#He'd jump out of a giant cake.

[x-neurotoxin-x]

I haven't posted about dabitwice for far too long (terrible of me) but it's Dabi's birthday and I wanna let everybody know Jin would put his dick in a box and be like "happy birthday!!"

[cauldron-of-oddities]

A snipped that took over. @jm-chrome @youmaycallmeyourhighness

This is your doing, making the Ekko and Jinx poros way too cute.

The great cookie heist

Ekko had been eyeing the confectionery bakery for weeks. With its smells of butter and sugar, three tiered cake displays and sweet buns, and cotton candy cafe terrace, it was beyond enticing. The promise of so many treats luring him in. And then he'd seen it. The most wonderfully enchanting tasty looking cookie ever: The size of a plate, with gooey chocolate chips, wafts of vanilla, and cinnamon rising from it and it had electric blue popping candy sprinkled all over it. And when you broke a piece off, you could see it was the chewy sort.

It would be his. He decided with stars in his eyes. He'd be charming, puff himself up for an extra bit of fluff and roll around, and give wide sparkly eyes. And no human, yordle or other could say no to him. With careful consideration, he picked his target. The chirpy blond, with her hair in a bun, and far too frilly apron and a sucker for cute.

Confident in his choice, he sets about with his charm offence. What was it humans said? Oh yeah, rizz. The next day, he makes sure his orange scarf is just so, and he shuffles from under a table. Fluffs himself up a bit, trills happily, and for good measure offers a coin he'd found.

“Aww, aren't you adorable?” Yes! It's working!

“Would you like something, sweetpea?” Yes! He warbles as much. He dashes past the girl to the display and leans up by the cookie. The girl laughs, “Well, would you look at that, your coin’s half the cookie, and because you're such a cute poro, you get half off.”

Success! She comes back round the counter with his prize when a streak of blue, white, and a dash of pink pilfer the cookie out of the shop attendant's hand.

There's a pink paw print on the blond's forehead, who looks completely dazed. That paw! He knows who the culprit is. Turning to the high-pitched victorious warble, he sees her: Jinx.

Up on one of the parasols, with a smug look, she chirps, teasing him. There, between her horns is the giant cookie. She sticks her tongue out and wiggles getting ready to jump, daring him to catch her.

He glares at her with a growl and a wiggle of his own. He jumps to the parasol, and she hops right over him to a table and down to the ground and runs.

No! That's his! With a dash, he takes off after her, racing through streets their speed ruffling skirts, tripping pedestrians, and knocking hats off heads he tries to snag his cookie back.

Then she dives between the legs of a vendor, under the narrow gap of his cart, and Ekko goes crashing into the wheel with a poof. He can hear the vendor above him fussing over him, picking him up, and patting him on the head. Mumbling sadly, he mourns the loss of his treat.

He's been placed down on one of the park benches and told to take it easy for a bit. Crestfallen, he does. Why his cookie? And worse, why her? He liked the pretty poro, with her downy fluff and blue streaks. Murmuring sadly, he hopes he gets another chance.

There's a nudge against him and a rueful warble. Turning, he sees Jinx looking regretful, wobbly, with big, watery eyes, the cookie still held between her horns. Her hiccuping chirps told him she only wanted to play. She drops the cookie next to him, looking away.

Ekko feels rather fuzzily warm at that. She wanted to do something together with him, not steal his cookie. He headbuts her softly and warbles. Next time, she should just ask to play. A pleased and questioning ‘murrrp’ is his answer.

He licks her then and gestures the cookie, breaking it in half. He can barely push her half to her before he's tackled in a cuddle, nuzzling her face into his side.

He's feeling beyond chuffed while he bashfully grumbles something along the lines of “next time you get the cookie”. With that, he finally gets to chomp down on his hard earned treat.

[danganronpadedication]

Makoto on remnant Nekomaru's back what happens

Okay fine, in all seriousness... Future Foundation! Makoto climbing on Remnant! Nekomaru's back General Headcanons

--------------------------------------------------------------------------- I imagine this encounter would happen in the middle of a battle between Future Foundation forces and the Remnants.

-At first, Nekomaru is more amused than angry. The fact that Makoto had the guts to even approach him, let alone climb onto his back, is something worthy of a modicum of respect. In a weird way, he views this as some kind of challenge. If Makoto can hold on, then maybe he's someone worth paying attention to.

-Makoto, on the other hand, almost immediately regrets this decision. He climbed onto Nekomaru's back in the hopes that doing so will prevent Nekomaru from causing more damage. "If I'm on his back, he can't smash as much stuff, right?" Spoiler alert, he can and will. -Nekomaru is not going to go easy on Makoto. Have you ever been to the local fair and seen those bull-riding machines where you have to stay on its back as it goes crazy? It's just like that, on steroids. Nekomaru will continue to run, jump, and attack without breaking a sweat, while Makoto's knuckles go white from holding on tight.

-Out of sheer habit, Nekomaru's coach instincts kick in, and he adjusts his stance automatically to keep Makoto on, even if just to continue hearing him scream. Not like it hinders him or anything. To Nekomaru, Makoto weighs next to nothing.

-On the outside, Makoto tries not to show too much panic (he's failing) but inside he's absolutely freaking out. He definitely regrets even trying this in the first place, but he stubbornly refuses to let go. -Nekomaru, despite being a Remnant, finds himself impressed by Makoto's persistence. "This kid is tougher than he looks," he thinks. As he's running around, Nekomaru insists on giving Makoto pointers. "Your grip is weak! You need endurance training!" No matter the state, Nekomaru is GOING to give fitness advice.

-Nekomaru secretly enjoys the chaos. It’s the most fun he’s had since falling to despair, which makes him slightly conflicted about his role as a Remnant. Despite still being an enemy, in future encounters, he'll get Makoto out of the way of danger. He'd claim "I can't let my riding partner get crushed that easily!"

-Word spreads within Future Foundation, that Makoto's managed to earn the respect of one of the Remnants mid-battle. Some think that Makoto's fearless, and others thing he's just insane. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Makoto Naegi had done some pretty reckless things before, but this one takes the cake. Arms locked desperately around Nekomaru Nidai’s neck, Makoto clung to the rampaging giant’s back like his life depended on it—which, in all honesty, it probably did.

"WHAT KIND OF STRATEGY IS THIS, KID?!" Nekomaru bellowed, voice booming with both confusion and delight. "DO YOU THINK CLIMBING ON MY BACK WILL STOP ME?! HA! YOU’RE IN FOR A WILD RIDE!"

With that, Nekomaru took off like a missile, leaping over obstacles and plowing through walls as if they were made of paper. Each step felt like an earthquake, and Makoto gritted his teeth to keep from screaming.

“This... might have been a mistake,” Makoto muttered to himself, arms aching as he struggled to stay latched onto the human hurricane beneath him.

Nekomaru laughed, a manic grin plastered across his face. "GUTS! I LOVE IT! LET’S SEE IF YOU CAN HOLD ON, KID!” Nekomaru roared with glee, doing an unnecessary front flip mid-sprint. Makoto yelped as his stomach flipped over inside him.

“Okay, listen—” Makoto tried to reason between gasps. “You don’t have to do this, Nekomaru! I know you’re still in there—somewhere under all the despair! You’re stronger than this!”

For a moment, the only sound was the pounding of Nekomaru’s footsteps, kicking up dust and rubble. Then, to Makoto’s surprise, Nekomaru’s grin faltered, if only slightly.

“Why…” Nekomaru muttered, slowing to a jog. “Why are you holding on so tight, huh? You could’ve bailed by now, but you didn’t. Why?”

“Because...” Makoto adjusted his grip, wiping sweat from his brow. “I believe in you.”

Finally, Nekomaru let out a deep, hearty laugh that echoed through the broken landscape. “ALRIGHT, KID! YOU WIN THIS ROUND!” He crouched slightly, letting Makoto slide off his back. “But you need to work on your grip strength. You’re gonna need more endurance if you want to survive rides like that!”

Makoto wobbled on his feet, catching his breath. “I don’t think I ever want to do that again.”

“HA! Nonsense!” Nekomaru clapped a hand on Makoto’s back with so much force that it nearly knocked him over. “From now on, anytime you need a lift, you call me, okay?"

Makoto groaned, rubbing his sore arms. “That’s... really not necessary.”

But Nekomaru wasn’t listening. “Next time, we’ll go twice as fast! Gotta build that core strength!” He gave Makoto a wide grin. “After all, every great warrior needs the right training!”

Nekomaru ran off, probably to wreak more havoc. Despite himself, Makoto let out a small, tired laugh. Somehow, against all odds, the tiniest flicker of hope had made its way back into Nekomaru’s heart. For Makoto, maybe that rough ride was worth it.

-Mod Tsumugi

[cosmicbrowniebox]

Not a lot just forever Bonus episodes: big-footed monster?

pairings: kenma Kozume x yn

A/N: this took me so long to write but I feel like yall should see what I envisioned for Lev and Yn meeting because its probably funnier in my head but I hope u like it and this is like my little gift because I might not post a new chapter tomorrow for my birthday

The morning was quiet as I walked to school, even in the cold (why the hell did it decide to be freezing today). Morisuke had decided to go a bit earlier to get something to eat instead of walking together, but at least I didn't have to hear his chatter as I walked down the road leading to the school gates.

I spotted what looked like the creature my father had told me about, tales of a bigfooted giant in America people said had existed since the 1800s, but instead, it was probably a new transfer third year or another second year.

I figured I should probably say hi since he'd help the guys on the team and make it somewhat easier for us to go to nationals. "Are you new?" I asked, staring up at him when I finally reached where he was with the woman who handles the transfer students from abroad. It was obvious he was new, but I just thought to ask. I must have looked creepy sizing him up as if I was about to fight him when he nodded. I must have looked like I was about to jump for joy.

"I am! My name is Lev Haiba!" he told me with a smile. I returned one to him. "Yaku-yn, it's nice to meet you, Lev-kun. I can't help but ask, are you interested in joining our boys' volleyball team? I manage it, and I think you'd be a great fit," I told him, staring up at him with probably what seemed like bug eyes. "Uh? Sure, I heard the sports teams are perfect here from what I've been told," he answered. He must have been from abroad; his accent kinda reminded me of what you'd think a Russian person speaking Japanese was like.

"Okay, great. Do you have any experience with volleyball at all?" I asked, grabbing his wrist before muttering out an excuse to the teacher beside him as I started to drag him towards the gym. Most of the team was already there, more the third years and possibly Fukunaga, if he was practicing his serves before class, started since it was still early enough for them to. "I don't have much experience, but my sister says I learn pretty quick," he told me after a moment. We got to the entrance, and I spotted Kai and Kuroo.

"Kuroo-san! Kai-san!" I shouted, waving the co-captains over as I saw both of the liberos watching, confused, earning a head tilt from my brother as he spotted the weirdly tall boy next to me. I assumed he probably thought the same thing all of us had seen tall volleyball players since we started at Nekoma, me managing and Morisuke playing, but Lev had taken the cake as taller than anyone we had ever met. When Kuroo and Kai stopped in front of us, it was an obvious questioning look for both of them.

"This is Lev Haiba; he's a transfer student," I told them. "What year are you?" Kuroo asked, staring at him, trying to be lowkey intimidating as he watched him before Lev spoke. "I'm a first year," he answered, staring back at the co-captains, confused at their almost intimidating aura. I looked between the three, confused, before speaking. "He can be a middle blocker, and we can swap Inouka-kun to wing spiker to up defense and offense," I interrupted to give both captains an idea of what he could do. "Nekomata-sensei and Naoi-sensei should meet him if you think it wouldn't be too much trouble to teach him the ropes?" I hummed, watching Kuroo for a moment as Kai spoke up.

"Depends if he’d even want to learn. I'd think Yamamoto-kun would be willing to help teach him," he added, looking up at Lev so he could get a better idea of him. Behind the pair, I watched Morisuke show Shibayama-kun more help with his new position as a libero. From what I had known before, he was supposedly a wing spiker on his middle school team before he was swapped to play as a libero this year. "I'd love to learn more and become the ace for the team!" Lev said enthusiastically, and I tilted my head at him. I figured he probably knew as much as the other first years but just a bit less, most likely.

"We can have you come by for practice to get introduced to everyone, and we can talk to Nekomata-sensei and Naoi-sensei when they arrive," I told Lev with a kind smile. Checking my watch, I realized there was just enough time for the boys to pack up the net and clean up before they had to run to class. “You guys should start cleaning up so Naoi-sensei doesn't scold you again,” I told Kuroo. Then, I looked up at Lev. “I can walk you to class since you're new and I technically dragged you away from the woman who handles all the transfer students,” I elaborated.

Kuroo interjected, “What class are you in, Lev? Shibayama-kun can walk with you two, and Kai and I can handle the net if Yaku has to leave.” He looked between Lev and me. “Class three,” Lev answered, glancing at the small paper in his hand with his locker combination and class information. He looked like a lost fish in the wrong stream, to be honest.

“I can take him. It's probably easier since I have to head that way anyway because I have to do something for coach Nekomata this morning,” I told Kuroo. He nodded, and we had a borderline staring contest for a moment before I heard Morisuke’s voice.

“Y/N, what are you doing with a titan-looking boy?” he asked, staring at me with a confused expression. Kuroo answered for me, not even giving me a chance to talk, “She was introducing a potential new member.”

“A new member, huh?” Morisuke said, not very convinced as he stared at Lev for a moment.

“He's a first year. His name is Lev,” I added, giving him an idea of who the kid was before he spoke again.

“Shouldn't you show him to his class since you dragged him from Furudate-sensei? She was probably going to introduce him to his teacher and the guidance counselor so he had an idea of what he was doing. She’s probably worried you tried to kidnap another student to try and get them to join the team,” Morisuke said, looking at me. I scratched the back of my neck with a grumble.

“Furudate-sensei always thinks I’m trying to kidnap the first years that transfer here. It’s not like I do it a lot; it’s happened twice!” I countered before shrugging. “We probably should head that way, Lev-kun. I can introduce you to Akiyama-sensei. I had her my first year. She's really sweet; just don't mention anything about monsters because once she looked like she was going to cry when a boy in class three last year went in-depth about a monster he had a nightmare about. She reminded me of a frightened dog,” I told him, waving for him to follow me after giving the three a wave goodbye. As we started walking towards the double doors leading into the school, I asked, “So, when did you move here?”

“Two weeks ago. My sister Alisa and I moved here with our mother since she has a lot of family in Tokyo,” he answered as we weaved through a crowd of second years. I could see Kenma on the side of Fukunaga as they talked with some random kid they both knew. Kenma gave me a confused look as I went out of his eyeline.

“Where did you live before coming to Japan?” I asked curiously as we followed the hall leading us toward the door labeled with a three above it.

“In Russia, specifically in Moscow, because my father was military,” he answered. I nodded, not wanting to pry further into the topic.

“I heard it’s really beautiful there in the winter when it gets snowy. Is it like everyone says?” I asked.

“In a way, yeah! It was always really pretty in the wintertime. In the area we lived in, there was this little café where you could sit and get warm in between times you would be out in the snow,” he responded as we stood outside the classroom. He seemed very content with the idea of new friends and didn't have to do anything but follow along.

“Alright, this is class three. Akiyama-sensei isn’t here yet, but she’s the kind of old woman who's about the height of the first year in the gym you saw,” I told him as I spotted the older woman walking down the hall almost as if on cue. “Actually, here she comes!” I said, dragging him to meet the teacher.

“Akiyama-sensei, good morning!” I said with an almost too kind tone as we walked beside her.

“Good morning, Y/N-kun. Did you need to talk to me about something?” she asked with a small smile before spotting Lev beside me.

“I was just coming to introduce Lev-kun to you. He just started, and I had dragged him away from Furudate-sensei this morning when I saw him, so I just thought to get him introduced so he wasn’t lost,” I answered.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Akiyama-sensei,” Lev said. You could tell Lev would be a kind kid just from how he spoke. Even I was surprised at how sweet he was to the old woman.

“What a sweet boy! Y/N-kun, you are such a good upperclassman to show him the way,” she told me with a kind smile before turning back to Lev. “It’s good to meet you, Lev-kun. Furudate-san told me all about you. You’ll be a good fit for the class,” she told him. I waved goodbye to both of them so I could go say hi to Kenma since I still had some time before I needed to get to class. Wandering down the hall, I spotted him walking towards the stairs leading up to the second-year classes.

“Kenmaaa,” I called out almost in a sing-song tone to get his attention from the game he was playing.

“Who was that boy you were with? He looked like a third year,” he asked, almost curiously, not looking up from the boss fight he was in the middle of on his PSP.

“He's a new first year. He just moved back to Tokyo two weeks ago. I told Kuroo, and we’re gonna talk to Nekomata-sensei and Naoi-sensei about Lev-kun joining,” I answered.

Tags @metta-crybaby @wyrcan @kunimix @phoenix-eclipses @bae-ashlynn @lotti-lyric @kettlepop @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21

[fallingblueroses]

I should have posted this on Geoff's birthday. Oops.

***

It's VoicePlay tradition that Layne pranks Geoff on his birthday. It's Geoff's birthday once again, and Geoff has been vigilant all day: double-checking his food and equipment, kicking doors open to avoid falling buckets, peeking around corners to catch Layne trying to jump-scare him. He'd made Layne taste the cake VoicePlay had brought him at PattyCake, just in case. Even when Kathy took him out for a birthday dinner Geoff was looking around for Layne.

Now it's 11:45 PM, and Geoff sits in the armchair in his living room, watching as the final minutes of the day tick down. At 12:00, Geoff gets up and pumps his fist. He's finally done it--he's avoided Layne! He celebrates for a minute.

At 12:01 the doorbell rings, and Geoff opens the door to find a smirking Layne. Geoff speaks first. "Ha! My birthday's over and you didn't get me!"

Layne keeps smirking. "No, it isn't."

Geoff blinks. "Huh?"

"Yesterday wasn't the twenty-seventh. Today is!"

Geoff blinks and pulls his phone out of his pocket to see that Layne's right. The realization that Kathy and VoicePlay have pulled a giant prank slowly sets in.

Layne grins. "You have to keep running from me for another twenty-four hours!"

Geoff holds up a finger. "Wrong." He leaves the living room and comes back with William's baseball bat. "You have to run from me for the next twenty-four hours!"

Layne turns and flees as Geoff runs after him, swearing vengeance at the top of his lungs. Around 2:00, the Orlando police call Kathy and Cyndi to come pick up their husbands. They arrive at the police station at the same time, and when they get to the holding area Layne and Geoff are glaring at each other from adjoining cells. Layne's lip is split and Geoff has a black eye, they're both scratched and dirty, and their clothes are torn.

Cyndi's eyes are wide as she speaks. "What happened?"

Geoff and Layne point at each other and speak in unison. "It's his fault!"

[kivaember]

random o'keeffe/flatwell drabble go!

3:43.

The numbers blurred slightly in O'Keeffe's vision, loitering at the bottom right corner of his computer screen as he continued his methodical work. It wasn't anything urgent, and he could do it tomorrow in the office if he wanted, and it was beneath him anyways since this was junior analyst work, but the night was long and dark and the thoughts in his mind too loud.

Staring at numbers, scouring through profiles and names and linking together Mr What's-his-face with Mrs. So-and-So and the embezzled funds from This-or-That project or Thingiemajig budget that were spent on luxury yacht #54 or sunk into a giant swimming pool tiled with rare marble from Pluto and the water coloured crimson from heavily diluted recycled Coral (that is toxic it's toxic it's toxic but do the more rich than sensible executives care no no of course not), weaving through the byzantine corruption that spun the corporate wheels, that fed the kleptocracy that masquaraded as their democratic capitalistic society, all the same shit over and over, until O'Keeffe didn't even bother writing unique reports anymore he just copy and pasted names, dates and what luxury item was purchased that day.

It was menial work. It was tedious work. It was work that forced him to focus and so was the only thing that kept him sane, nowadays.

3:59.

This particular case he was working on was very minor, yet the executive involved was a little cleverer than most. He understood the concept of money laundering for one, probably because of his relatively junior rank, and so couldn't relay on his gold citizenship and executive status to protect him if Arquebus wanted to make an example. The guy had a side business of cakes for dogs or something. He laundered his money through there. It should've stood out like a red flag because cakes? For dogs? As a business?

But this was the society they lived in. Earth was a ridiculous place, utterly delusional and disjointed from the wider galaxy, where cold, harsh reality stepped on the necks of every day humans. There was a reason so many people ran the immigration gauntlet to get onto Earth, even if it was as a working class citizen. The great cult built around Earth was a siren-song, and even O'Keeffe had fallen for it all those years ago.

Still, even with hindsight, he'd make the same choice. If he hadn't accepted Arquebus's offer, he wouldn't even be here right now. He would've succumbed to Coral-Burn, and if it hadn't killed him outright from organ failure, then he'd be reduced to a witless vegetable, his grey matter chewed up and consumed by the crytallised Coral in his implants and his nervous system. Horrible fate. Awful. O'Keeffe was a stupid human through and through: he'd jump through so many hoops to keep his mind and life intact.

4:04.

This executive wasn't much different, but he just had more expensive tastes for what was 'survivable' for him. O'Keeffe wasn't going to submit this report, in all honesty. The guy was small fry. He hadn't stolen as much as the board director did for his three mistresses and that 'love basement' of his. Still entertaining to read into this cake for dogs business though. Really, who came up with these ideas?

4:05.

"O'Keeffe."

He blinked, the name a sudden intrusion into the focused zen he had fallen into. He half-turned, peering over his shoulder to see a silohuette standing at his office door, leaning against the frame with their arms crossed. He couldn't make out their face, but he could tell that they only had a shirt on, open, and not making them decent in the least.

"Flatwell," O'Keeffe rasped. "What're you doing up?"

"Fetching you, apparently," Flatwell sighed, pushing off the door frame and walking over to him.

O'Keeffe didn't move as Flatwell stood behind him and rested his hands on his shoulders, deft fingers slowly kneading into the tense muscles there. Despite himself, he slowly relaxed, Flatwell knowing exactly where the knots and tension were, ruthlessly coaxing it out.

"A dog bakery," Flatwell murmured after a lull. "I've seen it all now."

"Money laundering business," O'Keeffe explained. "Some small fry executive. Nothing important."

"But important enough to keep you up at-" Flatwell paused, checking the clock in the bottom right corner of the screen. "-four in the morning."

O'Keeffe grunted.

Flatwell pressed his thumbs on either side of O'Keeffe's nape, slowly running parallel to his vertebrae. He could feel the skin pull slightly against the metal implants embedded into the skin there, evidence of the life-saving augmentation upgrade that countered the Coral-Burn sizzling through his grey matter, even now: contained, but not gone.

"Bad night, is it?" Flatwell asked mildly.

"Something like that," O'Keeffe muttered.

"Hm." Flatwell patted his shoulders. "C'mon. Reading about dog bakeries won't do you much good."

"Failing to sleep won't do me much either."

"Then we'll fuck or something," Flatwell said dismissively. "Or, if you really want to be productive, you could let me access the restricted areas in Arquebus's database using your priv-"

"No."

Flatwell clicked his tongue, but the smile in his voice was audible: "Damn. Foiled again. Well, since my seduction attempts aren't swaying you..."

He drew away, this time pressing his palm against O'Keeffe's hair, ruffling it like he was a miscreant child.

"...how about coffee?" he asked, after O'Keeffe stoically waved his hand away. He lifted it up and waggled his fingers temptingly. "That favourite cafe of yours should be open by now. Let's get something."

"You hate going anywhere early," O'Keeffe pointed out, but he locked his computer and stood up, grunting when his joints popped loudly. "Ergh."

"I do, but I can't sleep while you're skulking around like a convict," Flatwell drawled. "And I'm up now."

And Flatwell struggled to go back to sleep once he was woken up, O'Keeffe knew from experience (had endured several kicks to the shin when he'd accidentally jostled Flatwell awake at some unholy hour of the night). Despite being able to sleep, which most augmented humans struggled with, Flatwell was woken up on a hair trigger on most days. It made them an incompatible pair as bed fellows.

Yet, they still kept sharing that bed anyways, despite O'Keeffe being who he was and Flatwell being who he was. He was a spy, and O'Keeffe his consensual mark, and together they tied themselves into a relationship that they knew wasn't sustainable but kept feeding anyways because, well...

There weren't many Old Gen left. They were a dying breed, and in Arquebus alone he and Flatwell were the only ones. There was no one out there who understood them like they did each other, and Flatwell was also a very experienced honeypot who really knew how to put his silver tongue to good use (both literally and figuratively), so who did it hurt to toss a few crumbs of info his way, to turn a blind eye to his snooping or stealing a few schedules for Arquebus's supply routes between colonies?

He scratched Flatwell's back and he scratched his. It was a mutual, professional arrangement between two fellow wetworkers, and if there was some selfish indulgence on the side, then hey, they were only human after all.

(And just as delusional as the rest of the people on Earth.)

[lokisgoodgirl]

Happy belated birthday!

He's not jump out of a giant cake but he's looking good!

He'd probably just transform into a cake 😂 thank you baby!!! Xx

[teleportationmagic]

There is a dead boy in the Batcave.

Not literally, of course, but the glass cage marks the place where blood and bone would be too gory to leave behind. Too unsanitary. Father’s not the type to abide by that – at least not from what mother’s told him, and what his surveillance has revealed. But the suit is clean enough, so they sit next to a ghost and let it take up space in the room, a physical weight demarcating it’s territory. The rest of them – Oracle and Nightwing and Drake all float around it, like fish splitting around a rock in a river.

He'd think it’s weakness to grieve this hard, this long, but allowances are made for strong men, and his father is a strong man. The gravemarker sits, silent in the heart of their operations, next to the giant penny and the t-rex.

And still, some small part of him cannot wonder who it was who left this imprint on every single person in that room, the faint outline of his cape twirling through their upright backs.

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

Months later, he finds another gravemarker.

This one isn’t in the Batcave, rather it’s tucked away in the clocktower. He hadn’t spotted it at first, hadn’t been able to put a name to it, but Oracle was the immaculate sort. It was expected, for someone of her pedigree, and the deviation was shocking in its presence.

The paper is laminated. Letters scrawl across the page, constructed incorrectly and ungracefully, weaving backwards and forwards with little rhyme or reason. And yet still, it is clear pages are missing – the transition in how the letters are written is subtle, page to page, but jumps every now and again.

Underneath is black fabric. It’s flexible – tight and form fitting, but still stretchy in the way that Grayson’s suits are. He pulls it forward and it unfurls to reveal a yellow bat.

Batgirl, then. The second. His fingers trace the stark lines, a glossy sort of shine over the black fabric, even under all the dust. Something flips, uncomfortably – he knew this girl. His mother had told him about her pedigree. And yet here she was, dust gathering on evidence of her failures – paper stacked up that showed him nothing.

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

He finds the third gravemarker on accident.

The purple fabric is so much unlike Timothy that he can’t help but pull it out. It’s poorly made, compared to the others – the most present comparison he can come to is a bedsheet, too thin to be any good in their line of work. The place he’d found it in is equally puzzling, a blue shoebox that he’d forgotten to throw away, in the back of his closet. He wonders if he’d simply lost it, as buried as it was.

It’s not all that’s in the box, of course. They’d rolled out when he’d lifted the suit – all spilling sideways. There’s a few ticket stubs, a set of keys, a slip of paper with a hasty sketch, and two photo. A blond girl, with a gap-toothed grin and bright green eyes, and an older woman with the same blonde hair, cropped short. It was the only thing that wasn’t caked with years of grime, the pictures clearly digital, then printed out. There’s a name on the back that he doesn’t recognize, not on either of them.

He picks up a sketch – Timothy, he recognizes, in his Robin suit, stylized into a cartoon. A purple figure flits next to him, a streak of blonde pencil crayon following her. Something bounces in the art, young and joyful and wild, wrapped up and kept in old, yellow paper.

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

Cold sweeps the house. They’ve done this enough times that Dick is half-certain he should be accustomed to it, but it still feels like a bulldozer through his heart.

The worst part is the forgetting. Every now and again, he looks up and expects Damian to be there – expects to see a dark, short flash of hair. But the hallways are empty, and the walls echo, and he’s done this time after time but he wants the kid back.

He wants him back.

It’s Dick in the end that goes through his things. There are pieces – notebooks and sketchpads filled with drawing. Some more stylized, a round feminine face smiling, sparks flying around her. Pink shaded flowers in the corner. Pencil shavings leaving dark marks where his eraser couldn’t pick up quite enough.

Underneath is an canvas, big and bright – the colours nearly make him gasp when he turns it over, blue and orange and purple spilling out, the sun at dawn. In the front, a bird, the details intelligible in the contrast. Deliberately so. Its wings leave visible trails of smoke behind it.

He can see the brush strokes, underneath. See the smudging, see the small places where he’d set his hand down and left a mark on the bright colours of the background. The trees had been done on top in pencil crayon, tiny and spindly needles reaching out for sun.

He catches tears before they hit the piece, his head bowed low.

Alfred says nothing when he finds him later, perched on a step stool. He hangs it up, loud and proud, lets the light hit it.

In the evening light it glows.

[refried-ghost]

Red kissed him. It really wasn't the best time for this but Purple didn't stop him. He was quick to pin him against himself removing a hand from his laser spear to do so.

Red had jumped on him. Would have knocked him over if Purple's feet weren't firmly planet on the dirt. Purple's eyes were open looking over to his fallen foe.

Red deepened the kiss, not allowing him to catch a breath.

Purple peeled him off, setting him back down. Red bit his lip as they pulled apart, earning a merp from Purple.

His face was hot. Breaths short. Lip with a growing bruise. He shielded it with the back of his free hand.

Red's attention turn away from him as suddenly as it was on him. Rushing to stab the likely corpse on the ground. Scanned the area for more enemies.

"We need to move," he said it clearly, head angling slightly towards him gaze nowhere near him.

Purple cleared his throat with a nod. A ting of embarrassment as he realized Red probably wasn't looking at him.

"Yeah."

(this one is just long and here's where I start going completely off topic)

Purple was a creature of comfort. Easily swayed with food and sex. Almost always open to Red's wandering hands. Lighting up when Red gave him his snacks. Beyond touched when Red went out of his way to actually make him something to eat.

He was an adrenaline junkie too, just in a different sort of way to Red. Where Red would push his ships to their top speeds, Purple enjoyed fights. Not really gun fights, taking cover and trading rounds, but more involved fights. Taking down things over twice his size fully intent on killing him. The particular rush he got from something close enough to actually touch him.

He was prone to getting ship sick at high speeds. Red teased him for it endlessly. Where Purple spent his down time split between eating, training and maintaining his weapons, Red would work on his ship. Constantly upgrading and maintaining it. He took over the maintenance on Purple's too when it wasn't digitized. Grease caked his maintenance suit. Drinking his meals, so he wouldn't have to change gloves as he worked.

It was the biggest down side of being Tallest. Not getting to take spur of the moment joy rides. The uncomfortable feeling coming off everyone as he maintained his unused ship in the elite bay. The entourage that had to accompany him to 'more dangerous areas'. A drone nervously standing by ready to remove any grease from him. Only being allowed to remove his gauntlets as he worked. His prosthetic thumbs always feeling too big and foreign for the task at hand.

Purple's weapons remained on display in his room yet another reason only he and Red had access. He'd still maintain them just as obsessively as he used to. He'd collect more as well. Getting his hands on prototypes he was really excited about. Always hand delivered by three people at once the Enforcer Captain, the Second in Command of the Tallest's Guard and someone else randomly assigned from from the Guard. He had to plan in advance to go to the firing range.

Various stuffed food themed plushies, pillows and blankets littered his room's floor and bed. As well as snack wrappers. His elite uniform was on a display wrack constantly getting moved around as it became harder to find footing until Purple would finally break and clean everything all up. He had a giant gel seat similar to a bean bag that would slightly envelop a person as they laid back on it. As well as a fancy circle chair he'd curl up in to sleep on occasion. Full of soft bedding hiding him away from the world. Various different outfits Red insisted he looked in good littered the floor as well. If they began to stink he'd tossed them down the laundry chute. He'd wear the clean ones on occasion striking poses, deciding whether or not to surprise Red. He'd be forced back into that stupid armor far too soon.

The armor displays were in the main chamber, two on each side of the main door. Often a high level drone would slip into inspect them for damages.

Red's room was meticulously cleaned and sorted by the same drones that would clean the main chamber. He may leave it a mess, but always expected it to be spotless when got back. If Purple was in there, kicking his legs on the bed, he'd allow expections. But he'd rip into irken if he was littering too many crumbs and snack wrappers around. Purple would point out he did the same thing. Red would claim it wasn't the same since Purple actively dissuading the drones from cleaning.

Red's display walls didn't have the vibrant serene landscapes, videos of extinct fauna, the training drills, weapons from both in and out of the empire, foods being prepared, and updated medical showcases that Purple's did. His showed the technical marvels of the empire, filtered through blueprints of all different types of ships, every star map on record, sometimes just what was outside the massive, the distance stars slowly wandering passing, the various armada ship in toe or zipping by, cargo ships being boarded as people bought things off them during rest periods. It'd display shop feeds, people quietly going about their days, teleporters zapping supplies off into the nether, and showcased the lastest fashions and trends on Irk, Conventia and other select planets across the galaxies both in and out of the empire.

He had a cabinet full of cards containing digitized ships. His old ones, Purple's as well, loving kept on display. His co-Tallest cared little about keeping them when the ascended. The ones he collected after were filling the drawers. He'd finger through them seeing which caught his interest and pluck them up going to the rec room. He could just have the computer bring up a particular ship to simulate in the chamber, but there was always something just slightly off when he did that. He liked the feel of the cards clicking into the chamber ports. Like how everything was always how he'd last left it. How it replicate the quirks he was familiar with from each individual ship. But still the simulated joy rides just weren't the same. He may be pinned back to his chair by the fake force, but it didn't replicate that rush. So he'd just cruise. Sometimes through crowd areas seamlessly dodging obstacles. Sometimes with his feet on the dash as he watched fake stars float by.

He had two closets. Purple only had one, perpetually open since he had junk blocking it from sinking back into the wall. Red closets were always full. He'd have the same drones that checked their armor go through his wardrobe with him on a regular basis. The Seamster Drones would often work with Red to make new designs. He'd stand in place as they fitted him and make his opinions known. The one's who'd worked with him the longest were quick to argue against any ideas they thought weren't that great. Especially after he rewatched Great Assigning and chewed them out for letting him have that armor made. He was still livid he'd thought that was a good idea. The newer ones were terrified for them.

He had a work table against one of his walls. Various tools displayed behind a panel of glass solely so only he or Purple could access them. The Computer required it. Purple weapons didn't have the same requirement, but they were the one thing he was good at keeping neat and orderly. Many were in his weapons cabinet secured. His favorites just hung on the wall. Apparently he was allowed to do that cause he was so anal about no one ever going in there.

When Red worked on small projects, he wasn't the inventor Zim was, he wired himself into the ship so he didn't have to bother naming each tool he needed. The Computer would place the desired object in his out stretched hand without a word.

Excluding those things his room was rather empty aside from the object Purple decided would be housed there. A handful of ship themed plushies. A far too fluffy, but thoroughly worn blanket. Red's old weapons Purple demanded to have when he said he'd relinquish. Also placed behind a glass panel. Purple personalized them for Red, like he did with all his weapons, painting them with a custom coating, somehow altering the blaster colors. Purple's own were messy in their customizations, but they were also endless being modified. The ones he'd done for Red were pristine and neat. Lovingly crafted. He thought they'd bring up the same sick feeling looking at his elite uniform had, before he had it tossed. But instead they made him incredibly flustered. They showed how much Purple cared. They twinged him with with guilt.

There was a large Vortian couch that could face either deeper into the chamber or towards the door. Purple liked the former, the Computer defaulted it to the latter. The table infront of Purple's prefer direction was always up. One would emerged from the floor on the other side if needed. The couch lined up to their doors Red's on the left and Purple's on the right. On the wall next to it was a snack dispenser. The wall next to Red's had a small kitchen. It wasn't often used. It emerged from the floor when needed. A large display screen hung over the couch, descend to whichever side. Then were the Rec Room door on the left and the bathroom in the right. At the end of the chamber was a massive canopy bed. Purple's idea. Next to it on both sides were the escape pod hatches.

The bathroom shared a door with Purple's room. The first thing he'd do after waking up was chug the drink on his nightstand and drag himself into the bathroom. As gross as Red may claim him was pretty obsessive about his personal hygiene. Not so much his spaces but definitely his own. In the vanity he'd groom his teeth, antenna and claws. Allowing wires and cable to descend and attach to run a check on his PAK. He'd check for new growths or stuck shed or ingrown fluff. If he found stuck shed he pry it off. It wasn't recommended for most be he had the training for it. Checking the fluff was a pain since in only grew in weird spots. The elbows, wrists, knees, ankles and another spot. Most of the time he'd gel the fluff on his elbows down since Red was adamant it was unseemly to go into public showing it off. It matched their skin, noone would see it. But it's what Red wanted.

If it was time for regular maintenance he go to the PAK maintenance station in the bathroom. Red would have everything done by a PAK technician, even the basics. Purple requested the encoding when he was still an elite. Back then he was only allowed access to some of it. More then most elites, because of his height, his adamance, and his scores, but still wasn't enough. When Red started taking his work Purple rekindled his studies. He did all his own maintenance, mostly in the bathroom. Some in the technician labs with someone supervising as he used the more complex machines. He modified his PAK legs adding any and all attachments that he thought could be useful in a pinch. The same tech silently approving them or quietly point out how batshit an idea he had was and barring it.

There were two shower. One above the giant inground jacuzzi tub, covered by floor panels when not in use. Neither were very visible. And the other near the full body drier and sanitation unit. It was fixed in place too large and complex to be hidden like most things. The unit had a seat in it, but standing was also an option. In sanitation mode would burn off any foreign matter, typically burn away shed, then douse the irken in cleansing chalk to eat any left over carbon mixture. It'd puff at them to remove any excess chalk. Ending with a mist of sanitizer.

Purple preferred the bath and showers. He hated flash of heat and cleansing chalk. He mostly used the drying function setting it to a comfortable temperature even if it made the duration longer. He knew the dangers of sanitizer over use. The dry, cracking skin and open wounds it'd leave. The lowering of the immune system response on top of what PAKs inherently caused. It was a very dangerous thing to abuse and most hadn't a clue. He always manually set the mists.

The Rec Room was full of random shit. Most taken out to use. The main thing was Simulation chamber. It took up half the room. Infront of it were the dumby weapons rack full of every weapon type one could imagine. Typically only found in drill stations and arenas. But with a wider selection. There were various stacks of games infront of an already filled cabinet spilling over with all sorts crafting supplies. Both for the chamber and on individual used. Med drives mixed amongst them. Tubs full unopened of ship models. Mini game tables and extra supplies for them. They weren't typically used. The upper break room had better ones and more space.

Puppets really weren't that popular until they came into power. Still weren't really, but some people caught on. Red and Purple typically made their own. They were scattered on everything else. The Announcer gifted a couple top of the line ones. Basically characticturized versions of themselves. Realistic feeling skin. Intricately detailed eyes that showed the hexagonal pattern hidden in most implants if they caught the light just right. They could be used in a variety of ways. Like a marionette, like a hand puppet. A panel in the back of the head would open up to allow the hand in. Another would open up on one of hips to more easily maneuver them. The limbs had places for PAK legs to attach. They were really something. They sat mostly untouched far too nice to play with. Or they could just be posed. Limbs locking it position on the right setting.

[alara-kahya]

tag: @colemonroe location: gold dust diner

Drawn into the gold dust diner by the promise of a giant slice of toffee cake, Alara was seated in a window booth on her own. Happily scribbling her reminders for tomorrow down in her diary and tucking into the cake she'd been drooling over all day. Being engrossed in her efforts to stay organized, she paid no mind to who was coming and going, not until she sensed someone coming towards her. "Cole," Alara says, offering him a polite smile as she lifted her head. The pair hadn't ever shared a real conversation but their familiar connections had surely seen to the fact they knew of each other. If not via Emiri, then Mason, or specifically his brother Jayden, who was her best friend, there was hardly ever one without the other.

"You wanna sit?" Gesturing to the seat opposite her, she was not naive enough to think there wasn't a motive here, after all, he'd never gone out of his way to speak to her before. Thought would tell her it had little to do with her and everything to do with Nate, which wasn't surprising. She didn't want to jump too early to the wrong conclusion though, maybe there weren't any ulterior motives in the air. "You here for the toffee cake too?" Teasing, she sets her diary aside, wanting to give him her full attention. "If there's non left it's tough luck, I'm not willing to share."

[charlenasaxen]

“An' I packed his teddy bear in case he got lonely!” he managed

to Draco's surprise, a second voice, raspy but cold and drawling, responded

Alchemy for Beginners, Alchemists Through Time, Immortality and How to Cope With It, So You Sold Your Soul

and...

Pride and Prejudice?

Granger and Harry behind him, both of them looking absolutely mortified

stuttering and flabbergasted upon hearing what Draco had done

Draco had stared, horrified, at the cover of Pride and Prejudice

his extended family would bless him with a spell, the elves would bring out a beautifully decorated cake with at least four tiers, always Draco's favourite flavour – Chocolate – and Draco would smile and make a wish

If he wanted to chase after pixies, have an enchanted tea party, or even ride his broomstick until the sun had gone down, his father would simply have to hold his tongue. It was the golden birthday rule.

Not even when a family owl carrying a large basket of gifts from his parents swooped in

Not when Theodore charmed a paper fairy to fly around his head, whistling For He's a Jolly Good Fellow

Not even when Vincent and Gregory snuck him a slice of chocolate cake

who was Draco to judge when they took one look at him and then looked away again?

Draco began to feel a terrible sense of foreboding

“That's your lookout 'innit? Should've thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn't ya?”

“I am not going in that forest,” Draco told Hagrid firmly

“I'll just fall behind then! And – and get attacked by a Boggart, or – or killed by giant, horrible Acromantulas...” He shivered slightly. “Or eaten by the werewolves...”

sounding much more pathetic than he would've liked

“And, for all we know, Quirrell and Snape could even be in cahoots!”

wanting to do something his father told him Malfoys should never ever do

Draco shuddered, scrunching his eyes shut tight and taking a deep breath. “I'm really sorry!”

Draco felt a heavy feeling within his chest as he looked at the tragically beautiful creature

Draco rushed back to the clearing, reaching for Harry just as he staggered to the ground

Draco drew his wand as he clutched Harry with his free arm

Draco felt extremely dizzy. He could've just died... Oh Merlin...

he vaguely registered Harry calling his name and the feeling of the cool earth colliding with his cheek

“Harry! Are you all right?” he settled for

he muttered darkly, “Draco – I don't know if you heard any of it, but Firenze, the centaur that saved us, he gave me this warning...”

he needed to get excellent grades, excellent marks, excellent, excellent, excellent, and nothing less

Draco was about ready to collapse – which he did, with great dignity on the grassy bank by the Black Lake

Theodore muttered from within the pages of – to everyone's relief – a fantasy novel

he'd simply been too preoccupied glaring at Quirrell as he'd been happily sipping at a cup of tea and reading another Jane Austen novel

“Get your hands off me! I will hex you; I won't even hesitate I –! Oh.”

“I... can't,” Draco said solemnly, “I've got my last detention”

muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, 'even though he deserved it'

It was the thought of something terrible happening to Harry... and even the other ones

What if the Fluffy ate them alive? What if Quirrell killed them?...And Draco had known

What if this had never happened in Future-Draco's path, and Draco had done something to cause this?

he wasn't going to let those three Gryffindors face the dog, the trapdoor, and Quirrell all by them-stupid-selves

also voices – familiar voices – hissing in hushed whispers

there was a shocked squeak, followed by a harsh 'shh!'

“Draco!” Harry said, eyes wide. “You came!”

Draco – however – froze. His legs wouldn't let him move. He trembled slightly, standing rigid

It was either get eaten alive or jump and possibly live... That famous Slytherin self-preservation took over

If he let out an embarrassingly high-pitched shriek, it was hardly his fault

“I can't believe I did that,” he whispered to himself, rubbing at his eyes

“What?!” Draco exclaimed, quickly sitting up. “What is –?!” he screamed too as something coiled around his arms

“By the way, Malfoy,” Weasley snickered, “you scream like a little girl.”

Draco let out an affronted squawk. “You shut your mouth, I do not!”

Draco couldn't contain the snigger that escaped his throat, he really couldn't. It snuck out and turned into helpless bubbling laughter that must've been contagious

“Hey, it's not that funny!” Harry protested, even though he was giggling

while Weasley stood there like a lemon

“They're keys!” he announced wildly

Draco dove after it, swooping with all the finesse he knew he had in him. He could hear Harry and the others begin to cheer him on

“By the way, Draco. You should really consider trying out for Quidditch next year.”

“Oh, I am, Potter,” Draco huffed. “Believe me. I am.”

only the plebian had to go and sacrifice himself last minute

“We really don't have time for this! Try and wake him up. We'll carry on going!”

grabbing Draco by the elbow and hurrying down the passageway

Draco nodded. He wasn't really, but hey-ho.

“Potter, what?! Do you just go around in your spare time battling fully grown trolls?!”

“Yes, actually.” Draco smirked, snatching the scroll from his hands, “This is so much better than killer plants and giant chess sets.”

It really was rather easy, did Severus actually want the stone to be stolen?

Draco felt his face soften. “Potter... Harry,” he said, “I think you might have to be the bravest idiot to ever have existed. A prime example of foolish Gryffindor behaviour.”

He settled for abruptly thrusting his hand out towards Harry, swallowing the strange lump that had risen in his throat.

“Good luck.”

Harry took Draco's offered handshake with a small smile

leaving out the most important parts, like how Draco had been heroically involved

Draco was having a right good time laughing as the tale got more and more twisted

‘a chronic garlic addiction, needing the Philosopher's Stone so he could eat that much garlic and stay alive'

Draco had stood up and very loudly announced that he'd been there

“We then had to escape on the brooms – leaving Potter behind to duel with Quirrell,” Draco was telling Slytherin table for about the fifth time

“He's awake!” Granger exclaimed.

Draco gave no explanation as he shot up and rushed after them

Before he knew it, he'd launched himself unthinkingly at the brave idiot

Granger collide with his back, arms sprawled over the both of them in a bushy-haired-bear-hug. Draco felt his cheeks grow inexplicably warm

an un-Malfoy-like awkwardness that probably had his ancestors rolling in their graves

maybe he was allergic to him? Was it possible to be allergic to a person?

“And I helped the whole school talk about it.” Draco added, smirking. Harry laughed. Draco's smirk grew wider.

Quirrell had acted as a vessel – it made Granger scream and Draco feel quite green.

The voice Draco had heard Quirrell talking to had been the Dark Lord.

Did Draco believe him? Yes, he did.

Was he more than a teensy bit disturbed at the fact? Yes, he most definitely was.

Both Draco and Weasley flinched reflexively at the name

“We finally agree on something,” Draco drawled

“I – well...” he scoffed, thinking fast

“And wouldn't you know it? I was right!” Draco smirked, gesturing grandly to himself

“To think that you all doubted me,” he sighed with fake woe

he couldn't keep the smile off his face as they chatted and joked and stuffed their faces with sweets

After regaling the tale of the trapdoor at least a dozen times, his fellow Slytherins seemed to have fully forgiven him

“Defeated by a firstie! Ha!”

Surely this wasn't allowed? It felt incredibly wrong.

“it takes a great amount of courage to risk losing one's pride and dignity, for persisting in loyalty, and keeping calm in the face of flames. For this, I award Draco Malfoy fifty points.”

Draco watched in amazement as green gemstones cascaded into the Slytherin hourglass, unable to think as his housemates went insane around him

“I do believe we have a tie between houses... And that a change of decoration is in order.”

replaced with both the scarlet and gold, and the green and silver of Gryffindor and Slytherin

All the Slytherins were busy clapping Draco on the back and whistling and hollering for him. All for him!

Filch could be seen begrudgingly returning all confiscated items to students, the Weasley twins merrily skipping away from him with armfuls of fireworks

“I believe you may call me Severus now that the year is done.”

“Uncle Sev it is then.” Draco said with a smirk.

Oh, Merlin save him...

At least Malfoys found it beneath them to send Howlers.

he patted Draco's shoulder once before stepping away. “I shall see you next term if not before.”

Severus only raised his hand in farewell, his dark robes billowing out behind him

“You mean you were talking about it!” Weasley huffed. “I was just trying to talk to Harry about Quidditch Leagues!”

Draco smiled stupidly to himself and rested his head on his knees

Draco felt triumphant. He could mark chapter one of the Journal as complete.

he knew he was going to do just as well in the next year, because the legendary Chamber of Secrets being opened? A monster going around petrifying Muggle-born students that all got sorted and resolved in the end anyway?

How dreadful could all of that really be?

[authoramalgam]

Soooo

I just had a weirdly vivid fnaf dream.

I was in a giant house, doing something (idk) and there were two other people there (no idea who they were either)

And then the animatronics showed up out of nowhere. Specifically Monty. I tried hiding under a table but he saw me, so I started running. As I was doing that, I realized that he'd catch me. So instead I turned around and jumped at him. I somehow managed to grab onto his stupid shoulder pad things and pull myself up. He was trying to bite me and shake me off, and so I ripped his eyes out.

Then I switched to I was essentially riding him like a piggyback ride, and forced him to sit down. I handcuffed his hands and essentially started interrogating him, and found out he was possessed by Glitch

So I just shut him down so I could find a way to fix his programming

It was at that point Chica showed up, but I just distracted her by handing her a bowl full of cake batter and she was pretty chill

No idea where Roxy was (or Freddy)

But I remember being worried about Roxy because she was dangerous

[eds4bunny]

⁺˳✧༚ secrets ˚✧₊⁎

premise: you find eddie's secret stash of candy! pairing: caregiver!eddie munson x regressed!gn!reader word count: 467 warnings: mentions of weed, that's really all !! extra: SORRY THIS IS REALLY BAD AHHH i wrote it at like 1am and rushed so i could go to sleep!!! also not proof read wahh ill fix any mistakes when i wake up !!!

you kicked your feet in your chair excitedly, smiling as you saw eddie's van pull near the trailer through the window.

he had left to go to the store real quick to grab some cupcake mix for the two of you, as you were having a pretty stressful day, and he wanted to cheer you up.

you got up, throwing open the door and yelling out an excited greeting as he shut the van door, making his way towards you with a food lion grocery bag in his ring-covered hands. "hi, you're back!!" you cheered, running towards him and giving him a huge hug.

"awh, hi honey! i missed you." eddie gave you a big smile, patting your head softly with his non-occupied hand. "up?" you gave him your best puppy dog eyes, tugging on his shirt. eddie chuckled, bending down a little bit to pick you up with one hand, as you wrapped your legs around his waist, hiding your head in his neck. he continued walking towards the trailer, setting down the bag for a second so he could open the door, he used his leg to keep the door open while he reached back down to grab the bag, quickly moving inside. "ready to make some cupcakes bunny?" eddie set you down in the kitchen, placing the bag down on the counter at the same time. you nodded excitedly, reaching into the bag and taking out the cake mix carefully reading over the instructions on the back. "so what do we need baby?" he preheated the oven, then looked back at you.

"mm, water, vegetable oil, and 3 eggs daddy!" you smiled as you watched him grab all the ingredients and a bowl. "ready?" ______________ you were cuddling with eddie on his bed, blushing as he kissed your head over and over and told you how sweet you were to him. eddie was truly the best thing that happened to you, the best caregiver you could ever ask for, you didn't know what you did for him to fall so madly in love with you.

as you guys were talking, you heard the oven timer go off. eddie knew you were tired, so he decided to let you stay in bed while he went to go get them out of the oven and into the fridge so they could cool down. "i'll be right back, bunny, stay put!" he tried to press another kiss to your cheek, giggling as you sneakily moved your head so his lips met yours. "mmm'kay! hurry back, wan' cuddle more!" you thought you sounded normal, but to eddie, he just heard a bunch of babbling which he found adorable. he smiled again, nodding before getting off the bed and wondering out of his room. ______________ eddie was taking awhile in your tiny brain, even though he'd only been actually gone for about two minutes. lazily, you rolled onto his side of the bed and sat up, rubbing your eyes for a few seconds. when you finally placed your feet off the bed, you felt a plastic bag under your foot, mostly hidden by the bed covers. originally, you got startled for a second, but giggled to yourself as you realized what it was and how you were just being silly. hopping off the bed, you pulled the covers up so they weren't covering the bag anymore, and gasped once you saw what was in the giant plastic bag. a bunch. of candy. a bunch. you thought it would be gross weed or something, but this was so so much better! grabbing the bag, you jumped back onto the bed and began munching away happily, stimming as you kicked your legs. suddenly, eddie came in and let out a playful sigh as he saw you eating a starburst. "oh well, that was supposed to be one of your secret suprises later, but i guess the cat is out of the bag, huh?"

[talzane]

Since I've listed the pros and cons of Danyal Al'Ghul vs Daniel Kyle and decided that Daniel Kyle is superior, here's the Danyal Al'Ghul story.

A silver and green half-track, built on the frame of an RV, screeched into the parking lot as the sun set, a trail of dust behind it slowly drifting in the wind. Its bottom half was caked in mud, the green, comet-like logo branded with a darker, green 'F' just barely above the filth. The driver and passenger doors exploded open, violently spewing mud in all directions, as a massive, day-glo orange neoprene wearing man catapulted his bulk from the driver's side and a much smaller, feminine figure clad in a teal, neoprene jumpsuit with its hood pulled over her head flipped out of the passenger seat. Both skidded to a halt facing the worn, dirty warehouse they'd come for.

"Ready, Mads?" The jolly, orange giant called.

"Always ready to catch some ghosts, Jack."

"Fenton Family Ghost Hunting Taskforce, move in!" In dramatically quiet, but nonetheless obvious, fashion, the obnoxiously orange man and his blue suited, red goggled wife unlimbered their respective bazookas and crept towards the door of the warehouse.

When they reached the door, they both posed, Maddie dramatically chose to crouch as low as possible with her feet spread wide apart, her bazooka held in one hand while the other hand grasped the door handle to open it. Jack chose to pose like an action figure next to the door; his bazooka was held diagonally across his body, his...large chest thrust forward, his shoulders back, and an idiotically serious look was plastered on his face.

Maddie opened the door as quietly as possible, the door creaked loudly like nails on a chalk board, and then, when the door was fully open, red lights burst into being inside the warehouse and a warning klaxon sounded. Jack stuck his head inside the doorframe to see what ghosts awaited them and rapidly ducked back behind the doorframe. Dozens of arrows whistled through the space where his head had been moments before.

"We've got a ghost, Maddie!"

"Ja--"

"CHARGE!" Jack put action to words and heaved himself through door, bazooka first, behind a shield of green fire from the mouth of his Fenton Bazooka. Maddie, less enthusiastically, followed her enthusiastic husband.

The interior of the warehouse was dark, lit intermittently by the flashing of the warning lights, but it was so loud that a normal person would have gone hoarse attempting to be heard over the cacophony of klaxons and sirens wailing. For Jack, he would only need to use his indoor voice.

The interior of the warehouse was filled with wooden crates, pallets, metal bins, and high shelves of industrial quality, but there didn't seem to be any people or ghosts inside. Maddie and Jack continued in the warehouse, they were certain there were ghosts inside. Nobody would ever lie to their tip-line, after all.

Jack lead them through the apparently emtpy warehouse, "Show yourself, spook! You've bothered innocent people long enough!"

Maddie pressed her left hand to her forehead, he'd just given up any surprise they'd had left.

The sirens, alarms, and klaxons fell silent as the echoes of her husband's demand faded. "I am not a ghost. Are you a blimp, orange man?" The voice seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere.

Jack puffed up even further as he craned his neck, attempting to locate the spirit, "I am *not* a *blimp*!"

Maddie jumped to her husband's aid, he was ever so terrible at banter, "Show yourself, ghost! You've haunted this place long enough!"

A confused chuckled reached their ears, "You aren't welcome here, humans. Leave my lair now, or I will destroy you."

Jack fired and arcing barrage of green blasts towards the direction the chuckle emanated from, "Take that!" They watched each shot splash off the shelves and rafters near the roof, Jack had missed.

The chuckle came back in force, "That wasn't even close, fat man," the voice turned malevolent, "My turn." Small, black balls whistled in from out of the darkness and landed at Jack and Maddie's feet.

Jack's boat horn of a laugh sounded for a second, "Ha! You miss--" the balls exploded, clouding the area in smoke.

Feet slapped against the ground, and something darted through the smoke. Jack fired at it, but it was already gone. The shadow darted back in, trailing something that glinted dully in the smokey haze.

"Jack! Look out!" Maddie called as she leaped in front of her husband, the collapsible Fenton Machete in hand. Maddie clashed with the shadow's silver whisp, and they circled each other; Maddie's machete darted in and out of the ghost's space, her blade a whirlwind of efficiency, but each strike was countered by that dastardly spook's silver whisp. Jack attempted to circle Maddie to line up a shot on the ghost, but for every step he took, the shade moved too, successfully keeping Maddie between it and Jack.

The repeated, rapid movements of Maddie and shadow began to clear the smoke, and as it dissipated, the ghost disappeared again. "A challenge, unexpected, but not unwelcome. Why do you hang around that buffoon when you could be so much more?"

"I'll never be a ghost!" Maddie retorted.

"We will see, blue woman."

"Think it left," Jack inquired.

"For now, it'll be back."

The duo continued to scan the warehouse, but quickly reached the back wall. "Look at this!"

Maddie turned her back on the open space of the warehouse, "What is it J-- Is that a detonator?"

Jack slapped on his best, oafish grin, "Want to test our theory of ghost dependence on the stability of their lair?"

Maddie's face twisted into a grin, "It *would* be a good experiment; great idea hon--" she cut off at a most unexpected sound. A baby's wails just barely reached her ears, "Do you hear that?"

"It's probably just a trick from that spook!"

"What if it isn't? We can't kill a baby, Jack," so Maddie continued to hunt the baby with Jack dogging her steps, grumbling about no good specters.

"Stay away from there!" Resounded from the rafters, drawing fire from Jack. "I will destroy you, leave my lair!"

"I'm not leaving a child with a ghost!" Maddie called out.

Whistling arrows rained from the air, Maddie rolled and flipped her way behind a crate as the arrows pinged off the concrete floor. Jack ducked behind a larger-than-Jack crate and looked to Maddie who met his eyes, "Get the baby, I'll handle this spook."

Jack darted in the direction of the cries as Maddie stepped out from behind the crates with her machete drawn, "Come on, dazzle me!" Smoke bombs rained from above, each shattered on the hard floor to unleash their smoke.

Jack looked back as he ran for the baby, the last he saw of Maddie was her small form standing in defiance of a dark ghost as a cloud of smoke writhed around her, growing higher and higher till it engulfed her teal form.

Maddie faced into the cloud and closed her eyes, listening to a voice from long ago, her sensei.

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

"But Sensei, I can't see!"

"When you close off one sense, all the others are heightened; what do you hear, what do you feel? Listen, feel the ground, the air around you. You can fight, even if you cannot see. Just do, don't think."

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

Maddie raised her machete to her left; she heard and felt the clang of metal on metal as the "ghost's" blade bit into hers. "You'll have to be faster than that," and she exploded into action.

The shadow she fought darted in and out of range, targeting the hand holding her machete, but every step, every breath, every swish of its blade carried to her perfect ears. Maddie answered each blow and each step as though she were dancing.

"This isn't possible!" Her opponent called out.

"This isn't over yet," Maddie answered the kidnapper, "Let me show you what's possible." Then, Maddie attacked.

---------

Jack found an area cordoned off from the rest of the warehouse by a wall of thick blankets, and he entered. Inside, he found a room centered around a wheeled cart supporting a plastic bin holding a small, wrinkled infant. The baby truly was an infant; Jack remembered how Jazz, his daughter, looked when she'd been born and when they'd been allowed to take her home, and to him, this baby appeared to be only a few days old. A few days old an already stolen by a ghost.

A foul smell reached Jack's nose, but not one that needed changing; Jack followed his nose to an area outside the blankets. The office he followed the smell to was empty for the most part, but held two corpses, a man and a woman, each covered in their own blood and holding the other; the baby's parents. His face twisted in anger, *darn Spooks!*

He ran back to the baby and scooped the infant into his arms, "I've got ya, buddy; let's get out of here, okay?" The baby fell silent, staring at Jack. Jack started back towards the way he'd come in, but came face to face with the smoke cloud his wife was in. The clash of metal, snarls of anger, and the stamp of feet echoed out from the impassive, dark cloud. "You get 'em, honey," Jack whispered, hoping she'd be okay.

Jack and the baby circled the cloud of smoke, which led Jack back to the detonator. Still filled with anger from the sight of the baby's family, Jack tucked the infant into one of his massive pockets and began to work on the detonator.

----------

In the center of the smoke, a clear space had emerged centered on the battle between Maddie and the assassin. "You're no ghost."

"Took you long enough." The darkly wrapped figured dashed towards Maddie again, and was again repulsed with a wall of steel and muscle.

They circled each other, watching for the slightest opening. Maddie took one step back, then another, slowly approaching the veil of smoke. The assassin snarled when he saw what she was doing, "You won't escape!"

"Try to stop me," Maddie sassed and then disappeared into the smoke.

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

Jack began to nervously scan the area around him, the sounds of battle had stopped, but he hadn't heard anything to tell him who won. *Please let it be Mads.* His hands continued a moment longer, and then he looked at his handiwork, "Done!"

Jack slung his bazooka over his back, removed the infant from his pocket, and made to leave the warehouse, just like Maddie said.

Halfway to the exit, he heard a snarl and spun, facing up, to see the darkly wrapped ghost with its glowing, green eyes dropping towards him, blade poised to end Jack's life. Jack froze, and the blade kept coming closer and closer; time seemed to slow down. There were so many things Jack still wanted to do, but there was so little time left.

A teal blur crashed into the ghost and carried them through a line of shelves and back into the red-lit darkness. The two had barely made a sound, and Jack had never felt so out of his depth; Jack was loud, but this battle was silent; Jack was bright, even his jumpsuit was day-glo orange, but this was a fight in the shadows; Jack hefted the infant and continued to bustle towards the door.

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

Maddie and the assassin crashed into the ground and flipped apart, her smaller stature belied their matched skill. "Stay away from my husband."

"You should have stayed away from the babe, now you must both die."

Their blades clashed, each blade covered in bite marks and scratches. Maddie's red goggles glared into the assassin's green goggles, then she rammed her shin into his thigh, eliciting a grunt from the ferocious man. She tried again, but his free hand dashed out, grabbed her shoulder, and flipped her through the air.

Maddie landed lightly on her feet, knees bent to absorb the shock and met the goggles of her enemy. "Still not dazzled, come on!"

"Where's your husband going, Mrs. *Fenton*?" Maddie froze, "Did you really think slapping your name on everything wouldn't give you away? You can't hide from us, you might as well die now."

Her eyes narrowed and her feet adjusted, "No, now *you* have to die." Maddie attacked.

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

Jack huffed as he ran through the doors and towards the Fenton Family Ghost Assault Vehicle, infant in tow. "Almost there, bud," he wheezed, "Almost," he panted, "there." Jack hauled the passenger door open and laid the baby on the seat. Jack rested with one arm on the doorframe, the other on the door, and his eyes on the baby he'd just saved, "You okay, boy? I'm sure Maddie will be out in a minute."

Jack waited. He felt like he'd waited an eternity, but he waited longer. Maddie would be out, she'd make it, she'd win. She was a Fenton, Fentons don't lose to ghosts.

---------‐-

Maddie continued to back away as the assassin flooded towards her, his blade a whirlwind of destruction. She parried, waiting for an opening, but they'd both learned too much about the other to leave any; whoever made the first mistake would die.

As she backed into an open space littered with pallets and crates, Maddie began to feel fear; if she looked behind her, she'd die, but if she didn't look behind her, she'd walk into something and die. Maddie waited for the assassin to slash towards her neck again and helped the blade along its trajectory with her own before rolling past the assassin and lunging from her crouch towards his head.

The assassin rolled under lunge away from her. When he faced her, he had his back to the room of crates and tripping hazards. Her face twisted in a feral grin, "Now, you die."

She carefully drove the assassin towards obstacle after obstacle, each time he tried to get behind her to return the favor, she drove him back yet again with further, skilled aggression. Her machete was pitted and dented, but it was built for hacking through branches, brush, and whatever else. The assassin wasn't so lucky; his blade was thin, deadly, but not meant for intense, drawn-out combat.

The assassin backed himself into a tall crate, and with no other choice, he lunged at Maddie. Maddie swept his blade to the side, stepped forward, grabbed his hilt with her free hand, and rammed her machete into the back of his blade as she yanked his hilt higher. The assassin headbutted her, and she stumbled back, but she'd already won.

Sensing an opening from her stumble, the assassin attacked; every slash, every thrust, every movement he made, she defended the same way. She hammered the center of his sword with her machete.

"Getting lazy?" The assassin mocked.

"No, you?"

They crashed into each other yet again. Maddie blew past the assassin's guard and threw him to the ground. A metallic snap echoed through the chamber. He flipped to his feet and back into his guard, but with only half his sword.

Maddie smiled sweetly at the assassin, "Size isn't everything, sweetie, but I think you're going to need to compensate."

"Still enough here to kill you."

"Oh honey, that's where you're wrong." Maddie attacked, and without his long blade, she was much closer. Every attack he tried, she countered.

Desperate to finish her before she succeeded at chopping his hands off, the assassin switched from a double, forehanded hold to a single, backhanded grip. Maddie scoffed, "Really?"

The assassin parroted her words from earlier, "Come on, dazzle me!"

Maddie rushed forward, but so did the assassin. At first, Maddie fell back, surprised by the efficiency of his attacks, but that didn't last. The green goggled assailant was predictable, so Maddie lunged into the opening he created. Her machete hack down into the assassin's skull as pain exploded in her side. With great effort, Maddie crunched her machete out of the assassin's head, glared into his goggles, and embedded her machete in his neck. She hacked at it again; again; and again until it fell free from his corpse, then she finally looked down.

The hilt of the katana protruded from her left side just below her ribs. Maddie left it in, it was the only thing stopping her from bleeding out. Her finger limply gripped the machete, her hand afire with pain from the protracted duel, as she stumbled towards the exit.

Maddie pressed her left hand to her ear, "Jack, can you hear me?"

"You betcha, Baby! Where's the ghost? Did you get it? Are you alright?"

She gritted her teeth against the pain in her side, "The 'ghost' is dealt with, Jack. When I'm out, I want you blow up the building."

"But why? If you got the ghost..."

"There will be more if we don't, Jack. Just trust me."

"Will do, roger, see you soon, over, Baby!"

Maddie pushed the warehouse door open with her full weight, then squared her shoulders as much as possible, and walked towards Jack, who was standing outside the GAV.

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

Jack took in the sight of his wife walking towards him. The left side of her suit from the waist down was covered in her blood, she had a sword sticking out of her side, her suit was torn in various places, her right goggle was cracked, she had an incredibly dented, bloody machete in her right hand, but she was alive. Jack reached inside the GAV and pressed the red button.

The warehouse exploded behind Maddie, who didn't even flinch as it burst into a million pieces. The dust cloud from the concussive wave billowed around her torn, wounded figure.

Finally, she reached him, "Let's go home, Jack."

Jack tenderly wrapped his arms around his wife and kissed her, "There's a sword sticking out of you, baby. Let's deal with that, and *then* go home."

Maddie dazedly smiled at him, "Okay."

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

The sun had risen while they were tending to Maddie's wounds. Jack glanced over at Maddie in the passenger seat, holding their new baby, "Do you think ghosts will come after him again, Mads?"

Maddie hummed and her brow knitted with worry, "I don't know, Jack, but we'd better be prepared. No ghosts are going to take our son from us."

"What should we name him? Davey?"

"No," she looked into the baby's eyes, "Danny. Danny Fenton," the baby giggled, "I think he likes it, Jack."

Jack grumbled, "Fine, but it's still a silly name."

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

Talia al'Ghul, daughter of the Demon Head, member of the League of Shadows, screamed in heartbroken, incandescent rage at the ruins of the warehouse, "WHERE IS HE!? WHERE IS MY BABY!?"

"It's for you," the assassin nearest her handed her a communicator.

Talia looked into the communicator, "What is it, Father?"

The aged visage of her father glared back at her, "The child is lost, either to the inferno or our enemies, and there is nothing to be done at this time. Your son will not have survived in any regard. Return to base immediately, Wayne has become difficult during your absence, and I need you to control him." Right, Bruce Wayne, her beloved, the father of the lost child she wasn't permitted to tell him she was pregnant with in the first place. Now she had to return without their child. "Do not tell him of what has transpired here, it will not help."

[starkcanvas]

Oh you want Sunny Coma Au Fluff? Well you're gonna get it!

I had a few ideas for how the incident might play out, but I'm gonna go for the less angsty one so Mari gets love and support during this tough time even though she blames herself.

Basically the incident happens how it does in Canon, but with one major difference, Sunny jumps down and grabs onto Mari when she falls, and ends up taking the brunt of the damage and (Without realizing it, saves Mari's life), falls into a coma.

Basil sees this happen, but Mari doesn't see him, He runs and calls an ambulance for him and hides in a panic.

A couple of weeks after this happens Aubrey and Kel stop fighting and team up to make their friends feel better.

Their first target? Basil.

Ever since the incident he hasn't stepped foot outside, so they go visit to check up on him, His grandma is worried about him too so she lets them in and goes to make some snacks for the kids.

It takes a bit, but eventually Basil opens up the door, He looks terrible, like he's been crying and hasn't slept.

So they both end up hugging him and trying to reassure him that "We're sure Sunny will be fine! He may be small! But he's tough!"

After calming down and having something to eat, Basil takes them both to his room and tells them he has to tell them something.

He ends up telling them what he saw on the night, but not what he heard as it was less than flattering to Mari, and he didn't want to upset them anymore than they were already. Plus it was pretty personal and not exactly his place to say

So the kids end up with the view that "The situation is terrible, but Sunny tried his best to protect his sister, So lets try to cheer her up!"

All three of them then go to Hero and try to bring him into the "Sunny and Mari Protection Squad".

So unlike in Canon, Hero isn't in a giant depressive slump because of Mari's 'Suicide'.

He's still depressed because his Unofficial little brother is in a coma and his crush is very much not ok.

They gang up on him when he gets home from trying (And failing) to talk to Mari.

They tell him what Basil Saw and try to convince him to join them.

It works and there's a new member to the "Sunny and Mari Protection Squad".

They work together to try and talk to Mari and let her know that they're on her side and don't blame her for the accident, but this doesn't happen for years due to Mari locking herself inside and being tutored instead of continuing in school.

The attempts still happen, but it calms down over the years as they get demotivated.

One thing they always do though is visit Sunny in hospital.

Basically they'd take turns visiting him after school and they'd spend an hour of two on the weekends either drawing, reading, telling stories, or playing games in there with him because they don't want him to be lonely.

On his birthday they all Help Hero bake a cake and get him some presents so they can celebrate it with him, but also so he'd have gifts when he wakes up.

So one thing I've mentioned before on Miko's blog is that Sunny would be in Mari's Headspace, even when she's awake. But he's also at least semi aware of what's going on around him. So when he's in there he hears the stories, them talking with each other and celebrating. Not only that but any drawing they make for him shows up in there too.

While they never see him really react to them. They do feel a sense of peace after spending time with Sunny and he's always happiest in Headspace during these visits.

I have a lot more ideas, but this ask is already getting long enough so I'll send in more later if you want them! I have a bunch of wholesome Basil Centric ones, and a ton more post good ending ones!

💕💕YESSSSS ALL OF THE WHOLESOME 💕💕

Thank you for this and I’d love to hear more ;w; I wanna join the Sunny and Mari Protection Squad too! 💕

[gildedmuse]

I may be posting some short things until I get my brain back. My goal is to write quick prompts, less than a page. Admittedly, this one is two, but it's a good start. Not writing wide, but goal wise.

An Alliance Made In Paradise

"So we filled the cake up with hundreds of monkeys and had the old lady who lives in a mirror make them look like me, and then they came jumping out of the cake right in the middle of the party, shishi, can you imagine?"

Zoro cocks his head, considering what a mess only Luffy could make out of a giant cake. He pictures it again, only this time with a hundred Luffys instead of just the one. It's about the same amount of destruction, but more bouncing. "Sure, okay." Zoro shrugs, unbothered by Luffy's questioning his ability to imagine something so simple. It's clear his captain is in one of those excitable moods. It's been a while since he's been this worked up telling Zoro about some big adventure that wasn't one that had only just happened. Of course, it's been a while since he's seen his captain.

The last month or whatever - hard to keep track after being stuffed into some metal can and sunk down below the waves - Zoro has been taking care of those of the crew smart enough to know better than to pay the damn curly brow any attention when females are involved. Please. As though Zoro was about to go save that idiot's ass when he obviously could have defeated them all at Zou and at least waited around until Luffy came. But no, he had to be all dramatic about it and go off on his own. Probably shouting about how brave and selfless he was the whole time, and didn't "Nami-chan" (disgusting) find it attractive how he was acting so nobly? Tch. The cook deserved whatever fate he'd made for himself, that's Zoro's opinion. But he also wasn't going to stop Luffy from going after the idiot cook, not if he was determined to. After all, Luffy is the captain, and if he decides the worthless pervert is worth saving then he would be rescued. Just not by Zoro.

Which is why Zoro spent the last who knows how long with The Heart pirates, heading up to Wano. The crew was weird, in Zoro's opinion. Probably had to do with being cramped up under the sea in such tight quarters. There is just something about them. Plus, there were so many rules. Don't swing that sword around the control panels, you can't just open the hatch when we're submerged, those weights are too big to fit on board. Usopp and Franky seemed to get along with them alright, and Robin had been amused by them the same way she seems amused by everything (including Zoro, and he still hasn't decided if that's good or duel worthy) but Zoro didn't like them. At least most of them. The cook was alright. He didn't make the best food but he wasn't old curly brow. The bear was pretty cool. He liked napping in the sun and sometimes would surface and collapse on the top deck. Zoro often used him like a really fluffy pillow. One time he'd been lying out there when suddenly he heard soft but pointed footsteps. He hadn't been surprised to see Torao in front of him, glaring down at him.

"Well?" The other pirate had said as if they had a whole conversation when actually Zoro had just been dreaming up a new move where he tossed Wado Ichimonji into the air, did the cool cross slash, spun around, and caught it back between his teeth just like that. He just needed to work out a few more details.

Something about Law's face told him that isn't what the other man had come to hear about.

"Well what?" Zoro asked, because what else could he do when he had no idea what Law was talking about. But the other captain, he just made a loud huff of air, turned, and matched back down into the ship.

Zoro still isn't sure what he'd been so upset about.

His captain is a lot easier to understand, at least to Zoro. Whatever he says he does, and whatever he does, he means, unless he hadn't meant to. It's much easier to understand. Luffy doesn't give him cryptic looks, or lecture him in this low but proud voice where Zoro feels like he's being told off for messing up simple kata. He missed having his captain around, even at times like this when the rubber boy is wrapped around his shoulder and waist refusing to walk when he easily could have, and instead choosing Zoro as an ideal ride. All the while happily chatting on about his adventure in escaping some other yonko. Not that Zoro is surprised. Luffy is hardly going to lose against a single damn pirate - yonko or not - not when he's the man who will become king.

"And then everyone started throwing cake which is kind of terrible, because it was probably a really good cake, but it's okay because Sanji made another one! I didn't get to eat it but it smelled so good! I'll bet even you would have liked it, Zoro!"

Zoro just gives a snort at that. He's ot overly fond of sweets to begin with, much less the idea of eating something that damn cook inevitably made while risking his life for some stupid woman who isn't even on their crew. He would grumble about it, but he really has missed Luffy's energy, that sunshine that follows him wherever he goes.

Torao could get excited about stuff, too, it's just different that's all. When Toroa finds something to get excited about, he doesn't bounce around and cling to it and try to lick it just to see how it tastes and pulls Zoro along so he can see it too. He just gets this slight almost smile. It's not really a smile, but his lips form this thin line and turn up in a way that isn't quite joyful and isn't quite easy going. It's not at all silly, but it does look rather dangerous. Zoro doesn't understand a lot about Torao, but that slight smile he understood immediately. The sharpness of it, the way it cuts across the usual frustration and grimness of his face.

Zoro found that almost smile of his usually meant trouble, and Zoro liked that. He also found that some part of him, a weird part locked inside his gut, liked it even without the promise of a sword fight. Zoro isn't sure what that is all about, so he doesn't worry about it. If it were important, Zoro would know. He just would.

"Eh, weddings seem boring. All that stuffy tradition and for what? Just to let people know you like someone you already know you like?" That doesn't sound like a fun time to Zoro, not even with a giant cake pull of monkeys throwing icing in a yonko's face. Now maybe if it were a giant bowl of sake…

"It's not JUST that though," Luffy insists, tugging at Zoro's hair, which he understands means his captain wants him to turn. Only then he pulls again. Urg, make up which way you want to go before pulling at him! "Oh, also!" Even with all the tugging, Zoro doesn't expect the slam to the top of the head. It doesn't hurt, it's just more that he's spent a month adjusting to a captain who doesn't just do shit like that. "Apparently you do weddings for alliances, too!"

Again, Zoro merely shrugs. Other people can do as they like, it's hardly his life and his choice to make. "Which is why you need to marry Torao."

Luffy nearly gets dropped to the floor. The only thing that stops him is the heavy grip he has around Zoro. "What are you talking about!?" Zoro tries to twist back to glare at his captain, but that's tough business when his captain is all smiley and also right behind him here Zoro pointedly can't get a good angle to scowl at. "Luffy! You can't just tell me to marry some other captain!"

From what he can see of Luffy's expression, the pirate is biting his lip. He looks almost… regretful. Only then why would he have been the one to suggest such a crazy thing? "Torao hadn't mentioned that pirate alliances are supposed to have big wedding parties!" And for a moment his eyes brighten and Zoro thinks he can almost see his captain's logic. "Imagine a huge party with all the meat and rice and sake you can eat!" The joy is just a flicker then, and the uncertainty in Luffy's face makes Zoro uncertain, so in response he straightens up, holds Luffy even higher. He won't have his captain doubting himself. "We ARE allies with Torao, though, and Zoro is the first person to join my crew….."

So of course that would be how Luffy would show someone how much the alliance met. Obviously, he wouldn't get married. Being married isn't like having nakama. It's something responsible, adult, restrained. Just like, Zoro imagines, Luffy often sees him. And he knows Zoro would never say no, to deny his orders.

Zoro hopes Luffy knows he would never deny him anything.

Still, his captain doesn't look completely happy, but it's what he's saying he wants. Luffy usually says what he's going to do and does what he says, this is new. He can imagine how furious Torao will be when he learns of this insane new plan, he probably won't even allow it to pass. So Zoro can say yes and feel perfectly comfortable with that choice knowing nothing will come of it.

Or, Law could smile. Nearly smile. He could listen through Luffy's insane ideas and then fix Zoro with this dark look, his lips turning ever so slightly up. He can imagine the chill that runs through him when Torao takes his time looking Zoro over. No, it's not just imagination. Zoro actually shivers.

That stupid feeling in his gut gets tighter some how.

Luffy is staring at him like he wants to take it back but he also really wants that wedding feast and he just isn't sure which way to go. Zoro represses the rest of his reactions. He smiles at Luffy. "Aye, aye, Captain," and he starts heading off towards the ship, he's sure. "Only one condition… You have to be the one to explain it to Torao!"