any time.”

He gave you a curt nod and a tight lipped smile and walked out your front door. You watched him walk down the few steps when you realized you didn’t want him to leave.

“Hey Sarge,” you called. He turned to look back at you and his eyebrows were raised in surprise. “Do you want to come over on Friday? Maybe listen to some Fleetwood Mac?”

He gave you a small grin and nodded, “I’d like that.”

[obey-me-rot]

You Shouldn't Be This Cool

A/N: Something purely self indulgent to kickstart this Obey Me writing blog. The idea mostly belongs to @warm-meelk because of how they drew their MC playing bass and then sprinkled in the fact that Levi would be the pianist and I just kinda...went from there q wq. And I also play bass so...all the more reason to write this!

Warnings: Levi trying to justify some of his more weird actions while MC seems to not only know...but enjoy the attention.

Levi wasn’t a creep, he was passionate.

He was passionate about TSL, he was passionate about anime, he was passionate about his idol groups and he was even passionate about learning new skills in order to better evolve himself into an ultimate fan.

So what he did today was not because he was a creep!

It was because he was passionate.

“Can you play that for me again, Levi?”

The third born tucks his feet on his chair, sipping up the noodles of his second cup of ramen as he watches the video feed from this afternoon. He smiles as the camera zooms in on your fingers, each one plucking the string of your bass absentmindedly while you listen to the melody he had composed.

As a TSL fan, he was ‘in the know’ of most TSL fan events whether they were held in the Devildom or in the human world. If they were worth the trouble he would attend and if it seemed like it was just a repeat fan event for one he already attended then he would just get the merch from the safety and comfort of his room.

Yet a completely new fan event had popped up on his radar one day, an online one.

One that challenged each and every TSL fan to create a song dedicated to their favourite lord.

Levi doesn’t remember much after that announcement, all he remembers is knocking on your door at devil knows what hours of the morning and shoving the music sheets in your face while pleading for you to help him out.

Your musical talent wasn’t hidden in the House of Lamentation. While most of the brothers could boast about having pretty decent singing voices or being ‘okay’ at certain instruments, your ‘weapon’ of choice was perhaps the most random but also well fitted instrument for someone like you.

You played the bass.

If he wanted to get specific, you played the TCB1006 Ibanez electric bass. You had mentioned in passing when you and him had met up to start ‘jamming’ out and Levi had retained that fact along with his hundreds of other facts that had to do with your particular interests and likes.

Again, because he was passionate...about your friendship.

The camera zooms out to film both of you, a happy giggle taking him over as he saw just how chill you looked.

How unfair was it that out of all the instruments you could play, you had to play the one that just made you look even cooler?

You were laying in his tub while he sat on the very chair he was sitting on now, plucking strings seemingly at random but humming some bars and trying to fit them with his melody. Your feet were propped up on the edge and the soft brown color of the guitar meshed so well with the glowing blue lights of his room that he is so glad he picked this spot for his hidden camera because you looked ethereal.

“I still can’t believe you composed this. It’s pro-level.”

“H--Ha! Of course! This is nothing but a piece of cake for me! If it's about the Third Lord and Henry then I’m all over it!”

Eyes take in the way you sit up and position your bass higher, fingers having a better reach as you start to ‘slap’ the strings in order to create a more wavy and deeper sound.

“Okay...I think I got it. Can you play the melody from the beginning?”

Oh here it was.

Sitting up, Levi puts his cup noodle down and grabs the nearby music sheets, pen already in hand as his attention on you becomes laser focused.

The beat you play is, well, playful. It is a high contrast to his almost operatic piano melody and he could almost hear himself playing a bit slower as if wondering if you had even heard what he was playing

“Uh MC…?"

“Trust me.”

Levi bites his lip as he feels his heart skip a beat, not even having to look at the screen to see that he was blushing. His past self was so predictable…

Although wasn’t his present self all the more pathetic for reacting to your words a second time?

He’d rather not think about it too much.

Your purpose had come shining through the moment Levi started to really hear the notes you were playing. It was almost as if you were mimicking Henry’s character with the bass. Cool, collected and eager to learn more about the world he had been thrusted into, your bass managed to capture the curiosity of Henry’s while his piano clearly symbolized the shy but deadly Third Lord.

The bass would go high, the piano would go low but as the melody started to harmonize so did the way your playing did with his. It was if he was the Third Lord, shyly peeking at the way Henry interacted with the world around them…

Only to turn around and invite him to join along.

His eyes go up to the screen.

You looked so happy, your fingers plucking away as he continued playing along with you. Your eyes turn to look at him and he almost wants to punch his past self in the face for not looking back. The camera had been perfectly placed to capture the way you tilt your head as you stare at him, chuckling as he clearly gets far too into the music for his own good.

To miss such an exclusive UR moment from you, he should be ashamed of himself.

“Haha. Thank the devil I came up with this camera idea!”

Levi blinks as he looks around, coming face to face with his beloved Henry as the fish stares at him from his bowl.

“...don’t look at me like that, Henry…”

The fish blinks.

“I wasn’t doing it to be a creep! I just wanted to write down the notes MC played before I forgot them.”

Henry’s mouth opens and then closes.

“And see! I even missed such exclusive moments from them! Look!”

He pauses the video and turns the screen so his fish can take a better look.

“5:06. I even timestamped it. Right here, MC is smiling and looking at me so cutely that it would be almost a sin to not record it!”

His fingers tap a couple of keys as he goes back to another point of the video.

“3:58, they smile and do such a cool trick with their fingers that I didn’t even notice that they stick their tongue out whenever they get too into playing! Do you see that Henry?”

A couple more taps as he keeps the video playing, the goldfish swims close to the edge of the bowl.

“I missed so many great moments all because I was so lost in playing! And I just didn’t want to ask them if I could record them because then they might think I’m using the footage for some sort of weird purpose and I would never do something like that to them! My Henry is far too amazing for me to just watch them one time! I just wanted to make sure of the notes they were playing! This is all for passion--!”

“Levi?”

He stops talking as he looks back at the screen, Henry swimming away while Levi tuned into the video once again.

“Was that good? I don’t know why but having the bass go a bit higher as I mute the strings feels almost like--”

“Like a conversation! It’s like the instruments are talking!”

Okay maybe this camera idea wasn’t the greatest after all, that was such a stupid thing to say and if he could go back and just slap the words out of his very mouch, he would.

Yet once again, his MC showed just why they were at the top of their ‘favourites’ list.

“Yeah! Like a convo!”

The conversation dissolves into randomness as Levi sighs and looks down at his sheet music. He only got a few notes down. Devildom, what was the point of having perfect pitch if he didn’t use it all the time? He straightens his screen out as he grabs a pencil instead of a pen, knowing full well that if he wanted to get this done he would have to rely on listening to you play and not looking at the screen.

If he finished this quickly then he would be able to stare at yo--it...he would be able to stare at it the rest of the night.

He goes to rewind the video but stops when he notices the scenery has changed just a tiny bit. You were out of his bathtub and looking at his aquarium, tapping the wall twice as some of his other fishes came up to greet you.

They were already so accustomed to you that he was sure even Lotan would know who you were.

Your attention goes from his aquarium wall to his computer, looking at all of his figurines and other merch he proudly showed off. A few more steps to the right and you were looking at his bookshelf--

Only for your eyes to lock with his.

He rolls his chair back immediately, his heart dropping to his feet as you reach out to the camera and pluck it from its hiding place.

No. No no no nononononononono!

This was it. You were done with him. Levi didn’t have a lot of friends but he knew that this was probably a friendship ender. His pupils contract as he sees you look at the camera with a confused look, already guessing your thoughts before you could vocalize them.

This weirdo was filming me the entire time. And he was hiding the camera? Disgusting. I’ll make sure to never come by his place again. What an absolute creep.

“MC...I didn’t--”

His jaw clicks shut as small tears gather at the corners of his eyes, not yet falling down his cheeks as he sees you smile and wave at the camera.

What--?

“Levi. If you wanted to film you didn’t really have to hide it. I want something to remember this session too. Next time you can just ask~”

You wink and Levi can feel his heart going from the floor all the way to his throat.

“Oh and send me a text when you have the footage ready. We can watch it together.”

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding as you place the camera back before his voice rings out from the video, exclaiming about all the snacks he had brought. So that’s why he had found you standing up, and here he thought you were leaving…

Send you a text...the footage…?

His hands scramble to his phone as he quickly enters the passcode, blushing as he sees a new message from you.

“Mind if I come over again? I have a new bassline I want to show off.”

Levi puts the phone down slowly before getting up---

Only to immediately fall down, hands over his face as he curled up on the floor.

Of all the characters he thought he would be in a shoujo, the last one he thought he would end up as is the heroine.

Not that he was regretting it, this was perhaps the best outcome that had happened in his now not so miserable life.

[five-rivers]

Random idea popped into my head. I decided to drop it here as a prompt. Make of it what you will.

Jack and Maddie aren't human...

I’ve been percolating an AU where Jack’s been a ghost the whole time because Vlad killed him and he didn’t know for about a week now; how did you know?

But I’m not quite done percolating that, so you get this instead.  Sorry, it’s kind of a mess. 

.

Danny didn’t know when he realized it.  Maybe he always knew, since he was very small.  Maybe it came to him all of a sudden, later, and it just made so much sense that he couldn’t truly conceive of not knowing.  Maybe he was lying to himself.  

His parents weren’t normal.  

To be fair, neither were he and Jazz, even from a young age, but...  His parents weren’t normal at all.  

When was the last time he saw them eat something other than fudge and cookies?

Jazz took care of the cooking, most days.  Their parents stayed in the lab.  Working, always working.  Money came in from patents, came in suitcases carried by men in crisp black suits.  Danny knew what a Geiger counter was before he was five.   

He knew to be careful.  So did Jazz, but she liked to ignore it, to play it off as nothing.  Someday, he knew, if things kept going the way they were, Jazz would convince herself that all the little things were fantasy.  Imagination.  

She’d move away and burn so brightly with light and passion that she’d blind herself to the shadows she once lived in.  She’d go to an Ivy League school and become a psychologist, or a neurologist, or a psychiatrist, or a brain surgeon.  She would be great.  She would shift paradigms.  

She would never forget him.  Danny wasn’t afraid of that.  But unless he shone just as brightly, unless he burned the memories from his mind just the same, she would never see him anymore.  

He wanted to become an astronaut.  

Dad laughed when he heard that.  He sewed Danny a custom suit- not like Jazz’s, which was just a smaller version of Mom’s- the next day.  White, like an astronaut, he’d said.  

Black for good luck.  And something else that skittered in the back of Danny’s brain.

Danny loved them, their parents.  But they weren’t normal.  

He looked up silver allergies online, once.  They weren’t like that.  And normal people didn’t shy away from the sun on their skin.  

Normal people didn’t talk about wars that weren’t in any history book, or about the best way to butcher a horse.  They didn’t have dozens of blue glass eyes in the bottom drawer of every cabinet they owned.  Their holiday dinners didn’t come to life and menace the neighborhood.  

Once, when he was ten, he thought they might be vampires.  But looking up the folklore and going deep, deep, touching the past, he saw that all the monsters that went bump in the night- and no few benevolent things too- borrowed traits, powers, and weaknesses from one another.  

Once, on the first day of spring, a ring of mushrooms rose up to circle Fentonworks completely.  Mom harvested them and fried them in butter.  Jazz refused to eat them, saying they might be poisonous.  Dad ate a plate of fudge.  Mom smiled as Danny ate every last one.  It was the most normal meal Danny had for years before or after.  

The portal was a project of passion.  Of something like desperation.  Of hope.  

For all that they professed to hate ghosts, sometimes Danny wondered if they weren’t trying to get back home.

Mom and Dad weren’t normal.  What did that make Danny and Jazz?

(Once upon a time he cut his hands open to see if he bled red and he doesn’t remember what he found out but after Dash he’s sure he bleeds red now.)

Danny wanted to see it.  He wanted to let them see it, bring back their life and spirit.  Let them know that it didn’t matter that Dad was a mountain of a man that looked even taller and broader out of the corner of his eye, or that he hadn’t seen Mom’s eyes in a year and didn’t remember their color, or that whatever they used for bath salts made Danny dizzy.  He wanted to show them that he loved them and he wanted to help.  

The portal beckoned.  He put on his astronaut-white and death-black jumpsuit and walked in.  This felt right, down to the electric tension in the air and the faint chill of the wall through his glove.  

It wasn’t normal, to put the on button for something like this on the inside.

(Danny’s parents weren’t normal.)

Danny wasn’t normal.  

No one normal fought the undead in back alleys, or laid awake at night trying to hold onto life hard enough to keep from falling through their bed.  No one normal could taste emotions on the air and drink them in.  No one normal could walk through a blizzard with bare feet and think how lovely the day was, or feel electricity brewing in their bones as the lightning storm raged.  

But that was later.  

He woke in his parents’ arms, to gentle crooning.  He woke to the flavor of joy that wasn’t his and colors too vivid to be real.  He woke.  

Had Mom’s eyes always been purple?  He couldn’t remember.  But the shape was familiar, and they crinkled happily at the corners.  He couldn’t help but smile back.  

Danny wasn’t normal.  Neither were his parents.  They weren’t the same kind of not-normal, and that made Danny’s teeth hurt, sometimes, especially after his fangs grew in, but-

But.  

Who could divide a fairy, from a ghost, from a revenant, from a lich?  Who marked out the boundaries between dwarves, goblins, trolls, giants?  How did an elf differ from any of these things, when elf might be tall or short, spiritual or just shy of human?  The roots of the stories were tangled, no matter how neatly the gardeners trimmed the plants.  

Danny’s story was that of a hero of a monster.  But the first hero was Gilgamesh, and no one would call him that, now.  

And for his parents-

For his sister-

For his family-

A normal story simply didn’t suit them at all.

[lemons3ason]

HOW THE VINSMOKE BROTHERS REACT TO LOSING THEIR S/O BECAUSE OF THEIR FATHER!

Warning: Mad Angst, Lowkey long I got kinda a little to into these scenarios, mentions of death and torture, I cried and lowkey need to make a part two for fluff TT-TT

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ichiji Vinsmoke

You were missing from bed this morning, of course Ichiji was curious of it since you were practically 8 months pregnant but he thought you were just back in the kitchen cooking with Cosette again. You were a chef for the Germa Kingdom, the only reason he had met you was because Niji had thrown a plate of food at Cosette and you shielded her from it before striking Niji in a nerve and knocking him unconscious for over 36 hours. Since that day Ichiji had claimed you as his, his cute firecracker, and yet for some reason you were never enough for his father. You made his son human, which in turn made him weak, sooner or later you would’ve had to be dealt with. Judge had summoned him to the throne room to speak with him alone, with his shadow casting over the young red haired man he spoke with a cold heartless tone, “(Y/n) has been executed. She was taken down to the dungeons before daybreak, so you won’t find her.”, he turned to his son to make sure he emphasized his point, “She wasn’t good enough for you anyways.”

Ichiji felt his heart shatter, something he once never had, and felt his lips quiver at the news. Nothing held him back, so why?! Why didn’t he just kill his father where he stood! Judge had sent you to the dungeons to be executed, all because he deemed you unworthy of the Vinsmoke name. Ichiji’s fist ignited into flames as his rage boiled in his blood. He was always cold and collected but right at this moment he was afraid! Afraid and enraged, Ichiji left his father alone and stormed down to the dungeons. Memories of his days tormenting Sanji replayed in his mind causing his stomach to churn. The dungeons were for the weak, only the strong could laugh from the other side of the bars and unfortunately you were just a weak powerless human compared to the monsters that lived right by your side.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n) answer me! Answer me right now!”, Ichiji’s voice roared through the cold dark cells of the dungeon.

Soldiers in charge of the chambers emerged attempting to calm their leader but their skulls simply met the hard brick walls as he punched them. Flames flickered from his fists and feet with each of his movements, even without his raid suit Ichiji was a force to be reckoned with.

“(Y/n)!”, his screams were desperate at this point, his emotional heart couldn’t handle the stress of the situation anymore.

Then he saw it, in pure disbelief he threw his glasses to the side taking in the pale lifeless battered body that laid before his eyes. Everything stopped, y-you were gone. He was to late. Ichiji didn’t want to believe it not now, not ever, he raced to your side scooping your cold form into his arm and holding you tight almost mistaking his own body heat as yours in broken hope that you were still alive. He was heartbroken, as he stared down at your beautiful sleeping face his vision became blurry. He had lost it, he lost you, tears and screams of agony poured out of Ichiji’s body. He couldn’t handle this, not (Y/n), not you of all people. His wails became louder so much so that his siblings could hear him, even Judge who stared out over the sea with no regret to his decision could hear the heartbroken wails of his precious son. Ichiji’s raw emotions triggered his powers, his tears evaporated from the intense heat his body produced and like an inferno eating at a dry field his flames engulfed the dungeons setting fire to half of the Germa Kingdom. Even as your body seared to ash in his arms he held onto you desperately his wails becoming noiseless gasps until his brothers pulled him out of the flames and away from your ashes.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n)! (Y/n)!!!!!”, He screamed fighting against his brothers strength as soldiers rushed in to put out the flames.

Even if he showed weakness because of his heart Ichiji mourned your death, he couldn’t handle it anymore because every little thing reminded him of you. For a whole week he had locked himself in your old quarters and he wouldn’t budge...not until Reiju appeared with the only thing that would pull him out of mourning. She kicked the door open holding something small in her arms and sighed seeing her brother collapsed by your bedside.

“She’s gone Ichiji, get over it.”, Reiju growled.

“How do you expect me to do that? Tell me Reiju! Every woman I’ve ever seen was merely a toy of amusement for me until I met her! She reminded me what it meant to be human, how do you expect me to get over her!”, the red haired male growled grabbing his sister by the fabric collar until a soft cry caught his attention.

The sudden rough movement had awaken the slumbering (h/c) haired baby that rested in Reiju’s arms. Ichiji’s body trembled from shock and he once again collapsed to his knees. Reiju smiled and kneeled down in front of her younger brother carefully placing his child in his arms, “(Y/n) fought till the very end, I noticed them take her down to the dungeon and the stress from them beating her drove her body into labor. Father’s word was absolute to kill her but nothing was said about the baby. All she asked was that I took her.”, Reiju sighed tears of regret falling from her blue eyes.

This little baby girl, with Ichiji’s curly little eyebrows, and your sweet eyes, was all he had left of you and he wouldn’t let his father take her from him like he took you!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Niji Vinsmoke

That night you hadn’t returned to bed, after a heated argument about his cruel behavior towards the staff of the ship you had left Niji alone in his quarters. The young prince waited impatiently for you to return but after midnight struck the clock he decided that it would be best to go find you instead. It wasn’t your first fight but truly he let himself go, he said things that he regretted and sucking it up and apologizing to you only seemed fair. He called your name loudly, not caring about the others and their sleep since he needed to find you quickly.

“(Y/n)? Hey little brat come on, it’s late we can continue this argument tomorrow just come to bed.”, he sighed running his fingers through his blue hair in frustration.

He noticed several guards talking amongst themselves and decided to question them on your whereabouts. All the soldiers froze up once they felt the intense anger radiating off of their general, they quickly stood at attention greeting Niji as he glared down at all of them. He noticed your necklace hanging out of one of their pockets and quickly snatched it back as he began to interrogate the soldier.

“Where the hell did you get this? A piece of gravel like you shouldn’t have been able to get this close to (Y/n) in order to take it. Where did you get this?”, Niji growled electricity discharged from his body with each passing second.

The soldier stumbled over his words trembling in fear as he looked death in the face, “I-I’m sorry sir! I-I found it in the dungeons it’s from the most recent kill. I-I didn’t know this b-belonged to Ms. (L/n)!”, the soldier squeaked in fear as Niji’s electricity made all the lights in the hall pop, his body glowed a dim blue in the dark corridor as he stormed down to the dungeons. Something didn’t feel right, for once an unsettling itch was making Niji nervous. Why would you be in the dungeons of all places? His steps echoed the farther down he went, but the eerie silence of the dungeons made his stomach ache. Something wasn’t right.

“(Y/n)? Hey brat, where are you? Come on this is enough, it’s not funny, (Y/n)!”, Niji yelled, his voice broke as he called your name, “(Y/n), come on I’m sorry! I don’t hate you, I love you so come back.”

For the first time ever fear was coursing through his blood and he didn’t know what to do. Every call of your name drove him crazy, you didn’t respond no matter how loud he got. He searched every sell desperately for you but he couldn’t find a thing, he was clueless on your whereabouts until one of the many prisoners in the dungeons spoke up.

“Niji?”, the old man called quickly grabbing the young prince’s attention.

“Who the hell do you think your calli-“

“That’s the name the young lady was calling when they were beating her. Niji, at the top of her lungs, it was painful to have to hear her.”, the old man sighed tears falling from his eyes.

Niji’s arms reached for his tattered clothes slamming him against the bars as he demanded answers, “What girl? Where did they take her?”

“T-this young lady with short (h/c) hair. They took her to the torture chamber just down the hall!”

“Her hair wasn’t short! Liar!”, Niji growled.

“I-It was! Lord Judge cut her hair with his spear to show her how little she meant to the family. Then ordered her execution, I haven’t heard her voice for the last three hours.”, the man admitted crying in fear of being punished.

Niji released the man and ran as quickly as he could to the chambers, but the pool of blood was enough for him to understand your fate. He stared down at the pool in defeat and fell to his knees as his vision became blurry. Bloodied whips and clubs littered the floor but Niji couldn’t see a thing, he screamed in anguish to the situation. His heart couldn’t take this, his head was splitting to the very thought of your death. His sadness quickly turned into rage, it’s was his fault, his father was the cause of all of this! Using his powers he appeared in his father’s room in a mere matter of seconds, his electricity burning hotter then ever before.

“WHERE IS MY (Y/N)?!”, Niji roared ripping his goggles off so he could see his father properly.

Judge, completely unamused by his favorite son’s outburst, simply scoffed and returned to his paperwork. Having been ignore Niji slammed his fist into Judge’s desk scattering and burning the papers throughout the room. He glared up at his father and repeated his question, “Where is my (Y/n)?”

“Tossed out to sea, it’s not like she was alive anymore. By now she’s being digested by some stray seaking that found her battered corpse.”, Judge sighed in frustration, “It’s not like I would’ve considered someone like her eligible to be your wife. A prince shouldn’t bother with a mere nameless slave.”

Niji was heartbroken, tears that had been ready to fall from his eyes from the past 20 years had finally started to fall. He couldn’t see, not even an inch in front of him as he grieved your death. He was to late, he fought with you and made you leave and when you needed him most he wasn’t there for you.

“It was pathetic how desperately she called your name, she was to reliant on you, it made the torture so much easier when she finally gave up. Hopefully the next woman you fall in love with is more suitable to be a Vinsmoke.”, Judge sighed lifting his son by his collar and throwing him out of his room.

Niji was forced to stumble back to his room, no matter how much he called you you never returned to his side. You were gone, all because he was to late.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sanji Vinsmoke

“What happened to her? (Y/n)!”, Sanji yelled caressing your face as you slept.

Your body was covered in bruises and cuts from your recent fight with Niji, you had snuck onto the Germa ships to find Sanji and drag him back but unfortunately you had ran into one of his monster brothers. Reiju had stopped her beastly brother from killing you but you presence on the ship didn’t go unnoticed, Judge was now aware of you and he wasn’t happy. Reiju allowed you to stay in her room with Sanji but Judge had other plans for you.

“(Y/n) you idiot. You should’ve stayed with the others back on the Sunny.”, Sanji sighed holding your hand in his, you woke up seeing him softly kiss your knuckles.

“Takes an idiot to know one. Come back stupid, I miss you.”, you sighed turning to him.

Sanji frowned at you but he couldn’t help but smile seeing you awake. You were such a handful, always had been and always would be but that’s what he loved about you. He pressed a kiss to your forehead making you smile but once again you both forgot that you were prisoners to the family. Sanji carried you back to his room and kept you there by his side, you both softly whispered to each other declaring your love like children. Having you in his arms again made Sanji forget about his worries, all he needed was you and that’s all he wanted. Eventually sleep claimed you both but you both slept comfortably together sharing dreams that a promising future would hold. The next day Sanji was forced to meet Big Mom. He hoped that you’d be left alone in his quarters but hope was for fools, while he was gone one of the soldier’s had slipped a sleeping drug into your food and dragged you down to the dungeons.

“(Y/n), I’m back. Have you eaten I’ll make yo-(Y/n)? (Y/n)?!”, Sanji’s blood ran cold seeing you missing, you couldn’t move around with your injuries which meant someone had taken you. He raced through the halls of the ship searching for you desperately, not one soldier told him where you were but a feeling in his chest told him exactly where you were. His legs carried him to the dungeon chambers but he found himself unable to even open the door. Memories of the caged abuse he went through drove a cold sweat through his body, but he had to save you. He swallowed his fears and opened the door but his fears were realized when he heard your voice scream his name. He hurried, he rushed, as quickly as he could but he was seconds to late. With his father looming over your battered body Sanji was forced to watch the spear pierce through your back,

“S-sanji.”, you cried as the injury killed you instantly, your outstretched hand fell to the ground as you passed away.

“Why failures stick together I will never know, but at least there’s one less of you vermin.”, Judge growled pulling his spear from your corpse as he turned around to see his mortified son, “It’ll teach you better then to let fools get in the way of my goals.”

He simply scoffed at him and walked back up the stairs while Sanji fell to his knees just inches away from your body. “(Y-y/n)...(y/n).”, Sanji croaked holding the hand that you had been reaching for him with.

“(Y/n)!”, he screamed to no one in the cold depressing dungeon as he pulled your body towards his chest to hold you.

He sobbed into your hair, crying until his voice ran dry. Sanji couldn’t accept this, “Not like this, p-please not like this. Not her!”, he begged staring down at your bruised face that still looked like a beautiful Angel in his eyes.

“(Y/n) please don’t leave me. Not like this my dear.”, he whimpered pressing his forehead against yours.

This dungeon had caused him so much pain and now it was the place that had taken you from him. Why did life have to hate him so much? To be married off to a stranger, to be taken from his crew, and worst of all to lose the only woman he had wanted to marry. His family brought him nothing but agony, he cried until exhaustion forced him to sleep. Reiju was ordered to fetch him for dinner but the sight of her younger brother asleep against the wall while holding your dead corpse was enough to move her to tears. He truly did love you but now you were gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yonji Vinsmoke

From the start Yonji knew that his father hated your existence, but Yonji just couldn’t help it. He had fallen for you, the way his name rolled of your tongue and past your sweet soft lips made him crave your presence. The way you reached your small hands up to him to hold his face in your hands made his heart face, but your eyes, your beautiful passionate shimmering eyes made him fall head over heels for you. Even when he was disrespectful towards others Yonji would always keep an eye on you smiling when he saw you doing the simplest of tasks. The prince that loved a peasant what a cliche love story. Even if he was a genetically modified human in your eyes he was just him, and you were just the perfect normal little human girl.

“Prince Yonji I made cookies today. Would you lik-oh heehee.”, you giggled watching Yonji eat the cookie from your fingers.

His crumb covered lips pressed against your cheek making you smile, but your soft moment together was spoiled by the all to familiar scoff of Lord Judge. The tall giant glared down at you while you sheepishly smiled up and greeted him, Yonji scowled at his Father’s glare and wrapped his arm around your waist protectively.

“Keep moving old man.”, he growled much to Judge’s disgust.

Cosette called you back to the kitchen, you excused yourself hesitating to give Yonji a kiss in front of his father but the green haired man wouldn’t let you leave without a proper kiss. As soon as he got his kiss he let you go, your face flushed red and smiling as you returned to your duties.

“Why you bother with a failure like her irritates me, you deserve a princess not a dirty servant Yonji.”, Judge growled down to his youngest son.

Yonji scoffed in annoyance to his father and simply walked away leaving his father to his own complaints. Judge decided that if you were the one his son wanted then he’d modify you so that you were actually useful to the family. Every night you would come to find Yonji and kiss him goodnight, it was a ritual that he became dependent on but tonight you didn’t show up. Far past midnight sleep was finally beginning to take over his body but he tried to stay awake hoping that you’d just been busy with chores. He woke up angry the next day because of your absence and went to search for you to give you a piece of his mind but no one had seen you. You always presented yourself to work even if you were exhausted or sick meaning something had happened to you. Yonji growled under his breath knowing that his father had something to do with it. One of the doctors appeared before him asking for his presence in the dungeon chambers, Yonji didn’t want to bother with it but his father was waiting for him. Just entering the room he could hear torturous screams resonating from down below, his father must’ve been furious.

“What do you want old man?”

His father simply pointed into one of the screaming cages and smiled, “Now she’s worthy of you. A soldier ready to give her life for you.”, he chuckled.

That’s when Yonji saw it, his eyes widened in shock seeing your blood stained body killing a prisoner. You held the knife above your head ready to kill them but Yonji’s hand caught your wrist as he called your name. You responded but the look in your eyes was enough to tell him what had happened. Cold, lifeless, dead (e/c) eyes, looked into his there was no spark in them anymore.

“What did you do to her!?”, Yonji growled sending his mechanical arm right to his fathers face.

Judge was unimpressed by his son’s rage and pushed his hand away, “Simply made her worthy of you. An annoying woman like her wasn’t fit to be a love interest for one of my precious sons but with her genetic enhancements now she is. Surprisingly she was able to stay sane for about 7 hours before the electrical charges finally fried what little brain cells she had. The only sacrifice was her mental sanity, her emotions, and her heart. She’s the perfect little puppet now.”

Yonji’s face dropped to the news of your torture, he turned to your frozen form and kiss your lips hoping that you’d react, hoping that it wasn’t true but nothing happened. Your cheeks didn’t heat up, your eyes didn’t sparkle with love, you didn’t call his name sweetly, he lost you.

“REVERSE IT! REVERSE THE EFFECTS RIGHT NOW!”, Yonji ordered holding your head softly in his hands.

“She’d really die this time, if we bothered trying. This is how she stays if you want her by your side, once you’re tired of her dispose of her. She’s no longer human she’s just an empty shell.”

Yonji couldn’t believe it, he held you calling your name over and over until you responded but you never did. You never made a noise you were just silent. “N-no...(Y/n)...n-not like this. Please not like this come back to me.”, Yonji pleaded through his tears but from then on it would never be the same.