#[FULL] feed me cubes.

[keoriette]

🌹Hungry Eyes - Luffy x Reader

[NSFW + NO MINORS]

🌹Charater featured: Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Nami, Chopper (for now) 🌹Summary: Its crazy that's your sick buts its ok ur with luffy

The door creaks open and you whip your head to face it, eyes wide and alert.

Luffy’s head pokes around the door, his big brown eyes meeting yours. “Are you hungry?” he hisses through the darkness.

You blink at him. “It’s past midnight,” you whisper.

Luffy blinks back. “Sanji said you didn’t eat dinner.”

“Didn't want any.” Truth be told, even the thought of eating made you sick. Chopper said it might be an offshoot of the concussion you had when they brought you aboard the ship, but for the few weeks you’ve been on board you haven’t been able to keep much more than a single sandwich down.

“Chopper says you have to eat. Sanji too.”

“You’re not my captain, you know,” you say bitterly.

Luffy just looks at you. “You’re on my ship. And you’re my friend.”

You frown. You were starting to understand Luffy’s nature, the delicate balance between his selfishness and loyalty to the people he cares about.

As soon as you were taken aboard, barely conscious and only half alive, Luffy had taken a liking to you. He had a knack for that, you’d heard, for picking up people based on very limited interactions and whisking them away to be part of his crew.

You weren’t interested in the crew part, and Luffy understood that. But because he had decided to become your friend he couldn’t just drop you off at any island: he needed to take you someplace you’d be safe.

Chopper has barely let you out of the medical room, only allowing a short daily walk if the weather permits. Otherwise, you’re stuck in the small cabin, the other crew members too busy to bother with your company. You aren't a mean person by any means, but your silence around others was usually seen as arrogance. The lonely nights you’ve spent in the room have only been broken up by thoughts of this pirate captain; and his strong, thick, slender fingers in places you wouldn’t mention aloud.

“I was having a snack,” he continues, creeping into the room. The only light filters through the small window, lighting his body with cool moonshine. “I thought you might want some. Only a little, though, because I ate the rest.” He offers you a few cubes of meat on a plate. You sit up and accept it wordlessly, placing it at the end of the bed.

Something in the moonlight catches your eye, and you turn to face him before your lips part slightly in surprise. Oh my god, you think, cheeks starting to burn. He’s shirtless.

The glow of the light catches on his burn scar, crossing across his muscular chest. He folds his thick arms over it, and your gaze drops to his shorts, hanging low on his hips. You shut your eyes.

Luffy squats down in front of you. “Hey, are you okay?” he asks softly. “You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

“I just need some sleep,” you say through gritted teeth, “but I’m fine.”

“Not until you eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Eat. That’s an order.”

“You’re not my captain.”

“So? I’m still your friend, and friends feed each other.”

Your mouth twists. It was hard to argue with him because of his natural bluntness. “Don’t you have something else to worry about?”

Luffy shakes his head.

“Like marines? Or Kaido?”

“Not right now.”

He sits down next to you and his forearm brushes against yours. You peek at his fingers, calloused and thick, in his lap.

“I don’t like seeing you hurt,” he mutters.

You blink at him. He's moving a little fast, and you're straining to keep up. But you suppose that's just how he is.

“When you’re hurt. I really…” He takes a deep breath. “I really don’t like it. It makes me feel bad.” He turns to face you, his eyes big and brown and full of something that borders on desperate. “Will you please eat?” He says softly, taking one of your hands in his.

You go rigid, eyes widening. The feel of his skin on yours makes your entire body tingle. His hands grip yours tightly, and you find it hard to meet his eyes.

“I…” you start. You try to unravel your hands from his, but he doesn’t let go, searching for your eyes. You finally let them meet, and it’s then when you realize that he doesn’t see you as a regular crewmate, or even a friend: Luffy wears his heart on his sleeve, and his eyes speak volumes about how he feels about you.

Little things start to click into place. He’s here, late at night, when he loves to sleep. He brought you meat even though he wouldn’t let most of his crew touch it. He peeks his head in when he thinks you’re sleeping. Chopper had mentioned, once, completely offhand, that Luffy asks about you almost daily.

What you don’t know, however, is that the entire crew has picked up on his crush on you and that you weren’t being avoided because you come across as arrogant: you were being avoided so that Luffy could have some space with you. It’s necessary, actually, because although the crew is oftentimes more than willing to get to know a new person on board, Luffy is anything but subtle: the most obvious example being when Zoro found him with his ear pressed against the crack of the door, fisting his cock in his hand, hanging onto every tinny mewl and moan of yours as you whispered his name, your fingers breaching your entrance and rapidly circling your engorged clit.

Zoro knows better than to interrupt Luffy, even when it’s this desperate of a case. He just let the rest of the crew know, in hushed whispers, that you were kind of off-limits, and that the next island would be approaching soon. Nami had sighed because she thought you were cute. Robin had sighed because she thought you seemed smart. Sanji had sighed because you’re a girl, but they all swallowed their annoyances because it’s their captain: and how can they trust him to lead them when you’re the only thing on his mind?

They noticed that this was a real crush and that he was thinking with his heart and not just with his cock. It was usually the latter, and he’d come back to the Sunny only a little before sunrise, after a full night of partying on an unknown island, exhausted. It was clear he always made the most of his time anywhere.

You try again. “I…”

Luffy takes this moment to get a little closer and your breath catches in your throat. His lips are so close to yours you can feel him breathe, and he gets closer and closer and to your horror, you realize that you’re not pulling away. That you don’t want to pull away.

The kiss isn’t what you expect—it’s not clumsy or sloppy. It’s gentle but firm and surprisingly practiced. His lips are so warm against yours, slightly chapped and a little salty. When he parts your lips with his, you let him, and his tongue isn’t hungry or invasive. It’s the best kiss you’ve ever had, and when he cups the back of your neck you gingerly touch his bicep. The muscle moves when he does, and you feel a rush of wetness down below.

It actually doesn’t really surprise you, the more you think about it. Luffy is always stopping at different islands, some more exciting than others, and people naturally flock to him. You assume that this also means women, and his high bounty and cheerful demeanor as well as his broad shoulders and muscular frame were enough to light a fire in some of the young women they came across. Besides, you thought absentmindedly, he has to get his energy from somewhere.

The kiss gets a little hungrier before it stops, and you realize that he’s left you breathless. Your hand fists the sheets involuntarily, already thinking about what you’re going to do the moment you’re alone.

“I like you,” he whispers, rubbing his nose against yours.

Your mouth snaps shut. “Why?”

Luffy shrugs. “I don’t really know. I’m just kind of…” he laces his fingers with yours, and you drop your eyes down to look. “Drawn to you, I guess.” He scratches the back of his head with his free hand, pulling away slightly. “I like girls. I know people sometimes think I don’t, but I do.”

You chuckle a little.

“Maybe it’s because I’m short,” he muses.

“You’re not that short,” you tease. “You’re at least two inches taller than me.”

A glint appears in his eyes as he peers at you. “How do you know?”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve never been this close. How do you know I’m taller?”

You fidget uncomfortably, caught between a rock and a hard place. On your brief walks around the ship, you often glance over in Luffy’s direction; and a few times you even got close enough to see the many repairs that had been made to his treasured straw hat.

“I just…you’re a guy, right?” you say, at a complete loss for words. You can’t believe that’s the best you can come up with.

Luffy laughs then, leaning forward for another kiss. It’s more gentle this time, but his hands start to roam over your body. Nothing too explicit, just your lower back as he fingers the hem of your thin t-shirt, but even that has your cunt clenching around nothing.

Wordlessly, you break the kiss to grip the bottom of your shirt, pulling it up and off of your frame in one sure movement.

You hunch over a little, your blushed face slightly embarrassed that even you were taking things quickly in such a direction, but these weeks on the ship have left you needy for any sort of contact. Plus, he had just admitted that he likes you, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't have his wanted poster in your room back home. The thrill of finding out that he had rescued you was tempered by Chopper's strict instructions and the crew's indifference. But every time you saw him on the ship, whether it was fishing or bringing you a cup of soup, made you grip into the pillow and cry out his name as softly as you could.

He leans in to kiss you again, this time gently running his knuckles over the side of your breast. You let out a soft whine, your hand falling from his hair into his lap, directly on top of his hard length that is throbbing painfully in his shorts.

He hisses at the contact, catching your lip in his teeth and biting lightly. His hands leave your body to remove his shorts, his cock hot in your hand as you give it a few tentative strokes.

He dips his fingers into the side of your panties, and you do your best to shimmy out of them.

“You’re wet,” he whispers, his fingers softly rubbing your soaked folds. Luffy presses against you until you’re laying down on the mattress with his body keeping you there. “I like it when you’re really wet,” he mumbles.

He pulls back, sucking on his fingers with eye contact so heavy you feel pinned to the bed. Slowly, he makes his way towards you again, nipping at your jaw.

He presses his face into the crook of your neck. “I’m gonna pick you up, okay?” he breathes into your ear, and you nod. You wrap your legs around his waist, pressing his cock into his contracting abdomen as he places one hand under your bottom and the other around your waist. He stands, and you lift off the bed, his strength making you drip with arousal. Luffy’s steps stammer as he tries to keep kissing you while walking towards the wall, the cold surface making your nipples perk up as he presses you against it.

His lips leave yours and you chase his mouth with a whine, but gasp when you feel his leaking tip prod against your wet entrance.

“I really, really want to,” he gasps against your neck, pressing his face into your warm skin. “I-I’ll try to be gentle, I just really want you…”

Your hands grip his back, trying to pull his body closer to yours. A soft moan escapes your lips when he hits your clit. “I really want you, too,” you murmur.

His cock is long and stiff, and your eyes roll back just from thinking about it inside you.

Slowly, he starts to breach your entrance, hissing as the fat head is swallowed by your desperate cunt. You gasp at the pressure, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Jeez,” he mutters through grit teeth, sweat starting to glisten on his face. “You’re tight.”

You clench around his length as he continues to push inside, his hands gripping your body with bruising force. The concentration on his face is endearing, and your heart melts a little. He wants you to feel good, too, and he’s trying his hardest to keep from fucking you as hard as he can.

His cock bumps something inside you and you let out a lustful moan.

Luffy twitches inside you. “Th-that noise, make that noise again,” he groans, starting to move. He starts out gently, but it isn’t long before he’s bottoming out with each thrust. You moan louder, tears pricking at your eyes as his cock hits deeper. His thrusts become harder and rougher and more impulsive and you can tell he’s getting close. You moan again, the noise escaping from your lips involuntary despite his begging.

“I’m gonna cum,” he says through gritted teeth. “Is-is it okay if I…?”

You grip his shoulders tightly. “Please cum inside me,” you whimper.

It’s music to Luffy’s ears, and he wastes no time in pushing his cock up to the hilt inside you. You tighten around him as his orgasm starts, his hips stuttering and eyes fluttering closed.

The shots of his hot cum painting your tight pussy walls make you groan aloud, your head falling back to rest on the wall. Your thighs are burning from being held up, but nothing could distract you from his labored moans and stuttering breaths.

He rests his head next to yours as he comes down from his high, his heart rate slowing to normal. He places his hands under your thighs, still holding you up, his strength obvious and unwavering.

“Sorry…” he mumbles, still breathing hard.

You shake your head. “It’s okay,” you whisper. You have to admit you’re a little surprised, you had assumed his stamina matched the rest of him.

His cock twitches inside you, and you realize with a start that he didn’t get soft. “Let me try again,” he murmurs against your neck, walking back to the bed.

He drops you down and you giggle for the first time in weeks, earning a warm smile from him. It feels like the sun, even though it’s the middle of the night. He climbs on top of you, slotting his body between your legs, pressing a hot kiss to your lips. One of your hands pulls his head down closer, the other grips the defined muscle on his arms. He hums, then pulls away, looking down at you with hungry eyes. His gaze flits from your eyes to your lips, shifting his weight so he can run his big hand over your breast. You whine, and he gets bolder, pinching your nipple almost to the point of pain.

“Ah-“ you grunt out, body jerking. With you caged in under him he decides to chart your body with his hands, finding the spots you like to be touched the most. He's already used you for his pleasure, embarrassing as it may sound, and now it’s your turn.

He places a wet kiss under your jaw, taking note of the noises you make. He remembers listening to you from behind the door, the squelch of your wet cunt being rubbed by your own fingers, his name falling from your lips in soft pants. He continues to pepper you with kisses, running his hand down your stomach to settle in between your lips. He spreads them gently, earning a small moan from you, and seeks out your sweet little bud of pleasure. He figures that you like how strong he is, judging from how much you dripped when he picked you up. He flexes his chest and abdomen a little bit, and you hungrily run your hands over him. He smirks at you, and you know you’ve been caught. You smile sheepishly.

He presses his hand against yours, stopping you right over his heart. It thumps under your hand, and the gesture is so intimate, so mature, that you fight to urge to burst into tears.

The aching in your core is unbearable now, and Luffy’s inexperience becomes known as he clumsily rubs your clit. You assume that most women are content to be used as his own little cocksleeve, bouncing away to orgasm on his lap as he settles his face between their breasts. Or, more likely, he pins them against a bed and ruts endlessly until he spills.

You’re different, he can tell, and you’re not blinded by his notoriety.

Luffy bites his lip. He knows this isn’t his strong suit, but he’s determined nonetheless. You replace his hands with yours, rubbing practiced circles on your clit as he explores your folds. He dips a finger inside, sighing at your wetness. His fingers feel nice, but nothing compared to his fat cock, and you use your eyes to beg for it.

Your fingers stay at your clit while he presses his cock into your tight heat.

You whimper as he continues to push, stretching you open at an angle that has tears in your eyes. It's so much deeper than when he was fucking you against the wall, and when he finally bottoms out, you let out a delicious moan.

Luffy grits his teeth, his hips repeatedly pressing against yours, forcing the metal headboard to smack against the wall. "Th-that sound..."

He reaches down to feel your hand, and the closeness of it as well as Luffy's eagerness squeezes another hot moan from your mouth.

"I want to feel what you're doing," he pants into your open mouth before sealing it with a kiss. You continue to rub faster, his hand on yours adding a luscious pressure.

Your voice starts to come through in more than moans and whines, little squeaks of praise about how good his cock feels inside you. He desperately wants you to reach that high you're chasing, but your pussy is starting to clench around him and the thought of you cumming around his cock has him holding in his orgasm like his life depends on it.

"I'm close again," he gasps. "Can you cum for me? Please?"

That does it. The tight coil in your belly snaps, and you toss your head from side to side, crying out as you shake under him. "Luffy--" you shout, your voice strangled.

He continues to thrust into you, babbling praise. "I've never done it like this," he gasps, tripping over his words. "I really liked seeing you cum, and I like how wet you are. I like that you're so tight and I like the noises you make and I--" He whines your name as he cums again; his cum dripping out from between your red, swollen lips.

He looks down at you, panting, the lids of his eyes heavy.

"That was..." you start, "unexpected."

Luffy chuckles. "But good?" he asks hopefully.

You look away. "It was perfect," you whisper. "I...kinda want to tell you something."

He rolls off of you and you scoot over, barely making any room on the tiny medical bed. He opens his arms and you climb in between them, grateful for the time to rest. You lay your head on his chest as he strokes your hair tenderly. "What is it?"

You take a deep breath. "I have your wanted poster up in my room at home."

Luffy pauses, the gears turning in his head, then laughs.

You giggle. "I know, I know..."

He rests his arm on your shoulder, the other stroking your forearm. "It's cute," he says finally, "I like that."

You smile against his chest. Maybe joining a pirate crew isn't such a bad idea.

[nightlyrequiem]

Hello there requiemmm 💫💫💫

Ive got a new request for u bbg 😈 /p

okay, so, this ones short, but, i hope its descriptive enough?? Idk 😭

(excuse my grammar, english is not my first language)

Valeria X unfairly devoted Reader.

hear me out, -- Reader is a member of Valerias cartel, -- they're in the higher ranks (im talking, one of the very few people that actually know who El Sin Nombre is, type of 'higher rank')

Reader is an absolute devotee. They (platonically, mostly) worship Valeria, cater to her every need, do whatever she'd like, whenever she'd like, no questions asked. Reader doesnt do it out of fear, that much is obvious. They just do it out of both respect and the far lack of both disobedience and a backbone.

Valeria, naturally, appreciates them, -- keeps them close, enjoys their company (mostly, because it feeds her ego, and makes her feel superior, -- in control, and whatnot) so much so, that reader is nearly permanently stuck being, somewhat of a 'personal assistant'.

Reader, being forced to spend all day (and, sometimes night, if Valeria needs some help with something) decides 'eh, why the fuck not' and asks Valeria out on a little hangout, disguised as a small 'meeting' in a coffee shop, that, ultimately, actually goes well, and spirals into a date.

(Date, naturally, ends with beating someone senseless in a dark alley, after they listened in on Readers and Vals conversation, or, .. something. Reader is, most definitely, doing all the damage, being a guard dog of sorts, not wanting Valeria to 'get her hands dirty, from such a small, unimportant man'. Not manner, man.)

Etc etc, girlfriends, lesbianism, boom. Work your magic, im bad at describing genuinly falling inlove.

hope yar doing well!

--Jester

🃏🌀⭐️

Took me eight days but I finally got around to this. Sorry for the wait, Jester 😔 I am doing quite well as of wiritng this, thank you. I hope all is well with you!

This is very loosely connected to the headcanons I did for this idea. I said it once, and I'll say it again; I love the unfairly devoted trope. I’m not sure I captured it too well but 🙌

Tags/Warnings: Violence, WLW, Boss/Employee Relationship

Swans

Many species of birds mate for life. Penguins, corvids, vultures, and most famously: swans. Symbols of love, loyalty, and grace. They are creatures full of love. They're so sensitive that they can die from heartbreak. You stare at Valeria and understand how the swan feels. How it could hopelessly devote itself to another, even at the cost of it's life.

The quiet scratching of a pen fills in the silence. Valeria's brows are furrowed in concentration as she haunches over her desk. You want to remind her to straighten her back, so it doesn't hurt later. Your eyes greedily drink in her profile. The slope of her nose, the curve of her lips, her curtain of black hair slightly obscuring her cheek and eye.

She sighs.

"Get me a drink." She murmurs. You're to your feet immediately. Heading towards the small cabinet containing her alcohol. You've fixed her enough drinks to know what she wants. Your fingers wrap around the neck of a bottle with golden liquid. Pouring it into a small glass, then putting in exactly two small ice cubes.

You carry it over to her desk and set it down in the corner. You slink around behind her. Watching her take a sip. You can't see her face, but you know she's letting the liquid sit in her mouth to savour the taste. She does that with all of her drinks; savours the first sip.

You have no problem getting her drinks. Or doing her paperwork. Or taking a bullet for her. Valeria has been the one constant in your life. She's the only one who has ever noticed you, and you latched onto her like a leech. She fed you crumbs of kindness and that's all it took. It's obsessive and unhealthy but you're long past the stage of caring.

Valeria takes a second sip then goes back to working. Her shoulders look so tense. You want to rub that tension away, but you don't. It's late and you're feeling a little tired, but you'd never say so. You doubt Valeria cares and you don't want to distract her. Besides, she must be tired too. You'll go home when she does. For now, though, you wander back around the desk and sit down in one of the chairs off to the side.

You gaze at Valeria as she works. At some point without even realising it you fall asleep. Your body startles itself awake as that fact worms it's way into your subconscious. You aren't sure how long you've been dozing off for, but Valeria isn't in the room anymore. You sit up with urgency and look around, a small fleece blanket falls from your shoulders.

You furrow your brows, trying to remember if you put it on yourself. You know you didn't. You feel slightly giddy at the thought of Valeria doing it. As if just thinking her name summoned her, Valeria walks into the small office. Despite how tired she is her stride is still intense and confident.

She sits down with a grunt and glances at you.

"Good sleep?" She asks sarcastically.

"How long was I out for?" You murmur. Tugging the blanket into your lap. Valeria's hair is a little messy and you wish you could run your fingers through it. Or a brush. You just want to touch her hair.

"Fifteen minutes." Valeria replies. "You should go home and get some rest."

Fifteen minutes isn't that bad. You don't want to leave just yet though.

"No, I'm okay to stay for longer." You insist. "I could help you finish up the last of those reports."

Valeria shakes her head and when she speaks her voice sounds softer than usual. "You've been staying late for the past few weeks; I know you aren't getting the sleep you need. Go home."

You frown but concede. "Alright." As you're getting up an idea pops into your head. "Hey, could we meet at Ila's tomorrow? I just think I need some extra reminders about where all the trade routes are." You know every route and the exact location of them.

"Okay." Valeria agrees. "5PM."

The next day arrives and you're very impatient for 5PM. You finished all your tasks and went home early. It's not a date. Not to Valeria, but that doesn't mean you aren't going to treat it like one. You've picked out a nice, attractive outfit and touched up your makeup.

You arrived five minutes early and secured a table. Watching as patrons pass by. The smell of baked goods almost tempts you into buying something, but you don't want to eat before Valeria. Ever the punctual person, Valeria walks in through the glass doors at exactly 5PM. She looks very put together, hair brushed and glossy. She's even wearing different clothes.

Valeria sits down across from you and gives you a small smile that sends fireworks throughout your body. You want to trap that smile in a jar like a firefly. Valeria reaches into her bag and pulls out a folded, yellowed map and sets it up on a table. She begins to quietly and intently explain where each route is and where the shipments go.

You nod and hum, pretending to listen. You're much more focused on Valeria's hands as she points at places on the map. Her neatly trimmed pink nails and fingers. Ine of them is slightly crooked from having been broken one too many times. Her skin looks soft and if you try hard enough you can smell her lotion.

"-and this is when we split it into smaller batches to move it across the border."

You point to Mackey Hill.

"Here?" You ask. Already knowing the answer.

"Yes." She nods. You glance up behind her for a split second and watch some scruffy looking man quickly turn away. Immediately you straighten and stare at him. You don't like the vibes he's giving off.

Valeria furrows her brows at you.

"What's wrong?" She asks quietly. You lean closer and whisper back.

"I think that man is eavesdropping."

Valeria turns her head to look at the man, narrowing her eyes. You feel pleased that she trusts your word so strongly.

"Get rid of him." She commands.

You slip out of your spot and approach him. He startles as you lean down and murmur in his ear.

"Follow me. My boss has a proposition for you." You walk towards the doors and cast a look behind you. He's staring at you nervously but eventually rises.

You wait behind the brick wall and wait. Sure enough the man rounds the corner. Looking at you with a mixture of caution and curiosity.

"What was the-" He's cut off by Valeria hitting him in the back of the head. He grunts and falls to his knees. You strike him this time. Kneeing him in the face. He opens his mouth to scream but you cover it before he can.

You drag him deeper into the alley and fish out the small blade hidden in your boot. You make quick work of slitting his throat. He makes an awful gurgling sound before going still. Valeria helps you lift him into the nearby dumpster. Your fingers brush and you look at each other.

You've been loyal to her for years. Since before she even came into power. Through thick and thin you've stuck by her side. You've thrown yourself in harm's way to protect her without thought. You've spent countless hours staring at her intently but now your gaze is being returned tenfold. There's a new fire in those dark inky eyes. One you've only caught glimpses of. But here it is, in all it's blazing glory and it's directed at you. Scorching and all consuming.

His body thumps dully as he falls among the full trash bags but neither of you are paying attention to him anymore.

"Why don't we go get something to eat?" Valeria murmurs softly. "I'm sure you'll have an easier time getting the routes with a full stomach." Her hand creeps towards yours and your fingers tangle with hers. You've done more than feed her ego, you've carved out a place in her heart for yourself.

[alexanderwales]

For Thresholder there are lots and lots of worlds, most of them just name-checked, sketched out in a handful of paragraphs as a place that people had visited before and now has little plot relevance. It's my favorite part of the series.

I'm not writing one of those chapters where I need one of those worlds, and I'm not sure I could give this one its due, but the idea I had last night was a world where people could increase and decrease the size of objects virtually at will. This doesn't work with conventional physics, but that's okay, some of the worlds can be more conceptual.

To start with, we have some ground rules: you have to be touching the thing, it can only operate on loosely defined "whole objects", and there's some kind of thing that happens with objects where they retain their physical structure to some degree, even if the square-cube law means that not everything stays functional. This is easy for things made of base elements (an iron nail becomes bigger and we can grok that it's still just made of regular iron) but it's less easy for complex organics. If you increase the size of an apple, are the individual cells increasing in size? Are new cells being generated? I think for this, I would have to say that the answer is that the world works on a level of pre-Enlightenment human understanding that the real world doesn't have, one where there aren't cells. (I am a bit sketchy on when cells were discovered, and more sketchy on what they thought was going on before that.)

As far as consequences, which is my favorite thing, I think there are a few big ones.

For one, any amount of food is enough to feed an infinite number of people. A single apple can feed a family, if they want to have nothing but apple for a meal. A single apple slice can feed a family. In fact, even the smallest crumb can undergo the process of magnification to become a full meal. But while you can make "more food" by making it bigger, the taste and texture don't necessarily stay the same. It seems to me that there's probably a sweet spot for most foods in terms of size, and eating a grain of rice the size of a loaf of bread is a very different experience than eating a bowl of rice. And if you've ever eaten one of those sourdough breads with way too large of bubbles, that's what pretty much all bread would look like if magnified, just holes with strands of gluten between them. So I think in terms of food, there would be a lot of class divide, along with a lot of processing of magnified foods to make them more palatable. Maybe a loaf-size grain of rice wouldn't appeal to many people, but you can break off bits of it and probably still make mochi with it.

Another big issue is manufacturing and the trades. In my mind, you have construction workers building the equivalent of dollhouses that then get sized up on a plot of land, but I think dollhouses are a little bit small, and most trades would work on a scale that was easiest for human manipulation. I don't think that's what we do for dolls, which tends to be nimble, finnicky work, and if you can freely scale up and scale down your tools and materials, I think you'd naturally want to work a bit bigger. Probably you would rescale on many different steps of whatever you're producing, and if this world was in the industrial age, then you would have people in factories rescaling as a human step in a factory somewhere. Another cool thing is that a chef could have a single pot and pan that they resize for their needs, and a single knife that fulfills roles we would use two or three different knifes for, though I think maybe handles would be a problem there.

Anyway, I'm not going to use this anywhere, though I do think it's cool, if maybe in a way that's not all that unique (What if Big Thing were Little Thing and What if Little Thing were Big Thing are both speculative fiction staples, see Indian in the Cupboard, The Borrowers, Ant-man, etc.). I have a bunch of outstanding questions re: conservation of momentum and some hacks that only work under certain implementations, but sometimes that's a bridge too far.

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 8

Holy crap the amount of likes and comments and reblogs you all have left is amazing! Thank you so so much for enjoying!

Anyway! On to the next part.

Masterlist

The sound of the native birds of your island is what wakes Mihawk. He cracks his eyes open, wincing when his back protests him moving as soon as he wakes up. He stands and moises his way to the kitchen, filling the kettle and setting it on the stove. Mugs and tea bags are next, and Dracule makes sure to dump some sugar into your own cup. He then moves on, collecting fresh fruits and vegetables from your garden and investigating the smoke room. He finds very little inside and decides that his haul now is enough for breakfast. 

Fixing it up doesn't take all that long, and soon, he has a platter of foodstuffs that looks similar to the one last night. Dracule makes a mental note to try and bring you some type of livestock, though he dreads the thought of anything bigger than a house cat on his ship. 

The tea is placed on the tray, and Dracule makes his way to your bedroom. He eases the door open, and a soft smile crosses his lips at the sight of you curled up with an arm around Hank. The big pooch whines and drags himself off the bed and out the door, going to do his business. Mihawk takes his spot and sets the tray away from you but still on the bed. 

“Sweet thing,” Dracule rumbles and slides his hand up into your hair, scratching your scalp just the way you like it, “It's time to get up. I've made breakfast.” 

Those seem to be the magic words for you rise like the dead and look at Mihawk through squinted eyes. He thinks she looks adorable when you rub your eyes, pout on your lips from being woken up. 

“Hawk?” You mumble out and wince when your head throbs like a bastard. You whine and lay back down, not wanting to deal with the pain, “Don't feel good.” 

Dracule can't help but laugh at your pitiful state, “Oh, Darling. I'm not surprised you don't feel very well,” he coos and gently pulls you back into a sitting position. He shifts to sit behind you, back against the wall, as he drags the tray of goodies closer to both of you. 

“One must be careful when indulging in alcohol. Is this your first hangover?” Mihawk asks quietly, and you shrug, not really understanding what he's going on about. You frown when he laughs at you again and cross your arms over your chest, only to wince when you brush across your breasts. 

“Owee,” you murmur quietly and wonder why your chest aches so badly, only to drop your head in shame when you happened to remember most of last night. 

Mihawk gently lays you back and lifts your shirt, shushing you gently when you squirm and try to fight him, “Hush, let me look. There is nothing to be embarrassed by,” he chides and sends you a look that has you ducking your head and looking away from him. Mihawk examines the seldom hickies and love bites with a smug twist of his lips, hands reaching up to gently trace the bite mark that still lingers from last night. 

You look beautiful all marked up, and a dark feeling blooms in his chest at the sight of what he did. Mihawk wants to see more of them on you, proof that you want him. That you are his. 

“Just sore, sweet thing,” Dracule comments lowly and kisses your cheek, lingering to leave a trail of hot kisses all the way down your neck and to your shoulder, “We will have breakfast and then you will have a hot bath while I do my morning routine.” 

You nod, completely at the warlord's mercy as you glance down to see that he hasn't stopped his gentle ministrations, thumbs rubbing over your nipples over and over again until you can think of nothing but the man who holds you. Even your hangover doesn't seem as bad with Dracule here. 

Mihawk glances over the tray and picks up a cubed melon slice, lifting it up to your lips and grinning when you obediently open your mouth for him. He feeds you one piece after another until you are pleasantly full and ready to go back to sleep, “Tea first, sweet girl,” he orders when he feels you shift again. 

You nod slowly, wincing when your head aches at even the slightest movements. The tea has cooled, but it still tastes wonderful to your cottonmouth. You sip until it is empty, and Dracule takes the mug away from you when he notices you finished. He taps your thigh gently, “Up you go, Darling.” He encourages softly. 

He leaves you to find some clean clothes and a towel while he goes to the bathroom and begins to run you a bath. He is surprised by the amount of modern utilities he finds in your cottage and wonders who you really are. While simple, your home was filled with older but no less luxurious items. The hot water and plumbing were just one of the many things that he's noticed. 

Mihawk's thoughts are interrupted when you appear in the doorway with a thin robe and towel. You smile at the sight of your friend starting you a bath, “Thank you for taking care of me, Dracule,” you say, and step close to press your lips to his cheek when he rises from his slouch over the tub. 

Hawkeye feels hot satisfaction curl in his chest at your thanks. He turns and pulls you in for a kiss, hand coming up to tangle in your hair and pull you close to him. Mihawk likes the way you say his name. All breathy and full of gratitude, and all for him.

 You whine at the less than soft treatment, but you can't bring yourself to care or complain about it. Not when you love it when Dracule touches you like this. He kisses you breathless, leaving you a gasping mess as he turns away to fiddle with the knobs of the faucet. You pout a little, annoyed that Dracule is never as affected as you are after a kiss like that. 

Your annoyance disappears the second that Dracule steps behind you, hands placed on your shoulders as if to slide your robe down. Nerves surge through your entire body, and you clutch the thick fabric to your chest, “I um. I can take It from here, Mihawk.” 

You shiver at the feeling of his warm breath on the back of your neck. Your hair is up in a messy bun, allowing the warlord to press chaste kisses to the flushed skin there, and thankfully, no more than that.

 “Take your time, dear one. I'll be outside if you need me.” Dracule assures you, and then he is shutting the door behind himself and leaving you alone in the bathroom.

You shrug off your bathrobe, and a relaxing sigh escapes you as you settle in the hot water, eyes closing as you do what Mihawk bid and take your time. 

It's an hour later by the time you step outside. It's nice and sunny like usual, and you grin when Hank bounds up. The big lug presents you with a stick, and you toss it into the woods for your dog to go running after. You glance around, humming wordlessly as you look for Dracule. 

You find him at the back of the cottage where the sun shines brightest. Your home is situated up a small embankment, leaving your backyard to drop off into a cliff face. Dracule stands at the edge of the cliff, looking regal and dramatic as the wind blows his dark hair this way and that. 

You wonder why he keeps coming back here. He's told you before that your island is like a safe haven from the rest of the world, but sometimes you aren't sure that you believe him. You don't know what the rest of the world is like, and when you first came to this island, you yearned to leave and explore the world. How much of the world has Mihawk experienced to say that your island in the middle of nowhere was a safe place for him. 

What did your friend go through for him to run and hide away from it all? 

“I can hear you thinking from up here, dear,” Mihawk says, and you nearly jump out of your skin. He turns and gives you a smug smirk, “What's on your mind?” 

You huff at him and step by his side, eyes flickering to the crashing waves of the ocean. Your devil fruit reacts to the sight, sending flurries scattering about the two of you. You debate asking the real question you've wanted answered since Dracule stepped foot on your island. Just who exactly was Dracule Hawkeye Mihawk? 

“Nothing, just admiring,” you say instead. You didn't want to give him any reason to leave early. 

Dracule huffs at you with a roll of his eyes, “Is that so?” He presses and eyes you, “You can ask me things, Dear One. I won't lie to you.” 

“Even if it's about who you really are?” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. You tense, flurries sticking to your skin as your nerves get the better of you. The silence is thick between the two of you, and you are terrified to even look in his direction. 

“I introduced myself when I saved you from those pirates, did I not?” Dracule's tone is one of forced calm, and more snow begins to fall when you hear it. You can't help but feel like you've messed up. A warm hand catches your chin, and you are forced to look into the golden, ringed eyes of your friend. His gaze is as cold as your devil fruit, and you find yourself shivering under it. 

“You did,” you agreed carefully, “But, you just… don't speak about yourself often, and I'm curious.” You swallow harshly and catch the bird following the movement of your throat. His eyes catch your own in the next moment, and you force yourself to hold his gaze. 

It feels like it takes an eternity, but Dracule relents, eyes softening just a fraction and grip becoming more tender, “I have a good reason for not doing so, Snow Angel,” he murmurs. 

You suck in a sharp breath at the new name, wetting your lips as you latch on to the pretty words that he spills. You want to say more, but your lips won't move. Your jaw won't work to form the words that you want to say to him. Dracule has you, hook, line, and sinker, just where he wants you. He traces the curve of your jaw with his thumb, then leans forward to press his lips to your brow. 

“Promise to not ask me again, and I'll tell you in my own time,” Dracule suggests softly and you lose yourself even more to him, “I do not take the sharing of personal information lightly,_.” 

And there it was. The nail in the coffin. Mihawk rarely calls you by your name, so hearing it in his sinfully melodic voice sends shivers of pleasure racing up your spine. The flurries melt, and you find yourself nodding eagerly.

“I promise not to ask again,” you say, and feel like you are about to explode when Dracule gives you a proud quirk of his lips. 

“Good girl,” Mihawk praises softly and brings you in for a quick kiss, pleased that you see his way of things. The tension in the air is all but gone, and the warlord leads his snow angel away from the cliff edge.

“Come, I didn't get those books for you for nothing, Dear One. How about you read one of them to me?” 

You let Dracule pull you back to the cottage, Hank meeting you with a happy bark at the door. His anger still lingers in the back of your mind, but you can let it go for now. 

@writingmysanity @foggyturtleknightangel @kenkenmaaa @browneyedhufflepuff @goth-mami-writer @djbumblebee

[fantasy-relax]

Ineffable Plan

Bela Dimitrescu x g¡p reader

Part 5

You didn't know what hurt more your head or your stomach, a full day of work without even having breakfast was killing you and you oversaw directing more than carrying the bricks.

What the hell those maids have in their heads to blow up the wall?

And where the hell did they get the dynamite?

If you found them, you would shove a brick up their a-

*BAM*

A pat on the back send you to the ground

“Oh shit, sorry,” Relia helped you to stand up “what a day huh?”

“Ugh” You responded showing unmatched wisdom.

“Hahaha be glad that at least you're going to have a delicious dinner, Thea is…”

The words of the Master carpenter went in one ear and out the other, was it rude? Yes. Did you have the energy to care? No.

Maybe after eating.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

“Why did you decide to stay in the castle after your contract ended?”

You were supposed to be more subtle, but your brain didn't cooperate with you, in the kitchen there were only you, Relia and chef Dorothea, the others had already retired to their rooms.

“With your experience you could help the village with constructions and repairs, fences have been created to protect against the Lycans but they are easily destroyed, it really needs experienced labor I’m sure that even the most stubborn man would have to listen to you”

To your surprise Relia burst out laughing which offended you a little, it took her a few seconds to calm down and the offense you felt vanished when you noticed the melancholy in her eyes despite her smile.

“Everything comes back” seeing your continued confusion “Years ago I asked my predecessor and teacher, Daria, the same question when I found out that she was going to give up her body and blood voluntarily instead of living in the village”

What? voluntarily?

Dorothea, who was heating water on the stove, answered your questions.

“The meat I receive to serve the Ladies doesn’t only come from intruders who enter Dimitrescu’s territory or maids who break the rules too many times, if it were to be like that it would be too little to feed the whole family for the entire year.”

Now that you think about it, the deaths of the workers are few compared to the rumors, in the four months you’ve been here at most there have been 6 or 7, which is almost nothing compared to the dozens that are spoken of in the town. The maids disappear for two or three days before returning to work, paler and more obedient; and in the worst cases without a finger or two, but they come back.

“The blood mostly comes from the donor maids, they receive better food, better pay and some protection in exchange for their services.” The chef came over and poured three cups of tea, you thanked her. “When they die their body will be served or buried, they have the last word as a sign of respect for their work to House Dimitrescu” Dorothea put down the pot to sit next to Relia “Daria chose to live in the castle as a donor until the end of her days”

“And she decided to be buried, she designed her coffin, and I built it, was the most elegant one in her family’s plot even in death she wanted to make it clear how much she had triumphed over those fucking bastards” Relia replied with a proud smile.

“I guess she didn’t get along with her family” You said adding a sugar cube to your cup.

“They were the ones who manipulated her into coming to the castle in the first place” The carpenter said with hatred in her voice “and when the contract ended, she returned only to be attacked for not continuing to work to pay off the debts they had gotten themselves into after spending everything she sent them; when she returned, she no longer sent them a penny.” Relia took a sip of her tea. “At least that’s what she told me when I asked her the same question”

“And what was your reason for staying?” The tea didn’t help keep the sleep away.

“My parents are dead, and I was never close to the rest of my family. I don’t think they’ll accept me with open arms. Most likely they’ll force me to marry or throw me out on the street, master carpenter or not. Besides…” Relia took the chef’s hand to kiss her palm. “I’d miss my wife too much.”

Her what?!

Dorothea smiled fondly and kissed her wife’s cheek.

“I could say the same.”

You had really dissociated yourself from the conversation with Relia in the hallway.

With more information than you expected to obtain, you say goodbye to the couple to go rest.

------------------------------------------------------------

Greta congratulate you for your good work on the repairs and informed you that due to the incident your request would have to wait, which you accept without complaint. After all, the conversation with Relia and Dorothea revealed more details than you imagined.

Although life in the village was hard, it never crossed your mind that someone would choose to live in the castle or donate their blood willingly. The rumors were terrifying, coupled with the fact that the women who went to work at the castle rarely returned, and if they did, they were scarred or with fewer body parts. It was hard to believe that someone would choose to live with monsters instead of returning home.

Monsters. Were the Dimitrescu really monsters?

You had witnessed firsthand that they were capable of feeling and acting like any other human.

So, what made the Dimitrescu monsters?

Were they monsters because of their violence?

The most common punishment you've seen inflicted on your fellow girls is being whipped on the hands, ankles, or back after breaking something while cleaning or when something went missing in the rooms they cleaned. But that was done in the village too, parents disciplining troublesome children or thieves being punished.

You'd been lucky enough not to witness any deaths, but you hadn't been spared the cleanup that followed, blood and sometimes bits of flesh left on the floor and walls, which needed to be cleaned up quickly before it dried and soaked into the carpet and wallpaper.

Were they monsters for their indifference to suffering and death?

While in the village the Lycans were the number one killers, sometimes fights between the inhabitants reached a point where blood was spilled in such quantity that death from wounds was to be expected, drunks and gamblers were the most hated in the village if they found their death at the hands of the collectors or in a fight people turned their faces away, giving condolences out of obligation to the family and continued with their lives living with the murderer among them. There were men who had killed their wives or children after having beaten them savagely, some were hated but tolerated and others were welcomed with open arms; there were also cases of healthy men who died from a sudden illness (Poison) despite the care (Different poison) of their wives.

Cruelty and violence existed both in the village and in the castle.

Were they monsters because of their diet?

One of your neighbors couldn't drink milk without suffering from stomach pain for days, a child died from eating a nut that made his throat swell, the tailor couldn't eat chicken because it gave her rashes, there were several people who couldn't have a normal diet and had to adapt.

Is it the same for the Dimitrescu?

Was human flesh and blood the only thing they could consume?

Their body was not the same as a human's, it was to be expected that their diet won’t be the same.

Were they monsters because they were cannibals?

One of the elders had told you that decades ago the harvests were horrible and the winter atrocious, the food shortage was such that many had no other option than to eat the flesh of their neighbors to survive. Grandparents letting themselves die so that their children and grandchildren could eat, teenagers tearfully devouring the organs of their siblings who couldn't bear the cold, man eating man.

And this act was considered necessary.

Wasn't it necessary for them too?

Were they monsters because of their different anatomy?

That won’t make you a monster too?

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Two weeks had passed since the incident and thanks to it you had forged a friendship not only with Relia and her team, but also with Dorothea and her kitchen staff; it was great to have someone to talk to; while you were fond of Daniela you didn't forget that she was from a different world than yours there were things she couldn't understand not out of malice but out of simple ignorance.

Since her confession you haven't spoken to her due to the staff rotation that caused the "dismissal" of the maids involved in the explosion.

You still had no idea where they got the dynamite from.

Greta's voice calling you took you out of your thoughts.

"Greta, what do you ne-" The older girl grabbed you by the shoulders with a frantic look.

Deja vu.

"You know how to read, write and basic math, right?" You nodded with slight fear to which she sighed in relief. “Come with me.”

“I haven't finished cleaning yet.”

“I’ll send someone, this is more important, hurry up.”

You left your bucket and rag to follow her.

--------------------------------------------------------------

You had seen Jenica a few times in the hallway, the woman always walked in a hurry with papers and folders in her hand. Like Greta, she was always busy and had a professional demeanor.

“January, quadrant E, row three, produced a quantity of…”

Compared to that image, the woman in front of you looked like she was one step away from jumping off the roof.

The desk, the coffee table, the chairs, the couch and even the bed were full of papers, folders and books; in the middle of everything was Jenica reading a book while frantically writing in a notebook.

You turned to look at Greta for answers that she was quick to give you.

“Someone broke into her office today to start a fire, thanks to Zina passing by at a good time the fire was quickly extinguished, the filing cabinet protected the documents however some of this year’s files were outside for review, some just need to be transcribed but most have to be recalculated and as you can see…” Greta pointed at the poor woman who acted more like a crazy old woman mumbling in the street than a scholar. “It’s a lot of work for Jenica, Lady Dimitrescu is in a meeting with the Lords and Lady Bela is reviewing the other documents to see if anything is missing”

First an explosion now a fire, what was going on?

“Do you think you can help her?” The head maid took one of the papers placed on the table to hand it to you, the letters were barely visible, but you could understand it.

“Yes, I worked as an accountant at my mother’s bakery and at the town bar, this is pretty similar.” Despite the bad reputation that alcohol and consequently the bar had, Darius was a smart and honorable man when his poor eyesight worsened her hired you to take care of the bar’s accounts and teach his son Leonard how to do it, who luckily for you was just like his father.

Upon hearing your answer Greta nodded before touching Jenica’s shoulder who let out a surprised squeal.

“Don’t do that, you’re going to give me a heart attack!”

“What will give me a heart attack is the aberrant amount of coffee you drink, I brought someone to help you.”

Jenica turned to look at you and to demonstrate your skill you read what the paper in your hand said. In a moment the woman stood up, removed a stack of books from the sofa and moved another from the table.

“Perfect!” She said as she pushed you towards the empty seat and then placed a notebook and pencil in your hands, she took a huge book from her desk and placed it in front of you “Take care of transcribing this, when you finish, pass it to me to redo the calculations for the report”

“Wouldn’t it be faster if I did it?” The maniacal smile she put on told you that you should have kept quiet.

Jenica took a stack of papers and put them on the floor next to you.

“Don’t worry if you make a mistake, we have plenty of paper”

Sometimes it’s better to be ignorant.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jenica had only given you ten minutes to go eat in the kitchen and to go to the bathroom.

Two hours had passed since the clock struck its twelfth bell and one since Jenica left to deliver the documents they had managed to finish to Lady Bela.

Without her permission to leave you had no choice but to wait for her to return, the room was still full of paper, there was still a lot to do, but your brain couldn't handle it anymore, no matter how many times you read the book the letters floated without meaning.

Concentrated and tired you didn't notice the door open until a familiar voice echoed in the room.

"What do we have here?"

The adrenaline woke you up enough to realize two things:

1. Lady Dimitrescu had returned from her meeting.

2. Jenica's room was off limits.

"It seems that a little mouse is snooping around where it shouldn't."

"Lady Dimitrescu I j-just-

The distinctive sound of her claws being unsheathed caused you to choke on your words, your tongue weighed like lead in your mouth and cold sweat ran down your palms.

A thought repeated itself to the rhythm of your accelerated heartbeat.

*I'm sorry mom, I love you*

[thelakesuite]

The Rusty Lake Story in Bitchass Baby Terms

this is ALL off the top of my head (and i haven't experienced like 10% of it maybe?) so i might be wrong but i don't care right now

the lake itself isn't, like, that well established 'cause it's a mystery game or something so we don't need full exposition. it's some deity-like thing as old as the mammoths (not canon) that eats time. or rather memories that are stored in lil cubes. and it gives its zookeepers immortality so they can keep feeding it. they call themselves the Rulers of the Lake but we all know the truth. 'immortality', or rather enlightenment, is represented by you becoming your fursona and living maybe an extra century. mr. owl's looking for a new heir pretty quick in the process but we'll get to that.

corrupted souls are kinda a byproduct of all this. truly the lake's farts. when a person dies horribly, when their memories get extracted wrong, or when the plot demands it, they become corrupted. corrupted souls still talk, and some of them are even sensible (like your mom oooooh), but generally they're jumpscare beasts or wet little puppies. sometimes both. yes you can get corrupted when you're enlightened, and right now it's the more likely outcome actually. there's a whole 'elixir of immortality' that gets harped on, where one drinker gets corrupted and the other gets enlightened, but that is literally only a thing for roots and a little bit of cave so don't worry about it too much. unless you're making dramatic fanart in which case leverage that shit.

cubes come up a lot in cube escape, believe it or not! black ones are bad memories, white ones are good memories, blue ones are connected to the past in a way that's somehow not a memory, gold ones are connected to the future, red ones only exist in my fangame that ellesian recently unearthed, and green ones are jello yum. also suck it anyone who told me pre-tpw the gold cube thing was unestablished. anyway. it was a big thing mr.'s owl and crow were working on, creating a golden cube (presumably to extend their own lives) as seen in cave, but then one just kinda appears in the past within when albert does electric jujitsu. jury is still out on that.

onto the actual narrative i think.

in paradise, you're mr. owl pre-owling (1790-something). the lake's current suckass servants are your family who tried to sacrifice you to it way back, but your mom took your place for mom reasons. now mom's corrupted and guiding you to... well, to get sacrificed for real this time. but with your powers combined (yes mr. owl was two people, no it is never addressed) you get enlightened and tell your family to fuck off 'cause you're building a hotel on that island now. you also get a tease in the secret ending that dale and laura will do a similar fusion dance to be the lake's next suckass. we've been waiting 6 years for that to happen.

in roots, two alchemist brothers get that elixir shit going (1860-1935). one of them becomes mr. crow, while the other becomes a playable character for a game. and corrupted. you rope your whole bloodline into this, harvesting their body parts (usually after they die from other means, but you totally caused most of their deaths) for a reincarnation ritual involving a magic seed (that also only exists for this game). this is where the best characters come from because rusty lake actually wanted to tell a story with this game. you reincarnate into a woman! don't think about the implications.

in samsara room, the inside scoop of reincarnation is fuckin' weird, dude (1935). the original was made before rusty lake began, so it's not truly part of the narrative, but it got folded in for the fifth anniversary.

in hotel, you do not get the backstory of the third bird man (1890ish). instead, you get to kill mr. owl's family again, but one-on-one as animal people. how did they become animal people? fuck you that's how! mr. owl probably did it on purpose to spite them with shit sandwiches and bullets to the brain. oh, also, there might be an evil twin of mr. rabbit that shows up later.

in arles, you're vincent van gogh. that's it. he's not relevant. but it is funny seing the death date of paul gauguin in the timeline docs.

we're talking about the past within later but the 'past' segment takes place around here. 1926 iirc?

in birthday, your parents get shot (1939). you're going to be an important detective, dale, but like right now you're getting traumatized. or rather you're experiencing that memory, then doing blue cube magic to fix it and have your grandpa shoot evil mr. rabbit instead. is your grandpa actually mr. crow? no. shut up about it now.

in underground blossom, your mom gets abducted (1935-1972 maybe). okay, well, not you. this is the laura backstory metaphor game but you're actually playing as the third bird man who is both her stepdad and her pet. and her grandpa albert takes her mom rose for his own nefarious reincarnation schemes maybe probably. rose is surprisingly okay with it but characters rarely put up a fight with the plot anyway. laura's a lonely kid, starts dating robert, picks up art to soothe her nightmares, gets murked, then reaches some kind of epiphany that we just train ride away from before finding out what actually happens. she's your daughter, damnit, you should support her transcendence. not enlightenment importantly. also, no, laura's life didn't literally happen at train stops, it's just a vehicle. not even a pun don't fucking laugh i see you snickering.

in seasons, you set up a really interesting plotline that gets utterly countered by everything that came after (1960's-80's). it's just laura time in there, and she uncorrupts herself, thank you very much. the series has been struggling with how laura gets her corrupted self to 1980-whatever, and so far only one other game's even taken place after 1972. and that game's the past within which also counters every other plotline. sigh. maybe we're not smart enough for these puzzle games. at least harvey's cute and bird-shaped. key point that's impossible to fuck up is that laura dies in 1972, and it's unclear whether it was a murder or suicide. that's why we get a detective.

in harvey's box and the lake, uh i don't know really (1969). these are early games that are basically spinoffs of seasons. they help with the overarching stuff but aren't much for the narrative at this point. also they suck

in case 23, dale starts investigating laura's death and gets wrapped up in the lake stuff (1972). it was supposed to be just another murder case, but he got too into it and it got too into him, so he gets teleported to the lake chapel and ferried off to. somewhere idk. he goes into an elevator that takes him down memory lane to the lake floor.

in the mill, mr. crow is really trying to clean house before dale gets here (1972). this is where laura gets her ass corrupted by mr. crow, and we find out how the lake eats memories or whatever. it's supposed to overlap with case 23 and it almost succeeds. whatever skrunk is still there is forgiveable, this was the flash era after all.

in theatre, dale learns about ripoff hinduism, goads a man into suicide, and abandons his darling toilet fetus son (1971). it's like birthday again, where this is a memory we're seeing, but that is a light distinction. robert kills himself at the bar, and we take his memories for legal reasons. there's some sixfold wheel we learn about that doesn't matter much.

in the cave, mr. crow still cleans house before dale gets to the Magic Memory Machine (1972). mr. owl's kinda sorta dying, and dale's been elected his son or something. gotta get his mindmeats. you read a textbook about cubes, pilot a submarine to the lakefloor, put dale and laura in a surrogate fusion dance machine, then give dale the golden cube it makes before sending him up the elevator again. hotel did imply something serious was gonna happen when he gets to the top, but that was eight years ago. the devs probably forgot and fell too in love with albert vanderboom in the meantime.

in the white door, robert unkills himself and gets wrong psychiatry (1972). as it turns out, mr. owl has a front business running a for-profit psych ward to extract totally good and healthy memories from people. this one is an actual factual spinoff but is kinda relevant for the greater rusty lake metropolitan area.

in paradox, fuuuuuuuck who knows maaaan, isn't it all just a metaphor? (1972). there's a consensus that none of the stuff that happens in paradox actually happens, and that it's all in dale's head while he's in the Magic Memory Machine from cave. even though there's five different endings, he kinda walks away at the end, which might be the worst ending of the lot. the information's solid though; mr. owl spells out the whole heir thing, there's bits of backstory for dale and laura everywhere. also the movie's sick.

in the past within, albert becomes a mechanical engineer for the sole purpose of making plot armor (1926/1984). yeah, remember that guy from roots? the voodoo murderer who got third-hand alchemy information to make up for his lack of pussy? yeah, he invented a time machine decades ago. and he enlisted his daughter to talk to her past/future self to grow him back to life in 1984. with a gold cube that he somehow got. and somehow his scar is genetically coded in him. and we don't see his wiggly lineart dick. what does he do in 1984? trap his daughter in a time loop then who the fuck knows. he's stuck in his jumpscare beast ways from being corrupted for so long. how did he get corrupted when he was literally buried in the ground and salvaged bones from? next game!

there's an ARG that i never saw a thing of because i hated it, best kept memory. from what i gathered, it was another front scheme for memory harvesting, except in the 2000's. does that mean it's enlightened dale/laura doing this one, since mr. owl presumably passed on the title then turned into a fish? i'd like to know too!

also, a chapter of underground blossom i haven't completed, and a paper-based game coming out within the next two years or whatever. i don't know how much they'll clear up.

toodles!

[basicallyaturtle]

never been part of a tag game, sounds really fun! tagged by dear Lanvender, @khan-crete

Do you make your bed? A freshly decrumbed, stuffed animal arranged and dirty clothes removed bed feels great. How often do I do this? We mustn't ask (like once or twice a month) that's all making the bed entails for me, I just have a fitted then normal sheet and blankets

Favorite Number? 4 4 4 4 4! I've loved four my entire life she is like a goddess to me. 2+2 2*2 2^2, divides into halves twice. can only compete with sixteen, whose status and 2^4 and 4^2 is nice, but not as symmetric. 37 and 73 have a place in my heart as the 12th and 21st primes, but not a large place compared to 4

What's your job? What do I get paid for? undergrad lab TA, what do I do? grad research in low energy nuclear physics

If you could go back to school, would you? In school technically still. Would I rewind time to experience school again? highschool no college yes. would I go back for another college degree? I could be convinced if it would be cheap and unobtrusive to my current schooling. Was always torn between physics and linguistics. I made the right choice but I always wonder what if.

Can you Parallel Park? I have done it, on the driving test, like four or five years ago. I think I could do it again, but not too confident

Do you think Aliens are real? Eh, probably in a 'the observable universe 9.3e+9 ly across, it must have happened more than once' kinda way, but not in a 'they've been feeding us tech for thousands of years or are visiting us' kinda way.

Can you drive a manual car? Never tried, hubris tell me yes, anxiety with even normal cars tells me I'd probably fuck up the transmission while trying to leave the driveway. gonna say yeag

Guilty Pleasure? I think like cheesy childhood disney live action movies?, generally I'm pretty full chested about the things I enjoy

Favorite Type of Music? yeah, hard, a lot of vocaloid, which isn't reallly a genre, a lot of edm genres from like old school monstercat, a lot of jrock by way of anime OP's of show's I've never watched then finding other songs by those artists. some rock music though that genre is also extremely expansive and I'm not sure how I'd categorize a lot of it. Generally my music consumption consists of a group of maybe five songs completely unrelated on repeat for months at a time and genre is not a huge factor in that

Do you like puzzles? twisty puzzles like rubik's cube type puzzles are really fun working, towards doing a 3x3 blindfolded but challenging, I used to do jigsaw's with my mom but over the course of a very long time because we'd get frustrated. crosswords, but I'm no good at them

Favorite Childhood Sport? Soccerrrr. Wish I'd stayed with it, but there were only a couple more years before there wasn't a league for my age group anyway, been trying to get back into it recreationally

Do you talk to yourself? I do, but as if I'm talking to someone else. I prefer not to do it because I'm not content with my voice atm, but I find myself doing it a lot especially when getting stuck on research stuff trying to talk it out or I will say a comment to someone I disagree with outloud rather than typing it and posting it. A lot of this is to my reflection which is probably part of the reason it feels like someone else lol

Tea or Coffee? tea all the way. drank iced sweet black tea my entire childhood and started drinking it hot with milk in college. I was the kind of person that disliking coffee was a sort of pillar of my tastes, but then a few years ago made it with like half milk and a lot of sugar and like it, lotta people wouldn't call that coffee, but eh.

First thing you wanted to be when you grew up? The actual first thing was everything. I would amalgamate like all the stereotypes of things kids want to be into one so a firefighter-astronaut-whatever else. When I got a better sense of my interests, inventor, so I guess like product designer, but what that meant to me was I got to sit around and think of neat gadgets and items then figure out how to make them like freeze ray, time machine, clone gun, that kind of thing lol. the first practical idea of a job I wanted was theoretical physicist in like middle school, which I kinda am now so success I guess

What Movies do you Adore? not much of a movie person, but like to watch movies other people are interested in with them, love castle in the sky, LOTR, howl's moving castle, your name, probably others in those categories I don't know about yet or have forgotten and I have a strong soft spot for childhood halloween movies like twitches and halloweentown

I'm curious what @arc-archernar and @charyou-tree have got to say if they'd like to, and anyone else that wants to participate!

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — GOJO x FEM READER 

Gojo deserves a trophy for winning his fight against Sukuna. You’re happy to deliver.

wc — 3.5k

tags — mdni, oral (m receiving) (sorry) but he makes it up to you, praise, possessive Gojo, vaguely inspired by fight club, violence (not towards reader), this is the result of me seeing the leaks so potential spoilers, banner art from Jen Mazza’s incredible Peripety collection, title from On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong

You never get used to Getou’s lavish den of iniquity, no matter how long it's been since you were first indoctrinated. Indoctrination is the right word, because it's less club than cult. Once you’re in, you never get out. 

Hakari’s just finished throwing some stranger out on his ass when he spots you. He jogs a little to get to the warehouse doors before you can and pulls them open, grinning when you thank him and slip inside. There’s a certain level of respect afforded you as someone who runs in the right circles. 

It’s Getou’s name, of course. Yuuji and Maki and all of them, too. But mostly, it’s being known as Gojo’s girl that gives you the reputation you have. No one touches you without consequences. No one even looks at you the wrong way without consequences. Gojo’s the reason you can sail into this cage of violence and immorality without a care in the world. 

“Over here,” Getou shouts over the din as soon as you walk in. 

As the manager of this, whatever this is (half fight club, half business frat, full of the depraved elite), he likes to keep an eye on who’s in and who’s out. Both of the doors, and of consequence. You’re, of course, in. 

He hands you his drink. It’s something blue, tastes vaguely like gin. There’s an ice cube shaped like an eyeball in it, lining up with his weird tastes. You hand it back to him with a nasty shudder once you see the price tag, caught off the menu some politician is flipping through to your right. He’s making a killing off fleecing his spectators between the entrance fee and the drinks. 

“On the house, pretty girl,” he says. “Get whatever you want.” 

Even if Gojo has a soft spot for him, he’s playing a dangerous game. That doesn’t stop you from ordering, nursing your drink as you wait for the match to start. The rest of the audience sits on rickety chairs lined up in front of the makeshift ring. Getou guides you to the VIP booth at the front with only slightly less rickety chairs before he heads off. He’s a busy man, and there’s quite a lot to prepare before the match starts.  

At heart, he’s a businessman, priest costume be damned.  He certainly has the funds to pay for a better set up, but why would he? The ambience of this place does something for the crowd. The smokey lighting, the run-down furnishings, the suspicious stains on the floor - they all live for it. This place feeds off violence and corruption, a dangerous thrum through the baseline of it all promising depravity.  

You can’t lie and say it doesn’t enthrall you, too. 

Otherwise, you wouldn’t be as attracted to Gojo as you are. 

He leans against the ropes in one corner of the ring, a little too tall to relax fully. You can tell it’s irking him from the little tick in his jaw that you like to kiss away once his matches are over. His white hair is down instead of slicked up, a sure tell that he didn’t prepare for this. It flops into his eyes. He needs a haircut, you note fondly. 

He’s all long, lithe limbs and lean muscle. His shirt is already off, draped over the pole. There’s an easy confidence even to the way he waits, like a tiger stalking prey. It’s the attitude of a predator. He knows he’ll win. If there’s a doubt in the minds of anyone in the crowd, he’ll prove it tonight, just as he proved it for his past 5 matches. 

It’s a problem that Sukuna looks just as tough. He has the eyes, as Getou taught you to watch out for when he helped you place your first bet. You can always tell if a fighter is in it for the adrenaline or the money by looking at their eyes. Sukuna looks like he’s in it because he likes the taste of blood. You suppress the chill that goes through you. 

Gojo’s little prodigies are seated next to you when they arrive, three of them in a neat little row. It makes you smile. Megumi protests any assumption that he cares for the man who took him in after he was orphaned, but he shows up to every single match without fail. The trio follow their mentor around like little ducklings to their mother, hoping to soak up every last drop of strength. 

Megumi’s won 2 out of his 4 matches this quarter, a great showing for a rookie. Some might say his strategy is working. Gojo is, however much he goofs off, a relentless teacher. 

“Hi,” he says. “Sorry we’re late.” 

You pull him into a hug. “No worries! It hasn’t started yet.” 

Yuki’s collecting bets for this match. You personally think it’s a dangerous move on Getou’s part. She’s just as likely to skim off the top as she is to steal the whole box and never come back. Maybe she’d move to Singapore again. 

“Who are you betting on?” She asks with a grin. 

“Who else?” 

For the first time in a while, you find a pretty even split between Gojo’s box and his opponents when you go to submit your bet. Usually, no one bets against Gojo. 

“I’m just letting you know cause you’re a pretty girl,” someone leers at you. “But Sukuna has something up his sleeve. I wouldn’t bet on Six Eyes if I were you.” 

“Fuck off, Mahito,” Yuki says. She makes a move to put down her clipboard and he turns tail. You would, too. You’ve seen her fights. “He’s on Sukuna’s side. Don’t listen to him.” 

The lights dim, and the talking quiets into a whisper. No one wants to miss a moment. 

Getou’s the perfect announcer. He knows how to work a crowd. You don’t know who writes his speeches, if he prepares at all, but he always knows the right thing to say to drive them insane. They’re half-frenzied, foaming at the mouth. 

It helps that there are two legends in the ring. 

“Sukuna, the King of Curses,” Getou announces. The only light in the arena centers over the ring, spotlighting the fighters. The crowd goes wild. Personally, you think ‘King of Curses’ is a little cheesy. It can’t be worse than your boyfriend, though.

“Versues Gojo, Six Eyes!” 

Six Eyes is not what you had wanted him to call his alter ego. It’s not nearly as cool as Infinity, which is what you were pushing for, but Gojo’s insistent. Besides, it’s not like anyone will laugh at him. 

It’s Gojo, after all. 

He’s the golden boy of the crowds at these matches. Celebrities pay top dollar to see him fight. You know the appeal. When you were a kid, horror movies used to make you sick. You couldn’t watch a minute of a slasher without feeling the need to close your eyes, but Gojo makes everything different. 

He makes violence into an art form. The line of his arm as his right hook smashes into his opponent’s face paints a silver arc into your eyes. He makes fighting look like a dance, or sex. There’s nothing quite so alluring as watching Gojo go head to head with someone. 

He pushes into their space with the sort of grace that you wouldn’t expect from someone who packs so much brute force behind a punch, managing to execute the cleanest strike every single time. There’s not a single wasted movement in the execution of his attacks. 

Go-jo. Go-jo. Go-jo. 

The crowd is chanting his name. Gojo is encouraging them, making a lap around the arena while Sukuna seethes. He raises his arm, asking for more, more. 

More of their love. More of their adoration. More of their awe. 

Gojo doesn’t fight for the fame or glory, but it definitely helps.  

“The great Gojo Satoru,” Sukuna says, posturing. “You look weaker than the last time I saw you.” 

His last match was Getou, one of the rare matches the announcer will actually participate in. It’s an indulgence he only affords his best friend. It was also the closest one Gojo’s ever had to call, though he won in the end. He always does. He has had an uninterrupted streak of victories from his very first moment in the ring, something no other fighter can claim. Rather than deign to give Sukuna an answer, he calls to someone else. 

“You lost to this, Megumi?” 

Megumi makes a noise of irritation that’s barely restrained by Yuuji tugging his attention away. He’s rarely hotheaded except when it comes to Gojo, who delights in riling him up to see him fight harder. 

“I know he has it in him,” he told you once. “He’s just intent on keeping it down. You gotta pry it out of the kid with a crowbar.” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t be pushing if he doesn’t want to fight,” you had said, amused despite yourself. 

“Nah. It’ll be good.” 

You haven’t seen one of Megumi’s fights yet, but Gojo’s are always a show. 

Sometimes, the less experienced will try to circle their opponents, showing off that they know how to corner someone. They’re too quick to anger, having something to prove. That pride will be their downfall. Others who have a little more time under their belt stand stock still, waiting for the first hit. They want to show off. Their opponents come to them, so they can project the confidence of someone who doesn’t need to attack first. 

It’s all an illusion. If they were really confident, they would be doing what Gojo and Sukuna are doing - brawling. They get dirty quick, swinging at each other with all their strength. 

Sukuna goes for a left-right, smashing through Gojo’s left side with a preliminary feint and trying to needle in a right punch just after. Nothing gets through Gojo’s defenses. It leaves faint red marks on his arms, but not much else. His blocks are perfect, as every other move in his arsenal is. 

Then it’s Gojo’s turn. His jabs are quick and fierce, landing in quick succession. You’ve heard Sukuna never stumbles, but it’s a near thing now as Gojo presses him hard. He takes the impact of one of the heavier hits in his stomach, a bad place. 

You can practically see the cockiness oozing off Gojo. He’s just about hitting his flow state. 

When Megumi touches your arm, you almost snap at him, though you know he’s only concerned for you. With the way you’re white-knuckling the armrests of your seat, anyone would be. You can’t help it. You’re completely unable to look away from the arresting sight of his figure. The way he leans into Sukuna’s blows, dodging them at the last second. His perfect hands, the bruises they leave behind. They all leave an indelible impression on your heart, as they have from his very first match you watched. 

There’s a shocking beauty in this world that you would’ve never realized if he never brought you here. It’s only here, among the most primitive forms of beauty, that you can witness life at its utmost, just flashes of it, all the more enticing for its transience. Gojo’s pale hand catches Sukuna across the throat, cutting off his air. Sukuna scrambles to fling him off. 

The image remains in your mind, appearing behind your eyelids every time you blink. Gojo’s winning, pushing Sukuna towards his corner of the ring. He has him on the defense. Gojo has you enthralled. You’re hungry for more, hungry for the very sight of him. 

Then, there’s a sickening crack as Sukuna’s fist makes contact with Gojo’s jaw, right at the corner of his mouth. His head shoots left, following the impact. You cringe at the solid, meaty noise the hit made. The roar of the crowd goes silent. Megumi especially cringes at the sight. His hand goes to his own cheek in sympathy. 

You always love these until this moment. 

Even Sukuna seems stunned, as if he didn’t actually expect to land that hit. He reacts more slowly than he normally does, retracting his fist instead of pressing his advantage. It’s almost like he’s suspicious. 

Gojo spits blood onto the floor and straightens up with a sanguine smile. “My students are watching. Hope you don’t mind if I get serious.” 

After that, Sukuna doesn’t stand a chance. 

Left kick. Right kick. Left punch. Right punch again, and again, and again. Sukuna can’t fend him off. Gojo lands the same hit over and over, completely blowing through his defenses. At some point, Sukuna’s head hits the mat so hard it looks like the threat of a concussion. Gojo doesn’t waste his chance. He pins him down so he can rain blows down on him. Sukuna tries and fails to buck him off, cursing. 

It’s more than a fight at this point, it’s an execution. He makes crushing a man like Sukuna look like child’s play. It’s a show, and you can’t help but wonder if it’s for you, even as around you, the surge of the crowd is proving otherwise. They congest the barriers, begging for more. 

Gojo looks into the screaming crowd. Half of them are on their feet, jumping up and down, roaring his name or title alternatively. Even Sukuna’s side looks caught between fear and awe. He doesn’t care about any of them. 

When he realizes you’re watching, he strikes the final blow. 

A perfect arc of shiny white flies across the ring and lands on the cement outside of it. Instantly, people are scrambling for the memento. It’s Sukuna’s tooth. 

He doesn’t get back up. 

Only Gojo looks up, grinning like the devil. 

There’s a fire burning in your gut. He’s sweeping the crowd for your face; when his eyes meet yours, you make sure he knows exactly what he’s going to get once you find him in the locker room. He grins, splitting a just scabbed wound so blood begins trickling into his teeth. It’s messy, it’s gross, you want to lick it off his face. 

“Please just go,” Nobara says, pained. “I can’t watch you two eyefuck for another second.” 

You don’t need another invitation. 

No one protests when you push your way past the door marked “PRIVATE” in obnoxiously red letters. They’re used to you. Besides, no one wants to get in the way of Gojo’s girl and have him find an issue with them outside the ring. It’s bad enough when there are rules - a private fight with him is an absolute no go. If anything, they see you and know it's time to head home before they’re subject to a scene they absolutely have no interest in seeing. 

He’s waiting in his dressing chair, but he makes it look like a throne. 

Before you even finish closing the door, he’s on you. You have to scramble for the handle so you can lock it through the blinding haze of his kiss, the crush of his gentle hands on your waist, your jaw as he tilts your head up. 

“Are you here to give me my reward?” He says when he finally pulls back, gasping for air the way he didn’t in the match. He hadn’t even broken a sweat. Something in you delights at being the one to pull this side of him out in a way that even Sukuna hadn’t been able to. 

“Get back on that chair,” you say. 

“Oh, baby. You know I love it when you’re bossy,” he coos, and then he’s not acting so cocky anymore because you’re pulling his boxers down. No one can get him to shut up unless it’s you, on your knees. He cups your jaw possessively as you lick your lips. 

He can’t help it. You’re sweet and soft and perfect for him, everything he wants. It helps that you’re good with your mouth, the result of hours of practice. When his cock hits the back of your throat, his fist clenches in your hair before he can stop himself. Muttered sorries can’t compare to the way his eyes are rolling back into his head, the way his head is tipped so far back you can clearly see the bob of his throat when he swallows. 

The effect you’re having on him only makes his effect on you worse. Your cunt throbs, empty, but you’re determined to give him what he deserves before you give yourself any attention. 

“You’re making such a mess,” he mutters, low and guttural as he watches you drool on his cock. “Just look at you, baby.” 

The pet name makes your pace stutter. He laughs at you, because he may be sweet on you specifically, but your boyfriend is an asshole in general, and sometimes he just can’t help it. You make him regret it, licking up the underside of his cock, tracing a sensitive vein with your tongue. 

His hands are petting over your hair, as soothing as the quiet praise he drops, always some variation of ‘pretty little thing’ or ‘my good girl.’ You’re gagging, trying to fit more. You are good, you think as you struggle, hollowing your cheeks around him. So good, just for him. He moans and his hips jerk forward with a sudden spasm. It pushes his cock further into your mouth, hitting impossibly deep. Even when tears well up in your eyes, you urge him on, hand on his thigh. Given permission, he fucks into your mouth with abandon. 

When he pulls you off, you whine without shame. 

“Don’t be like that,” he coos - he’s always cooing at you, always softening his words, giving you the best of him. “I’m going to give you what you need.” 

He bends you over the vanity so you can see your face in your mirror. Your cheeks are warm and your eyes slightly watery. His hands have tousled your hair so thoroughly you look debauched. You love it, especially when he slips a hand under your skirt and flips it up. 

“Cute panties,” he snickers. 

They’re the same blue as his eyes. 

“You would like them, you narcissist,” you shoot back. 

Your voice dies as he pulls them off. You’re so wet it leaves a string stretching between the fabric and your pussy, only breaking once Gojo impatiently rips it off of you. You can’t even be mad, you’re so desperate for him. 

He slides a thigh between your legs and presses you open until you’re spread wide for him, on full display. One large hand grips your hip in a way that makes your brain go hazy and stupid, seeing the splay of his fingers across your flesh. Possessive. 

He slips two fingers into you gently. It’s still not enough. You knew before you came to this room that you were ready, that you prepared for him, but he always insists on opening you up nice and slow. It’s a pleasure for him to first see the way you fall apart on his fingers, riding them like you’re mad for it. He’s not big on delayed gratification until it comes to you, and then he can be maddeningly patient. He curls his fingers just right until your legs are trembling with desire. 

“Enough,” you gasp. You’re clutching onto his forearm with shaky hands, trying to push him away even as your cunt is sucking him in. Gojo raises an eyebrow at the mixed signals you’re sending.   

“I barely started,” he says, amused. 

“But I want it now,” you whine. 

He never refuses you. You’re so wet that he should push into you easily, but he’s big enough that it punches the breath of you anyway. He stays there, waiting, while you shake through a mini orgasm, lightning traveling up your spine and nerves as you shiver apart. 

“Told you,” he says, unsympathetic even as he pets your thighs for your comfort. “This is what happens when you get greedy.” 

Even being put in your place like this doesn’t deter you. Before long, you’re pleading for more again, begging for him to split you open on his cock. He groans, playfully put upon. When he accidentally bumps your clit, you clench down on him so hard it finally shuts him up. You’re so full of him you can barely breathe, his hips finally flush to your ass. 

“Perfect little cunt,” Gojo hisses, drowning in you. His face is buried in the crook of your neck as his hips snap forward. He’s too wired to be gentle but you want it, crave it. You need to see him like he was in that arena, a brutal machine. “Made for me, aren’t you?” 

You mindlessly hum your agreement as both hands pin your hips down to the cool surface of his dressing table. You feel so good you can’t even think straight, every single thought in your head centering on the tension in your core. When he finally, finally gives you what you need, fucking you so hard the table shakes, you cum so quickly you can’t even warn him. Your cunt spasms around him as your eyes flutter shut. If he hadn’t been holding you open, your legs would’ve snapped shut around him. 

“Good, sweetheart?” He asks as you come down from your high. “Because I don’t think I’ve gotten my full reward yet.”

[teaboot]

what if i invited you to lick the moldy ham cube with me like we were grazing animals gathered around a salt lick. what would you do

Full disclosure I was gonna find something funny to bounce back at you improv style but you just reminded me that when I was 14 I went to the feed store with my grandpa and bought myself a salt lick to suck on like a jawbreaker

[mychlapci]

Genuinely I think tfp Ratchet has the biggest mommy kink in existence, and I also think he refuses to admit it to himself or anyone else. He wants his team to need him. Needs them to need him, even. It makes him feel useful, and better than that it makes him feel warm and good.

If he wasn’t lactating, he’d probably jump at the chance to start. It’d probably start as a method of helping a severely injured teammate get their energon, but Ratchet’d quickly discover how good it makes him feel. Then he’d be practically tugging them into his lap to suck on his sensitive titties any time someone showed even the first sign of hunger. He’d get hot behind his panels and deny it, focusing instead on helping his patient, his team, his needy baby—but he’d still be dripping. Soon he’d be offering to nurse them, hungry or not, any time the team was upset. Let mommy comfort the poor things. Stroking their helms at first, then eventually their panels as they lay limp in mommy’s lap to nurse until a full tank and an overload improve their mood. Waddling away with a stick mess behind their panel or trying not to overload again as Ratchet licks his hand clean.

Synth-En Ratchet would be a little meaner, I think. He wouldn’t give them the choice of when or where to nurse. If he thinks they need it, they’re getting it! He’d physically hold them in his lap until /he/ thinks they’re full, even if their tanks overflow and they end up wetting themselves on his lap. Dribbling, helpless and humiliated as their tanks filled with even more energon to embarrass themselves with. And of course mommy would tease them for being so messy and needy. He’d make them thank him for the privilege of sucking his tits and cleaning them up, just as public as the feeding itself, if only so he could watch them squirm.

A post synth-en Ratchet would be mortified and extra soft and uncharacteristically sweet for a time, but secretly horny as hell. Maybe getting to fuck mommy’s pussy while they nurse his warm, soft boobies would be enough of an apology?

don't… don't do this to me. my penis can only ever get so hard.… hgrhgrh Ratchet keeping team prime on their feet by nursing each and every one of them with his titty milk is the perfect fantasy… He'd be such a good mommy, offering his leaking nozzles to his poor hungry babies teammates whenever they need it, letting them drink from him until they’re grinding against his fat thighs... he just hopes they can’t feel him getting soaking wet as well. He'll gladly drag anyone into his lap and feed 'em, of course he’ll act like it’s a chore or a bother, but he’s secretly loving it. Mommy milk is healthy after all, and the act of nursing has been scientifically proven to have a calming effect. He enjoys being a source of fuel and a source of comfort. It's a dull, fuzzy kind of pleasure, the kind that makes him feel warm and happy when he has someone lapping at his milk.

… I am so into, what could it be called? forced mommy-kink? synth-en Ratchet insisting that he decides when and where and who refuels from him, not taking no for an answer. He doesn’t care if they’ve just downed a cube of energon, a little bit of that synth-en filtered through mommy’s titties is good for them. Maybe his mask slips and he ends up making them call him mommy. He’ll hold them with his newfound strength and they’ll have no choice but to suckle on his titties until he decides they’ve had enough. If his baby wets into his lap, he’ll clean them up, and make ‘em thank him for it. This way, all of team prime gets a humiliation kink. 

Afterwards he apologizes by letting everyone fuck mommy’s pussy, and he’ll clench around each and every spike very hard to let them know he’s sorry <3 At least the pretense is gone now and he can enjoy being called mommy freely...

Of course, team Prime gets a couple additions to it, right? I wonder how that would go down. No matter what they say, or how embarrassed they feel, they gotta get on mommy’s milk, stat. It’s for their own good.

[dailydragon08]

Freezer Hands

See my full masterlist and read on AO3 here! No warnings other than some cursing. Luke x GN!Reader blurb.

Summary: You decide to pull a little prank on Luke after rooting around in the freezer. A/N: also dolmas is hella delicious.

*

You pulled your hands out of the freezer and rubbed them together before rooting around between the ice cubes once more. Ever since her pregnancy began, Leia had been craving dolmas like crazy and since she wouldn’t stop overworking herself—even six months pregnant—you decided to grab her some. The ice was so cold it was practically burning your hands. You really should’ve grabbed some gloves, but it was too late now.

A gentle hand running across your back caught your attention. You turned to smile at Luke as he rooted through some tools at the side table, his back turned to you. “Is Leia refusing to stop and eat again?”

“Yes,” you grumbled, still rooting through the ice for the small container. “Her stomach was growling and she was biting everyone’s heads off last time I talked to her, so I decided I’d just get it since I had to come in here anyway.”

He laughed. “Good luck getting her to stop long enough to eat it.”

“I’ll force-feed her if I have to—aha!” You finally pulled your victory prize out of the bottom of the freezer before shoving the ice back into place and closing the lid. Your hands tingled and you shook them out slightly to get rid of some of the water droplets. You turned to admire the curve of Luke’s strong back through his shirt, a soft smile on your face, when an idea suddenly came to mind.

You bit back your laugh as you quietly padded up to Luke. You knew he could sense you through the Force, but hoped he’d just assume you were coming to hug him from behind like you usually did. You pressed your cheek to the back of his shoulder for a moment in an attempt to be more convincing before quickly sliding your ice-cold hands up the back of his shirt.

His resulting yelp made you double over with laughter as he jerked away from you. The betrayed look he turned to give you only made you laugh harder. “You screamed like a little girl.”

You reached for him again, but he grabbed your wrists, smiling despite himself. “Noooo, keep those away from me.”

You shook a wrist loose and quickly untied the front of his black Jedi robe. The front fell open to expose his muscled chest and you stared for a moment, almost forgetting your mission in lieu of admiring the tanned, scarred muscle. Almost. You evaded his hands as he tried to grab your wrist again and plopped your palm right in the middle of his stomach.

He arched his torso away from you as he let out a gasp. “Stop, Y/N!” He laughed and spun you around, grabbing your hands and caging you in with his arms. He shook his head and laughed as he pressed his face into the skin of your neck. “Han’s right, you are a little shit.”

“I’m your favorite little shit though, right—Maker, Luke!!!” You tried to squirm out of his hold as he blew a raspberry into the part of your neck where you were most ticklish. “Stop!” You couldn’t help the giggle that broke out and he laughed against your skin with you, nuzzling into you and suddenly turning the moment sweet.

“Yes, you’re my favorite little shit,” he answered, leaving a soft kiss against your skin. He cradled you for a long moment. “If I let you go, will my chest be safe?”

“Well, my hands aren’t cold anymore.”

He squeezed your fingers where he had them locked in with his own, chuckling as he took a step back. You turned to look at him and melted at the love-drunk look in his eyes before your gaze fell to his exposed chest. You reached out, laughing as Luke caught your wrist again. “They’re warmer now, I promise.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, but released you, sighing and closing his eyes as your now warm hands gently traced the scars on his chest. His blue orbs opened before he gently took your hand in his again, leaving gentle kisses on your fingers. He smiled softly at you as he closed and retied his shirt, chuckling at your resulting pout. He left a lingering kiss on your lips. “Later, you can touch as much as you want, I promise—but no freezer hands.”

[aesethewitch]

Beef Stew Recipe - Potion of Fortitude

Whether it's been an exhausting week, a frigid winter's day, or just a stressful time, few things are more comforting than a hearty bowl of stew. I make this beef stew for myself whenever I need a true pick-me-up or when I'm preparing for an in-depth magical working. It provides lasting energy, warmth, and strength.

Plus, this recipe is scalable - make a ton and freeze it to enjoy for weeks or just make a little bit for one meal. The measurements below are approximate; measure with your heart.

Ingredients:

Chuck roast, cut to half-inch cubes (you can get pre-chunked stew meat, which is what I typically get)

Flour, enough to coat the beef

Salt and Pepper (about 1 tsp salt & 1/2 tsp pepper), for seasoning the beef coating

2 tablespoons Unsalted Butter

1 Onion, diced

2 Large Potatoes, peeled and cut into half-inch to one-inch cubes

2 Carrots, peeled and cut into rounds

5-6 Cloves of Garlic, finely diced

4 cups Beef Broth

Herbs of your choice, such as: Sage, Thyme, Marjoram, Celery Seed, Bay, Chili Flakes

Additional veggies of your choice, such as: Parsnips, Turnips, Bok Choy

Salt and Pepper to taste

Instructions:

Mix together your flour, salt, and pepper in a bowl. Toss the beef chunks in the mixture to coat. This will create a nice brown crispiness on the outside.

In your stew pot, sauté your flour-coated beef until browned on all sides. Remove from the pot and set aside.

Add more oil to your pot and cook your onion until translucent. If you don't mind soft carrots in your stew, add them now and cook until just starting to soften and brown. (Note: I often leave the carrots until after the potatoes are nearly cooked through because I don't like the texture of fully-cooked carrots.)

Once your onions are translucent and your carrots have started to soften/brown, toss in your butter and scrape the bottom of the pot. You want to get all those beautiful, delicious brown bits back into the mixture. You can add a little water if you need help loosening the bits.

Add your garlic and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds.

Put your beef back into the pot (along with any drippings from the plate/bowl you placed it in). Pour your broth over everything and give it all a good stir.

Toss your potatoes into the pot. Bring it all to a boil and reduce your heat to let it simmer.

Add your herbs and spices. I recommend salt, pepper, sage, thyme, celery seed (or salt), and bay. If you like it spicy, you can throw in a bit of chili powder or flakes.

Simmer for at least one hour or until your potatoes are soft and your beef becomes tender, stirring occasionally.

If your stew isn't thick enough by the time your potatoes are done, you can make a cornstarch slurry by combining one tablespoon of cornstarch with two tablespoons of water. Pour the slurry into the stew and let it cook until thickened to your desired consistency.

Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Serve with crusty bread, veggie side dishes, or whatever else you like.

Optional magic you can include:

As mentioned above, I often use this recipe to bolster or replenish my energy before or after an intense magical working. It also works for physical exertions - I made this for a group of my partner's friends while they were moving heavy furniture to a new apartment, and it gave them all the energy to move everything in one night!

This stew has an intense comforting effect. If someone I know has been working hard, stressing out, or hasn't been feeding themselves properly, I'll make this for them to help them remember to take care of themselves. It's rejuvenating, hearty, and full of love.

Depending on the herbs you choose to include, this could also be a powerful protection spell. Especially in the cold months, I use this as a protective ward against the cold exhaustion that pulls at the body and mind.

Pop a bit of chili in this spell to both speed up its effects and cast out negativity! Nothing clears the sinuses like a nose full of spice, and nothing clears the body of bad vibes like a good dose of chili flake.

Like many of my spell recipes, this one is most effective when it's shared. Give a bowl to your friends, your family, your neighbors, whoever. It makes a wonderful offering to house spirits or ancestors.

If you make this recipe, please let me know your thoughts! And if you enjoy this or my other posts, please consider dropping a couple dollars in my Ko-Fi tip jar!

Happy cooking, witches! 🍲

[iliterallydecepticanteven]

New Hozier music got me in my TFA Megop feels. Here's part of a fic I'm working on. I did not spellcheck this at all so if you see any grammar errors, no you didn't. Full version coming soon!

💜💜💜

There are few things Optimus is sure of in such odd times. 

One of them is that he can be too much for some bots. 

Not as a leader, no, he had long since seen his ability and potential as a leader flourish and be solidified before his optics. He means more in the interpersonal sense. 

Sure, friends were easy to have. It was easy to sit back and chat with various bots and have a drink with them. Humans were shockingly easy to connect to, even more so now that he spent so much time on Earth and became more acquainted with their culture. 

Even cons were easy to befriend, usually connecting through shared complaints over the Autobots High Council or, more often than not, complaining about Sentinel being a pain in the aft. 

No, it was the deeper, romantic relationships that he struggled with. 

He had dated some during the Academy, but it always fell apart. The most common critiques were that he was “too much” in all sorts of ways. Too attached yet too distant. Prioritized his training over others too often. Too strong a sense of justice and too passionate. 

After expulsion, he shoved all that behind him. After all, if those flaws ended a relationship when he was a Prime candidate, they would surely kill even the prospect of such a thing being a Prime only in name and never in true meaning. 

Then he had called a temporary ceasefire with the Decepticons to help Earth with their Quintesson problem and things got complicated. 

When he wasn’t zipping around a battlefield or stuck in endless meetings, he was passed out in his berth. Even the few small snippets of free time he got he was technically busy. So finding a relationship wasn’t on his radar. 

And there was the larger issue of the odd way his spark jumped around the last mech he should be having any romantic thoughts about. 

He’s not a stranger to attraction, not at all. Which is why, the first time his chest tightens around Megatron, he nearly runs out of the room. 

They’d been in a meeting, Optimus fully zoned out, nursing his cube of warm energon. They’d been up all night chasing Quintesson ships out of Earth’s atmosphere and just his luck Sentinel wanted a video call right as they arrived back on their temporary Earth base. A smattering of other bots and cons sat in the meeting room but he largely ignored them. 

The cube in his servos was so blessedly warm. The energon contained within it was more bitter than what he was used to, having been farmed and processed from the energon crystals popping up across Detroit. But its taste was richer and more complex, like the essence of the ground it sprung out of lingered in its molecular structure. It was quite nice in his opinion. 

He was thinking of his berth and the recharge he would be getting when he snapped back to attention at the mention of his name. 

“Sorry Sentinel Prime, could you repeat that?” he asks. He didn’t catch the words but he caught the tone and knew it wouldn’t be good. 

Sentinel huffs and crosses his arms. The video feed lags behind the audio by a few meager clicks. “I said, we wouldn’t have to be worrying about this whole mess if you could actually do your job and eradicate the Quintessons already! But you charged ahead without Council permission and made a deal with that backwater planet and now we’re stuck putting time, credits, and energon into a mess that wasn’t even ours to begin with!” 

Optimus sits up straight. “First and foremost, we are not wasting energon nor credits on protecting this planet. Need I remind you the only reason Earth is being attacked by the Quintessons at all is due to the energon crystals bursting out of the ground. The deal is that if we defend Earth and eliminate the threat, all energon would be split equally between the Autobot and Decepticon armies. Even taking into account only getting half of the energon crystals, we have seen an increase in credits and do not need energon imports as we process everything here.” 

Sentinel opened his mouth to argue and Optimus continued. “Secondly, I went ahead without Council permission because it was an emergency and as the temporary appointed Magnus I had every right to send forces to Earth. Alongside that, I did not send all of our forces, which I could have done, but didn’t because I knew if I did, it was likely Quintessons would take advantage of an unprotected Cybertron and attack. I sent myself and a small portion of forces to defend a planet we have ties to. And finally, if you would use your processor and think for even a milliclick, you’d understand that sudden Quintesson interest in energon is a sign of something bad happening in the future. They have largely used other forms of fuel and energy sources, but considering energon is highly concentrated and the primary agent in most intergalactic combat weapons, whatever they want it for cannot be good.” 

Sentinel is clearly angry but desperately trying to hold it in. His arms are crossed and his optics wide but his mouth is shut tightly. Everyone around Optimus has gone silent but he doesn’t even bother looking at them. He misses how Bulkhead and Bumblebee share an excited smile at seeing Sentinel getting chewed out, the proud smug grin on Ratchet’s face, and how Lugnut mouths wow at Strika who just nods enthusiastically in agreement. 

And he most certainly misses the look Megatron sends his way. If he had seen it, he would likely call the expression a mix between fondness, infatuation, and wonder. 

[cybertron-smash-or-pass]

(Original anon for Knocket/Ratchout force-feeding, here's some food for y'all. Eat up❤️) ((also I'm claiming myself as the Ratchout anon))

"In the back area of the medbay, Ratchet and Knockout feed each other, taking turns and occasionally stumbling over each other. Both so full, but they can't help themselves. After the whole incident with the Synthetic Energon, Ratchet's been cutting his supply, as he feels bad. Breaking in late during the night cycle, Knockout attempts to steal the research for himself to perfect it, and take credit."

Coming across the starving medic, he worries and relates to his situation, so he helps out. Feeding Ratchet cube after cube, getting hornier and hornier, he loves the sounds the Autobot medic makes. "Big and beautiful", as the shiny red mech would say.

Wondering why Knockout is "helping" him, Ratchet inquired. "But, you're a Decepticon. Shouldn't you be leaving me for shutdown?" Knockout explains his situation with attempting perfection for himself, wanting to always look and be the best, even if it meant depriving himself of fuel.

Ratchet, getting an idea of his own, snatches a cube from the counter, popping it open, and pinning Knockout onto the berth, forcing his intake open and pouring the energon in. "You helped me, sweetspark, now it's my turn."

I don't know if I can even comment rn, I'm like blushing n shit. Gotdamn

[honey-minded-hivemind]

ooo

Sentinel!Reader being a cyborg would be interesting!

Personally tho I'm more interested in reader just being a robot because that's funny to me-

Lmfao imagine creator!reader just working on something only for a mini Sentinel!Reader to pop into existence, the other mini readers just looking at them like :0

Cube Anon

Creator Reader: O~0 ... What did I just make?

Sentinel Reader: Hellooooo! I like you!♡

Creator Reader: Um... hi... W-who are you?😰

Sentinel Reader: I'm Reader, and I want to be everyone's friend!!!😍☺

Creator Reader: stares at their notebook, full of different universes and versions of themself

Creator Reader: chucks it in the bin

Creator Reader: Okay, let's all agree to not be creative again. Now, who wants pie?

All the gathered Readers: ME!!!

(Sentinel Reader is being hugged and cherished by their other alternate selves, especially the ones who know what it's like to have a hard time with the yans...) (Creator Reader feeds everyone chocolate pie, cheesecake, cookies, and some lemonade. They all might as well enjoy something sweet before the platonic yans drag them back or before the universe brings them to them anyway...)

[trivialbob]

Sheila works all weekend. After I got done Friday I came to the campground alone. Didn't take any dogs, so it's going to be super relaxing and quiet. Also helpful is we are in a section of the campground where children aren't allowed. I can hear and see kids, but not within a few hundred feet.

The wifi by our place isn't working. I am currently at the camp store where the signal is good. I like these places. Years ago my kids loved hanging out at a little store or lodge whenever we went to a northern Minnesota lakeside resort. I seem to remember (when paying the bill at the end of the week) the boys ate quite a few ice cream sandwiches and Drumsticks :)

This place sells bags of ice, which should make my wife happy. We still have the portable ice maker in the trailer. It makes unlimited amounts of FREE ice. But you just never know when Sheila might want to BUY several more pounds of ice cubes, as she has been known to do.

Last night I went to a nearby town to check out a brewery. I have a Hop Passport which was good for a free beer there.

It's a cozy place, located in an old feed mill. I found it surprisingly dead on a Friday night. The owner/bartender told me he'd probably close up early that evening.

I drove by other bars and restaurants in town. They too seemed quiet. I leave "the cities" to come "up north." Maybe the residents around here bug out for the weekend and go someplace even more rural?

Last night got cold. One of the propane tanks for the heater ran out in the middle of the night. It was no big deal to switch over to the other tank which was full.

Today's lunch-time mission is to find a place to fill the empty tank. I'll scout out bars and restaurants for somewhere to try tonight. I love getting to know this area.

High on my list of places to visit today: