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ambrosiagourmet · 1 year ago

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I love Izutsumi. She's got a great design, she's a fun addition to the main party, she adds some new tension, and she's honestly one of the reasons I read dungeon meshi in the first place. I mean, "the most cat to ever girl" is an extremely appealing hook to anyone who loves cats and girls (me, I love cats and girls).

However, while I have always liked Izutsumi, I finished the story kind of feeling like I didn't really get her. I felt like I had a decent grasp on her character an character arc (she's a traumatized teen given space to feel safe and open up, and because of that she realizes that she can't grow without letting go of the coping mechanisms she once needed). But I didn't feel like I really understood her role in the story as a whole.

She follows the group of her own accord, after a coincidental meeting and a misunderstanding of what they can do for her. She's never super invested in saving Falin, at least not compared to the rest of the group. Though they do help her escape Maizuru's shackles, and are clearly good for her in general, she doesn't really have a healing Moment with the group the way that Senshi does with the hippogriff soup.

And yet, she gets an entire chapter, the third-to-last chapter, dedicated to exploring her growth and future. She's the one who frames much of the falling action, who lets us check in with everyone. She's the one who helps talk Laios into accepting his role as king. She may join the story part way through, but she is there for most of it. So Izutsumi! What's your deal!?

Well, I think I've come up with an answer, at least for myself, that I really like. Two of them, even! Though they both really work together to form the overall point - Izutsumi is the character that most helps the story face towards the future. Here's why I think that.

So the first of these "ah-ha" moments was when I realized that Izutsumi really is the best supporting evidence for Laios' point about the good things that wouldn't have happened if Falin hadn't died.

If Falin hadn't been eaten by the dragon, Izutsumi probably would still be a slave. It was because of Shuro and Laios' parties both being in the dungeon to rescue Falin, as well as Marcille's use of ancient magic in the resurrection, that she got the chance to escape. None of that would have been the case if Falin hadn't died. Shuro wouldn't have separated from the group and joined up with his retainers, Marcille wouldn't have revealed her knowledge of ancient magic, and Izutsumi never would have even met any of them. They are only part of her life because of Falin's death.

Though this isn't explicitly pointed out by Laios or Izutsumi in the scene, I do think you can very much feel the presence of it. For one, when Marcille reflects on the journey and how much it made her realize she didn't want to lose everyone, her relationship with Izutsumi is prominent:

It's the main original group at the top and center, but when you read it right to left, it’s Izutsumi and Marcille who might catch your eye first. And it's specifically Marcille and Izutsumi's relationship on display here, not just Izutsumi's presence in the group in general.

Also, after Laios' statement about how none of their adventure would have happened without Falin dying, it is Izutsumi who gets the final word:

Izutsumi is also the one here who is the most forward-facing. Chilchuck is trying to correct Laios, Senshi is focused on the immediate future, and Izutsumi is talking about her new goal.

And I want to talk about that goal in general as well, because it’s also interesting how it comes up. In that moment, everyone is trying to remind Marcille of her less destructive desires - to eat food, to share it with them, and to meet Chilchuck's family. All of which are previously established, existing desires. When prompted by Chilchuck to join in, however, Izutsumi offers something new:

That's interesting, isn't it? It's kind of funny, of course, to see her rambling on about a completely new thing, her own personal motive, in the middle of everyone working together to reach out to Marcille. Izutsumi doesn't even know who Yaad is! But at the same time, it’s kind of meaningful. Amidst the focus on desires that everyone already had, she adds a completely new one to the mix. It’s even the final bridge that lets Laios reach Marcille.

It is, in fact, even an idea that comes back later to help out another lord of the dungeon. The idea of finding new goals and feeling new desires... this is exactly how Kabru reaches out to Mithrun, after the Winged Lion is gone

So yeah, Izutsumi's presence here, both in what she's actively choosing to say as well as what she represents of the consequences of Falin's death, supports the story's ideas of moving forward. Of accepting the past, and finding new reasons to live.

Which is all really good, and that alone works pretty well as an answer to what Izutsumi's role in the story is.

But oh, oh. There's more. Something I realized after having thought of all this, because I still couldn't let go of the feeling that there was still something I was missing.

And as I reviewed the things I loved about Izutsumi - her sometimes unhealthy ways of coping with trauma, her struggles with isolation, her skill with fighting, her selfishness contrasted with the ways she grows to care for and protect the group, her perpetually guarded nature, born from the seeming impossibility of ever fitting in or finding a safe place to just be herself - I realized something.

Izutsumi...

is a foil to Falin.

Where Falin copes with isolation and trauma by being eternally caring and struggling to say no to people, Izutsumi copes by constantly saying no to everything she can. Falin is often considered selfless, but does have selfish desires that she can’t easily express until a moment of crisis. Izutsumi is delightfully selfish, but chooses to stick by her friends when they need her. They are both transformed, against their will, into partly monstrous hybrids, and they both will have to live with that - there is no undoing what has been done to them.

Falin anchors the group in the past. Izutsumi pulls them towards the future. Neither would find freedom without the other - it is Falin's death that leads to Izutsumi joining the party, and likewise, it is Izutsumi who inspires the realization of how they can save Falin.

And Falin is her future, as much as Izutsumi is Falin's. Both learn to be a little more like each other, even though they never meet. Falin gets a little more selfish. Izutsumi gets a little more willing to bend.

In this context, I feel like I have finally started to understand just how important Izutsumi is to the story. She is a proof that they cannot just go back, and she is a clawed, happy-to-scratch-anyone-who-pisses-her-off reminder, at that. In any conversation about what the group wishes would have happened with Falin, she cannot be ignored or brushed aside.

She is a reminder that, even in the midst of a tragedy so big it feels like a shadow you will never escape, you have yet to met all the people you will love. Hell, some of those people might even be catgirls. We should all be so lucky.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #izutsumi #dunmeshi analysis #dungeon meshi spoilers

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thinkinonsense · 4 months ago

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Bewitched: The Rake and The Risk

˖⋆࿐໋ james logan howlett ✦ bridgerton au series

bewitched masterlist

chapter two

cw: flirting (mix of 1800s and modern day), jealousy, old time thoughts of women and marriage, james is a slut

pairing: viscount!logan howlett x fem!reader

a/n: sorry this is later than intended! i try to aim for a new chapter every friday but college is kicking my ass right now. next chapter will be longer!! also!! if you want to be tagged for the bewitched series please comment on the original bewitched masterlist post linked above this<3 there are so many of you lovely readers who want to be tagged and i need a more organized way to find everyone to add. sorry for the minor inconvenience. i appreciate every one of you!!

main masterlist

in all the twenty-nine years of knowing james howlett, lady chamberlain never would have pictured him coming to her home to ask about the eligible bachelorettes of the ton.

"what do you want to know, my dear?" lady chamberlain asked, sipping a cup of tea as the two of them sat in the living room.

"i am coming to you because as you know, my mother is expecting me to wed sooner rather than later and i was wondering whom might be the best women to seek out this season." james said, lying through his teeth.

if james really wanted to know who the best women this season were, he would've just opened the latest issue of lady cavanaugh. both of them knew this but it was more fun for lady chamberlain to tease the viscount.

"hm.." she smiles. "anyone in particular?"

"no."

the lie falls with ease. too much ease but lady chamberlain sees right through him.

"well, i did take note last night that the only lady you danced with was lady worthington's niece." she remarks slyly.

"the french girl?" he asks, playing coy. "i think i remember her."

lady chamberlain wasn't going to play games with the boy in front of her.

"i would hope so, you seemed quite fawned of her."

"i don't know if i would say that much."

"hm, so you don't want to know who she's planning to attended the mask ball with?" lady chamberlain smirks, knowing she's got him hooked.

everyone in the ton looked forward to the queens mask ball each season. it was the perfect way to help break the usual ice of finding 'the one'. that's where most couples tend to meet for the first time.

"let me guess..." james rolls his eyes. "prince harrison?"

lady chamberlain shrugs, placing her tea cup back on the dish. "the two of them talked quite a bit after you stormed off. she seems quite smitten with him."

"it's the first ball of the season. she has plenty of time to look for a better husband." he scoffs.

"well, dear... there are people who search their whole lives for something that's been right in front of them the entire time."

the elderly woman's words rang true in the room but james was far too in denial to notice them. instead, his ego was eating him alive. why would you not jump at the opportunity to be with the viscount?

˖⋆࿐໋

this afternoon was the queen's annual tea party. all the ton's debutantes gather to make friends and share their predictions for this season. anxiously, you paced the cobblestones outside, waiting for the carriage to pick you up.

"dear, it's not lady-like to pace back and forth." your aunt calls out from the doorway.

"my apologies," you reply, not stopping your feet.

"you're snagging the hem of your gown!"

thank heavens that the carriage was approaching. she waves you off, wishing you luck on your first adventure alone in the ton, wishing desperately she could join you.

your goal today is to make at least one friend. you'll even settle for an allied.

once you arrive at the queen's castle, you step inside. covered in soft pastels, flowers, and butterflies; you immediately feel calm. everyone is chatting and sipping tea at the tables. you sit down in the first available seat.

"you're the diamond, correct?" someone whispered next to you asks.

you turn your head to see a blonde girl to the right. she's wearing a soft yellow dress that doesn't quite fit her right.

"correct." you nod, offering the girl a smile to which she returns.

"shouldn't you be sat with the queen?" she asks, nodding to one of the beautiful girls surrounding the queen.

"probably but this was the first seat i saw." you joke, sipping on your tea.

the girl laughs with a small nod and introduces herself. her name is bridget and her father is a jewelry maker for the queen.

"i saw you dancing with the viscount last night at the ball." she smiles. "do you fancy him?"

almost choking on your tea, you shake your head.

"no, no, no. i don't fancy the viscount." you state.

bridget hesitates, watching your body language closely. the pressure gets you to speak up again.

"why do you ask?"

"because the viscount is a major rake."

the word rake rolls off her tongue with pure disgust. you'd never heard someone with such respect as a viscount be called something so dishonorable. rakes were known for their ability to seduce and lead on women with no promise of marriage.

"but he talks of his desire for a wife?" you question, more to yourself than to bridget but alas, she answers anyway.

"only because his mama is practically begging for a viscountess." bridget whispers.

you suppose this made sense due to the fact that most rakes never even intend to wed and after your conversation with james last night, he made it clear that marriage was not something he craved.

"trust me, you aren't the first lady to attempt to tie down the viscount. well, at least you have a shot since you're the diamond this season and all." the blonde girl rambles.

"oh, heavens no!" you repeat.

"hm, that's sad..." she sighs. "he is quite handsome."

"most definitely but i intend to wed for pure reasons."

"if that's truly the case, stay as far away from the viscount as possible."

˖⋆࿐໋

for the rest of the afternoon, bridget's words stuck to the front of your brain. if james wasn't so intolerable, perhaps he would make a good husband to someone.

once everyone finished with their tea, you decided to go sketch in wisteria park. the weather was beautiful outside and gave you the perfect inspiration needed to work on a new piece. normally, you would only draw on the sides of the letters written to your father back home. no one was more supportive of you than your parents. in a world where women mean nothing more than their wombs to society, it was rare to have parents who let their daughters have dreams.

sat on a patch of grass near the small pond, you set up your quill, small tray of paints, and paper. in the area where you decided to sit, across from you stood a beautiful cherry tree. as you work on the outline, you can hear footsteps approaching.

"i should've known i would find you here." a familiar voice says.

you don't even glacé up at the person near you, paying no mind to the man who seeks your attention most.

"do you want something, my lord?" you ask, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

james' head spun every time those last two words fell from your lips, sounding to pretty the way that they roll of your tongue.

"you may call me, logan." he says. "if you so wish."

"logan?" you cock a brow, finally looking up at him.

"it's my middle name." he replies awkwardly.

"hm..." you pretend to ponder for a moment. "that's far too personal for me."

" 'too personal'? how might that be?"

james stands arms crossed against the cherry tree, glaring in your direction. you don't rush to answer his question instead you continue adding details to the branches and trees. he huffs under his breath, clearly irritated your lack of interest in him.

"well, we have no intentions to be together this season and we aren't friends so, there's no need for nicknames and such." you reply nonchalantly.

"you don't know my intentions"

a sweet giggle escapes you. james brushes off the warmth flooding his chest, rather focusing on topic at hand.

"oh, i bet i do."

suddenly, you drop your quill and give him your undivided attention.

"why are you even here, james?" you sigh.

"i was visiting an old friend this morning and wanted a stroll through the park."

"an old friend?"

the words left your lips before you could stop yourself. james was quick to notice the tone shift. he smirks, walking over to you and sitting on the grass to your right.

"mhm..." he hums.

"is she viscountess material?" you scoff, returning to your scribbles.

"and why would you care?"

why did you care? it's not like the two of you really know each other; yet, something about james made your blood boil. perhaps it was how he has a near perfect life and somehow still complains. he has no issues in finding a partner because everyone wants him. if he didn't have his head up his own ass, he would realize that.

"i don't."

"sounds like you do."

james liked watching your face scrunch up at little with dislike for him. how your pressure on the quill increases. how you avoid his gaze. how you pretend he doesn't exist next to you.

"i don't." you repeat. "i just cannot believe that someone like you is complaining about having to take a wife when all the women of the ton are smitten with you."

"someone like me?" james pretends to be offended but he was too busy enjoying this riled up version of you.

"someone who never gone with unmet needs, never struggled financially, never been under minded or overlooked." your words come out sharp but james doesn't let them cut deep.

"look, sweetheart..." he squints those hazel eyes, glaring deep into your soul and leaning in closer than he should've. "you know nothing of my families struggles."

"and you know nothing of mine."

james was so close to you. your noses almost touching before you pull away. being within his close proximity made you feel a foreign warm tingle deep in your stomach.

thank heavens that the park was empty, minus the two of you. the last thing you needed was for someone to see the two of you this close and label you as one of the viscounts mistresses.

"i-i must get going." you stutter, collecting your belongings.

"where are you off to?" he asks.

"i'm supposed to be accompanying lady chamberlain and prince harrison to dinner this evening."

his face scrunches with distaste at the mention of the prince. also, why would lady chamberlain hide this piece of information from him?

"isn't it quite early to prepare for dinner?"

"i must look perfect for the prince." you smile.

but not at james. you're smiling for that no good excuse of a prince who couldn't see that you already were perfect.

"you look fine to me." he huffs.

"it's vocabulary like that, that keeps you from finding a wife."

"and to think it was my insufferable personality that kept the ladies of the ton away."

it's difficult to hide the laugh you want to let out. instead you bite down on your cheek, not giving him the satisfaction of your laughter.

"ha ha ha." you mock dryly.

"do you always have a stick up your ass?"

james question makes your jaw drop. never in your life have you heard a man speak so vulgarly.

"that's no way for a viscount to speak to a lady." you scold. he can't help but roll his eyes at your comment.

"i'm sure that a man has spoken even more colorfully to you."

"what are you insinuating, my lord?"

"that i highly doubt a lady such as yourself still has her virtue." he shrugs.

never has your head spun so fast at a single sentence. you couldn't fathom that a rake like him has the nerve to question anyone's virtue.

"excuse me, viscount howlett but my virtue is none of your business." you rage. "and you have quite the nerve to question it."

"and why's that?"

james was playing with fire but he didn't mind getting scorched by your flames.

"i've heard the stories about you."

"like what?"

"like what you do with the promiscuous women of the night." your words leave a smirk plastered on his face as he watches you intensely.

"don't act so innocent either." james hums. "i'm sure you've had your fair share of promiscuous adventures in france."

a flush of red hits at your cheeks. the last person you wanted to talk about promiscuous acts with is james. mostly because your lack there of. only your own hands have touched you so intimately.

james studies your facial expression before it clicks for him. he shouldn't ask. he really shouldn't. but come on, he has to.

"have you never—" his words come to a halt when there's a ruffled noise inching closer.

"i'm under no obligation to answer you, viscount howlett." you scold, collecting your belongings.

"hm... seems like you've already answered my question." his cocky tone sends you over the edge of annoyance.

"shouldn't you be more concerned with finding a wife rather than my virtue? this season will be over before you know it and you will need to find one sooner rather than later."

james admired the way you spoke with such sharpness. you were shy and reserved but the weight of your words were heavy. there was grace in the way you spoke and he loathed it.

he loathed how perfect you were. how absolutely perfect you would fit into his life. how perfect you would be at being his little wife. only needing to plan parties and open your womb to his child. he would never stop you from your dream of painting either. all he wants is someone who can handle the duties that come with being his other half.

by the time james snaps out of his thoughts, you are long gone. off to get ready for your date with a man who's twice as rich as him and much more likable. the only thing he could do is hope that nothing good comes from this dinner.

──★

i'll tag everyone else who commented in the morning when i wake up <3

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ghostlyferrettarot · 1 year ago

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🖤✨️Venus in the houses✨️🖤

❗️All the observations in this post are based on personal experience and research, it's completely fine if it doesn't resonate with everyone❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings)Open.

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🖤Masterlist🖤

♥︎Venus 1st house: charming people with a flirtatious aura. They know how to get people attached to them ; love to compliment others but expect double the praise in return, they know they are a catch. This individuals are usually the life of the party, the one who unites the relationship/friendship group.

♥︎Venus 2nd house: This is the house of finances, so these people prefer to be pampered by their loved one. People with strong values and respect, they expect the same from their partners. They don't play, they want stability and seriousness in a relationship; most loyal and supporting persons ever.

♥︎Venus 3rd house: really flirtatious and persuasive. They value new experiences, they are attracted to other's personality and interests. You have to keep them entertained, they have an adventurous nature and can get bored easily when it comes to a routine.

♥︎Venus 4th house: These individuals have a really harmonious and protective nature, a fairy-like aura to them. They value comfort and openness in a relationship, they want to feel the love of their partners and create a special bond with them. These people tend to attract people with mommy and daddy issues, with an "I can fix them" vibe.

♥︎Venus 5th House: These are my luxurious people, they have high standards and don't care what anyone has to say about it. They are in love with love, their cheerful nature attracts them towards creative people and people who are in a position of fame or success. They are the muses of artists.

♥︎Venus 6th house: These individuals tend to manage many things at once, they thrive on self-improvement. Their love language tends to be acts of service, they are also attracted to truly selfless people. They can spot a lie from miles away, value trust, and expect the same from their romantic partners. They forgive but they never forget.

♥︎Venus 7th house: They have an attractive and persuasive personality, they are tolerant and charismatic. The 7th house is the house of agreement and partnership, so your luck will probably change after your marriage, your significant other may play an important role in your life. These people crave love and genuine connections.

♥︎Venus 8th house: They are very sensual and intimidating; tend to have stalkers and admirers. They value deep connections, people who truly understand and accept them. People with some type of trauma are attracted to them. You may be interested in occult sciences and have healing powers.

♥︎Venus 9th house: They have a happy aura and an adventurous character. These individuals are attracted to optimistic and adventurous people, those who value their beliefs and want to take risks with them. Venus in the 9th house attracts many foreigners as it may indicate a lot of travelling, you significant other may be from another country.

♥︎Venus 10th House: The 10th House governs public image, career aspirations, and career achievements which makes these individuals attracted to status. They are goal-oriented, always looking to improve, and expect the same from their partners. You will want to live a high-profile life and connect with influential people.

♥︎Venus 11th house: They have a calming and jovial personality. Easily attract many friends who would want to work and connect with you to grow your business. These are my "friends to lovers" trope, they value friendship over romance, which attracts them to those closer to them.

♥︎Venus 12th house: These are my artistic people, they have a lot of passion and compassion. They tend to be attracted to spiritual or helpful people. They value connections and are naturally drawn to others; They find much comfort in helping those around them. They are looking for a partner with good character and empathy.

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msilwrites · 3 months ago

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Midnight Snack Mystery (Simon 'Ghost' Fic) Part 2

Wife! Reader Pregnant! Reader Hungry! Reader Possessive! Ghost Possessive! Simon 'Ghost’ Riley Possessive! Simon Ghost Riley Good Cook! Simon Ghost Riley Husband! Simon 'Ghost’ Riley Hungry Wife! Reader By this time he is already Captain or Major! or Lieutenant Col! Simon 'Ghost’ Riley

Part 1 is here AND Part 3 is here

Long, not so-long, but light hearted read. Warning: Don’t read when hungry!! Summary: Simon has finally discovered his wife’s late-night food hunts. Now, Y/N finds herself grounded—not by pregnancy restrictions, but by her overprotective husband who’s not letting her sneak out again without a word. With Simon now on high alert, he’s made it his mission to ensure she no longer goes on her secret noodle adventures. But what happens when Y/N’s cravings hit again? Will Simon give in to her late-night desires or continue his new role as the ultimate food police?

“I, uh…” You scrambled for an excuse, your voice muffled by the noodle still in your mouth. “Toilet break?”

“Toilet break?” he repeated, pulling out the chair across from you and sitting down. “Love, the loo doesn’t serve dumplings.”

Your face burned as you set your chopsticks down, the guilt written all over you. “Okay, fine. I was hungry.”

Simon gestured at the table, his brows lifting in mock exasperation. “Clearly. Could’ve woken me up, yeah? Instead of sneakin’ out like a waddlin’ penguin burglar.”

You folded your arms, pouting at the ridiculous comparison. “I don’t think you’d want noodles at two in the morning. You’re not the one who’s pregnant, remember?” He snorted, leaning back in the chair. “You’re right. Not pregnant—just married to someone who’s got the stealth skills of a tipsy badger and the cravings of a bear.”

Before you could retort, the server appeared, looking slightly concerned as they eyed the towering figure now sitting across from you. Not afraid—just genuinely puzzled. This was the first time anyone had joined their sweet, petite, and very pregnant regular for a late-night meal. The sight of Simon, a veritable behemoth of a man with his piercing gaze and commanding presence, was enough to make them pause mid-step.

Simon noticed their hesitant expression and immediately waved a hand, his tone softer now. “Don’t worry. She’s my wife.”

The server’s gaze darted to you for confirmation, and you gave an enthusiastic nod between sheepish smiles. “He’s not bullying me; promise.”

They relaxed slightly, though their eyes lingered warily on Simon. “Um, then, sir, would you like to order something?”

Simon glanced at your nearly empty bowl, his lips twitching into an amused smirk. “Aye, bring me whatever she’s havin’. Clearly, it’s worth sneakin’ out in the dead of night for.”

The server chuckled, noting Simon’s good humor, and scribbled down the order. “Coming right up.” Once they left, Simon shifted his gaze back to you, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that infuriatingly knowing way. “You’re lucky this place serves good food. But you’re not off the hook yet.”

“It’s not like I do it every night,” you muttered, breaking eye contact and fiddling with your chopsticks. “And off the hook for what? Eating?”

“For sneakin’ out while I’m asleep, waddlin’ around with slippers that won’t do much if you take a bad step. And don’t get me started on the stairs.” He jabbed a finger toward you, his voice full of mock severity. “Grounded. For your own safety.”

You rolled your eyes, pointing at your feet. “Simon, they’re anti-slip slippers. The safest footwear in the history of footwear!”

He gave you a flat look. “Still doesn’t change the fact you’re out here on your own in the middle of the night. And you’re not just anyone, love—you’re my wife. I love you. That means keepin’ you safe, even if I’ve gotta be a stubborn bastard about it.”

His tone softened, but the firmness in his words made your argument die in your throat.

Just then, the server returned with Simon’s steaming bowl of noodles. He took his chopsticks, twirled a bundle of noodles, and took a bite, savoring it slowly before giving a thoughtful nod. “Alright, I’ll admit it—you’ve got good taste, love.”

You smirked, your earlier pout vanishing as your lips curled into a teasing quip. “Of course I do. I married you, didn’t I?”

Simon paused, then let out a low chuckle, his eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and affection. “Flatter me all you want, but you’re still not sneakin’ out again.”

You pouted, twirling your chopsticks idly. “We’ll see about that,” you mumbled under your breath, though the truth was, you couldn’t imagine slipping out on him again—at least not without thinking twice.

Simon arched a brow at you, clearly catching your muttered words, but he let it slide, shaking his head with a faint smile.

The two of you ate in companionable silence after that, the warmth of the food and each other’s presence settling over you like a comforting blanket.

Simon might not be able to stop your late-night cravings, but from now on, one thing was clear—you weren’t going anywhere without him, especially late in the night.

----------

Simon and you walked back home, his large hand wrapped around your petite frame, the arm draped protectively around your shoulders like a vice. It was almost as if he feared you might just bolt for the nearest food stand at any moment—even though you were waddling, heavily pregnant, and moving at a pace that barely qualified as fast.

And yet, Simon knew better than to underestimate you. You were like a determined badger on a mission, and nothing—not even pregnancy—could slow you down. He even had your eco-canvas cat bag slung over his shoulder, the one filled with all the essentials you might need to escape. He wasn't taking any chances; in his mind, if you did try to sneak off, at least he'd have your necessities— phone, wallet, coin purse, wet tissue, snacks, a hair tie, and, of course, a spare pair of extra socks—in his grasp.

“Those noodles were really good,” Simon admitted, recalling the warmth of the broth and the satisfaction of each bite. “But you’re still not wanderin’ around at night on your own anymore.”

“I can take care of myself,” Y/N said with a raised brow, a playful challenge in her voice.

Simon’s smirk grew. “You’ve been caught, love,” he said, his arms crossing with that smug grin he was clearly enjoying far too much. “And I’m not lettin’ this go anytime soon. I’m your noodle partner from now on. Get used to it.”

You sighed, eyeing the night sky as you thought about the future. You could already feel Simon’s ever-watchful eyes, even when you were supposed to be asleep. “Guess I’ll just have to sleep with one eye open now…”

“Good,” Simon smirked, leaning closer. “Because now I’m hooked, and next time, I’m coming with you.”

You shot him a look of mock horror. “Oh, great. So much for sneaking out in the middle of the night... Guess I'll need to come up with a better escape plan.”

Simon’s smirk deepened. “You won’t need to escape. I’ll be right there next time, love, making sure you’re well-fed and not running off to some noodle shop at three in the morning.” He tightened his hold on you, as if to make his point clear. “Who’s gonna stop us now, huh? We’re a team, like it or not.”

You huffed, but the corners of your mouth betrayed you. “Guess I’ll have to get creative then..."

----------

As your pregnancy progressed, Simon's vigilance was at an all-time high. Despite his efforts, though, you still managed to sneak out for your late-night noodle runs. But Simon, ever the overachiever, wasn't just sitting back and letting you get your midnight cravings. No, he had plans.

He’d started researching. The noodles, the broth, the dumplings—he'd figured out everything about the shop. And then, to top it off, he went and bought the exact ingredients that the noodle shop used. So, now, when you got that familiar craving for noodles at ungodly hours, you wouldn’t have to go out anymore. He'd made sure to have everything ready for you at home. It was thoughtful, yes, but it didn’t stop you from sneaking out every once in a while for the real deal. The urgency of it all... the thrill of the late-night snack run was irresistible.

But that was before the new discovery.

It was a day like any other when Price’s fiancée—(A/N: oh no, Mama Bear, you enabler!)—casually mentioned something in passing, her voice far too nonchalant for what was about to drop. “Oh, and there’s this kebab place near you—24 hours. Just a block away from the noodle shop. I love it. We should go sometime.” Her eyes twinkled like she was letting you in on some delicious secret.

24-hour kebabs? Your mind practically did a happy dance. A whole new world of 3 a.m. snack options had opened up to you, and you couldn’t wait to start your next adventure.

From then on, your late-night trips became an alternating game of noodles or kebabs? One night, it would be noodles; the next, kebabs. And Simon? Well, he hadn’t caught on in a while. He was still under the assumption that his homemade noodle efforts were keeping you satisfied. Little did he know, you had your own little secret.

But then came the day you were packing Simon’s lunch. It had become a thing between the two of you—making him a lunchbox, especially since the canteen at base was basically a revolving door of the same uninspiring meals. Today, however, something was different. You’d had those mouthwatering lamb kebabs the night before, and they were so good that you couldn’t stop thinking about them while preparing his lunch. What better way to share the joy than to sneak a bit of last night’s feast into his lunchbox?

You chuckled to yourself as you carefully wrapped the leftover kebabs in foil, adding a bit of salad on the side because you were responsible like that. You even included a cheeky little container of tzatziki sauce, just to keep things fancy. “Sharing is caring, right, love?” you muttered to yourself with a grin.

As you closed the lunchbox, satisfied with your creation, you couldn't help but feel a little victorious. You had outsmarted Simon once again—and this time, you were treating him to a little midnight snack surprise, a little gift in kebab form.

Little did Simon know, his lunch that day was the result of your stealthy midnight food hunt.

---------

Simon sat at his table, digging into his lunch, enjoying the kebabs his wife had sneakily packed for him. The savory flavors were a welcome change from the usual bland canteen fare. Just as he was about to savor another bite from the new kebab wrap in his lunchbox, he heard a rustling noise. Johnny or Roach—hard to tell who started it—had caught a whiff of the fragrant meat. Before Simon could react, Roach grabbed the kebab from Ghost’s hand, and Johnny, in hot pursuit, managed to take a bite as he chased after Roach.

It was like watching toddlers fight over a toy—half laughing, half shoving each other.

Simon sighed, rolling his eyes. There went a quarter of his lunch. He grabbed the other kebab wrap from his lunchbox, shaking his head at the chaos.

“Oi, this tastes like the sauce from that kebab place near your home, Ghost,” Roach commented mid-bite, eyeing the meat with newfound curiosity.

Simon paused, mid-chew. “What do you mean?”

Roach grinned, clearly amused by the memory. “Johnny and I went there once when we were completely sloshed. We’d just embarrassed ourselves at a pub, trying to dance to some live band that sounded worse than an angry cat meowing for its dinner. After that, we decided the best cure for our humiliation was a late-night kebab. Had the best one of our lives, though. That place is just a few blocks away from your place, right? The one that’s open 24 hours?”

Simon’s eyes narrowed as it clicked into place. The kebab shop was near his house. Just a few blocks away from the noodle place. And the same one his wife had probably been sneaking out to in the middle of the night.

He let out an exasperated sigh, realizing the pattern.

His wife, who was almost due, had been sneaking out again, by herself, for food. And now, kebabs had been added to the list.

Simon rubbed his temples, a familiar headache forming. He knew he needed confirmation—he had to catch her in the act again. And this time, he was ready.

----------

That night, as she slipped out from under the covers, Simon pretended to be asleep. He felt her gently remove his large hand from her belly, a subtle movement that barely disturbed the sheets. His eyes remained closed as she quietly slid on his hoodie once again, the same one she’d worn for her late-night excursions.

He watched her movements in the dim light of their room as she grabbed her eco bag, the soft rustle of it making his heart race in anticipation. She was being careful, trying not to wake him.

Once she was downstairs, he listened closely, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. She stifled a laugh as she moved around the house, searching for her keys. Simon’s grin grew. This was it. She was slipping up.

She reached for the console table’s bowl where she usually tossed her keys, but they weren’t there. Her steps faltered as she tried to recall where she’d left them. Simon could hear the quiet shuffle of her slippers as she moved to the kitchen, her search growing more frantic.

When she approached the kitchen counter, the light suddenly flicked on. There, standing like a shadow in the doorway, was Simon—his towering frame blocking her path. He jingled the keys in his hand, his voice low and teasing.

“Looking for these?”

“Oh my gosh! Simon!” Y/N exclaimed, her hand flying to her chest in surprise.

Simon raised an eyebrow, taking a step forward. “Scared, love? I should be the one scared. Who sneaks out of the house at this hour with a bag full of snacks and—” He gestured toward her outfit. “—my hoodie? Really? You’re not fooling anyone.”

Y/N’s mouth opened and closed in a perfect imitation of a fish. “I... I wasn’t sneaking out! I was... uh... getting some fresh air?”

“Fresh air?” Simon smirked. “At three in the morning? Really? Or for kebabs?!”

Just as she was about to protest, a sudden shift in her expression caught him off guard. Her face went from flustered to... well, something else entirely. A small gasp escaped her lips.

And then it happened. A loud, unmistakable pop—the kind of sound you never want to hear in a moment like this.

Simon’s eyes widened as he looked down. “Wait—no. Don’t tell me—”

Y/N’s eyes went wide as she glanced down at her feet. “Oh. Oh, no.”

“That’s it. That’s what I was talking about.” Simon sighed, his voice a mix of exasperation and amusement. He shook his head, unable to help himself. This was exactly what he’d been worried about. There he was, concerned she might give birth on the street during her midnight kebab or noodle shop run—and of course, it happened just as he’d finally decided to confront her.

Her water had just broken. She was about to give birth.

Without hesitation, Simon snapped into action. He grabbed the overnight bag he’d already packed—because, let’s face it, he’d been expecting this moment to come at any time—and dropped it by the door.

“Let’s get you to the hospital, love. And next time, I swear, no more kebabs without me.”

He paused just before helping her out the door, turning to give her a serious look. “You’re not going to sneak off again, are you?”

Y/N shot him a glare, huffing in frustration—but the corner of her lips twitched upward into a grin. “Maybe if you’re nice, I’ll let you join me on the next midnight snacking adventure.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Simon muttered, ushering her out the door and toward his 4x4 in the garage.

----------

A few hours later, Simon stood in the delivery room, his heart pounding as he watched his wife give birth to their healthy baby girl. The little bundle of joy came out looking like a tomato—bright red, round, and very, very stout. A little bear cub in the making. Must’ve been all those late-night snacks and kebabs, Simon mused, but it didn’t matter. His daughter was healthy, and that’s all that counted.

But what really stood out, aside from her adorable chubby cheeks, was the fact that she looked so much like Simon. The scowl was unmistakable, like she was already plotting a covert mission—or maybe deciding which target to judge for their lack of culinary taste. Or, you know, plotting murder. It wouldn't surprise him if their daughter had inherited some of that... intensity.

Y/N couldn’t stop laughing, tears of joy in her eyes as she looked at their little one. “Oh my gosh, Simon—she looks just like you! That scowl, the little brow furrow... it’s like a mini version of you. I love it!”

Simon chuckled quietly, his lips curling into a grin. “Guess I passed on the scowl gene pretty well, huh?”

Y/N looked at him, still smiling with a mix of awe and amusement. “I love it. It’s exactly what I wanted. She’s like a perfect little replica of you. Can you imagine her looking up at me with that same scowl when she’s older? I’m gonna love it.”

Simon kissed her forehead gently, feeling a swell of pride. “You’ve got yourself a mini me, love. And I couldn’t be happier.”

Then came the question. The one that always followed the arrival of a baby. “What should we name her?”

Y/N thought for a moment, her eyes flicking from their daughter to Simon. “I was thinking something strong, like... a warrior name, you know? Something tough.”

Simon raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Warrior name, huh? You sure? What about something like... (A/N: Hi reader, I'm giving you the choice to name your daughter with Simon ;) ) (Your Child's/Name) Riley?”

She smiled, a playful twinkle in her eye, and nodded. “Well, then. How about the nickname?”

Simon glanced at her, his mind drifting through the countless food adventures she’d had while he was asleep in their bed. He thought of all the late-night runs, the kebabs, the noodles, and the endless snacks. His gaze moved from his wife’s grin to the little bundle in his arms—her rosy, pinkish cheeks, round like a little fruit.

Then it clicked. The tomatoes in the noodles, the kebabs… it all added up.

He looked back at her with a grin. “We’ll nickname her ‘Tom.’ Short for Tomato.”

Y/N laughed, her heart swelling with the love she felt for both of them. “Tom. I love it.”

Simon chuckled softly, gazing at his daughter. “She’s definitely earned it.”

Y/N leaned back against the pillows, content and happy. “Well, ‘Tom’ it is then. Welcome to the world, little Tomato.”

A/N: I hope you enjoyed that one! 😄 I might do a part three sometime, maybe when you (Y/N) are pregnant again, and your little tomato is a bit older and already becoming your little accomplice too! 🍅💕

Also, if you don’t mind sharing, what did you name your daughter, Simon? 🤔 Drop it in the comments—I wanna know! LOL! 😄

Edit: And here is the NEXT CHAPTER --------->

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bigfan-fanfic · 7 months ago

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A Delving Song (Monster!Reader x Laios Touden)

Could I request a Laios fic where he meets a new monster, your choice, that is surprisingly sentient who joins the party? I just think it would be cute and fluffy.

Laios tilted his head. That didn't sound like the normal song the sirens on this floor of the dungeon would sing.

Marcille and Chilchuck are still asleep. And Senshi's off checking his golem farms.

So Laios wanders off towards the pool of water where you sit.

It's a ways off from typical mermaid territory.

And you yourself seem different from other mermaids. Your lower half is covered in feathers, not scales, and you have small wings protruding from your back.

"To eat is the privilege of the living... all things must eat to survive..."

Laios looks at you, in awe as you continue to sing a song of resilience and endurance. He's absolutely enchanted. And he quickly opens his mouth to sing with you once he memorizes the simple tune.

You startle badly, yelping, and waving your arms, summoning streams of waters like vipers to rise around you.

"Whoa! Please, I didn't mean any harm. I just really liked your song."

You frown. "Tallmen like you don't sing. They attack."

Laios puts down his sword. "See? No attacking."

"You're... different."

Laios grins and nods. "That's right. You see... I wanna know more about creatures like you. Are you a mermaid? You seem to be similar and different."

"I think your kind calls me a siren. But most of us get hunted, because our songs can be dangerous. We have some control over water too."

"That's incredible. Do you come up with your own songs?"

"We sing the tune - others seem to hear what they really want to hear. Unlike mermaids, the charming of it all seems to come from the prey."

"Why are you all alone?" Laios asks bluntly, tilting his head when your face falls.

"My flock were... hunted by a group of tallmen. I escaped. The mermaids don't want me because we bring adventurers that kill."

Laios frowns. "Well, that's no good. Maybe... maybe you could come with our group. I'm sure once they hear you speak and reason, they'll have no problem."

You smile sharp teeth at the tallman. "What are you called?"

"Laios."

You let the water slip down into the pool and move forward in a crouch, finally pressing your head into his metallic stomach. "Thank you, Laios."

Chilchuck is the most suspicious of you, clearly not happy with the idea of letting a monster into the party. Even a clearly reasoning and thinking one like you.

Marcille is a bit more welcoming, especially as she hopes you can teach her some of your water magic.

Laios initially thinks you're amphibious like a fishman but as you don't breathe water it becomes clear you're more of a bird than anything else.

Marcille immediately shuts down any further discussion because she senses it getting uncomfortably close to figuring out what exactly you taste like.

But considering you grew up in the dungeon, your expertise makes travel much easier. Senshi also is able to take some extra parts of monsters the party has collected to make some water skins for you to carry water through the more dry areas for you to use as a weapon.

Laios is always eager to hear about monster culture - just as you are about the cultures of the surface. Marcille and Laios spend many meal breaks discussing with you about what your lives and daily activities are like

Chilchuck doesn't share, but then again he also doesn't share with anyone else, so it's not like it's an anti-monster sentiment.

But eventually you find yourself nestling close to Laios when it's time to rest for the night.

And one night, when he rolls over and rests his head in your feathers, you don't mind. You like the tallman and his unique opinions.

And perhaps these feelings may soon grow and evolve.

Until then, the party together shall eat, and almost more than their meals, their growing friendship is delicious.

Delicious in dungeon.

#laios touden x reader #laios touden x male reader #laios touden x gn reader #delicious in dungeon x reader #dungeon meshi x reader #dunmeshi x reader #i guess i got all the different tags in there huh #headcanons #dunmeshi headcanons #delicious in dungeon headcanons

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doumadono · 2 months ago

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A toast to the past - Dabi x Reader

Warnings: a lot of sadness, grieving

Synopsis: some bonds and moments never truly die, no matter how much time passes. This is what you've learned not only from the League of Villains, but mostly from Dabi himself

A/N: as we say goodbye to 2024, I want to take a moment to wish you all a very Happy New Year, filled with good health and an abundance of positive energy. A huge thank you to everyone who has taken the time to visit my blog, read my stories, or offer the support - your kindness means the world to me. I’m looking forward to welcoming the new year and sharing even more with all of you. Here's to more adventures together in 2025!

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

The icy wind gnawed at the edges of the dilapidated bar, rattling loose boards and curling under the gap at the door. The League of Villains’ ramshackle hideout wasn’t exactly the place one might expect to find themselves celebrating. It wasn’t often the League found a reason to celebrate, but tonight was an exception. New Year’s Eve was as good a reason as any to drag out the stolen liquor, laugh a little too loudly, and forget - if only for a few hours - about the vain world of heroes that loomed outside.

Yet, the hideout was alive with chaos.

Spinner had begrudgingly joined Twice and Toga in their frantic attempts to decorate, though the results were predictably awful - streamers dangled half-heartedly from the ceiling, and a mismatched assortment of paper lanterns cast flickering light across the room.

Mr. Compress sipped his drink, attempting to draw Giran into the conversation.

Shigaraki, for once, seemed to tolerate the festive atmosphere, though he sat hunched in his chair, lazily swirling a glass of a cheap champagne, scratching idly at his neck and glaring at anyone who came too close, his Switch laying on his lap.

Kurogiri had been busy behind the scenes, thoughtfully preparing colorful drinks for everyone. He made sure to mix several non-alcoholic ones, particularly for Toga, knowing she would enjoy them without the risk of getting drunk. He'd always kept an eye on her, knowing well that she could easily lose control if left unchecked, just like Tomura. At the same time, he carefully prepared extra shots for Shigaraki, who had openly mentioned earlier that he wanted to get wasted to dull the unbearable itching sensation crawling beneath his skin. Kurogiri had always been attentive, and tonight, he was doing what he could to ease the discomfort of his comrades, in his own quiet, efficient way.

And then there was Dabi.

The black-haired man, as usual, lingered on the outskirts of the noise, a silent observer. He stood by the window, cigarette in hand, eyes half-lidded as the faint orange glow reflected off the sharp planes of his face. The scarred corners of his lips twitched occasionally as he watched the others, though whether in amusement or annoyance, it was hard to tell.

It was a strange thing, this party. A group like yours wasn’t exactly built for celebrations. You were all too fractured, too worn by the world to embrace something as frivolous as joy. And yet, here you all were, crammed into this shabby room with mismatched streamers hanging crookedly from the ceiling.

"Five minutes to midnight!" Toga announced, clapping her hands together with a giddy grin. She darted to Twice, who was balancing a precarious tower of plastic cups, and immediately knocked it over in her excitement.

"You little menace!" Twice cried, his tone swinging wildly between indignant and adoring.

It was impossible not to laugh. Even Shigaraki's lips twitched in the ghost of a smirk before he buried his face back in his hands.

You glanced at Dabi, who hadn't moved from his spot by the window. Smoke curled lazily around his head, his expression unreadable. Something about his stillness drew you in like gravity, and before you realized it, you were walking toward him.

"You're missing the party," you teased, stopping just short of leaning against the same wall.

He exhaled slowly, his gaze flicking to you. "Looks like I'm not the only one."

"Fair," you admitted with a small smile. “But you’re really going to sulk through New Year’s?” You leaned your hip against the wall, tilting your head as you studied him.

“Sulking implies I care,” Dabi shot back, but the retort lacked its usual venom.

The countdown began, Toga’s voice leading the charge. “Ten! Nine!”

As the countdown began, the League’s mismatched voices filled the air, a cacophony of excitement and half-hearted participation.

Dabi didn’t move. He didn’t turn to the others, didn’t even glance at the clock. His gaze remained on you, sharp and heavy.

“Eight! Seven!”

“You’re staring,” you said softly, though your tone lacked any real accusation.

His lips twitched into something that might have been a smirk. “So are you.”

“Six! Five!”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat as he took a step closer. He stopped just a breath away, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him despite the chill that crept through the cracks in the walls. His hand came up to cup your cheek, rough fingers brushing against your skin with a surprising gentleness that made your breath hitch.

“Four! Three!”

The noise around you faded into nothing, the room dissolving into a blur as his thumb traced along your lower lip.

“Two! One! Happy New Year!”

The room erupted into cheers, Toga’s high-pitched squeal cutting through the din as the others toasted and clapped, but none of it reached you.

Dabi leaned in, his lips crashed against yours. It wasn’t soft or tentative - he wasn’t the kind of man for that. Dabi’s lips were firm, his touch possessive, the kiss rough and consuming. The heat of him, the faint taste of smoke on his lips, made your knees weak, and you clung to him as though letting go wasn’t an option.

The world seemed to pause, time itself holding its breath as the moment stretched.

Dabi pulled back, his forehead resting against yours for a moment. His breath ghosted over your lips as he muttered, “Happy New Year, doll.”

Before you could respond, Toga’s delighted giggles shattered the moment. “Dabi kissed Y/N! I knew he would!” she crowed, clapping her hands in glee.

Twice let out a loud, exaggerated whistle. “Didn’t see that coming. Well, maybe I did. No, I definitely didn’t!”

Even Shigaraki seemed momentarily stunned, though he quickly muttered something about idiots and looked away.

Spinner groaned, muttering something about how he couldn’t believe he was spending his New Year with these people.

Compress raised a toast to the unexpected romance, and Twice fumbled with the camera app on his phone to snap a blurry picture.

But none of it mattered.

All that existed in that moment was the way Dabi looked at you as though the world had narrowed to just the two of you.

“Alright, show’s over,” the black-haired man groaned, shooting a pointed glare at Toga before grabbing your wrist and tugging you toward the door, leading you straight to his bedroom.

The night passed in a blur of heated whispers and shared warmth, his body a steady presence against yours as you made love for hours. The two of you stayed wrapped around each other long after the world outside went quiet. Dabi’s arm draped over your waist, his breath steady and warm against your shoulder. Neither of you spoke, content to exist in the stillness, in the rare, fragile peace of the moment.

The memory still lived in your heart, as vivid and searing as if it had happened yesterday. The hideout filled with laughter and chaos, Toga’s delighted clapping, Twice’s off-key singing, and the way Dabi’s lips pressed against yours at the stroke of midnight - it was a fleeting moment of happiness in a world that had given you so little.

But that was last year. That New Year’s Eve was the last you all spent together.

Everything changed after that night. The war came, tearing through your lives like a storm, leaving devastation in its wake. Too many lives were claimed, too many futures snuffed out. The League, the world, you - it all fractured, irreparably changed by the battles fought and the losses endured.

Now, you sat cross-legged in the grass, the late afternoon sun warm against your shoulders. A simple summer dress clung to your frame, and a gentle breeze whispered through the trees, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers. In your lap was a handmade bowl of soba, steam curling lazily into the air.

“I started a job last week,” you said, your voice soft but steady. “It’s nothing glamorous, just working in the back of a diner. Washing dishes, peeling vegetables, that sort of thing. It’s hard, y’know? People don’t exactly trust someone with a past like mine.” You picked at the soba with your chopsticks, twirling the noodles idly. “People stare. They always do. Even when they don’t recognize me, they can tell there’s something off, like they can smell the smoke that clings to me. I can’t blame them. It’s not like I’ll ever really blend in.” You laughed softly, though the sound was hollow. “It’s funny,” you continued, wiping your cheek where a tear had fallen unnoticed. “The normal life we used to joke about… it’s so much harder than I thought it’d be. People don’t smile much, not really. And some days, it’s like I’m invisible. Maybe it’s better that way.”

You held the bowl tighter, your knuckles white against the handmade ceramic. “I brought this for you,” you offered, shifting slightly to place the bowl in the grass. “You probably would’ve made some snarky comment about how it’s not your style, but I thought… I thought you might like it anyway.”

The words caught in your throat, and before you could stop them, the tears came - hot and relentless, spilling down your cheeks as though the dam you’d built over the past year had finally broken. You didn’t bother wiping them away. What was the point?

It took everything in you to get here. Reaching out to the Todoroki family - people you’d once thought of as enemies - had been harder than you could have imagined. But you needed to know where he was, where they’d laid him to rest. You couldn’t keep carrying the weight of his absence without a place to grieve.

The breeze shifted, and for a moment, it seemed to carry a faint, fleeting scent of fire - charcoal and smoke. It wrapped around you like an embrace, stirring the strands of your hair. It was fleeting, barely there, but it made you pause. Slowly, your lips curved into a small, trembling smile. “You’re listening, aren’t you?” you whispered, wiping at your face. “You always were good at pretending not to care.”

What you didn’t know - what you couldn’t know - was that he was sitting right there, just as you’d imagined. His spirit leaned against the gravestone, one knee drawn up, his chin resting lazily on it. He was watching you, his pale eyes filled with a mixture of longing and sorrow. He reached out, his fingers ghosting over your cheek, aching to wipe away your tears. But it was futile, of course. You were here, in the world of the living, and he was there, trapped in the world of the dead. Dabi whispered, “Stop crying, doll. You’ll ruin your pretty face.” But the words faded into the breeze, unheard and unspoken.

He watched you carefully: the way your hands trembled slightly as you set the bowl down, the way your lips quivered as you spoke his name, the way your tears reflected the light of the setting sun.

You couldn’t see the way his jaw clenched, the frustration in his eyes as his hand passed through you like mist. The space between your worlds was too vast, and all he could do was sit and observe.

You didn’t know he was there, couldn’t feel the weight of his gaze or the ghostly touch of his hand. “I miss you,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you rested a hand on the cold stone. “Every day, Touya.”

He closed his eyes, his head tilting back against the gravestone as if to steady himself. The scars on his face softened in the glow of the afternoon sun, and for a moment, he looked almost at peace. “I miss you too,” he whispered, though the words were meant only for himself.

The sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting long shadows across the cemetery. Your fingers brushed over the gravestone, tracing the letters carved into the cold stone: Touya Todoroki. The breeze swirled again, wrapping around you like an embrace. It felt warm, comforting, almost like him.

“I miss all of you. Toga, Tomura… even Twice and his constant grumbling.” You laughed weakly, but the sound was hollow. “The world’s quieter now, but it doesn’t feel better. It feels empty.” And with that, you sobbed more. “I’m sorry,” you choked out, your voice trembling. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more. I’m sorry I couldn’t save any of you. I’m so fucking sorry…”

When you finally stood and brushed the grass from your dress, you glanced back at the tombstone one last time. “I’ll keep going,” you whispered, your voice shaky but resolute. “For you. For all of you. I promise. I promise I won’t let go. I’ll never forget you. And you guys will always live in my heart.”

He watched you turn to leave, his gaze lingering on you as if memorizing every detail - the way the sunlight caught the strands of your hair, the way your shoulders straightened even under the weight of your grief, and a faint smile crossed his lips as his scarred hand rested on the top of the tombstone. “We all know that, doll,” he murmured, his voice soft and low. “Live the life we weren’t destined to have. And don’t forget - I’ll love you forever.”

As the wind swept through the graveyard once more, Dabi’s spirit winnowed like mist under the light of a chilly morning, fading into the air that surrounded you. And a promise, carried on the breeze, was as eternal as the love he left behind.

tagging: @pixelcafe-network

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aventurineswife · 2 months ago

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you said you would do it if someone requested soooo……

Could you make a part 2 of the Pirate!Aventurine x Mermaid!Reader ? Do what you want I just want a part 2 honestly hehe

please please please please please please please please please please please please Please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please Please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please

Compass of the Heart

Summary: Aventurine, a cunning pirate with a taste for risk, finds himself haunted by the memory of a mermaid who once sang him into peril. When you reappear, drawn by a shared pull neither of you fully understands, an unlikely partnership forms. As you navigate the open seas together—he on his ship, you alongside it—the lines between adventure, freedom, and love begin to blur. In each other, you uncover the courage to face the past and chart a new course, proving that even the most restless souls can find their anchor.

Tags: Pirate!Aventurine x Mermaid!Reader, Romance, Found Family, Pirate/Mermaid Dynamic, Slow Burn, Emotional Healing, Forbidden Love, Adventure and Freedom, Soft Moments Amid Danger.

Warnings: Mild references to past trauma and betrayal, Brief mentions of danger at sea, Emotional vulnerability and introspection.

A/N: I DID NOT EXPECT PEOPLE TO ACTUALLY LIKE THAT FIC WTFF!! 😭😭

[Part 1]

The cove was quiet, save for the rhythmic lapping of waves against the rocks. Aventurine stood where you’d last disappeared, his elaborate coat billowing slightly in the sea breeze. He turned the glowing blue gemstone on his belt absentmindedly, the faint light reflecting in his eyes. Months had passed since he let you go, and yet, the memory of your voice haunted him.

Perhaps it was foolish to hope the sea might bring you back. But Aventurine had always been a gambler, and this was a wager he was willing to take.

He didn’t have to wait long.

A hauntingly familiar melody rose from the depths, weaving through the salty air and settling over the cove like a mermaid’s lullaby. Aventurine’s heart leapt, though he schooled his features into their usual mask of cool confidence. The water shimmered, glowing faintly under the moonlight, and then you emerged—graceful and radiant, your tail catching the silver light.

"You’re late," Aventurine drawled, tilting his hat. His smirk softened as he caught your eye. "I was beginning to think you’d forgotten me."

You floated closer, your expression unreadable. "And yet you stayed here, waiting. Why?"

He chuckled, stepping closer to the edge of the rocky shore. "Why does anyone gamble? For the thrill, of course." He paused, letting his gaze linger on you. "And perhaps... because I couldn’t quite forget you either."

You tilted your head, a small smile curving your lips. "Careful, pirate. I might think you’re getting sentimental."

"Sentimental?" He placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. "Perish the thought. I’m merely staking my claim on the most intriguing treasure the sea has ever offered."

Your laugh was soft, musical—a sound he realized he’d missed more than he’d admit.

The days that followed were a strange kind of bliss. You joined Aventurine aboard his ship, though you kept mostly to the water, swimming alongside the vessel. His crew, wary at first, quickly warmed to your presence. You warned them of storms and hidden reefs, and in return, they treated you as one of their own, tossing you trinkets and sharing stories from the deck.

Aventurine, true to form, kept his cards close to his chest. He entertained you with his wit and charm, though every so often, his gaze betrayed something deeper.

One evening, as the ship rested in calm waters, Aventurine found you perched on the railing, your tail trailing in the sea. The moonlight painted you in silver and gold, and for once, he found himself at a loss for words.

"You’re quiet tonight," you observed, glancing at him.

"Just thinking," he replied, leaning against the railing beside you.

"About what?"

He hesitated, then let out a soft laugh. "About how much trouble you’ve caused me. First luring my ship into a trap, and now... this."

You arched a brow. "This?"

"This," he repeated, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. "You’ve gone and made me care, haven’t you?"

Your laughter was soft but genuine, and for a moment, Aventurine forgot the weight of his past.

Weeks turned into months, and together you charted a new course—not for treasure or conquest, but for freedom. Aventurine’s ship became a sanctuary, a place where neither the laws of men nor the bindings of the sea could reach you.

Over time, your relationship deepened. Aventurine, ever the enigma, began to let his walls down, sharing stories of his past—of loss, betrayal, and the relentless drive to survive. In return, you shared your own tales, of the sea’s cruel bindings and the song that had once been your only solace.

"You’re not the man I thought you were," you said one evening, your voice soft.

"And what man did you think I was?" he asked, his tone light but his eyes searching.

"A villain," you replied, meeting his gaze. "But you’re not. You’re just... lost."

He smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "And what does that make you, then? My compass?"

"Maybe," you said, your smile mirroring his. "If you’ll let me."

Their legend grew, whispered in taverns and sung by sailors. The pirate with the jeweled eyepatch and the mermaid with the haunting voice, defying the odds and carving their own path across the waves.

Together, they became a force to be reckoned with—a pair bound not by chains, but by choice. Aventurine, the gambler who had always played to win, had finally found a game worth staying in. And you, the mermaid who once sang of loss and betrayal, had found a home beyond the sea.

In the end, it wasn’t the ocean or the treasures that defined their story. It was the gamble they’d taken on each other—and the happiness they’d found in the unlikeliest of places.

Your welcome 😇💖

#x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #pirate!aventurine x mermaid!reader #romance #found family #pirate/mermaid dynamics #slow burn #emotional healing #forebidden love #adventure and freedom #soft moments amid danger

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felassan · 11 months ago

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Letters from Lovers

Transcriptions of the letters from the various gear store items. under cut for length.

Isabela:

“My dear Hawke, Do you know anyone with a flock of parrots? I'm trying to cheat on a bet with Varric and the stakes are exceedingly high. If you help me, I shall take you to that breathtaking beach you so crave. Free of ancient horrors, too. I think. I'd hate to take respite from all my adventures, but there are other ways to make the heart flutter. In fact I'm already imagining a few. Aren't you? Sailing there can be fatal, but Admiral Isabela will keep you safe. Are you interested? I would love to see you again. Yours, Isabela”

Morrigan:

“My love, Now before that grin reaches your ears, perish the thought that this letter was my idea. 'Tis Kieran who would not give me peace until I wrote to ask how you are faring. Regale us, if you please, with another of your tales that I might read to him in bed. He is particularly fond of those wherein you spur mischief whilst you save the day. Thank you for your most delightful gifts. I shall make certain to wear them the next time you come home. Dream of me until then, my Hero of Ferelden, and have a care. Morrigan”

Dorian:

“My dearest Amatus, Home is ever as it was: a glittering whirl of dancing, politics, and murder. I'm used to people staring daggers at me - I quite relish it, actually - but the glares seem to possess a new intensity since my return to Tevinter. Do they disapprove of House Pavus freeing its slaves while I work in the Magisterium to end slavery across Tevinter? Perhaps they simply covet my cheekbones, and who could blame them? Real reform will take time, but we're making inroads. I miss you terribly, Amatus, perhaps almost as much as you miss me. I treasure you and your belief in my work here. Yours always, Dorian P.S. I wouldn't take it amiss if you might send me another barrel of that dreadful Fereldan beer?”

Alistair:

“My love, How are you? Is it true that you recently killed darkspawn with only a mean glare and a pointy stick? Ferelden is ablaze with this rumor! You do give people so much hope. Tales of your heroism never fail to astonish me and almost ease the pain of going to sleep without you by my side. Almost. I can't wait to be with you again. I'd bring you some roses, you could give me a tour of the keep, we'd drink with the new recruits and then cuddle in a tent. Without the new recruits! Tent time is just for the two of us. I want to make that clear. Now excuse me while I practice my death glare and rummage through the dog's stash of sticks. I love you. Yours forever, Alistair.”

The Iron Bull:

“Kadan, You won’t believe what I did today. I got a guy to flip! Twice! So yes, all is well. Except for all the demons. And this whole thing in which I’m far away from the love of my life. Really keeps me up at night. Anyway, you hearing these rumors of a dragon on the loose? Yeah! The boys and I are on its trail. Last I heard, it was flying toward the Frostback Mountains. Can you join us? I hope you’re not uh… all tied up. Don’t worry, I’m fairly certain it’s not a Ben-Hassrath trap. And if it is, you know I’m prepared. Ataash varin kata! I love you, Kadan. See you soon. The Iron Bull.”

Tali:

“By the way, I left something for you up in your cabin. Go have a look.” - Tali’Zorah --- “Dear Shepard, As you may remember, I presented this picture frame to you as a gift on the Normandy. It was my way of expressing my admiration for you and our bond as comrades-in-arms. On the back of the metal frame, I've emblazoned a promise that will never fade - 'Shepard, wherever you go, I'm with you.' I know it's not much, but...this is what I look like under the mask. I'm sorry if it's not what you were expecting. I know Quarian faces can be a bit...different. Every time you look at my picture, I hope you will be reminded of our adventures on the Normandy, from our battles against the Reapers to our intimate conversations in the privacy of our quarters. I am not one to express my emotions openly, but thank you for being my friend, my confidante, and my inspiration. I look forward to many more adventures together. Keelah se’lai, Tali’Zorah”

Another letter from Tali:

"Whatever the galaxy throws at us, I'll be at your side. - Tali" --- "Shepard It's been a while since I last struggled to sleep. You must be dreaming of falling through a fish tank or starring in a hanar vid? I can hear you muttering about jellyfish. It's funny. I've spent my whole life hoping for the future, but these days nothing scares me more. Keelah, why can't we stop time? Even for just a little bit? No war, no Reapers, nobody counting on us. Just you and me, as free as the dust in the solar wind. When this is all over, will you settle down on Rannoch with me? I love you. - Tali"

Bonus:

Shepard's N7 acceptance letter, from Anderson:

“N7 Congratulations on your graduation From Captain David Anderson Shepard, When I graduated from the N7 program I had the honor of meeting Admiral Grissom, the man who inspired me to pursue a career in the service, and I never thought I’d feel prouder in my life. I was mistaken. Don’t get me wrong, it was a big day. An important day. But there’s something about welcoming driven young people like yourself into the ranks that’s also pretty damn satisfying. Your distinguished service record may have gotten you into this program - but it was your courage, integrity, and tenacity that’s enabled you to join an elite few. You represent the best of humanity, and I feel certain you’ll make the galaxy a better place. And I’m not the only one who feels this way. Becoming an N7 means the entire Systems Alliance is telling you one thing - we believe in you. Let me end by saying this. Welcome to the team Shepard. We know you won’t let us down. David Anderson Systems Alliance Interplanetary Combatives Academy N7 N7 Acceptance Letter”

#dragon age #bioware #morrigan #queen of my heart #feels #video games #alistair theirin #fav warden #alcohol cw #long post #longpost #mass effect #gpoy #more of these pls 🥺#maybe.. a fenris one...? 👉👈#(if i missed any of these letters #pls let me know)

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 6 months ago

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Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Epilogue: It’s Not Over ‘Til You’re Underground]

A/N: We've finally reached the end of the Oregon Trail, besties!!! Enjoy this one last treat to celebrate the conclusion of Martyrs 🥰

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon™️, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes.

Both the series title and epilogue title are lyrics from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Word count: 4.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Autumn is the harvest, ripping up roots, preparing for the starving time of winter, and so you step through the threshold of your new life as the world is ending again.

“I knew the chances,” Sophie says when you tell her what happened; but she can’t look at you, because of course she wishes it was Rio who made it to Odessa instead, and you don’t blame her. She breaks down and leaves the house, and you sit there—silent, sorry, self-loathing—for a long time with Rio’s weeping parents and Aegon’s arm draped across the back of your chair. But then Sophie comes back inside, and through tears she says it’s nice to meet you in person at last, and then she asks if you’d like to hold Rio’s son.

Here it is commonplace to see M16s and AR-15s, marijuana growing in gardens, a myriad of flags flying from homes—Don’t Tread On Me, Trump 2024, American flags, rainbow flags, porcupines of the Libertarian Party—and order is maintained by an elected council of longtime Odessa residents. For anyone to be allowed into the community, somebody already here must take responsibility for them, and so the seven of you—eight, counting Ice—spend the first few months sleeping on Rio’s parents’ living room floor and eating meals out of their cellar, enough self-stable food to last for years. You join the construction crew and help build houses, Cregan cuts down trees and fishes and hunts, Helaena shows Aegon how to garden and Sophie teaches Luke to bake bread. There are no doctors here, but there are several unlicensed midwives and a veterinarian named Ian Whitted. Rhaena studies under him—attending every appointment and taking copious notes in the spider notebook Helaena gifts her, sharing what she learned from Aemond—and before long her sutures are quicker and cleaner than Ian’s. Daeron, considered too young and inexperienced for the most dangerous work, is posted with his compound bow inside the village to serve as a guard. He resents this until he realizes there are far more women to flirt with here than out in the forest where wolves and bears prowl and the dead rove with incurable hunger.

You work from dawn to sunset; you work so you have no time to think. The baby doesn’t feel real, and neither does Aemond being gone, and the future is so unimaginable you’d rather not try to imagine it at all. Because you’re a good shot, they want you for patrols and raids of nearby towns to search for supplies, and you take every shift you’re offered until Rhaena says you have to stop. She tells you that each time you leave, Aegon watches the door until you walk through it again, that it’s not good for him, that it’s not good for you either. She says you can’t keep running from what’s happened.

“I’m not trying to run away,” you tell her where she’s cornered you by one of the wells, lilac twilight sky and glimmers of stars, hoots of owls and children laughing as they roast marshmallows over crackling fires. “I’m trying to find my way through.”

“Fine,” Rhaena replies firmly, no room for argument. “But you’re going to do that in here where it’s safe.”

The new houses have wooden walls and kitchen fireplaces made of stones, beds with feather mattresses, plots for gardens and pens for ducks, chickens, pigs, sheep, goats, turkeys, cattle. Helaena and Cregan move into one cabin, Rhaena and Luke share another, and you have the last to yourself, the first time you’ve ever lived alone. Aegon and Daeron float around between the houses, more often than not ending up in yours as the sun is dipping below the tree line into the west, Daeron carving wooden cutlery with a hunting knife, Aegon cuddling with Ice on the deerskin rug, luring you into disastrous baking attempts and games of Uno and telling stories about Washington D.C., Djibouti, Key West, Corpus Christi, Chinhae, Diego Garcia, Saratoga Springs before the dead began to walk.

Thanksgiving dinner is at Rio’s parents’ house, Sophie’s baby sound asleep in his blue sling, candles flickering and Ice lying beneath the table to gulp down scraps that fall to the floor: roasted turkey, hazelnut stuffing, buttered carrots, mashed potatoes, pickled beets, salad with homemade ranch dressing, pumpkin pie for dessert.

“God, I miss chilidogs,” Aegon mutters beside you, and you laugh—a real laugh, loud and helpless, a lightness flooding into your arteries and the marrow of your bones—for the first time since Aemond died.

“You have to try this,” Sophie says, pouring you a small glass of moonshine distilled with apples and cherries and cinnamon. Everybody else has already had a taste except Aegon. He doesn’t drink anymore, doesn’t smoke the weed people grow here, only keeps a few tobacco plants in your garden to enjoy on rare occasions.

“I can’t,” you tell Sophie, staring at the amber-colored moonshine. You are over three months along and will be showing soon. It materializes all at once, shifts from a hazy apparition to something in full focus: next Thanksgiving you will have a fatherless infant of your own.

Sophie is puzzled. The glass of moonshine waits untouched on the table. “Why not?”

“Because I’m pregnant,” you say.

Aegon chokes on his pumpkin pie. “You’re what?!”

And everyone except Helaena drops their forks and leaps up to engulf you: How long have you known? How far along are you? Why didn’t you tell us? How can we help?

You stop lifting heavy things and stay off of ladders. Helaena brings you kale and mushrooms, Sophie knits you baby clothes, Rio’s mom makes you candles infused with essential oils, lavender, chamomile, ginger, and you lie and say they make a difference. Aegon helps you build a crib; you don’t need his help, but still, he insists. Smiling to himself, he etches two words into the headboard: Mini Chips. Wheat is planted in the fields to the north of the village. Scrap metal is scavenged for the blacksmiths to melt down to make nails and bullets. You learn to sweeten desserts with honey instead of sugar and to hold your hand flat when you feed the baby goats so they won’t nibble your fingers. You wait for winter to thaw and summer to come back around again.

It is what people would call a bad birth: hemorrhaging and lots of stitches, Rhaena squinting in the glow of the flashlights trying to piece you back together, rain outside and no lidocaine. You can’t stop crying. You feel like you’re going to die, and you’re shaking too badly to hold your own child, and you want Aemond. He would know what to do, he would know how to make the world go quiet. And the truth that he will never meet his daughter hits you over and over again like cold lethal waves, like bullets that pierce the heart.

Aegon is here instead, and you want to cling to him but you can’t; if all the others could die, so can he. But even when you look away from him to stare at the wall he stays, his hand clutching yours and never complaining even when you squeeze it hard enough to leave bruises that paint him maroon and indigo, tilting glasses filled with fresh pomegranate juice against your lips, asking Rhaena and Ian what you will need from him as you recover. Slowly the house empties and everyone goes home, but Aegon stays through the night and never leaves again.

Harmony cries a lot, as if she already knows she’s lost someone. She has trouble nursing and only sleeps for a few hours at a time. People are always coming in and out of the house: Sophie with handknit clothes and blankets for the baby, Helaena with flowers and fruit and vegetables, Rhaena with loaves of Luke’s fresh-baked bread, Cregan with firewood. At first Aegon is better with Harmony than you are. You love her, of course, and you mourn for the life you cannot give her; but you can’t shake the feeling that someone left her on your doorstep, this fragile bewildering creature you are so unequipped to soothe. Yet Aegon picks her up and she stops crying. He carries her around the house and murmurs nonsense—rules of golf, sailing knots—and she gazes up at him mesmerized; and in the peace that grows from him like weeds, wild and inevitable, you can heal.

Aegon helps you walk for the first week after the birth. He brings you meals, overflowing plates you can never finish. He respectfully averts his eyes when you nurse the baby and when he passes the bedroom as you’re changing clothes, slowly and inelegantly, every muscle feeling shredded. He falls exhausted into bed beside you with his arms crossed over his chest so he won’t reach for you in his sleep. You keep waiting for him to start craving marijuana and moonshine, to meet someone who makes him wayward again while you are left here alone, morose and unglamorous and bleeding. You care about Aegon—entirely, violently—but you are convinced you’ll never love a man again. Perhaps love is something that is always doomed to be broken, ruinous, poisoned.

When Harmony is about four months old, you begin to see Aegon differently. You can’t stop staring at the way his hair shags over his eyes when he’s bent low in the garden, you hide behind walls and listen each time you catch him singing to himself, you feel a dark desperate sense of loss when other women flirt with him, though Aegon is never more than polite in return. You find excuses to touch him, and he always acquiesces: Let me bandage the cuts on your hands, let me dab honey on your sunburn.

One night you wake to find Aegon with Harmony in the kitchen, humming and rocking her in his arms as he paces back and forth across the wood floor in his bare feet, the full moon radiant through the window, the fireplace crackling. He glances over when he notices you standing in the doorway and says: “I think this is the only thing I’ve ever been good at.”

“Aegon?”

“Yeah, Chips.”

“I’m in love with you.”

At first he is startled, and then he smiles in the firelight, a slow mischievous curve of the lips that puts stars in his eyes and shows his teeth. “Took you long enough.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Nearly ten years ago, you were learning how to be a builder at Class A Technical School in Gulfport, Mississippi, salt and sun and sweet tea and humidity that lies heavy like a second skin you can’t shed. Today you are hammering nails into boards that will be a wall of the new meeting house, twice the square footage of the old one. The community here keeps growing.

“Watch out for your fingers, Zack Attack.”

Zack looks over at you. He’s a kid, nineteen, and he’s only been here a week. He left Beaumont, Texas with a group of thirty people, one of them the cousin of a council member here. Twelve were left when they arrived. “Huh?”

“You’re holding the nail too close to the bottom,” you say. “If you swing the hammer and miss—and you will miss, everyone does sometimes, even me—you’ll crush your fingers against the wood. But if you hold the nail up near the top, the hammer will kind of knock them out of the way as it comes down, and you won’t have to worry about Rhaena or Ian popping your bones back into place.”

“Oh, cool! Thanks!” Zack readjusts his hands. “Where’d you learn to do all this?”

“The Navy.”

“Right. That makes sense.” He gives you a crooked, conspiratorial grin. “I heard you’re a good shot.”

“I am, I guess.” You don’t do patrols anymore, but you’re on the list of people to call when there’s a security breach, and you go because you have to. If Odessa is ever overrun, that will be the end of the life you’ve made here. The last scare was two months ago, a hoard that wandered up from the south, probably out of Klamath Falls. Someone knocked and you answered, leaving Aegon standing in the doorway with troubled eyes, Noah in his arms asking: Where Mama go? And Aegon had told him She’ll be back soon, buddy, but of course no one had known if that was true.

Now Zack says admiringly: “A real killer.”

You smile and give him a slap on the shoulder as you start climbing down the ladder. “I’d rather be a builder.”

“You heading out?”

“Yeah, my kids probably miss me.”

“See ya tomorrow. Bring more of Aegon’s raspberry crumb muffins.”

You laugh. “If there are any left.”

Down on the ground, bumblebees orbit tufts of wildflowers and cats prowl for mice. Sitting cross-legged on the grass are kids rubbing nails against bars of goat milk soap; it makes them go into the wood easier. They play the same way you did as a child: in the dirt, in the wild, tracking animals and building dams in the creek. They wave as you pass by. Everyone knows each other here. Everyone knows what you can do with the Beretta M9 in your holster.

Beside one of the wells, Daeron is helping a flock of tittering, blushing women pull up their buckets and plucking stray blades of grass and pine needles out of their hair. He is easily the most eligible bachelor in Odessa, and in no hurry to take himself off the market. By the schoolhouse, two teenagers are petting Ice as they listen to Aegon’s pink Sony Walkman and rap along to Gold Digger: “You will see him on tv, any given Sunday, win the Super Bowl and drive off in a Hyundai…”

But at Sophie’s house, the song you hear is Darius Rucker’s Wagon Wheel, drifting from a battery-powered boombox containing one of Rio’s dad’s cassette tapes. Aegon is already here and dusted with earth, your children clamoring around his legs as he chats with Sophie at the edge of the garden: zucchini, snap peas, tomatoes, strawberries, spinach, potatoes, cucumbers, carrots, kale. When Aegon sees you, he lights up and says to the kids: “Look! Look who’s here!” And you crouch down and open your arms so you can catch all three of them as they barrel into you on small, wobbly legs.

The second birth was much easier, the third only lasted an afternoon. Opal, three years old, is named after a gemstone that Sophie told you symbolizes hope and clarity; Noah, two and with unruly blonde hair like Aegon’s, shares a name with the man who started over when the world flooded and all the generations before were lost. You pick him up before he can trip over his own feet.

“Mama, come see!” Harmony shouts, grabbing your free hand and dragging you to a hutch full of fluffy, multicolored rabbits. Aegon is walking over to join you, his hands in his pockets and a soft smile on his lips, long blonde hair and stubbled cheeks.

“Are these the new meat rabbits?” you say without thinking, and Aegon widens his eyes at you.

Harmony peers up with a worried frown. She’s getting too smart to be shielded from such harsh realities. “Why did you call them meat rabbits?”

Aegon swoops Harmony off the ground to distract her. “Because they’re so excited to meet you!” he says as she giggles and kicks through open air.

“What are their names?” you ask to change the subject.

“Arrax,” Opal says in her toddler lisp, pointing to a grey one. And then, indicating a rabbit with long, reddish-tan fur: “Morning.”

“Those are such nice names!” you gush, a bit perplexed. Children have a certain mystery to them, one foot still in the Great Beyond, wherever souls wait to be born and reunited.

“And this one is Sunfyre,” Harmony announces proudly, reaching through the wire to scratch its straw-colored coat.

“Sunfyre?!” Aegon says. “Well now you’re just making shit up.” A pause. “Stuff. You’re making stuff up.”

“And Sunfyre is married to Dreamfyre.”

“Cute,” Aegon says. “Incestuous, but cute.”

“The post-apocalypse dating pool is limited,” you remind him.

“Have you met the Texas people yet?” Sophie asks you as she wanders over to the hutch in a handknit yellow dress, wearing elephant earrings that Rio once mailed home to her from Djibouti.

“Yeah, some of them are working on the meeting house. They seem really nice. And apparently they know how to barbeque, so that’s exciting. New recipes!”

Sophie smirks. “When they dropped by to introduce themselves, I had to have the whole conversation again.”

“Well…you did name your kid Otter.”

“Wait, wait, hold on,” Sophie says, chuckling, showing her palms. “I did not name him Otter.”

“You named him Bryan Otter Osorio. And you call him Otter.”

“Because he’s a little kid and it’s a perfectly fine nickname for now! And then when he’s older…you know…he can decide who he wants to be.”

You smile. “Sure.”

“I think it’s great, personally,” Aegon says. “I’m hoping I’ll get to name my next one Softshell Turtle.”

“Absolutely,” you deadpan. “And what if it’s a girl?”

“Softshell Turtle is obviously unisex.”

Sophie is laughing and shaking her head. “I hate you guys.”

Helaena and Cregan arrive to pick up their children, two sets of twins, all named after species of butterflies: Skipper, Adonis, Tiger, Sara. Rio’s parents bring them outside to the garden to be collected. They and Sophie like to keep the house full of children, especially now that Otter is getting older. And when they need meat or firewood or their roof patched, they know who to ask.

“I’m so sorry,” Sophie tells Helaena and Cregan as they wrangle their brood. “I’m mortified. Adonis ate Harmony’s oatmeal raisin cookie and made her cry, so Otter smacked him in the head with his golf club.” Aegon has carved miniature, lightweight clubs out of pine wood for each of the children; they zip around putting acorns and walnuts. “Adonis was freaked out but I think he’s fine now. I couldn’t find a bruise or anything. Again, I’m so, so, so sorry.”

“You okay, buckaroo?” Cregan asks, and his oldest son—brunette man bun, already pestering his dad to take him hunting—nods adamantly.

“Duh. It didn’t even hurt.”

Cregan guffaws and turns back to Sophie. “See? No harm done.”

Otter trots out of the house, rubbing his eyes like he just woke up from a nap. Harmony immediately runs over to hug him. He’s already six inches taller than her and is always giving her gifts that end up on the fireplace mantle at your house: flecks of quartz, pinecones, bracelets woven from buttercups.

Sophie asks Otter: “Did you think about what you did earlier?”

“Yeah,” he replies cavalierly.

“Would you do it again?”

“Probably.”

“Oh dear,” Sophie exhales, exasperated.

You beam down at Otter. “He’s exactly like Rio.”

“Yeah,” Sophie says wistfully, combing her fingers through his dark curly hair. “He really is.”

Rhaena and Luke happen to be strolling by and stop to say hello. Luke teaches English classes at the schoolhouse, founded the Cultural Preservation Committee, and writes and directs a new play each month. When he is in the lull between original ideas, he draws from pre-zombie pop culture. The June production is Free Britney.

“Hi!” Rhaena says, waving. “Are we still on for dinner tonight?” All the adults offer greetings and confirm they’ll swing by her and Luke’s cabin in a few hours. Then Rhaena shields her eyes from the sun as she sighs incredulously. “Do you realize there are ten women due in the next two weeks? I spend all day rushing around because they’re panicking about Braxton Hicks contractions. If I get one full night’s sleep between now and mid-July, it’ll be a miracle. Am I the only human alive who knows how to use the rhythm method? I explain it! I give lessons!”

You laugh and say: “I think people just really want babies, Rhaena.”

“They’re so sweet,” Helaena coos as she snuggles Sara against her chest.

“Gotta repopulate the planet,” Cregan adds.

Rhaena is disturbed. “I don’t feel ready for that.”

“Totally cool,” you assure her. “Helaena and I are keeping the average up.”

That night, logs pop and hiss in the fireplace and wind howls outside through the forest. On the walls are photographs of Aemond and Helaena and Daeron, drawings that the children have scribbled of you and Aegon. Propped in one corner of the living room is Aegon’s acoustic guitar; Harmony’s current favorite song for him to play is Big Girls Don’t Cry, though a slightly censored version of Fergalicious is a close second. Tomorrow is Aegon’s birthday. You have a cake hidden in one of the kitchen cabinets—cinnamon, honey, buttercream frosting—that you baked this morning before leaving for the construction site, along with 35 small homemade candles dyed green with chamomile. Every year he assumes you’ve forgotten, but you never do. You’re so thankful he was born. You are eternally finding new ways to convince him of this.

All five of you cuddle up in the big bed for story time. You begin as you always do, struggling to capture the kids’ attention as they crawl around giggling and rolling on top of each other: “Hey, hey, everyone look at me. You remember what we say.” Harmony knows this part my heart, Opal has the words mostly right, Noah gives it a solid effort as he mauls on a teddy bear Sophie knitted for him. “You’re beautiful. I love you. You’re doing the right thing.”

“What story should Mama tell tonight, huh?” Aegon asks as you open the book of fairytales borrowed from the makeshift community library, another one of Luke’s projects. “The Little Mermaid, Goldilocks and the Three Bears, Beauty and the Beast…oh wait, I think I might be in that one…”

Harmony says to you: “Tell the story about how Aemond saved us from the tower.”

Children understand death here. People get infections, people succumb to cancer or heart attacks or strokes or diabetes, people go out on raids or patrols and never come back, one man contracted rabies from a bat bite and was—at his request—euthanized via gunshot. Harmony is aware she had a father before Aegon, but that he had to go to heaven early, and so Aegon is her father now and loves her completely. She knows Aemond’s face from the photographs Helaena took from the beach house on the Pacific Ocean. She knows the kind of person he was from the stories she’s been told. Harmony envisions a fantastical castle keep instead of a stark metal transmission tower draped in dead wires, and she’s a bit unclear on the chronology of when she entered the picture, but she has heard about the journey to Odessa. Aegon’s map, annotated with glittery green gel pen ink, hangs on the kitchen wall.

You close the book, looking at Harmony: your hair, Aemond’s eyes. “Okay. I can tell that one.”

“Mama…” Her little forehead crinkles, questions she is at last getting old enough to start asking. “Why do some people have to go to heaven before they’re old?”

You hesitate, trying to decide how to explain; and now embers are glowing hot and scarring in your throat. It’s a fire that cools and rekindles but never burns out. Aegon speaks instead. “Because they’re heroes, Mini Chips,” he says gently. “They go to heaven so other people get to stay here longer. Aemond went to heaven so you and your mom could live here in Odessa with me.”

“So Otter’s daddy was a hero too?”

Aegon leans down to kiss the top of her head, his eyes shining. “Yeah. Exactly.”

Not just a hero, you think. A martyr. Someone who dies for a cause.

Harmony is patting your arm with her tiny outstretched hand. “The tower, Mama. Tell us about the tower.”

Now you are there again with Rio: sixty feet off the ground and clinging to metal beams hot enough to put blisters on your palms, cascading June sunlight and wild emerald fields, blood and madness behind you, the mirage of Oregon ahead, believing without reason that someone out there will save you.

And they will; they will.

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cottonlemonade · 5 months ago

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Accidental Confession

word count: 1228 || avg. reading time: 5 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Nishinoya x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: spoilers

request: watching Goosebumps, having caramel popcorn while dressed as a pirate (accidental confession) with Noya || fluffy, accidental confession with Noya

Noya leaned closer to the bowl and took a deep, happy sniff of the soup. It was pouring outside and originally he wanted to meet a few new friends to go fishing again but as adventurous as he was, he didn’t feel like catching a cold along with the fish. So, he resigned himself to sitting in the small restaurant he found a few days ago, enjoying a slow afternoon with you and his latest travel companion, Saruta. The little seaside town he had settled in for the time being was a narrow one like someone had pushed a bunch of houses as close to the shore as possible to save space. No building was higher than two stories, a stark contrast to the many impressive metropoles he had seen during his world tour so far. He usually never spent more than a week in one place. He wanted to see as much as possible after all before his sense of duty - as well as his parents - called him back to Japan. But here, in this tiny hamlet with nothing to do after 6 p.m., Noya stayed for almost a whole month now. And all because he met you the minute he stepped off the ferry. Much like his high school self he definitely still believed in love at first sight, however, the more he got to know you, the quicker he realized that none of what he had ever experienced with anyone in Miyagi came even close to how he felt about you.

You were daring and witty, strong and beautiful and if he could have proposed to you on that first night he would have. But if he learned anything in school that stuck it was that his previous approaches to flirting and dating weren’t exactly well-received and often described as “coming on too strong”. And since he didn’t want to mess up his chances under any circumstances, he resigned himself to pining and made a pact with himself instead. To pad his funds a bit he had joined some oyster shuckers and decided that once he found a pearl he’d confess. Unfortunately, he grossly overestimated how long it would take him to find one and chickened out immediately when a tiny pinkish thing rolled into his palm on the second day. Soon enough he carried around a small handful of them in an empty TicTac container. They weren’t worth much, all being roughly the size and shape of a corn of sushi rice but a local girl who was selling self-made jewelry turned them into a necklace in exchange for him manning her stall while she went to grab lunch.

You excused yourself to the bathroom, leaving the two young men behind. Noya already knew what was coming before his friend even started.

“Hope you realize, I feel myself age while I‘m waiting for you to make a move.“, Saruta said.

“I‘ll do it soon.“, Noya replied automatically as he looked at his almost empty bowl, considering ordering seconds.

The other raised a highly doubtful brow, “Now, where have I heard this before? Oh yeah. You, last week. Come on, it‘s not that deep. If she likes you back, great, if not, you just move on and will forget about her in no time.“

Noya glared at him, making Saruta raise his hands in defense, “Look, you have the necklace ready, it‘s her birthday tomorrow, probably some stars are aligning as well, just do it.“

“Right, I meant to ask you about something.” Noya reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavily crumpled piece of paper.

“What’s that?”

His friend smoothed out the note and skimmed the short text.

“Well, what does it look like?”

“Birthday wishes - but I’m not seeing any kind of confession here.”

Noya ignored him.

“Could you translate it for me?”

“Why? She knows Japanese.”

“I know, but I wanna do it in her native language and you’re the only one I can ask.”

“Have you heard of the internet?”, Saruta asked sarcastically, pushing the paper back across the table.

Noya waved him off. “I don’t trust online translations to make it sound natural. Plus, no program is gonna correct my pronunciation, hm?” He batted his eyes pleadingly and with pointed fingers gently slid the note to Saruta once again.

“Fine. But you’re paying for dessert.”

In all his time at school, Noya had never studied as hard as he did that night. Huddled together in the cramped hostel room they shared with 10 other guys, Noya and Saruta went through the note again and again until the latter threatened to smother Noya with a pillow if he repeated the words in his presence one more time.

The following morning the former libero made sure to dress in his best (aka cleanest) clothes and hurried to meet you outside at the pier as previously agreed.

His steps slowed when he spotted your chubby silhouette waiting. The morning air was icy even without much wind. Seagulls cawed sleepily as they patrolled the shore. The sun was just beginning to rise, coloring the horizon in tones of lavender and gold.

Noya reached into his jacket to double-check that the necklace and cheat sheet for his birthday wishes were in place.

“Y/n!”, he called and you turned around, giving him the most arresting smile.

“Yuu! Not gonna lie, I thought you overslept.”

“Not today.”, he laughed nervously and joined you at the railing that separated the street from the beach.

“I wasn’t sure why you wanted to meet so early but…”, you pointed towards the sun steadily climbing over the calm waves, “this is gorgeous.”

“Yeah…”, he said, most definitely not paying attention to the sunrise in the slightest.

When you caught him staring, he cleared his throat and pulled the little tule bag containing the necklace from his pocket. He held it out to you.

“For you.”, he added unnecessarily.

“Oh, thank you so much! You didn’t have to get me anything.”, you beamed at him and the cold October morning suddenly felt a whole lot warmer.

He took a deep breath and although stumbling over a few words here and there he recited his short speech.

“Happy birthday! I need you to know that from the moment I saw you, I knew I was in love. I can’t stop thinking about you and if you’ll have me, I’d love to be your boyfriend.”

Your jaw dropped, then you began to blush and finally you clutched his gift to your heart when he finished.

“I really like you, too!”, you replied in Japanese. Noya stiffened and his heart pounded in his ears.

“You what?”

“I really like you, too!”, you said again, a little quieter but still carrying the same enthusiasm, “And I’d love to be with you.”

The realization dawned in time with the sun. He didn’t know whether to kill Saruta or kiss him. It should have been obvious from that smile he gave him before bed.

With trembling fingers, he helped you put on the necklace, the different hues of the pearls shimmering in the golden gray morning light.

You hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward and closed the gap between you for your first kiss.

In every photo he took on his travels from this day on you were by his side, necklace and all.

a/n: That necklace 100% made an appearance on your wedding photo, too.

request for @mikayla1117

Thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to finally write for him! Also thank you so much for your kind words 🥹 I hope you enjoyed it!

for requests see here

#sunnys movie night #nishinoya x chubby reader #nishinoya fluff #nishinoya x reader #nishinoya yuu #haikyuu nishinoya #noya x reader #noya x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #chubby reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu x curvy reader

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autistichalsin · 1 year ago

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NO BUT LISTEN TO ME!!!

HALSIN'S FUCKING EPILOGUE KILLS ME! BECAUSE! Not only do you see how much he is healing, but you also see how much healing he still has left to do!!!

Take this line if the player joins him at the commune:

"Tell me... are you happy with the path we tread together? I took you from a life of high adventure, to one that can be described as anything but. I thought perhaps that seeing everyone once again, and hearing of all that they have been doing... it might awaken some regret, about the life we lead. You could have done anything, gone with anyone... yet you chose me."

That one statement conveys so much. So much doubt and insecurity. He still doesn't view himself as particularly worth settling down for; and in fact, secretly worries the player is (or will soon discover themselves to be) miserable at it. He has a remarkably modest nature, yes, but this is a step beyond. Even with the player's love and kindness, he is in a similar state to that first romance scene, where he thought one little mistake (wildshaping on accident) would make the player leave him forever. Here, too, he's terrified the player will discover the "truth", that they never actually wanted him, and might even leave him. :(

After the player reassures him:

"Forgive me. This past while has been so idyllic that I almost fear something must go wrong. A fear I shall overcome, trust me. We are amongst friends, in celebration."

"I almost fear something must go wrong."

People with PTSD experience this one a lot. Why are things going so well? What's about to go wrong? He acknowledges he will heal in time, but he still isn't there yet.

"I am glad to hear it. Forgive an old fool in need of a little reassurance. I am still expecting to stir from the dream."

Same as the above. He's waiting to find that none of it is real, that he's still trapped at the Grove in utter isolated misery.

Other dialogues, when meeting up with either a romanced player who didn't go with him, or with a friend player:

"Perhaps that is so for you, but for me? It may be that a peaceful life after so many years of tumult has made me sentimental."

Acknowledging the years of tumult, and the effect they had on him, while also noting the good changes the last six peaceful months have brought him.

"You are right, of course. I am accustomed to dwelling on the past, even when it brought me nothing but unhappiness. You changed that, and gave me the most precious of memories."

This one is one of the most profound of all, especially because Halsin, so many times, tells the player not to regret things, to focus on making a future together, etc. But when it comes to his own traumatic memories, he is still unable to stop dwelling on some of them- "even when it (brings him) nothing but unhappiness."

He's done so much healing in his six months at the commune; you can already tell what a new, happier person he is. He even brings up that his restless, roaming nature has settled now that he has a place he belongs. But you can also see where the traumas have left deeper scars on him that will take much, much longer to heal.

(... And this is why I will NEVER choose any dialogue option for the romanced epilogue EXCEPT FOR "I chose you for a reason, and have never looked back." This man deserves to hear it at least a dozen times a day for the rest of his life. :( )

#halsin #halsin silverbough #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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angelus-scripturae · 5 months ago

Note

Pls pls write anything for Astarion. Like maybe an imagine, idk. I would much prefer something fluff but literally anything else is fine.

I'm starved :(

Well baby I’m gonna feed you tonight. Can’t have my lovely followers starving now can i?

Astarion Ancunin

Nightmares

Summary: You comfort Astarion after you defeat Cazador (not ascended)

Themes: Hurt/Comfort, fluff, mentions of suicidal thoughts and abuse, gn! reader, no use of y/n, no specified pronouns, (shitty writing because this is my first time writing in 2 years)

Astarion couldn’t sleep. Not that he didn’t want to, but he physically couldn’t. Every time he closed his eyes, phantoms of his past plagued the skin behind his eyelids.

He should feel better. Cazador was dead. The ritual was stopped and his kin were saved. So why did he still feel trapped?

He shifted in his bedroll a few times before letting out a frustrated sigh and sitting up. Running a hand down his face and glancing around the dark tent you shared. The only light being the remaining embers of the fire outside.

Experimentally, Astarion attempted to close his eyes in a futile last attempt to rid himself of the visions. Only to flinch and open them again upon seeing those agonised faces and mutilated bodies.

Sensing the sudden lack of presence beside you, you begin to stir awake and feel the bedroll beside you only to feel it empty. Feeling a jolt of panic, you open your eyes fully only to find your companion sat barely a foot away from you.

Astarion’s head turns as you join him in sitting up. “Sorry if I woke you.” He mutters and runs a hand through his hair. The frown on his face highlighting his fine lines and blemishes.

You shake your head and yawn as you come into a comfortable sitting position. “Don’t apologise…” You shift closer to him but stop once he flinches slightly. “What’s wrong?”

Worry laces your voice as you reach out to touch Astarion’s hand. His hand twitches as if wanting to pull away before he lets it close around your soft skin.

“It’s nothing, darling.” He forces out a chuckle. An obvious attempt to brush the subject off. You’d known him too long to fall for that. You let out a small sigh and move to sit as close to him as you could.

“Star… You can’t lie to me.” You smile sadly at him. “Tell me what’s bothering you. You can trust me.”

Astarion hesitates. Even after months of adventuring with you and getting used to your heroism and kindness, he still struggled with the fact that he could trust you. It’s not that he didn’t want to. He trusted you with his life. But it was still new to him.

“I spent 200 years not trusting anyone…” He speaks quietly. “200 years… suffering at the hands of that maniac.” He swallows as if trying to gulp down a lump in his throat.

“I’m supposed to feel free… happy. I’m finally able to live without the fear of being used as a pawn in some sick plan…” He squeezes your hand ever so slightly, trying to find comfort in the warmth of your skin.

“But I don’t, that bastard is dead and yet I still feel him looming over me. As if gloating that his death was quick.” His voice cracks a bit before he clears his throat. “Do you know how many times I wished for that? Preyed? A quick death to save me from him and my torture?”

His words made your heart break into uncountable pieces. Your eyes softening as you shift to hold his other hand with your free one. “Star…” You start only for him to cut you off.

“You killed him though… I know that…” He clears his throat again. “It’s silly for me to still worry about him. And the people he made me hurt.”

You shake your head and move to get a glance at his face. “Astarion, it’s not silly.” You speak softly, letting go of one of his hands to cup his face and turn his face to yours. “You’ve gone through so much. More than I can even begin to fathom. What you did was not your fault. You were coerced and manipulated by a man who was selfish and ruinous.”

His eyes finally move to meet yours, instantly softening once he sees the kindness in your gaze.

“You’re a different man to who you were under his power. A better man. Even if you don’t believe it. I’ve seen it.” You smile softly and run a thumb along his cheekbone. “It’ll take time to move on from this. This has been your life for centuries. Those habits will be hard to break, but I’ll be right there. By your side. Because I love you.”

Astarion smiles as his eyes gloss over with emotion at your words. “You mean that?”

You nod and press a soft kiss to his nose. “With my whole heart.”

He leans into your touch. Moving closer until he’s able to press soft kisses to your lips. “I love you too.” He whispers against your lips before pulling away and lieing back down on his bedroll.

Your smile widens and you lay down with him. Your head resting on his arm and your body pressed against his in a comfortable silence. No other words needing to be said to explain the bond the both of you share.

Your eyes get heavy again quite quickly as your breathing steadies drifting into a state of rest. Astarion glances down at your sleeping face with a soft smile and moves some of your hair to give you a kiss on the forehead.

He takes a deep breath, readying himself to tackle his demons again. However, for the first time in days, closing his eyes didn’t bring visions of victims and abusers.

But visions of you.

#baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #baldur’s gate 3 x reader #astarion x reader #astarion #astarion x you #baldur's gate 3 #gn reader #baldur’s gate 3 x you #astarion fanfic #fanfic #angelus scripturae #angel writes #angel

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tossawary · 1 year ago

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In the live-action "One Piece" adaptation, there's a brief confrontation in which Cabaji says that Zoro chased him and his brother through the jungles of Goa Kingdom or something. Which made me think IMMEDIATELY about an AU in which Zoro and Luffy meet early, when Luffy is around 15 or so and Zoro is around 17, sometime shortly after Ace has set out on his own adventure and Luffy is on his own.

So, like, imagine Zoro being this 17yo bounty hunter who thinks he's hot shit, people are starting to call him "THE Demon of East Blue". He gets one Cabaji brother but the other escapes, leaving Zoro injured and alone in the jungle (similar to the side wound that Zoro gets at Orange Town in the manga). It's getting dark, he has a corpse to drag back to a Marine base somewhere back in Goa Kingdom, and there are beasts here. He thinks he can see a tiger, stalking him in the bush.

And then some 15yo in a straw hat and shorts bounces out of the trees going, "WHOOOOOAAAAA, you're SO cool! I was watching your fight! You're amazing! You should join my pirate crew!" Like... what? (If there was a tiger, the tiger has fucking RUN FOR IT. It doesn't want to be EATEN.)

So, Luffy drags Zoro back to Dadan's place for medical aid ("YOU BROUGHT A BOUNTY HUNTER INTO MY HOUSE?!" Dadan yells, while her guys patch up this kid anyway) and politely introduces Zoro to Makino ("I'm not going to be your first mate, don't introduce me that way," Zoro says for the tenth time already). And Zoro ends up being convinced to stick around Dawn Island and Foosha Village to train for a month (and also to heal, but that's less persuasive), with Luffy following him around like a starry-eyed puppy the entire time, unless he's dragging Zoro off to fight beasts and each other in the jungle. Kicking the shit out of each other is a sign of FRIENDSHIP.

Seeing Luffy's burgeoning fighting skills is enough to make Zoro go, "Maybe this kid is alright," and hearing Luffy talk about dreams is the beginning of Zoro's doom. But he's not going to sign up until Luffy is more impressive! If Luffy wants him for his crew, he has to come find Zoro when he sets out on his own adventure. And Luffy agrees this is reasonable even if he's going to miss his new best friend sooooo badly.

Now, I'm a Zolu fan (ace-spectrum Luffy), so I like to imagine Zoro and Luffy having a really dorky teenage romance between future monsters here. If only because when Luffy and Nami bust into Captain Morgan's Marine Base, Luffy can go (after 2 years of having Makino keep track of Zoro in the newspapers), "Oh, my boyfriend is here!!! 😃 I wonder how much stronger he's gotten? I need to impress him so that he'll join my pirate crew!!!" And Nami and Koby can be like, "What the FUCK are you talking about?! The PIRATE HUNTER?! The demon who kills pirates?!" Luffy: "Yeah! ❤️"

Even better if Luffy has already gone to a couple different islands (with or without Koby), loudly going, "I'm going to be King of the Pirates! And also, HAS ANYONE SEEN MY BOYFRIEND?! He has green hair and three swords and he gets lost really easily!" Or maybe Luffy was just shouting this on Alvida's ship and around the town under Morgan's control? It doesn't really matter. It just has to be loud enough that Garp finally catches wind of this situation.

#tossawary one piece #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #one piece #fic ideas #zolu

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ghostlyferrettarot · 9 months ago

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🧡🩷🩵The 11th House and

Impressions🩵🩷🧡

❗️All the observations in this post are based on personal experience and research, it's completely fine if it doesn't resonate with everyone❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open!

🫧Join my Patreon for exclusive content!🫧

💟If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!💟

🧡🩷Masterlist🩵🧡

🩵Aries in the 11th House: The first impression you give is of someone determined and strong, a born leader. Others may see you as someone they shouldn't mess with, often intimidating. They see your good intentions and your strong drive that makes you fight for the things you care about.

🩷Taurus in the 11th House: The first impression you give is of someone very calm and delicate. There is a certain charisma and friendliness that makes others see you as someone very pleasant and friendly. Sometimes when you show your more serious side, you can become very intimidating and reserved.

🧡Gemini in the 11th House: The first impression you give is of someone who is outgoing and energetic, they are usually the life of the party. In the eyes of others, they are very changeable people who tend to be in constant movement, always with new ideas and projects. A very fast energy, sometimes impulsive.

🩵Cancer in the 11th House: The first impression you give is of someone very nurturing and often with a sensitive aura, this natives tends to have a "sad delicate" cry to them. Others sense your trustwhorty nature and tend to gain trust in you very quickly. They feel like if you are someone they can always rely on, even if they just meet you.

🩷Leo in the 11th House: The first impression you give is of someone who feels comfortable with themselves, this can make many feel envious or project their insecurities on you. People feel as if you are a force to be reckoned with, someone unique and that is not afraid to be themselves.

🧡Virgo in the 11th House: The first impression you give is of someone serious and sophisticated, sometimes they are perceived as "uptight" in the eyes of a few. They are also seen as leaders who should not be bothered, they tend to intimidate many due to their imposing aura.

🩵Libra in the 11th House: The first impression you give is of someone very serene and friendly, they tend to attract many people due to their great charm. They are friendly and lovable in the eyes of others, there may be many people who quickly generate crushes on you, mistaking your friendliness for flirtation.

🩷Scorpio in the 11th House: The first impression you give is of someone mysterious and alluring. They are usually more reserved people who only open up to those they feel they trust, which makes many people feel intimidated by them. In the eyes of others they are someone independent who does not need anyone else, someone very enigmatic and magical as well.

🧡Sagittarius in the 11th House: The first impression you give is of someone "cool", this pleacement indicates a facility to make friends or talk to others. You are the type of person that others want to have around them, the popular one, due mostly to your charming and adventurous nature that makes you someone really interesting in the eyes of others.

🩵Capricorn in the 11th House: The first impression you give is of someone imposing, you are the type of person who is very persuasive and can become a great leader. You are the one who gives the orders, the one who others want to listen to. Sometimes they can be serious or intimidating, but they always have the ability to form very solid relationships with others, especially in work or academic environments.

🩷Aquarius in the 11th House: The first impression you give is of someone unique, they are usually seen as "rebels", "revolutionaries" or "black sheep". This position usually indicates someone who is very humanitarian and has the ability to go very far thanks to their innovative ideas, which make others admire them greatly and have them as an example to follow. You may deal with "copycats" around you, others want to imitate you.

🧡Pisces in the 11th House: The first impression you give is of someone very dreamy, someone who can have their mind in the clouds from time to time. At first glance others may understamate you and think that you are very naive, but the reality is that they are usually very analytical and creative natives, who have a natural charm to express their ideas.

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neontokyoo · 6 months ago

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(nsfw or not) Halsin (elf form) in heat from bear mating season and dry humps or ferally takes tav? (consented obviously)

Pairing: Halsin x Fem!Tav

Genre: smut

Summary: Halsin’s animalistic behavior is too much to bear

Warnings: I’m unable to write rough sex while keeping Halsin in character, rough animalistic sex, this wasn’t proofread because I’m tired and more focused on getting this posted before I forget about it and never do it.

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It was that time of year. Halsin couldn’t stand being around anyone right now. All the different smells in the air were making him fucking crazy. Despite not being an actual bear, the Druid found his bear from becoming a part of him over the past few years. The more time he spends in his bear form, the less control he has over the bear in certain situations. And this was one of those situations.

Running the grove was incredibly hard today. Usually mating season wasn’t a huge pain in his ass. Sure, he was always horny and more sensitive than normal, but usually he was able to handle it on his own. This year, however, was different. Maybe it was because of the new adventurer who had been staying at the grove for a while, while they planned their next move. That sounded about right. Ever since Tav showed up, he’s found it much harder to control the beast within him. He hasn’t been this turned on in over a century.

Halsin let out a frustrated groan as he felt his arousal getting stronger. His cock was rock-hard by now and his pants were painfully tight. How the fuck was he supposed to be in charge here if everyone was looking at him like he just crawled out of hell? Obviously, the tension was visible. In several ways. The way he walked like he had a stick up his ass, the way he was grabbing onto everything when he had to sit down, his grip so tight that his knuckles were changing to a ghostly white color. Everyone could tell something was wrong with him, but nobody said a thing.

It got to the point where his only options were to either talk to Tav about his current situation, or retire to his room for the night and fix it himself. And he found the first option to be too embarrassing. So, the elf went back to his room and began to undo his pants. Gods, just undoing the zipper felt much more comfortable than his cock straining against his pants.

But of course right when he was about to take care of his problem, there was a knock on the door. Halsin groaned out of frustration as he quickly put his pants back on and straightened himself up before opening the door. His body tensed as he saw her waiting on the other side. He wasn’t sure if he could hold back much longer now that she was so close to him.

Tav gave him a concerned look, opening her mouth to speak before he harshly grabbed the girl by her wrist and pinned her to the wall of his room, finally burying his nose in the crook of their neck.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his voice even trembling. “I’m sorry, my love… I don’t know what’s happening right now.”

“Halsin, what’s going on?” Tav arched her back, a soft moan escaping her lips. She couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. She wanted to pull away, but her body craved the connection, the intimacy.

Halsin's breathing grew heavier, and he pulled his face from her neck, his eyes flashing green with hunger. "I need you, Tav," he whispered hoarsely, his voice no longer the calm and sweet one she had grown accustomed to. "Please let me have you. I’m sorry, I’m not myself right now.”

Tav hesitated for a moment, her eyes locked with his, before nodding. She bit her lip, the anticipation making her body tremble. Halsin wasted no time as he quickly undid her armor, his fingertips brushing against her dampness. Tav shivered as another small moan escaped her lips. She knew exactly what was happening, and maybe Halsin wasn’t the only one acting like a bitch in heat. Her own arousal betrayed her.

"So wet for me," Halsin breathed, his voice thick with lust. He pulled his hand away, continuing to undress her until she was completely exposed before him, then swiftly unbuckled his trousers, freeing his throbbing cock. Tav's eyes widened at the sight, her arousal intensifying.

Of course, she and Halsin have been flirting back and forth with each other for a while now, occasionally teasing each other and stealing glances. But she never would have thought she’d be able to have him. Nor did she think it would happen like this.

Halsin hoisted Tav onto the table, spreading her legs wide enough to expose her glistening heat. He positioned himself between them, his cock nudging against her entrance. Tav's hands clenched sage green tablecloth, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. “Halsin…. Please….”

Halsin's eyes flashed with a primal hunger as he took in the sight of Tav's naked body spread out before him on the table. The scent of her arousal filled the air, driving him wild with desire. He couldn't hold back any longer. With a low growl, he thrust his hips forward, burying himself deep inside her tight, wet heat.

"Fuck, Tav," he grunted, his voice strained with pleasure. "You feel so good. So fucking perfect."

Tav cried out, her back arching off the table as she was filled completely by Halsin's thick, hard cock. It stretched her walls deliciously, sending sparks of pleasure racing through her body. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.

The new position made the girl let out a loud, pornographic moan as the elf continued to pound into her, hitting her most sensitive areas while also grinding against her clit.

“Halsin…. Fuck-“

Halsin's hands gripped Tav's hips tightly, his body moving in a primal rhythm as he continued to fuck her. His thrusts grew harder and faster, his muscles straining with each powerful movement. Tav's moans grew louder and more desperate, her nails digging into his back.

Tav's words cut off as the elf's lips crashed onto hers, his tongue invading her mouth in a passionate kiss. Halsin's cock throbbed within her, his animalistic hunger for her not abating. He continued to pound into her, their bodies slapping together in a wet, rhythmic symphony.

Usually, Halsin wouldn’t be so rough if it wasn’t for his animalistic desires that were taking over him. There was just something about Tav that made her absolutely intoxicating, making it incredibly hard for Halsin to control himself.

Tav's mind was spinning, the intensity of the moment overwhelming her. She could feel her orgasm building with each thrust, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter within her until it was nearly unbearable. She could feel Halsin's own climax approaching as well, his thrusts becoming more frantic, his grunts more desperate.

With a final, powerful thrust, Halsin's body tensed, his cock pulsing deep within her. Wave after wave of his seed filled Tav, the sensation pushing her over the edge. Her own orgasm crashed through her, her inner walls gripping Halsin tightly as she cried out his name.

Halsin's body shuddered as he continued to fill her, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Slowly, he pulled out of her, his cock leaving a trail of cum as it slipped from her slick walls. Tav lay there, panting, her body trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm.

Halsin leaned down to kiss her forehead, his breathing finally starting to even out. "I'm sorry," he whispered again, his voice soft and gentle once more. "But I needed that."

Tav looked up at him, a small smile playing on her lips. "Don't be sorry, Halsin," she whispered, her voice thick with contentment. "I needed it too."

The two of them stayed there for a moment, basking in the afterglow of their passionate encounter. Halsin helped Tav down from the table, wrapping a blanket around her shivering form. They shared a tender kiss, the tension between them dissipating.

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