#I meant Torn in earlier tag

[marimeeko]

My Lil Guys 😭❤️

[cherryfennec]

what could you think of for a second and third phase for super dimentio

Ymmm I don't really see him having another phases so no but I've had something for the first 20 seconds of his initial battle in mind.

Tag, he's it.

okay so like spm spoilers and stuff but:

When you first start the battle with Super Dimentio there's a certain period of time where he's invincible. You can't damage him and nothing really happens until Timpani returns with the Pure Hearts.

Now in my personal opinion while I'm still glad they added this moment, it still left me a little unsatisfied. Here's why:

Dimentio turning into Super Dimentio with Luigi is his big moment, his victory. He has become something that is indestructible, something that generations of Ancients have been passing down. He is a god. The time frame where he's indestructible in the game is supposed to show that you are powerless against him, that no Pixl and no item will do anything. This is supposed to make you realize in the moment that: it's truly hopeless.

Unfortunately Dimentios spotlight is VERY quickly taken from him, which makes the idea less effective than it could've been. You see Dimentio working for this the entire game, just for him to win in the end only for 20 seconds and then turn into a joke of a fight. The speech he gives before the fight is longer than the actual boss, making everything slightly anticlimactic (at least to me).

The concept I've been thinking about using in my take of the Super Mario lore (SPM specifically here) is that those 20 seconds of standing and waiting around for the game to decide it's time to move on are instead spent on: A reverse game of magical tag.

The concept of a magical tag itself is used earlier in the game by Dimentio himself who makes Mario and Luigi humour him by traveling through the worlds they have been in before and finding ripples in space he's leaving behind to keep the game going. I thought by turning this moment of 20 second invincibility into a game of magical tag where he's “it” this time would help that feeling of hopelessness and stakes sink in.

In this scenario Mario still cannot fight back as Dimentio,actively chasing him, is invincible, which forces him to run from danger. He runs from world to world, but now in contrast to the previous tag game, the worlds are being wiped out as you go through them for the final time. They're barely holding on, torn from their colors and mixing with the white void peeking through. Maybe some leftover npcs encouraging to keep going or just being terrified instead. Dimentio is chasing after you, peeking his long arms or head through the ripples to strike, and as he makes his way behind you the world progressively disappears and you have to make it out before it's entirely gone, else its game over. In the end of this chase you make it back to Castle Bleck where it picks up on Timpani restoring the Pure Hearts with Blumiere and using them to help Mario by removing Super Dimentios invincibility.

In conclusion I think making this moment akin to what I described above would help set the tone of this enemy more. For one this moment is now LONGER so you can see direct consequences of Dimentios victory outside and think about it more, second it turns you into an actual helpless plaything that you were meant to be. The entire path of the chase leads you back to Castle Bleck, it's a circle. This time you cannot escape and this time the evil doings have been set in motion on a rapid scale. It's a moment of Darkness that's broken by Timpani, someone who has been with you since the beginning and who you saw grow. She's now full of love and determined to win, something that to me comes off as super inspiring. She has been cursed to live a miserable existence yet she found the Light thanks to you. And THAT'S why you shouldn't give up even after all the ruined worlds you've seen. You have to keep fighting for them even in their darkest moment, even when they're gone.

also to clear any confusion yes i know this game is 3+ but i still think it'd be cool ig

[bellaxgiornata]

Break the Tension [Chapter Two: "The Rehearsal Dinner"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.7k

[Full summary and series chapter list can be found here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+; Enemies to lovers, sexual tension, smut, semi-public sex, light angst

a/n: So this fic won the poll for which one I'll update today! I also feel like this part really sets the tone for this series... Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @mattkinsella @danzer8705 @pazii @paracosmic-murdock @xxdrixx

It had been years since Matt had last been around you. Graduation day at Columbia, to be exact. And yet from the moment you'd stepped into Fairfield Manor and made your way down the hallway towards him with Marci at your side, he'd known one thing remained true.

You still drove him absolutely crazy. 

Though not in the way you'd probably always thought. Matt truthfully never meant to be the way he was with you–harsh and teasing–but for some reason every time he got the taste of your pheromones on his tongue, his sexual frustration came out in the sharp way he spoke to you. He figured it was a sort of defense mechanism, one he hadn't initially meant to implement. Especially since it made him feel like a ridiculous school boy pulling his crush's ponytail because he couldn't just use his words.

Matt had picked up on your physical attraction to him from the very first day you both had met in the lecture for Critical Legal Thought. And back then, he'd always been terrified that if he flirted with you–even just a little bit–and you became the least bit aroused around him, he'd lose his mind completely. He didn't think he could handle the smell of your arousal mingled with your natural pheromones, not without pathetically throwing himself at you in Columbia's hallways. So he'd been crass and rude instead, still craving your attention but unable to handle you being further attracted to him. But to his surprise, you always held your own against him, which somehow only made you more attractive to him. 

But for some damn reason when you'd shown up tonight, he'd found himself initially torn between wanting to keep you at a distance and wanting to finally have you. Admittedly he'd forgotten just how good you always smelled because no one else ever had quite the same effect on him. It was like your particular pheromones were crafted specifically to drive him wild. 

You were Matt’s weakness and he so desperately wanted to be yours.

Earlier tonight, back at the venue for the rehearsal for tomorrow's ceremony, things had gone fairly uneventful after the initial interaction Matt’d had with you. Though he had noticed the way you'd reacted to his fingers barely grazing you below the hem of your dress. He had reveled in the way your skin had prickled with goosebumps, your heart accelerating in your chest as your face heated. His cock had stirred awake in his dress pants almost immediately, the faintest hint of your arousal hitting his nose and then his tongue. Your response had shown him that you still found him attractive, possibly even more than he remembered you being back in college, even if you still seemed incredibly annoyed by his presence. 

But Matt didn’t care about that. He’d find a way to change your opinion of him this weekend, at least enough so that his presence didn’t frustrate you. Because knowing you still found him attractive after he’d gotten a taste of your pheromones once more ultimately had him deciding that he was going to pursue you over the course of the wedding weekend– relentlessly . Matt refused to end the weekend without ever having a taste of you. Without ever hearing the soft, breathy moans he always imagined you'd make when he dove between your thighs. Without feeling all the soft, sweet lines of your body beneath his fingers– and his tongue. Without burying himself deep inside of you, fucking you so tenaciously that you could barely hold onto him, clawing at him as your your smart mouth moaned his name instead of cursing it for once.

Fuck. If he kept thinking like this he'd be needing to excuse himself to the bathroom just to take care of himself in one of the stalls. 

Shifting under the table, trying to alleviate the sudden uncomfortable strain of his dress pants against himself, he attempted to focus on his dinner. On either side of him sat Foggy’s brother along with a few of Foggy’s cousins that were also members of the bridal party, but directly across the table from him was you. And the scent of your perfume mixing with your pheromones wasn't helping his situation right now.

For most of the rehearsal dinner you'd been focused on your own food shortly after everyone had been seated and served. Though you’d chatted with the bridesmaids around you until Marci and Foggy’s parents had given their toasts before the meal. Oddly enough you didn't seem as conversational as he usually remembered you being tonight. Instead, you'd kept your head ducked over your plate, eating your food and occasionally responding to comments.

Frustrated because you’d stayed true to your earlier words, not making conversation with him anymore than you had to, Matt's foot slid forward underneath the table. He knew this would probably irritate you further with him, but he also didn’t know how else to catch your attention. Anytime he’d tried to start a conversation with you this evening, you’d answered in clipped replies, quickly pulling others around you into the conversation when possible so you wouldn't have to converse solely with him. 

He noticed your foot tapping anxiously in your heels as he slid his dress shoe forward until it finally bumped against yours. Across the table you stiffened in your seat, your foot halting its movements instantly. Bringing his fork to his mouth, he slipped the bit of steak between his lips as his head rose, his covered gaze focusing on you as he chewed. He could hear the tension growing in your muscles as your head rose marginally from the table, probably looking at him from across it and wondering if that had been an accident. Seconds later your foot slid a few inches backwards from his and resumed its anxious tapping.

Swallowing down the bite of food, Matt’s resolve didn’t disappear. He cut off another piece of his steak, spearing it with his fork and slowly drawing it up to his mouth. At the same time, he slid his foot forward again, bumping his into yours for a second time. This time he heard the way your hand tightened around your fork, your head rising up fully as you looked at him from across the table. He sent you a smirk before he took another bite from his fork.

“Goddamit, Murdock,” he heard you mutter under your breath. 

His smirk only grew wider as he chewed, his focus on you while the rest of the table remained oblivious to the silent interaction. Though in that moment, Matt would’ve given anything to hear you moaning out his first name instead while he felt your cunt tightening around his cock.

Entering your room in an irritated huff, you closed and locked the door behind yourself. For a few minutes all you could do was pace the room in frustration, walking back and forth as you ran your fingers through your hair.

Matt had gotten under your skin and you hadn’t even been here a full day yet. And tonight Marci and Foggy were having a fire out in the courtyard for anyone who wanted to join them for the evening. You’d wanted to go, hoping to catch up with some of the girls you’d met through Marci and become friends with over the years, but the thought of running into Matt and dealing with his strange and annoying flirtatious teasing had you considering staying in tonight. 

You didn’t understand what had gotten into him. He must’ve heard from someone after graduation that you’d once drunkenly called him attractive and he was now trying to make you admit it. Either that or he’d found out and figured it would be funny to tease you because of it, to make you think that you could ever draw his attention. Either way, you weren’t thrilled with his unwelcome flirting. 

But that weird game of footsie he was trying to rope you into at dinner had been so odd. It was almost as if he knew how much it was making you mad. Which was strange considering he couldn’t see your reaction each time he touched his foot to yours. 

With a sigh you told yourself you needed to stop thinking about Matt for the evening. You’d just stay in your room, clean off your face, and maybe get to bed early. That way you’d be rested for tomorrow. Admittedly the couple of glasses of wine from dinner were making you a little tired, anyway.

Heading back towards your bed, you picked up the clutch purse you’d brought with you to the restaurant. Opening it up, you reached inside for your phone, but your fingertips only brushed along your lipstick, your ID, and your debit card. Panic shooting through you, you opened the clutch wider and peered inside. Your phone wasn’t there.

A surge of fear raced through you as you tried to recall when you’d last had it. You know you’d used it at the rehearsal dinner tonight, but you could’ve sworn that you had put it back into your purse before you’d left. With a groan you realized you must have left it somewhere at the restaurant, which meant you were now going to have to borrow someone’s phone to call a ride back there just to pick it up.

“Great,” you grumbled to yourself.

Two brisk knocks at your bedroom door startled you, causing you to jump on the spot as the sound broke through your thoughts. Turning, you made your way over towards the door, wondering who it could be and also hoping they had a phone you could borrow. But when you unlocked and opened the door, you were vexed to see Matt standing there in the hallway. That stupid smirk was on his mouth again, too.

"What the hell do you want, Murdock?" you ground out. "I'm sort of in the middle of something right now."

"Oh?" he asked, his brows rising up high over his glasses. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing that concerns you," you answered. 

Peering around him in the hall, you searched for signs of anyone else you could ask to borrow a phone from. Unfortunately the hall was entirely empty except for Matt.

"Well, does the something wrong happen to do with you accidentally leaving your phone at the restaurant?" he asked. 

Your attention swiftly returned to him, watching as he reached into the inside pocket of his suit coat and slid your phone from within it. Relief flooded you instantly at the sight of it, a soft sigh escaping you. Though when that smirk grew on his lips at the sound of your relief, your left hand balled into a fist at your side. You didn’t like that he was pleased at having helped you.

"Heard you'd left it on the table from one of the bridesmaids," he explained. "So I offered to bring it back to you, considering we have rooms next to each other." 

"How very gallant, Murdock. Thank you," you said in a clipped tone, accepting the phone from his outstretched hand. "But now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get ready for bed."

Before you could close the door more than an inch, Matt’s hand darted forward. Your eyes widened in shock, staring at his large palm as it spread wide over the wooden door, halting its movements. 

"You aren't going to the fire tonight?" he asked, head tilting curiously to the side. "With everyone else?"

“If it means interacting with you? No, I’m not,” you replied bitterly. “Can you please let go of my door now? I think we’re done here.”

Matt said your name, the sound of it coming out low and sultry from his lips. Your hand gripped the door tighter in response, your eyes fixed to the red lenses of his glasses. It was as if his voice had suddenly put you in a trance and you couldn’t look away from him, your heart speeding up just a little faster in your chest.

“Why don’t you just admit it?” he questioned softly, taking a slow, calculated step into your room. “Just admit you want me. That you’ve always wanted me.”

Brows jumping up onto your forehead in surprise, your mouth fell partially open. Taken so off guard by his words and his boldness, you didn’t have the chance to stop him from further entering your room. Blinking rapidly a few times in shock, you took a step back from his imposing form passing through your door. Someone must have told him that you’d once drunkenly admitted to finding him attractive and now he was being an asshole about it. That had to have been the reasoning for his behavior so far.

“I’ve always thought you were a conceited asshole, actually,” you shot back.

You hoped he hadn’t caught the tremble in your voice as he continued to close the small distance between you both. For some reason you found him more attractive than usual advancing on you like he was; you couldn’t exactly explain why it was beginning to turn you on. He looked intimidating and strong with those broad shoulders tugging at his suit coat, the buttons of his dress shirt pulling beneath his tie which was askew along his chest. He looked good–better than he ever did at Columbia–but you did not want to be feeling that way. Not for Matthew Murdock. Because he was an asshole .

“And I think you should go,” you ordered, finding your voice again.

“Is that what you really want?” he asked, voice dropping an octave to something deeper as he took another step towards you. “Because I’m not buying it, sweetheart.”

Matt continued to gradually stalk towards you, one hand reaching out behind himself and pushing your door closed. It shut with a soft thump and your heart stuttered in your chest at the sound. Because you were alone with him in your room now, and for some reason that was having an effect on you that you’d rather never admit to him.

“I think,” he continued in that gravelly, deep tone, “that you’ve always wanted to know what it would be like with me.”

“That’s what you think, is it?” you questioned weakly.

“Mmm,” he hummed out, lips curling upwards. “Mhmm.”

Unable to move, your eyes fixed on his smirking lips, Matt closed the remaining distance between the pair of you. His hands very gently landed on your hips and your breath hitched in response, catching in your throat under his touch. In all the years you’d known Matt in college, he’d never once touched you. Not once. Not until that brief graze of his fingertips along your thigh earlier at the rehearsal. But right now it felt like the heat from his fingers were searing into your skin beneath the thin fabric of your dress, burning you from the inside out. It felt far too good, especially when his hands tightened further on your hips, gripping them more firmly as he balled your dress in his fists, pulling the fabric higher up.

Still transfixed by his face, you could see the sharp flare of his nostrils as he repeatedly expelled harsh breaths from his nose, his chest lightly heaving each time. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth as his head tilted to the side, almost like he was studying you in the silence that had fallen. Even behind the dark lenses of his glasses that he wore you could see that he was focused on you.

And that’s when a thought struck you as you took in the sight of him, trying to keep your knees from quivering at his proximity. He didn’t seem like he was remotely teasing you right now. This didn’t feel like the Matthew Murdock you’d known in college who’d taunted you and made jabs at you. He wasn’t here doing any of that.

No, it seemed like he genuinely wanted you. 

Something stirred low within you at the thought, a heat beginning to grow inside of you. One you’d never anticipated when it came to this particular man, no matter how attractive you’d found him over the years. Because he’d always been such an asshole to you. But yet…

“Except,” you found yourself saying, surprising even yourself with the way your tongue had been loosened by the glasses of wine you’d had with dinner, “I’m pretty sure it's the other way around. Because looking at you right now, Murdock, I’d say you’re the one who wants to know what it would be like with me.”

You saw the moment his jaw clenched, the muscle jumping agitatedly in his cheek. He bit down harder on his bottom lip, his shoulders tensing at your voice. 

A jolt of curiosity sparked inside of you at his reaction, your nerves dissipating. Had that been it all along? Had Matthew Murdock actually wanted you back then? Was that why he was being an asshole to you now, coming into your room uninvited and making these flirtatious advances? Because he still wanted you?

Oh that was an unexpected twist indeed. One you were going to enjoy in more ways than one this weekend. Because maybe you’d thought about fucking Matt in college, back before he’d become quite so mean to you that you couldn’t bear the sight of him, but now you considered taking what you wanted from him. Maybe you’d find out if he really was as great in bed as everyone praised him to be, but that’s all you’d do. Take what you wanted from him. And you weren’t going to make this easy on him in the slightest–he was far too cocky to begin with.

Consider it payback , you thought. You beautiful asshole .

When he hadn’t denied your comment outright, you figured now was as good a time as any to test your theory. You took a step closer to Matt, leaving the pair of you now only inches apart. Immediately you heard a rumbling within his chest at the movement, the noise something almost animalistic that sent a shudder straight up your spine. A pleased smile grew wide across your lips when he fisted the fabric of your dress even tighter in his hands.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” you murmured, tilting your face up towards his. “Tell me, Murdock,” you whispered, bringing your mouth closer to his as you spoke, “how often did you think about fucking me?”

“You’ve got a mouth on you, sweetheart,” Matt shot back.

“And how often have you thought about it on you, hmm?” you countered.

Matt’s bottom lip rolled out from beneath his teeth, his lips twitching as they thinned out along his face. It looked like he was struggling before you, torn between making a snarky comeback or fighting the urge to kiss you. Especially with how you’d leaned up towards him, your mouth only the slightest distance from his. You could feel his warm breath brushing over your lips as you stood there, the rush of adrenaline from having such an unexpected effect on him easily going to your head–and your cunt. 

Almost as if in slow motion, Matt dove forward to press his mouth to yours, but you abruptly stepped back from him. He immediately froze in place, head canting to the side as his dark brows knitted together beneath his glasses. His lips pressed firmly together as his expression shifted to one of confusion, and the sight left you grinning in satisfaction once again. 

Reaching out, you placed your hand against Matt’s chest, noticing the way his lips parted and a faint whine barely spilled out between them. With a gentle push, you nudged him backwards. Surprised, Matt stumbled back a step, his hands releasing their hold on your dress. The fabric unbunched, sliding back down your legs.

“I’m not going to kiss you, Murdock,” you stated. 

“Oh come on, you clearly want to,” he snapped. “I may be blind, but I can’t be the only one seeing the sexual tension here. Just admit you want me. That you want me to bend you over your bed and fuck you senseless here and now.”

Eyes narrowing, you shook your head. “No,” you answered.

“No?” he questioned, surprised.

“No,” you repeated. “I don’t want that, Murdock.”

He huffed out a laugh, that stupid, smug smirk spreading back across his lips. “Now, I’m not going to believe that for a second.”

“Believe what you want, sweetheart ,” you replied, tone intentionally condescending, “but if you want me, you’re going to have to beg for it.”

Matt openly scoffed, shaking his head as he let out a humorless laugh. “Absolutely not. I’m certainly not one to beg, and I sure as hell won’t beg for you ,” he ground out. “You’ll change your mind real soon, sweetie. I can tell you want me. Then you’ll be the one coming to beg me to fuck you and it’ll be that much sweeter .”

“Tell yourself whatever you want,” you told him. “Just do it out of my room that your desperate ass barged into. I need to get ready for that fire.”

He pulled a face at your words, his mouth opening and closing for a moment. The sight almost had you laughing but you bit your tongue, trying to fight it back. He somehow looked even more confused.

“I–I thought you said you weren’t going to that?” he asked.

“I changed my mind,” you answered with a shrug. “Might be fun to watch you squirm now that I know what you’re really after.”

Matt shook his head, turning around and heading back towards your door. You almost offered to help him as he felt around in front of himself for a second, but then he’d grabbed the door handle and twisted it open. He took a step out into the hall, grabbing his cane that he must’ve rested against the wall out in the hallway. Before he left, he turned over his shoulder back towards you.

“You have absolutely no idea what I’m after,” he told you.

You watched as Matt unfolded his cane, making his way next door to his own room. Standing in the middle of your room, you were left staring out of the open door wondering what the hell he’d meant by that.

[rocksibblingsau]

what’s something about the fic that you wanna share but don’t think you’ll get a chance too?

Some deleted/rewritten scenes!

One of the first scenes I envisioned was a scene of Barb singing Seven Nation Army (in regards to Branch having worries about Trolls not liking him and her reassuring him she'd fight anyone off who did), but I had Branch reveal his trauma pretty earlier on once I started writing and Barb choosing to sing a song would have been massively out of character.

The initial plan for Branch getting his headphones from Riff actually took place in the upper bowl, and would have also been when Branch met Sid, but I changed it to the coffee scene simply because it worked better.

An earlier concept of Chapter 8 had Barb gifting Branch Bobo, but to be honest Branch wouldn't have liked Bobo so he got a new plushie. I also briefly considered the idea of Branch accidentally ripping Bobo, but to be honest Bobo is so destroyed that how could you even tell if you did rip him.

There was a scrapped concept between chapters 9 and 10 that would have had him spending time and watching wrestling on TV, but that was reworked into him watching it live during their special day.

In chapters 11/12, I briefly considered Billy being the one to find Branch on behalf of Barb, but decided to have Barb find him, have a fight with him and then send Billy in.

The nickname 'Twigs' just randomly came to me and wasn't planned, but once I came up with it I wanted to make it their thing.

In chapter 14, I was torn between laser tag and bumper cars but settled on laser tag. I'm happy I did because I don't think bumper cars would have been as special or interesting, and now Branch has a thing he's good at. I also debated who the teams should have been for awhile.

In chapter 15 Branch wasn't originally going to break the CD player, and Demo would have checked over his work, but it felt more in character to me that Branch might have a more violent reaction.

In chapter 19 there was going to be a scene where a large spray of lava was going to hit Barb and Branch, and Barb would toss Branch to Sid to keep him from getting submerged. I realized half way through writing that scene that it was too close to Branch being pushed by his grandma and would more than likely have caused Branch a panic attack, and that chapter was meant to be cute so I cut the scene entirely.

Raff's personality was initially kinda different. She was a more anxious person, with a bit of a defeatist attitude. Canonically that's what she used to be like, before she got therapy.

Branch's revelation about Cooper at one point was planned for when he met Prince D, but I moved it to coming about thanks to therapy.

I cannot stress how last minute Dickory was. Part of why I added him is because Poppy's story was actually kind of depressing without him.

Before I made the plan for the haunted house to go poorly, Branch was going to go to the carnival where there would have been yet another Spider tease.

[arctrooper69]

Born for This

This is my gift for @starborncyare-deactivated202303 as a part of the @cloneficgiftexchange (which you should go and check out bc there are a TON of amazing fic authors).

Prompt: "Cyar'ika no." // "But it followed me back to camp!"

P.S. Sorry for posting so late tonight. I meant to post it earlier but life got in the way. Hope you like it though!

Holy crap I tagged the wrong person 😱😱😱 I'm so sorry!

Warnings: None?

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"Where in the kriffing galaxy have you be -" Kix stuttered, cutting himself off as you walked through the door holding what looked like a large bundle of towels. Whatever you were carrying barely fit in your arms. "Uh...what is that?"

Before you could respond, the bundle began to wiggle and two long angular ears popped out of the top.

Kix's look of concern flipped to one of disbelief in a matter of nanoseconds.

Oh Force, not again.

Jesse and Hardcase had brought him an injured tooka the week before and it had wrecked havoc in his med bay when it got loose. Kix desperately hoped this wouldn't be a repeat of that disaster.

Though, despite his initial worries, he had to smile. You did look awfully cute sporting that wide grin of yours. He loved how the tip of your nose crinkled when you were truly happy.

Kix took a step forward, curiously peering at the creature cocooned in your arms.

Oh. Kriff.

He almost wished it was a feral tooka.

He slid his hand down his face and took a deep breath as he stepped back. "Cyar'ika," he said evenly, keeping his voice as calm as he could muster. "Please tell me that isn't what I think it is."

You looked down as the creature in question poked his head out from beneath the towel, large yellow eyes curiously gazing around the room.

"This little guy?" You cooed at the large cub. He barely fit in your arms.

"Little!?" Kix almost yelled, shooting you an incredulous look. "That thing is a gundark and could very easily tear you apart!"

As if on cue, the cub let out a purring growl before yawning, displaying rows of razor sharp teeth.

You frowned. "His name is Tiny and I don't think he likes what you just said about him."

Kix pinched the bridge of his nose, not quite believing the scene before him.

"You named it!?"

You nodded enthusiastically.

"And....what made you decide to bring it here?"

The gundark whined, knocking his head against your shoulder, blinking up at you.

"He was wandering around just outside the base. I think there's something wrong with his paw. He was limping and I thought you could help him!"

"It is a gundark, cyar'ika. Please get it out of my med bay before it eats someone."

Your expression fell. "But he's hurt! He doesn't have a mom anymore! We have to keep him!"

"No. Absolutely not. Go outside. Put it down immediately and go wash your hands."

"But he followed me back to camp! I think he thinks I'm his mom now. Please at least just help me patch him up!"

Kix sighed. Part of him wanted to yell at you, tell you that the cub was dangerous, that it could seriously hurt you. Kix had seen brothers be torn to pieces by these creatures. He could still hear their screams as they were eaten alive. He wanted that danger as far away from you as possible.

On the other hand, the amount of compassion you displayed towards this injured animal was the same kindness he'd seen you show daily as you helped nurse his wounded brothers back to health. You were born for this - he saw it everyday. Watching you be so gentle towards such a bloodthirsty creature stirred something inside of him. You were strong, he knew that, and as much as he tried to keep you out of trouble, danger just followed along behind, but you faced it head on with such a genuine, loving thoughtfulness. It was part of who you were.

Maybe it was time to act on those feelings that had been growing stronger day by day.

Kix chuckled softly as his hand grazed your shoulder. He smiled warmly, latching onto that growing sparkle of dedicated excitement in your eyes.

"Alright, cyar'ika. Let's see what we're working with."

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[transformers-mosaic]

Transformers: Beast Wars - Second Chances - Page 4

Originally posted on February 2nd, 2011

Story - Mike Priest Art - Jeffrey Witty Colours - Jenny Son Letters - HdE

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wada sez: This was originally meant to be Page 5, with some of the later Waspinator stuff moved earlier. As envisioned by Mike Priest, all of the pages for the comic would have individual titles, but only he seemed to like this idea and none of them made it into the final product. He gave this page the title “Eternal Too”, a reference to the fact that this entire story is an expansion of his previous Mosaic one-shot, “Eternal”. See below for the original script and an early sketch by Witty, along with Mike’s “Writer Spotlight”.

Beast Wars: Second Chances- Page 5

“Eternal Too”

By Mike Priest

-

(FIRST PANEL- Depthcharge’s hand slaps down on wet sand; he’s just pulled himself from the ocean.)

(SECOND PANEL- A full side-view of Depthcharge, on his hands and knees crawling from the surf- wet, caked with dirt, seaweed hanging from parts of his body…we cannot see his chest.)

DEPTHCHARGE: G-geh…

(THIRD PANEL- Close-up of Depthcharge’s head, looking down at the sand, in confusion.)

DEPTHCHARGE: Huh…how?  I-I…thought…

(FOURTH PANEL- Depthcharge whirls and looks behind him in a panic, having heard a voice.  We still can’t see the front of his chest.)

RAMPAGE: (Dialogue bubble unlinked, border color differs) Well…THIS is certainly interesting.

DEPTHCHARGE: (Enraged) X!  WHERE ARE YOU??

(FIFTH PANEL- Depthcharge, horrified expression as he looks down at himself.  We see the pulsing glow of a spark from below off-panel.)

RAMPAGE: Where I’ve always been…

DEPTHCHARGE: (Small text) no…

(FINAL PANEL- Unveiling of Depthcharge’s chest- it is torn open enough for us to see a SECOND spark (smaller; it’s only a half) somehow messily “fused” onto Depthcharge’s larger spark, like some cancerous lump.)

RAMPAGE: …a touch more literally now, it would seem.  AHAHAHAH!

Ah, Beast Wars.  For me, it's a case of "third time's the charm!" Y'see, Beast Wars was Transformers' third coming for me.  And once it hit, I was snared for life.  As a wee lad, I was a fan of G1, from about the age of three 'til the age of seven or eight.  Oh, there was the Real Ghostbusters and Spidey and His Amazing Friends and whatnot here and there.  But Transformers was always the fallback, always something I could go back to when I lost interest with whatever the new fad was on the playground. Around 1991 or 1992, while there were still some Transformers toys on the shelves, I was growing more enamored with Ninja Turtles and Marvel Superheroes, and Transformers was largely on the backburner, possibly for good this time. But my growing love of comic books would bring me to Transformers yet again.  One fateful day in 1993, on a routine trip to the comic store with my older cousin, I saw it on the shelf. Transformers Generation 2 # 1.  Everyone can remember that cover -- Optimus Prime with bullets jutting out of his skull and faceplate and the tag "This is NOT your father's Autobot." I eagerly snatched it up and for the next twelve months, going to the comic store became a regular occurrence.  I loved Spider-Man and X-Men and Iron Man, but Transformers Generation 2 was the comic I HAD to have every month. You can imagine my disappointment when I discovered the book had been canceled after only twelve issues.  Without supporting fiction to give my toy "adventures" some measure of credibility, my interest waned as it had before, and Transformers once again only became a fond memory. Fast-forward to 1996.  My younger cousins tell me of an awesome "computer-graphics" show airing in the morning called Beast Wars.  "It's animals that transform into robots!", they tell me.  I chuckle, inwardly wondering if it is some rip-off of Transformers.  A few weeks pass and I catch an episode.  "The Web", it is titled, but what shocks me most is the "Transformers" subtitle underneath the prominent Beast Wars logo.  It isn't a rip-off, it IS Transformers! Of course, as a bitter, world-weary twelve-year old at this point, my initial reaction is "Turning into organic-looking animals?  Huh, dumb".  This doesn't stop me from watching the show on weekday mornings before going to school, rationalizing that "nothing else is on". Then suddenly, about midway through the first season of Beast Wars, I realize I'm not watching it because "nothing else is on" anymore, I'm watching it because it IS Transformers and it is AWESOME!  Before I knew it, I was hooked again!  And this time would be for good.  Never again would something push Transformers to second or even third-banana status with me.  I was a Transfan through and through and I owed it to Beast Wars for reminding me. To me, Beast Wars represents some of the very best Transformers storytelling has to offer and is unequivocally the best Transformers animated series of all time (so far).  I jumped at any chances to contribute to the Beast Wars universe in anyway, through fanfiction, through Transformers Mosaic, and now, through BEAST WARS: Second Chances. It's funny.  We're calling it "Second Chances".  But for me, Beast Wars was a THIRD chance.  And like I said before, third time's the charm! -- Mike Priest

[sleazysquid]

Strangers On A Train (Dabi x Reader)

Anon Asks: If requests are still open, some filthy Dabi breeding kink plz 🥺💕💕 love your work !!!

Hi anon! Glad you’re here! Sorry this took a while!!! I hope you like what I’ve come up with <3 I feel like his breeding kink is mostly empty promises meant to keep you leashed to him. Someone he just plucked out of society wouldn’t know any better than to believe whatever he says. I felt like I needed the right inspiration to hit in order to write since this is just so delicious, and I think I found it in the form of an old adult film a friend told me about one time. I wish I knew the title of it, but without further ado, here’s a mean Dabi with a disgusting breeding kink ;)

Word Count: 1.1k

Tags/Warnings: (focuses on real themes, dark content), chikan, fem reader, noncon, sex with no prep, breeding kink, creampie, mentions of pregnancy, misogyny, very light yan themes if you squint

It starts off with a tired day. Whether you’re busy at work, hungover after a party or whatever. The long journey home has just started, and you thankfully found a seat after the first stop. Almost immediately after sitting, you’ve found yourself nodding off on the train. The quiet hums of the cart rustling you back and forth gently, it’s beckoning you, eye lids getting heavier and heavier, the announcer overhead growing more faint as your brain shuts down slowly. A sudden jolt of adrenaline kicks in as a hustle of people pack into your cart like sardines. A peculiar man boards, standing across from where you sit. He’s scarred from head to toe with raven black hair and roughed up clothing that’s been torn up in a few areas.

You two exchange short lived eye contact. A courteous smile is extended on your part as more humans pack into the train and obstruct your view of him. The doors close, the next stop is heard over the radio, the train sputters to a rolling start. You look up to haphazardly observe your surroundings, a pregnant woman is standing with her fingers gripped tightly around the handle vertical from you, the train jostling her around with ease.

“Ma’am,’ you whisper,

“You can take my seat if you’d like”

She smiles politely and whispers back “thank you” as you switch spots with her, passengers already taking it upon themselves to stare at the two of you. Despite whispering, you’re still technically being disruptive by social standards.

Heavy eyelids come back to pester you again, even when you’re standing with white knuckles around the strap. You’re not quite aware of your surroundings, your mind is just coasting through trying to get to the last stop as best as you can. The world around you focuses in and out as you drift through phases of consciousness. Such a sluggish feeling, so sluggish you don’t notice the scarred man you smiled at earlier has moved from where he initially stood on the train. Chest against your back, you can feel his soft rugged breathing as he leans closer into you, taking advantage of every bump the train tends to make.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, the will to fight off the urge to sleep strengthens as you’re now hyper aware of your surroundings, and particularly, interpreting if this man has any ulterior motives. Your feelings are confirmed almost immediately as the man rests a hand on your hip, dry humping against your ass. The grinding motion of his clothed cock teasing you slowly, against your will, your heart flutters in conjunction with your body tremors with the hot stare, his cerulean eyes watching every bounce and jiggle of your body in such an observant and petulant manner. He leans into your figure further, nose brushing against your goosebump ridden neck, inhaling your scent.

“Are you aware of the declining birthrate that’s infecting our country as we speak?” His gruff voice whispers against your skin.

“Sir—“ you turn to look at the perpetrator, shocked at his disgusting comments.

“—Shhhhh!!” A patron hushes you. Suppose you already had your free pass to speak when you gave up your seat, any more noise and you’d rather not have the entire train agree to kick you off for making more of an issue. You’re baffled at the lack of empathy your fellow passengers have for you, much more quick to dismiss than to bring light a conflict.

The hand that once took purchase on your hips slowly creeps upward underneath your shirt, cupping the swell of your breast and squeezing down hard before pinching and rolling your nipple between his calloused dirty fingers.

“See that woman over there? That you so graciously offered your seat to? Why don’t you fulfill your duty and help the birth rate” he hisses delicately over the shell of your ear as his lips press against the soft flesh.

The others surrounding you notice your predicament, but choose to either avert their eyes or keep staring at the spectacle he’s causing.

“We’re getting off on the next stop. Say anything and you’ll be burnt to a crisp on the spot, understand?”

The low rumble of his voice causes a shiver down your spine as you nod nervously to his demands. As the announcement came to a head, he ushers you off the train, stapled hands keeping the firm grasp on your hips. He’s dangerously close behind you, guiding you down an unknown road that leads to a dark disheveled apartment. You’re greeted by beer cans and empty cartons of cigarettes scattered around a single stained twin sized mattress.

Each article of clothing is pawed off in a disordered manner, he can’t seem to keep his hands or his mouth off you. A shoe here, a shirt there, you’re stripped down to the bare nude hastily before being pushed onto the dirty mattress. The scarred man stays pretty much clothed, opting more for convenience on his part by pulling out his hardened cock. Cigarette butts cling to your back as you’re nearly crushed by his full weight, slotting himself between your legs and leaving no warning for bottoming out inside you completely.

Beer cans clink and roll off the bed with how hard he’s fucking you into the mattress. He doesn’t let up, keeping himself sheathed for as long as possible. Your eyes glaze over with tears rolling down the sides of your face, mind desperately trying to dissociate, but between the jolts of pain, pleasure begins to bloom ever so slightly, but nothing that comes to fruition. The villain’s moans get louder, more whiny, his movements are more erratic.

A hand moves up to grab your chin, forcing you to look at him, “Yeah you want me to get it all inside and keep you here tied down to me forever? That’s what you’re doing to me looking at me with those beautiful wet eyes. Your pussy’s too tight and too pretty to not fill up.” He sucks in air through his teeth.

Fear hits the pits of your stomach, “No, no… No please don’t”

He brandishes a smile, bright blue eyes staring deep into your squirming form. Not another word is exchanged from either of you, thrusts coming to a sloppy piston as this stranger fills your womb to the brim with potent seed. His mouth slightly ajar, crazed eyes now half-lidded with a his hand wrapped around your neck, heat radiating from the palm, a vague threat of burning you beyond recognition. This is your life now, no longer the strangely beautiful mundane work-home rut you once resented.

[snippychicke]

Legend of the Selkie and the Pirate --Two--

Fandom: One Piece (LA mainly)

Rating: Teen/mature (we have non-graphic nudity stated)

Pairing: Buggy/Selkie!Reader

Warnings: None except heartbreak?

Summary: Even in a world of monsters, devil fruits, pirates, and fishmen, selkies were considered a myth. Especially in the East Blue where the waters were too warm for seals to live anyways. 

Except that myths were always seeded with truths, and stories always had a habit of coming to life. 

Tagging: @tfamidoingwithmylife; @yellowbbear ; @skullr0se; @chiyo-juice

Masterlist|Ao3

(psst, if you're a long time reader of mine and noticed that I had posted part one without dramatic use of italicized words... that was because tumblr ate my formatting. It is fixed now along with a few spelling/grammar corrections.)

Prompt:  Something/Someone missing

The joy of a large trove of treasure disappeared as Buggy watched the seal slip beneath the railing and over the edge. Without thinking, he called out your name as he raced to the edge, just to watch you gracefully disappear beneath the choppy waves. He was somewhat aware of the rest of the crew torn from the treasure, but was frozen as he watched the water. Hoping--Praying-- that you'd break the surface. That you would reappear--either human or seal-- and he could pluck you up once more despite the earlier ocean spray on his hands had already made them painful and weak. 

He'd do it again. And again and again. 

If you would just reappear. 

"Not even a goodbye," Mohji whined eventually. "Richie is going to be so heartbroken." 

Who the fuck cared about the lion? He was heartbroken. The necklace he had in his fist--the one he was about to insist you try when he had first turned around-- cut into his hand as he clenched his fist. 

Why? What did your family or kind or whatever have that he couldn't provide you? Were any them as flashy as he was? Making you constantly smile and laugh? Did any of them take you and accept you as easily as his crew had? 

Did any of them love you like he did? 

Or was it his one flaw? His one weakness? That he couldn't swim. That the ocean hated him for fucking accidentally eating that damn fruit. 

That damn Shanks. If he ever saw him again, he would rip his throat out. 

(Don't let it be his nose. It couldn't be his nose, right? You said it was fine, and he didn't think you were lying.) 

"Cap'n?" Mohji asked, breaking Buggy from his thoughts.

The crew was looking towards him, which he usually didn't mind. Except there was pity in their eyes. As if they could tell--as if they knew--how he felt. 

"What are you freaks looking at?!" He shouted with a manic grin. "We just hit the jackpot! It's time to celebrate!" 

The cheers were less than heartfelt, but Buggy let it slide. This once. 

--

Granted, later that night, while the crew was sleeping off draining half the beer they had on board, Buggy made his way to the small room you had claimed. 

You had been with them for just a few short months, and yet you had made the tiny room your own. Hammock full of blankets and pillows stolen from who knew where. A chest brimming with clothes donated by the crew. A vanity with a cracked mirror, yet you.hadn't seemed to mind. You had placed shiny rocks and shells in the canister meant to hold makeup and brushes.  

He took the necklace he had kept in his pocket and put itt in the main drawer, next to the hairbrush (your hair mixed with a few of his since it had been a spare he had found in his own room). He knew he was being foolish, but he held on to the sliver of hope you'd be back. That you would look at his gift with delight and grin happily at him. That the sparkling gems would look as beautiful as he imagined against your skin. 

And, well, if he happened to fall into your hammock, pulling your pillow close to his chest, it was merely because he drank too much. But in the moment, he knew the truth as the sway of the ship rocked him into an uneasy sleep. 

He missed you. 

Prompt: Forgetfulness 

You had forgotten how lonely the sea was. 

As the sun set and everything became dark, you pulled yourself up to an outcropping of rocks before shifting and looking to the stars. Except the sky was clouded, obscuring everything. 

The night would have been silent if not for the sound of water splashing against the rock and your legs. It was impossible to tell where the sea and sky separated--all that you could see was inky blackness. As if you had somehow appeared into an abyss. 

You shivered, but you weren't cold. You still pulled your fur tighter as you continued to shake, chest becoming painfully tight. 

You wanted to be on the pirate ship right now. You wanted to hear the rumble of snores of the crew. The soft boot steps of those taking watch. The soft glow of the lamps and candles. 

Buggy finding you and ending the lonely night often brought alongside insomnia. It had become a little routine, making you wonder what made it so hard for him to sleep at night. 

You never asked. 

Finally the tightness erupted into a scream, hot tears stinging your eyes. 

You had forgotten what true loneliness was like.

You forgot the heartache of missing those dear to you.

Your heart wasn't sure it even knew where 'home' was. The arctic where your pod was. Where your parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, were.

Or a ship where you were surrounded by people so unlike but had wormed their way into your heart nonetheless. 

(Or maybe where a blue haired pirate grinned at you with bright eyes and a red nose. Like you were the most amazing thing he had ever seen.)

Prompt: Unexpected 

"We're going to the Grand Line!" 

The crew of freaks stared at their captain in confusion. When he had called them together, this was not what they expected his announcement to be. In fact, no one had cared to even place bets considering they all believed it to be the same. 

To go after you. 

"The… Grand Line, Captain?" Mohji was brave enough to ask, clearly as confused as everyone else despite the fact he was technically Buggy's second in command. 

Thankfully, Buggy grinned at the white curly-haired man. Though there was a hint of mania yet again to his blue eyes. "You heard me. We've pittered about the East Blue for long enough, it's time to go after the grand prize--the One Piece!"

"Don't we need a map for the Grand Line?"

"Does the One piece actually exist?

"Well, rumor has it Buggy was on Rogers ship. So if he thinks it does, then it must, right?" 

Buggy wasn't too concerned about the talk amongst the crew, that was to be expected. After all, it was a big change. 

But then…

"What about our selkie that jumped shipped?" Mohji asked, and everyone quickly grew silent, looking towards the captain expectedly. 

Buggy felt his eye twitch as he gritted teeth behind his smile. 

Waking up in your hammock had made the truth hit him like a sledgehammer. You were gone. You chose to leave, without so much as a goodbye.

 Escaping to the one place he couldn't follow. 

"Our little seal made her choice," he said, turning to his first mate with murder in his eyes. "And I don't want to hear another word about it." 

Because his heart was bruised enough as it was. 

He wasn't going to chase after someone who didn't want him. (Just like everyone else in his life he had cared for. He had opened his heart to you, only for you to devour what little had remained before jumping overboard.)

Prompt: Undone

"Well, she's rather special. I mean, can you blame him?"

"Hmph. Captain Buggy has made it a point to build a crew of people that don't fit in. We're his band of freaks. But at least we're human. Or fishperson. The bitch is as useful as a one-legged man in an ass kicking contest. I mean, she had to be taught how to wash dishes." 

"Either she sharpens up, or the Captain will realize how useless she is and send her overboard too."  

The words still echoed in your head despite it being weeks since they were spoken. The conversation you weren't meant to hear but did. The one that made you realize you didn't belong among the land-kind. 

That you weren't meant to be one of Buggy's crew. That the chore girl position you had been given was just to keep you entertained and out from under others feet.

Oh sure, many of the crew acted like they enjoyed you being there-- especially Buggy himself-- but not all of them were such great actors. The scoffs. the sneers. 

Some things were universal no matter what. 

The cry of a seagull roused you from the half-sleep. You groaned when you realized the sun had moved, meaning you were no longer in the shade of the towering cliffs but in the hot sun. 

You grabbed your fur and moved into the new shaded area. Hoping to get a little more sleep before the sunset and you could resume your attempt at finding home.

Goddamn tropics being so hot. It was way too warm to try and swim during the day, so you resorted to trying to sleep while the sun bore down. Yet always alert for any land-kind, so sleep was a relative term.

But at least there were plentiful fish in the waters. 

Yet… your time on the pirate ship had spoiled you. All that different food.

Baked.

Roasted.

Toasted.

Fried. 

And the fruit. The cool and sweet juices from biting into one busting into your mouth. Sometimes too much and escaping the corners of your lips. 

Buggy laughed as you tried hard to catch the juice with your hands. He eventually reached over and wiped some you didn't notice from your chin and made a show of licking it from his glove. "Juicy little thing, aren't you?" 

"I-it was," you agreed, trying to reign in your impulses that you didn't realize what he truly said.

How were you supposed to enjoy going back to eating merely to survive after that? (Were you ever going to get him out of your head?) 

You continued to try and sleep, ignoring the pain any dreams brought once you woke. 

Prompt: Eyes 

For being stuck in a sack, bodiless, and more or less prisoner of Arlong, everything had been going fine. Listening to Luffy's antics was always entertaining. The boy was so clueless and full of optimism that it was almost unbelievable at times. As well as rather annoying, considering how the rubber-cursed teen and his tiny crew had beaten him 

What was wrong with this kid? 

Maybe the Gum-Gum fruit had done something to his brain too. 

Okay, things were massively sucking for Buggy right now, but he held out hope. He had escaped worse situations. Yes his body was too far away for him to literally pull himself together. But after they tracked down the Straw hat, Arlong said he'd let him go. 

Granted, Arlong was the kind of pirate to lie straight to your face, but all Buggy had at this point was hope. 

And then he heard you. He knew wherever his body was it jerked, instinct to whip around to look for you before he remembered his ear was miles away at the Baratie restaurant hidden in Luffy's cap. 

What the fuck were you doing there. 

He wiggled his ear slightly in hopes things weren't so muffled. As angry and hurt as he still was, there was no denying that he was desperate to hear your voice clearly. 

He wanted to see you. Touch you. Talk to you. (Demand to know why you had left him the way you did. Hadn't any of the time you spent with them, with him, meant enough for at least a goodbye?)

"--I'm lost," you admitted slowly, sounding as cautious as when you first boarded his ship. Back when you didn't know who to trust and expected someone to do something. "I'm trying to head north, but--"

He silently groaned, rolling his eyes, the Baratie was south of the Deadman Stacks. No wonder you ended up in the East Blue. You were absolutely clueless when it came to directions, weren't you?

(He could have helped. If you had just asked. If you had just waited another minute.) 

"Where's home?" Luffy asked, full of innocent optimism that set Buggy's teeth on edge. 

You wouldn't. You wouldn't dare accept help from the brat after leaving him. Right? There was nothing that kid had that he didn't. (Except a normal nose-- no. You didn't care about his nose.)

"North?" You answered awkwardly, and Buggy wasn't sure if you were avoiding the question, or if you really didn't know. 

"Like, Shells town? Syrup Village?"

"Um… further… north?"

You… didn't know. At least, none of their names for places. And you didn't trust them enough to divulge that truth. His innocent little lamb lost at sea for how many months now? He didn't think his heart could stand another knife in it. 

"I mean, Cozia is the northernmost isle of the East Blue I know," A new voice peeped in. One of the waitstaff if he recalled right. Sangria? Sojo? Something like that. It didn't matter, not really. 

"That sounds… kinda familiar?" You answered, though your voice was tinged with obvious doubt. You were such a horrible liar. (Which only confused him more, because he had thought you at least liked him. Yet you ran away. Why?)

"Don't worry, my cherie, you rest and eat your fill. We'll find a way to get a beautiful woman such as yourself home." The waitstaff flirted, making Buggy grit his teeth as he tried to keep his snarl silent, well aware that Along's crew was probably listening. 

Hell no. No suave fucking waiter was going to try and steal you from him. (Completely ignoring the fact you obviously weren't his to be stolen.) 

Wait. 

Shit. Fuck. 

Arlong was heading for the Baratie. Where you were. 

And as happy as he was to find you, for the chance to just see you again, there was no mistaking the fear rolling in his gut even if he wasn't attached to his body. 

What if you got caught up in the inevitable fight? You could defend yourself, but against Arlong's crew? One Selkie against three fishman that were stronger than himself? 

What if Arlong decided he wanted you as a trophy? What if he took your fur from you again? Unlike Buggy, Arlong was known to hold people captive for long periods of time, doing as he pleased. (Buggy held on to the fact he wasn't that bad since he only gave the towns and villages a mandatory free show for a few nights and before he'd leave and allow them to rebuild their boring little lives.) 

And all Buggy could do was watch. A bodiless head, unable to do anything but watch. Listen. Maybe beg but he already knew any pleading would fall on deaf ears. 

Prompt: Crowds

You had impulsively followed the smell of food, sick of fish, and ended up giving a few humans--Luffy and Sanji-- heart attacks when you pulled yourself halfway onto the deck asking for food. 

And well, you had gotten what you had asked for that ruined your usual diet even more because it tasted divine. But as you ate, the two had been full of questions and one thing led to another and… 

They wanted to help you. Apparently their navigator might know more about where you were heading. 

Except chaos erupted before you could even meet their navigator. Maybe it was because you were surrounded by too many humans, but you felt exposed. Overstimulated. The constant chatter of the patrons. The clinks of silverware against plates. 

The animalistic part of your brain finally won out, and you ran yet again. There was a storm on the horizon and you didn't want to be caught in the middle of it. 

You didn't care which way you were going, you jumped into the water and dived deep and fast, allowing your body to follow the urge to run and hide. 

~*~

You weren't at Baratie. 

Hours later as Buggy helped the Straw Hat idiots navigate.to Arlong Park, the mantra repeated itself in his head. You weren't there. You hadn't been amongst the crowd of diners that Arlong threatened. You weren't part of Lyffy's little crew. 

Buggy was relieved. Angry. Devastated. Thankful. 

Oh, you had been there. Your voice hadn't been a figment of his deranged imagination. But apparently between Mihawk's attack and Arlong’s arrival, you had slipped off into the night without so much as a word. (Which did help a little. Especially as Sanji mourned the fact two 'lovely ladies' had disappeared on him without so much as a goodbye.)

"Wait, you knew her?" Luffy asked after Buggy not-so-subtly asked if they had seen a curvy gal in a seal-skin coat. 

Buggy grinned, though he felt an eye twitch. "You could say that.  But I mean, what man really knows a woman, am I right?" 

"She's running away from you, isn't she?" Zoro guessed-- making Buggy grit his teeth. 

God, if he had his body right now he would have decked the grass-haired man. Right in the swordsman's chest wounds. (See how he liked a knife in the heart.)

"That would imply I actually gave a shit about what she's up to." Okay. He couldn't lie to himself. He did. Hearing you were still so lost had taken the edge off his anger. He was still mad, but it was tempered with worry now. "She's merely an old acquaintance and I was surprised to hear her voice is all. She doesn't like hanging around crowds." 

"She was a jumpy little rabbit," Sanji agreed with a dreamy hint to his voice. Okay, forget the dramatic samurai-wanna be, Buggy was going to slaughter the chef. "I should have offered to protect her. To keep her safe from whatever frightened her." 

That madeBuggy laugh. "That is a riot. Friend, buddy, pal, let me tell you a little secret. Those sharp teeth aren't for decoration. I've seen her kill half a dozen men in just a few minutes with those chompers of hers alone. She'll bite your hand off if it wanders a bit too much-- and I do mean literally." 

And yet… you were still an innocent little lamb he felt compelled to protect as well.

Or maybe just stand back and watch you protect yourself, clapping and cheering the same way you did during one of his performances. 

But the fact.remained, you had left him. You did not want him or his crew. 

 He was in the midst of his body being kidnapped and sailing into the territory of one of the most vicious pirates of the East Blue with a ragtag bunch of idiots. That should be what took precedence in his mind. 

Not you. (Yet it was.)

[rocmxmstuff]

May I get a fic or drabble with 404 taking care of his and reader's kid, please?

~ Silva Daemonium

Done and done! Anything for you, darling - I shall always be hopelessly and platonically your biggest simp. This was a cute request to do, though. I don't think he'll win any parenting awards any time soon - but hey, your child is still alive!

Dark Moon and Stinky Paw [Requested] (NauseAxe_404 x Reader)

🐑 ♡ Many thanks to my usual beta, Sycamore, you're the best, sweetie ♡🐑

Too sick to stay awake, you ask 404 to watch your child for a bit.

Teen and Up, No Warnings, F/M, Other/M, Tag(s): Parenting, Oneshot, Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Sickness, POV Second Person, Character POV, AFAB!Reader

Find it on ao3 ♡ WC: 1,993

Thank you Silva for coming up with the name for the child! S4 is a mix up of Superstar and 404, and it's a perfect fit!

404 crouched beside the sofa with his head nestled in his arms. A fuzzy sense of warmth mingled with the intense fear that had been gnawing at his insides. You looked so frail - super adorable - but bad. Well, you didn’t look bad in the sense that you looked bad. It was just that you were so weak normally that when you were sick you sort of… Deteriorated.

It worried him.

He contemplated letting his hand slide from the armrest to check your temperature, but he didn’t want to touch you if it meant he risked disturbing your rest. You needed the sleep. Waking you up wasn’t an option, but what if you needed something and couldn’t tell him? What if you were dying?

Tears welled in his eyes at the thought.

If you were awake you would say he was being silly because your heart was still beating. He could hear it nestled away safe in your chest, and yet he worried anyway because you couldn’t directly say that out loud when you were sleeping. That was the problem. Thoughts weren’t enough. He needed you to tell him it was okay.

Instead, you’d given him a cryptic remark he was left to decipher all by himself: a nap would make you feel better. That didn’t answer how long you were meant to sleep. He didn’t know if you wanted anything from him outside of your simple request for him to watch your kid. For all he knew, it was some sort of test, and he was eager to pass it.

A whole new fear gripped him as he flew to his feet.

He was meant to be watching S4.

From where he stood by the sofa, he couldn’t see any trace of his son. His fingers flexed over the nonexistent axe that was also missing, and the image of S4 dragging it across the floor earlier leapt to the forefront of his mind. He’d been so impressed at the time that his son was strong enough to move it around that he’d never bothered to pay attention to where it was being taken.

You were going to hate him.

The thought repeated itself in his head over and over without respite as his nails dug into his palms. Sure, he’d learnt a lot about keeping himself grounded, but without his axe - he’d never done those exercises without it. It wasn’t the same. His empty hands shook in front of him while the floor seemed to drift further away from him.

You needed him.

He wasn’t going to let you down. He repeated it under his breath to combat the thoughts in his head, and he began to check around the room. Once again crouched, 404 peered beneath the sofa to see nothing but stashed photos and dust. S4 wasn’t hiding behind anything either. There was nothing.

So he moved onto the next room. Nothing again.

Panic threatened to consume him when the faint sound of the typewriter left 404 bolting through the nearest door with a bang. The walls rattled at the force of the impact, and if 404 had looked back, he would have seen the door hanging by a single hinge. It fractured into two separate boards where his shoulder had made contact with the wood.

“Pops!” S4 exclaimed, not fazed in the slightest by the sudden entrance. “Important letter. Look.”

The rip of paper from the typewriter grated on 404’s ears as his focus itself was torn between multiple things. His axe was propped up against the chair. S4 was stood unharmed on the chair waving a bit of paper in his direction. Somehow, he’d gotten into the room to use the typewriter.

“Y-you should be careful with that…” 404 began. “You know who it b-belongs to.”

“It’s okay. It’s not broken, see,” S4 motioned to the typewriter before he dropped down from the chair. He made sure to grab the handle of the axe, and he dragged it behind himself until he had sufficiently crowded 404’s shins. Despite how much the kid had grown, the height difference between them was drastic enough to leave 404 looking directly down.

All the while, he struggled to get a word in edgeways as S4 explained all about the evil ghost down the hall. Apparently, he had stolen the most dangerous poison in the world and baked it into palmiers.

“The letter said - hey!” S4 cried out before that creature like laughter spilled from him.

Hanging from the axe about seven feet from the floor, not even a good shake could throw him off of it. One hand kept itself secure to the axe while the other waved the letter in 404’s face. It was hard to laugh at the display.

Having the axe back felt good too.

He tilted it to the side so he could check S4 over. There weren’t any signs of injury on him, which also helped to calm his nerves. No matter what happened, as long both of them weren’t injured when you woke up, you’d be happy with him. That sneaking sense of pride had crept back up on him too after a few seconds ticked by.

No doubt the kid would have hung there all day if he was allowed.

There was so much of you in S4 that it would always come as a shock whenever he saw himself. The teeth had been the first indicator, and they still seemed a bit too big for his mouth. He was definitely a monster - a perfect monster given his awesome combination of parents. That didn’t mean he was ready to test if S4 was as immortal as he was, but he was definitely strong.

“The letter!” S4 pleaded. “Please!”

“What does it say?”

“It says we have to be friends with the evil ghost to steal the poison cake. But I am going to be friends with the evil ghost and steal the posion cake and kill him or he might make something bad again,” S4 explained between his laughter. “I need help.”

404 blinked idly at this, trying to piece together what was being asked of him. Was this one of those pretend ones again where nobody actually got hurt? The scenario was too suspiciously reminiscent of their baker neighbour to not warrant the thought that S4 might be plotting to attempt actual murder. How did you even kill a ghost if a ghost was dead?

No, he’d be able to.

The rabid thing in front of his face had a good shot of doing some serious damage too.

“Does that make us the heroes?” 404 asked. “Do we have a team name? I feel like if we’re going to stop evil we need a team name or something cool like that, you know how they do in that show we watched?”

As he lowered the axe to the ground, S4 let go and snapped 404 out of his hero fantasy at the way he tumbled to the ground and fell onto his back. There’d been no time for 404 to react given the unprompted action, yet S4 picked himself back up without so much of a whimper.

“The Wolves! Wolves are cool. I’m called Dark Moon. The strongest, mysterious alpha that takes down the biggest prey.” S4 began to stalk towards the doorway on all fours. “But I’d share because I’m nice too.” He stopped, and turned his head to 404.

“You’re Stinky Paw because you stink!” he laughed, speeding off before 404 could protest. He understood they were just playing, but his name sucked. At the very least he should have been Night Stalker or something.

A more pressing issue arose though as he passed by the broken door. Hopefully he hadn’t woken you up. The last thing he wanted was for your recovery to be any slower. When he entered the living room, his heart almost stopped at the sight of S4 on the table getting ready to howl.

Before he could, 404 covered his mouth. He didn’t know how he’d moved that fast, and even S4 seemed shocked as he wiggled in his grasp. A muffled voice sounded from behind 404’s hand, but he needed to speak first.

“You have to be quiet in here, okay?” 404 pointed towards you, and the voice died down. “Think you can promise me that? I have to be quiet too. Superstar needs lots of sleep to feel better…”

He released S4 who apologised in a hushed whisper, his eyes darting to the sleeping figure beside him. They both stayed like that for a moment, and 404 found himself beginning to worry again for your safety at the way you just laid there.

How long would it take for you to feel better?

He was losing himself.

“Sorry for - I’m sorry for g-grabbing you like that,” 404 soothed.

“It’s okay. I was being noisy.”

It wasn’t okay, but he appreciated that S4 was taking on board what he’d said about being quiet. Part of him wasn’t functioning great with how much he was having to repress, and he just wanted to sit by your side until you woke up again. He didn’t even notice he was staring at you until a hand found his. S4 slid from the table, unable to hold 404’s hand when he took to the floor, but he beckoned for him to follow.

And he did.

S4 guided him into his room and proceeded to remove everything from his bed.

“Carry these,” he instructed 404, who was soon holding everything from pillows, to plushies, and blankets. “Water. We need water too.”

Of course 404 also had to get the water on account of S4 not being able to reach the tap. Everything was brought back into the living room, where 404 was instructed to put the water on the table as S4 took the blanket and wrapped it over your sleeping frame.

“I don’t think a blanket is a good idea…” 404 piped up. When asked why, he told S4 to check your temperature. He gasped, shooting off into another room and leaving 404 to put a pillow beneath your head. He slid it beneath you with baited breath, terrified he was going to wake you up in the process. At least he was finally doing something good for you.

S4 sped back through carrying a handful of tissues. Water trickled from between his fingers. There was a trail on the carpet to show where he’d been, and he squeezed the excess water out before placing it on your forehead.

“Oh, good idea!” 404 said. “Is it cold?” S4 nodded, asking for help folding up the blanket that they placed beside you in case you wanted it later.

“Do you think Super Fang will need anything else?”

Despite the twinge of annoyance that your name was better than his too, 404 shook his head. You deserved an awesome name, and you deserved to feel better. If there was anything else they could do, he was sure he would have thought of it.

S4 gave you a hug for good measure though, and he was careful not to wake you up as he told you to hang on a little longer.

“We’re going to get the life potion for you Super Fang,” S4 said. “Then you will feel better. I love you.”

404 watched as S4 kissed you on the cheek, and he stepped in to hurry along his son.

“Go listen and see if the evil ghost is in. We’ll need to plan our first move around whether or not he is, Dark Moon,” 404 said, and S4 left the room at breakneck speed. A piercing howl sounded in the hallway, and they definitely didn’t have stealth on their side. But 404 had you for a second.

Just you.

“I love you the most,” he breathed, brushing his lips against yours. “Feel better soon, my Superstar. I can’t live without you.”

[kairiscorner]

WE WANT MORE OF SPIDER-BARBIE READER WITH SPIDER-NOIR! 💖🖤

So, if you're okay with that, I'd like to request a scenario where Spider-Noir witnesses reader Spider-Barbie fight one of the Kingpins' allies (one of them ruined her Malibu designer bag) and clearly our Barbie got mad at him and fought over her bag (and she won). Meanwhile Spider-Noir could only watch from a distance totally impressed with her.

"I'm so in love with her." .- Noir said aloud while the others looked surprised at the scene.

Crystal 💞✨

HELLOOOO I'M GLAD YOU LIKED ITTT man, this is really random, but i fr wanna see barbie spidersonas more ngl 😭😭😭ESPECIALLY ONE IN THIS SITUATION, SHE'D BE SO COOL i hope you like this one :DDD

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

he just loves a killer woman.

summary: oh, they had done it. you can try squashing spider barbie under your foot, but she'll always crawl back up; but try ruining her designer malibu barbie bag? yeah, you're not lasting another second with her. word count: 434

oh, did that really just happen? did kingpin's meatheaded, buffoon of a goon really just do that? a rip resounded through the air as spider barbie watched in horror at how her lovely designer malibu barbie bag was just... just torn into pieces in front of her. noir watched the whole thing unfold as he knocked out one of them just earlier with his bare fists and slamming a random car into them with his webs, his eyes widening as spider barbie stared at the remains of her beloved designer handbag.

her expression was unreadable from her generally expressive mask, noir couldn't see her eyes as she stared at the now torn apart bag. "...my creator gave me that..." she muttered as she tore her gaze from the bag and directed it to the goon, who was now glowering over her and chuckled to themselves. "what? gonna cry about it? oh, boo-hoo, barbie's lost an accessory--grow up, ya pest of a little girl." they taunted her as they grabbed a stray stop sign to slam into her with, and before noir or the goon could do anything, spider barbie threw the first punch at the goon's abdomen that was left wide open.

from there, all of spider barbie's rage--from not just the destruction of the one thing that reminded her of the woman who created her and taught her what it meant to be herself--but from all the pent up frustrations and anger she's harbored for the longest time over all kinds of things came pouring out as she swung here and there to throw hands with this ignorant buffoon who dares condescend spider barbie.

"this is for my friends," whack! "this is for calling me a 'pest of a little girl'," bam! "and this, is for my designer malibu barbie bag, YOU CRETIN!" SLAM!

it was undeniable, spider barbie could kick ass. and as noir watched from the sidelines, admiring how proper and prim spider barbie still was as she fought--not to mention, incredibly fashionable and eye-catching while she kicked that goon's ass through and through--he could feel... a difference in his heart, a stronger palpitation in his heartbeat. he felt a warmth in his face as he found himself smiling a little as he watched her go.

'gee... what a woman, what a woman, what a woman.' he thought to himself as spider barbie subdued the goon and stood on top of them as she looked down at noir, taking off her mask, and smiling proudly at how she defeated this guy with the power of her sheer rage and awesome barbieness.

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @sabcandoit @binibinileonara @k4tsu3 @fiannee @luvstarrstruck @maxoloqy @thee-fantastic-mrfox @fictarian @yuridopted0

[tiny-wooden-robot-fics]

Onset - Chapter Two.

Rating: Explicit Media: Jujutsu Kaisen/JJK Pairing: Geto Suguru x Original Female Character Characters: Geto Suguru, Valerie (OC) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Not Canon Compliant, Pre-Established Friendship, Geto and OC are roommates, Self-Insert, Smut, Penis in Vagina Sex, Creampie, Brief mention of an inability to get pregnant, Unprotected Sex, Cunnilingus, if I tagged everything we’d be here all day, This is part of a series

Part 3 of Sundane

Previous Part: Egg Fried Rice

Previous Chapter: One

Summary:

He isn’t expecting her to throw his earlier words back at him that way, and it catches him off-guard. “Why do you always remember the dumb shit I say?”

“Was it dumb?”

“It wasn’t absolute,” he mumbles. He pauses, knowing that if he says what he wants to say next, he’ll kick himself for it.

He says it anyway. “Sometimes one slips through the cracks, you know,” he adds softly. “Sometimes, there’s one that really is special.”

Read on AO3

“I’m sorry about what I said.”

She’s started to doze off when he says it, and it takes her sluggish, sated brain a few seconds to catch up with her ears. “What?” 

Shit. He’s torn between two feelings. The first is annoyance that she hasn’t somehow magically read his mind and figured out what he’s apologizing for. He doesn’t want to have to explain himself. He wants her to know why he’s sorry, so they can move past it and forget it happened.

The second, more prominent feeling is that pang of guilt that’s resurfaced, sticking in his side and reminding him that he actually does owe her an apology for what he said earlier. He once again pushes that pang of guilt back into the abyss, but the residual feelings that linger leave him wanting to clear the air. “What I said earlier,” he sighs. “About you not being able to get pregnant. I know it’s a sore spot for you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she says with a shrug. “It’s not like you to feel sympathy for something like that, and it isn’t something other people care about either.”

He lifts his head from her stomach to look up at her. She’s smiling, but he gets the feeling it’s because she thinks she should be. “You wanna talk about it?”

Her fingers pause in their movement in his hair as she considers his face. His expression is open, non-judgmental, as if meant to make her feel like she can continue talking about this if she wants to. Part of her wants to spill everything - to tell him these feelings that she’s never shared with anyone else. But part of her feels like talking about this with Suguru would be like opening a door she won’t ever be able to close again. 

She is still contemplating opening that door when she feels the soft warmth of Suguru’s lips against her skin. It’s a gentle kiss on her hip, and she thinks it feels a little like encouragement.

“Well,” she starts softly, resuming her gentle strokes through his hair. “You’re right, it’s a sore spot. The thing itself is something that I know I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life, and I can deal with it. But whenever people find out, they only ever acknowledge the thing itself. They don’t acknowledge all the complicated feelings that come with it. 

“It isn’t a choice I wanted to make,” she goes on. “And if I’d had the ability to choose otherwise, I would have. People who have gotten to choose - and who still can - don’t seem to understand that. So when they say things like ‘you’re not missing anything’ and ‘you’re lucky you still have your freedom,’ it just ends up feeling like… like they’re invalidating how I really feel and telling me how they think I should feel instead.” She pauses. “Enjoying the life that I have now and feeling like I’m missing out on that thing I can’t have aren’t mutually exclusive, you know?”

“I get it,” Suguru muses. “Kinda like somebody who insinuates you should be relieved that your chronically ill parent has finally died. Like, yeah, taking care of them and being worried all the time while they’re alive and sick is stressful and emotionally draining. But it doesn’t mean you want them to die, and it doesn’t mean you don’t miss them when they do.”

Stunned, she stares down at him. “Huh. Actually, yeah. That’s a pretty accurate comparison.”

Suguru is quiet for a long time. When he finally speaks, it isn’t to tease her or to make fun of what she’s told him. “Now that I know how you really feel about it,” he starts quietly, “I don’t think it’s something I could ever joke about. And I’m doubly sorry for making light of it before.”

She hates that there’s a lump in her throat, and so she speaks before that lump can manifest itself in tears. “Why are you being so sweet to me?”

“I told you I was giving you the princess treatment today.”

“Right,” she recalls. “It doesn’t hurt to make them feel special, even if they’re not. That’s what you said.” 

He isn’t expecting her to throw his earlier words back at him that way, and it catches him off-guard. “Why do you always remember the dumb shit I say?”

“Was it dumb?”

“It wasn’t absolute,” he mumbles. He pauses, knowing that if he says what he wants to say next, he’ll kick himself for it. 

He says it anyway. “Sometimes one slips through the cracks, you know,” he adds softly. “Sometimes, there’s one that really is special.”

His words hit her right in her chest, hard enough to make her take a deep breath. It’s on the tip of her tongue to ask - am I special? She bites the words back, unsure if she’d even want to know the answer. 

“Come on,” Suguru says, when it’s clear she isn’t going to speak. He sits up, taking hold of her hands.

“Where are we going?”

“You’re gonna wait for me in the shower while I change your sheets,” he tells her, pulling her up into a sitting position. “Unless you wanna sleep in a bed full of my sweat and cum,” he adds with a smirk. “Some people have a thing for that.”

“Wait for you?” She repeats, choosing to ignore the latter part of what he’s said. She lets him pull her off of the bed, lets him maneuver his rumpled shirt over her head so she can have something to give her a bit of warmth and some semblance of decency. 

Suguru himself doesn’t seem to care about warmth or decency as he begins stripping the bed of its sheets in only his skin. “Mmhm,” he murmurs patiently, pausing to push her in the direction of the bathroom on the other side of her bedroom. “I won’t be long. Run the water, yeah? Make sure it’s warm, and I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Stop reading into it, she scolds herself. This is all routine for him. “Right,” she laughs. “It always takes at least ten minutes for it to get hot.”

He makes an affirming noise and turns his attention back to the bed. She stands there for a moment longer - enjoying the view, she would say if anyone asks her - before turning away. 

--

He finds her in the bathroom a few minutes later. “Is it hot?” He nods in the direction of the shower. 

“Yeah.” She’s feeling suddenly awkward, ridiculously bashful. “Do you want to go first, or should I?”

Puzzled, Suguru looks back at her. “If I wanted separate showers, I would’ve just showered in my own bathroom,” he points out. “I told you to wait for me so we could go in together,” he adds, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for the two of them to co-shower. 

“I know how to bathe myself,” she retorts. “I’m not a kid.”

“Good, because I don’t fuck kids,” he snickers. “What I do do, however, is make sure the adults I fuck are well-taken care of. Both in bed and outside of it,” he adds, tilting his head and leaning close so he can look her directly in the eye. “So you can either climb into the shower yourself, or I can lift you up and put you there. Whatever you like.”

She stays where she is long enough to say, “You said doodoo.” 

His palm just misses her ass as she scurries away. 

--

Showering is a functional thing; she knows that it’s meant to serve the purpose of getting a body clean. Even though she’s taken showers with lovers before (should she think of Suguru as a lover? While it’s true that they’ve had sex, she is hesitant to bestow that title on him just yet), she has never viewed anything about the act of showering in itself as sexy.

But she would be hard-pressed to deny that there is something incredibly erotic about the way her roommate-turned-bedfellow handles her in the shower. His touch is gentle, her washcloth an extension of his hands as he bathes her. Nothing that he does is designed to arouse her, but she finds herself marveling at how the way he’s touching her feels almost more intimate than what they’ve just done in her bed.

“You’re good at this,” she tells him, raising her voice slightly to be heard over the steady stream of water coming out of both showerheads. 

“I know,” he asserts, a smug expression on his face. “Aren’t you glad you waited for me?”

She leans forward, sinking her teeth into one of his pectorals. It isn’t meant to hurt, just to shut him up, and he yelps. Satisfied, she leans back to look at the faint little bite marks left behind.

“Haven’t you marked me up enough?” He grouses.

“I could say the same about you,” she shoots back. “It’s a good thing I wasn’t planning on wearing anything low-cut to work tomorrow.” 

“Dummy,” he laughs, reaching for the washcloth he’d brought in for himself. “You work from home. Who would see you anyway?”

She shrugs. “Zooms are still a thing, you know.” She watches him pour her peony-scented body wash onto his washcloth. “You’re gonna smell like me,” she warns.

“Where am I going that anybody would care? You like it enough to have it, and you’re the only one who’s gonna smell me.”

“Good point.” She watches him lather himself up for a few minutes longer. Then, “Let me help.”

He obliges her. When she gets to his back, she pauses. The scratches weren’t enough to draw blood, but she can see that she did end up breaking the skin in a few places. She’s careful when washing those spots, trying to emulate the gentle way he’d cleaned her. 

Suguru goes quiet for the duration of the time they’re in the shower, and she wonders what he’s thinking about.

--

“I don’t need that,” he protests, keeping his elbow raised to block her approach. 

“It takes six seconds for your skin to dry out once you’ve washed your face.” She’s brandishing one of her high-end skincare products like a weapon. “You should at least moisturize it.” 

“I don’t need it,” he repeats stubbornly.

“I beg to differ,” she sighs. “You may not see the difference right now, but you will in five or ten years.” 

He rolls his eyes at her but says nothing. Nor does he lower his arm.

“Suguru,” she huffs, exasperated. “You can’t expect to pamper me and not let me do the same for you.”

He looks down at her. “Is that what this is?” He motions to the bottle of moisturizer in her hand. “Is this your version of aftercare?”

“If I say yes, will you let me put it on you?”

She thinks he’s going to say no again. To her mild shock and utter delight, he lowers his defense arm and sits obediently on the closed toilet lid. “Fine,” he assents. “But just this once.”

“That’s what they all say,” she grins. “I’ll have you hooked on Dermalogica in no time.”

She treats his skin exactly the way she’s treated her own post-cleanse: toner, moisturizer, eye cream, and serum. She applies each product carefully, her touch gentle as she uses the pads of her fingers to massage the liquids and creams into his skin. 

“You do this every night?” He asks when she’s done, watching her line the bottles back up in the organizer on her vanity.

“Yep,” she tells him, her attention focused on what she’s doing. “Morning has a slightly different routine.”

He’s still sitting on the closed toilet lid. She’s within reach, straightening the other bottles and tubes in her organizer. It would be so easy to wrap his arm around her waist and bring her nearer to him, to pull her down into his lap. To cradle her close so he can breathe in the smell of her hair and feel her soft skin against his once more. So he can register her heart beating against his chest and put one hand against her back to feel her breathing.

His hand actually twitches with the urge. Shit, he thinks, as he balls the hand into a fist. What the fuck is wrong with me?

--

Valerie finds it curious, the way they’ve picked right back up where they left off, like slipping on a pair of well-worn pants. Suguru takes out the leftover fried rice that they’d had the presence of mind to put in the fridge and dumps it into a pan for reheating while she scrolls through their shared streaming apps to find something they can watch while they eat.

She’s been sure that it would feel awkward to spend time together the way they normally do after what’s transpired between them. If it weren’t for the soreness in her legs and the burgeoning love bites on her neck and chest, she would wonder if what they did was simply a figment of her imagination. Just further proof you are not one of the special ones, her brain reminds her, unsolicited. You never are, remember?

“Shut up,” she mutters back at it.

“What was that?” Suguru calls from the kitchen. “Couldn’t hear you.”

“I was just asking what you’re in the mood to watch,” she calls back.

“Pick whatever you want. All that stuff in the community queues is stuff we both wanted to watch, so it doesn’t really matter to me.”

She finally settles on a lighthearted comedy they’ve both watched before. It’s an old favorite and one that doesn’t require their full attention to follow. He seems pleased with what she’s chosen when he finally joins her, handing her a bowl and a spoon and settling next to her with his own food. 

Halfway through the third episode, she mutters, “I usually put on my headphones, you know.” 

Suguru turns to look at her, amused. “Is this a conversation I’m invited to join, or should I leave the room and let you continue?” He asks, pausing the show.

“I was talking to you,” she sighs. “You asked me - earlier - if I was gonna pretend I’ve never heard you jerking off.” She shrugs, fiddling with the blanket in her lap. “I have, but whenever I know you are, I just put my noise cancelers on for a while.”

“Why?”

She stares at him. “Because that’s private. It’s not something I should listen to.” 

“Maybe not.” He laughs. “But are you saying you wanted to?”

“Suguru.”

“What? It’s a fair question, isn’t it?” He shifts on the sofa, turning to face her full-on. 

“Actually, it isn’t,” she huffs with a laugh. 

“Can’t be that you’re embarrassed,” he goes on. He leans forward, a teasing smirk on his face and his eyes trained on hers. “You let me put a part of my body inside yours. Actually,” he amends thoughtfully, “I’ve had several parts of my body inside yours.” 

“You get on my damn nerves.” She snatches both bowls up and gets up to carry them into the kitchen. 

Of course he follows her. “You still didn’t say yes or no,” he insists. 

Valerie turns to him, offering him her sweetest smile. “It will be a cold day in hell before I do that, Suguru.” 

“Hmm.” He leans back against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, watching her load the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. “I think the fact that you refuse to answer me is probably an answer within itself.”

“Fuck off.”

It only makes him laugh. “Fine,” he says finally. “You don’t have to tell me. But until you say otherwise, I’m just gonna assume the answer is yes.” 

Once again there are words threatening to escape her; she wants to tell him that he’s right, that she does want to hear him jerking himself off. But more than that, she wants it to be her he’s thinking of when he wraps his hand around himself and thrusts into his fist. She wants it to be her face he’s seeing when he closes his eyes, when he’s putting himself in danger of going lightheaded because it feels so good he’s forgetting to breathe. 

She says none of those things. “Keep dreaming,” she says, flashing him another sweet smile. “Let’s go - the tv’s probably timed out on us.” 

Something unreadable passes across his face, too quick for her to identify it. After the split second that she sees it, he smiles casually back at her, and whatever was beneath the mask he now wears is lost forever. “Yeah.”

About Me | My Fics | Ask

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Calls of the Lost

Author's notes: Smyith's debut in Mermay And Poor Unfortunate Souls AU!

Warnings: None I think? Let me know if I need to add more

Summary: Smyith is with some younger brothers and cousins as they are out on a patrol. He notices that a

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @kit-williams, @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k

Tagged Again: @sleepyfan-blog and @whorety-k

Tagged continued: @i-am-a-dragon34

Smyith thanked the All-father and counted his blessings, he knows that it's a rare thing to have lived when he'd thought he'd be torn apart by that wretched Demon Arvax, may he rot and die eternally in Hel and be denied entrance to Valhalla. He has been swimming in this mixed shoal of Loyalists Legions and Chapters- helping the youngsters hone their skills and sharpen their skills and teeth, while keeping his hone to proper sharpness. He eyed the skies of Ancient Terra and scents the wind, calling out to the younger cousins and brothers a warning.

"A storm's brewing, time to swim deeper beneath the waves," Smyith tells them. "My nose tells me a storm approaches."

With that he puts his helmet back on, some of the youngest grumble and whine a little, but with a light smack to the back of the helm they settle down with some minimal sulking. One of the youngsters in bright blue and gold, an Ultramarine asks him with curiosity in his voice and posture.

"How can you tell a storm is coming Elder Cousin?"

"I have lived on many worlds for several hundred years," He starts his explanation, "And I've learned how to tell that the weather is shifting for the worse by scent and the way the clouds and winds interact with the skies."

The younger ones are now huddling closer to him and peering up at the sky popping their heads up try to see better, and figure out what he meant by that. He hears some more questions and tries to answer them the best he can, mostly confusing the younger space marines more and he just says, "Experience and age."

They follow after their elder brothers, when that same young Ultramarine seems to be lingering above the water, looking in a particular direction. He sighs and pops his head up and says, "Lad, back down in the deep."

"Sir- there's a baseline ship a few hundred meters that way," The youngster says.

Smyith heaves a sigh and looks in the direction the youngster is gesturing and notices the ship and the way that the base line humans seem to be puttering around on the ship, and unfortunately, from the way the ship is moving, the base line humans haven't noticed, yet that there is going to be a nasty storm that's going to churn the ocean waves quite viciously in a few hours. Granted, base line humans aren't as acute in their senses. And there is much that the Ancient Humans of Terra do not know about.

"I'll warn them," Smyith says, "You head back with the rest of the pod back to the temporary base."

"Yes sir," The young Ultramarine says with a nod as he turns and swims with the rest of the mixed shoal of space marines, of chapters and ages alike.

Some of the space marines from the far future are... terribly strange and almost incomprehensible with their differences. But they likely think the same way of those of them from earlier times, especially much earlier. He can't help the way his lips twitch in a teasing grin as he thinks of how the King of Fenris would react to some of the youngest of the space wolves, and from the furthest in time's reaction to "nine primarchs". Which is blatant revisionism. Also, with how they've almost turned Father into a God, and has very much turned the emperor into a deific figure. That has him wincing, by the Throne on Terra, he'd like it not at all. Although some of his ranting would be really entertaining. Also, Leman's reaction to The Imperial Regent being the 13th Primarch would be, at turns, entertaining and annoying to deal with. He's glad for his new lease on life, even though he misses his first pack and brothers like someone's ripped one of his hearts from his chest.

"Humans," He calls out, hoping they speak one of the base line languages he's learned a little of.

There's some excited chatter in one of the near countless languages, they are all speaking rapidly as he patiently waits for one of them to approach them. Humans could be so skittish, yet most on Ancient Terra could be very Bold, or at least Very Bold for the standards of base line humans from the time that he's come from. Thinking about time travel is something for Rune Priests and Nerds. Kark, could he use a drink.

"Storm approaches, head to land," Smyith says carefully, slowly in one of the Ancient Terran languages.

"Our instruments don't say that one's coming," One of the humans says with a mild frown as they look at something and then at the sky.

"I can smell one coming; it will arrive in a few hours." Smyith says trying not to growl. Base line humans could be so... frustrating to deal with at times. "Heed my words and live, don't and die during a storm. Your choice."

With that he sinks below the waves and out of the sight of the base line humans. He's still able to watch and hear them. He's not actually not going to let any of the idiot base line humans die if he can help it. A couple of the little shits that he's traveling with have come swimming over to him peering up to watch the human’s squabble amongst themselves.

"We'll save them from themselves if they don't make the safe decision," Smyith tells the youngster who nods and swims off to inform the rest of the group of his decision.

At least the humans take their boat and start to head back to shore, which is nice, he and a few of the pod of loyalists shadow them, hidden and unseen from under the water as the humans make it back to shore before the storm starts going. He and his pod swim back to where the base is. Storm watching is fun, and interesting to see from underneath the waves. It can be terribly dangerous, but something every Aspirant of the Space Wolves was dared to do to prove their worth.

[xiaosonlybeloved]

Daydreams~ Soukoku

featuring:- Dazai Osamu x Nakahara Chuuya (bsd) tags:- literally none, just fluff, not proofread at all, college au, so my depiction of college might be inaccurate a/n:- amazing just great im going soft :/ also there will be a part 2 to this, maybe more bc i didnt even get to include the main plot point i had for this fic lmao, anyways probably expect me to disappear again haha

wc:- 1.4k || masterlists

Chuuya hesitantly walks into the campus, hoping he didn’t draw much attention to himself. After all, it was his first year here, and he’d just moved in from another city. The last thing he needed was unwanted attention right in the beginning of the year. 

Thankfully, he seems to blend in well with the crowd, and he can easily admire the large campus without being called out for it. A relieved smile rests on his face as he keeps his stuff into his locker, checking his schedule for the day. 

When there’s around 5 minutes left for the first lecture, Chuuya goes to head off to class, but instead his books end up clattering to the ground as he violently bumps into someone much taller than him the moment he turns. Annoyed, he steps back to pick up his books, glancing to see the rude person who had been rushing through the corridors so late. 

��Gods, he’s pretty.’ Is the first thought that goes through Chuuya’s mind the moment he sees the face framed in soft brown curls. 

“Oh, sorry there, you’re so short I didn’t see you, chibi!” The brunette he just met for the first time cheerfully and mockingly says to him as an apology. Naturally, the next thing that Chuuya thinks is ‘Why the hell is he so annoying.’ The boy was clearly late on the first day, and then he has the audacity to make fun of his height? With such a sorry excuse of an apology when he was the one who bumped into Chuuya? “Oi, what the hell did you call me? I’m not short, you get that? I’m still growing. And keep your eyes and head on the ground, not in the sky, or you’ll take a nasty fall soon.” Chuuya retorts angrily, pushing past the irritating (irritatingly pretty) brunette so that he wasn’t late, unlike a certain someone. Of course though, during his short walk to class, his thoughts were plagued by someone he’d rather not think about.

Thankfully, he was well in time for class, having gotten some time to socialize too. He thinks he’s met some nicer people, who introduced themselves as Gin, Akutagawa and Higuchi. ‘Today might actually be the beginning of some new friendships.’ he thought with a smile as the hall quietened down when the lecturer walked in. 

******

The lecturer, Oda Sakunosuke, had just started to get into the flow around 5 minutes later, when the door burst open with a very late attendee. The lecturer doesnt seem surprised. “Ah, sorry I’m late, got held up.” says the person who just came in, searching for an empty seat while Oda continued to speak.. 

The pretty guy he bumped into earlier? They shared this class?

And just great. The only empty seat in the hall was beside Chuuya, which meant that the only place the goddamn annoying brunette had to sit in was beside him. “Nice to see you again chibi, didn’t know we shared classes.” The brunette, whose name he still didn’t know, whispered to him with a grin as he settled himself, taking out a notebook. “Can’t you shut up for a while? As you can see, I’m actually paying attention, unlike you.” He whispers back, irritated already, taking notes.

“But this is boringg~” he whined softly. Chuuya slowly exhaled, ignoring the tiresome brunette. (He’s trying his best to not look at him- he doesn’t want to end up admiring the  infuriatingly charming face on the infuriatingly not-charming personality.)

Some time into the lecture, he finds a torn piece of paper on his desk with something scribbled on it. ‘Damn, his handwriting is pretty too. Unfair.’ Chuuya thinks. The paper reads: ‘Chibiiii, entertain me, I have nothing to do!’ with a dumb emoticon after it. He wrinkles his nose as he writes ‘Not interested, focus on the lecture. Don’t irritate me.’ and passes it back to the brunette.

‘Like I said, I’m bored. I don’t even know your name, chibi. :( ’

‘Not like I care, and stop calling me that, my name is Chuuya.’

‘Hmmm, Chuuya, such a pretty and fitting name for such a short person. Well, mine’s Dazai ’

’Thanks ig, and I’m. Not. Short. You’re just taller than average, which is your fault, Now shut the hell up.’

‘No!’

Chuuya crumples the paper from Dazai and puts it under his desk to throw away later. At least he now has a name to put on the person who seems determined to bother him to death. ‘Dazai’s a nice name though.’

When the lecture ended and the students started filing out in small groups, Oda called him and some others. With a gentle smile, he says, “You’re all new here, aren’t you? For you to get accustomed to the campus faster, I’ll be assigning partners to you all who will be showing you around the campus and helping you out whenever you need. In my class, if there are paired projects, these students will be the one you’ll be paired with, for the sake of convenience. Any questions?” When there’s none, he nods and starts calling out the names. The respective student and their partner head off together then. 

When his turn comes, Dazai pops up behind him. “Hello again, chibi Chuuya~ And Oda, I suppose.” Oda ignores him and says, “Dazai, you'll be Chuuya's partner for the year. Don't annoy him or overwhelm him. Get that? If I get any complaints from him, you'll have to deal with me.” “Yes yes Oda, bla bla bla I get that. ” Dazai rolls his eyes, faking an uninterested yawn, and Chuuya again finds himself surprised at his audacity, towards a lecturer no less. “Chuuya, please don't hesitate to inform me if you have any complaints towards him.” Oda tells him, and he nods and Oda dismisses him and Dazai. 

Dazai sticks to him like a dumb piece of gum after that. First on the claim of ‘showing Chuuya around’, which was just him showing Chuuya his favorite spots- which were all quite dangerous by the way, like the mostly abandoned terrace with very weak railings that could possibly break at any moment. Then because he ‘didnt have anyone to sit with’ during lunch. So Dazai ended up sitting with him, Gin, Akutagawa, Higuchi, and two of their older friends who were in second year, Kouyou and Tachihara. He already liked Kouyou because she was a redhead too, and Tachihara was surprisingly easy to get along with. Dazai mostly remained silent, occasionally giving his random opinions on something or teasing Chuuya on his height. Why was Dazai so stuck on it anyways? He was still growing! (Too bad he never did-) Naturally, Chuuya angrily responded with his own insults to Dazai's creative ones, while the others merely laughed at his expense. 

********

Chuuya always complained about Dazai being a pest and a menace, but if he would be honest with himself, (which he wouldn't) he enjoyed having Dazai around. The annoyingly pretty brunette was amusing to be around as the days passed, and they honestly connected with each other when it came to important stuff. And although he rarely ever contributed to their group projects, which was incredibly infuriating, whenever he did, his inputs were extremely useful. It made Chuuya want to kick him for not doing more, the asshole. Not that he hadn't done that- he often threw light punches at Dazai when he teased him about his height, but nothing much. And they actually had each other's backs, despite all the teasing and punching. 

All in all, they were very ripe opportunities for Chuuya to start falling for the brunette. I mean, he already had the first time he saw Dazai, y'know? Just that he kinda kept pushing them away, firmly in denial. By the end of the highly eventful year, even his friends had started noticing it, giving them great blackmail material to use against Chuuya.

Eventually, one random day in the second semester, Chuuya ended up wondering if somehow something would change after the end of the year. 

reblogs, comments and votes are very much appreciated <33

[solarmorrigan]

Consider the following:

Steve, after breaking up with driving away from Tommy and Carol, isn't thinking terribly clearly. He has a head injury of some kind, probably, he's had a fight with his (ex?)girlfriend, with Jonathan Byers, and with his (ex) best friends, and his whole view of himself and who he wants to be has been called into question

So, like, he probably shouldn't be behind the wheel of a car

But he is, and he takes a turn too fast, bumps over the curb, and digs a tread mark right into the corner of someone's yard. And even if the mark wasn't obvious (though it is, of course; it's a big, ugly furrow of torn grass and mud), Steve wouldn't be able to pretend it hadn't happened, because the person who presumably owns the house is right there, standing by his mailbox

Enter Bob

Bob, who has just gotten home from work and is getting his mail when someone comes skidding around the corner and digs a track through his yard. And Bob isn't quick to anger, so he's really more surprised than upset, and before he can even make it to being upset, Steve parks and gets out of the car and most thoughts go flying from Bob's head except, "What the heck?"

Because this kid is obviously fresh from some kind of beating, dried blood still clotting on his face, shirt dirty, shoulders hunched, and he sort of looks like he's about to cry. But he apologizes to Bob and says that he's not sure how to fix it but that his dad might be able to pay for it, like some kind of landscaping service, maybe, and-

Bob interrupts. He tells Steve it's fine, the lawn will survive, and asks if he'd like to come in and sit down for a minute. Maybe have a glass of water? (Because the kid is almost shaking, and Bob thinks he should probably sit down before he falls down - or worse, before he gets back behind the wheel)

And Steve is so baffled by the reaction that he isn't sure what else to do but nod. So Bob leads him inside and sits him at the kitchen table and gets them both a drink and sits down with him and then - he asks what's wrong

Steve isn't even sure where to start. He tells Bob that he's been kind of an asshole. Actually, probably a huge asshole. And he doesn't want to be like that, he doesn't think, but he doesn't really know where to start... not being that way

Bob tells Steve that he doesn't seem all that bad to him. After all - he'd made a mistake just earlier and had owned up to it and apologized to Bob. Offered to fix it. Sometimes that's the best thing you can do in the world: apologize for your mistake, and offer to help fix it

And - well, maybe Bob is onto something, actually. Steve doesn't know if an apology will fix what he's said or done today, but it's not like he has any other ideas (it's not like he isn't genuinely sorry)

They sit for a little while longer. Bob chatters at Steve about his job at Radio Shack, just letting him calm down for a bit, giving him a safe and quiet space to regroup, until he seems ready to go

Steve apologizes again about the yard, and Bob tells him that if he really wants to, he can come back this weekend and help fix it. Bob doesn't think he knows much more about landscaping than Steve does, but he's sure that between the two of them, they can figure something out

Steve promises that he'll come back

(And he does. In spite of everything, in spite of monsters being real and little kids being stolen away into fucked up alternate dimensions or whatever the hell had happened, Steve comes back. He and Bob do their best to set the yard to rights, and get into some other yard work, too, and that night is the first night since hitting a flower-faced beast in the head with a baseball bat that Steve actually gets any sleep at all)

-

Part 2 Stop with part 1 if you want this to end in fluff. Part 2 is hurt/no comfort

Tagging @momotonescreaming, @paperbackribs, and @zerokrox-blog because you asked about this one for that wip-ask game and I meant to post this much sooner, sorry!

[changingplumbob]

lil funny tag game

tagged by @cyberneodog 🤗

last song I listened to: I'm gonna be (500 miles)

favourite place: My home but I also love the local Botanical Garden

favourite book(s): Would you like me to pick a favourite child while I'm at it? Gosh this is hard, because it keeps changing. If I had to pick one it'd probably be Project 17 by Laurie Faria Stolarz. I picked it up at the library one day and it touched me so much I had to track down my own copy. These teens go into what was the Danvers State Insane Asylum before it's meant to be pulled down for this kid to make a short film but safe to say things go bump in the night. Basically I think it spurned my love of thrillers, and seeing the movie Session 9 which was filmed at the asylum before it was pulled down makes the read even better because I can visualise it. Fun fact, when the place was torn down it was rebuilt as... apartments

currently reading: The Turn of The Screw by Henry James. I just finished the first Poldark book last week and before I read the second I'm having a stopover in a ghostly novella

favourite tv show: Again, why must I pick only one??? It's a tie between many things but we have Once Upon a Time, The Musketeers, Grimm and Downton Abbey.

favorite food: Okay so I'm currently loving this chicken free chicken chow mein. The flavour sachet thing is vegan and I just use plant based protein and it tastes so good. Also the vegan chocolate cake mum made me for my birthday is on my brain.

Who to tag.... I mean I tag you all but... especially... @simmerbeans, @marcishaun, @matchalovertrait, @sharona-sims, @shmoodlet,

@stargazer-sims, @deardiaryts4, @swallowprettybird, @youredreamingofroo, @onestormeynight,

@melonivysims, @eljeebee (I blame my headache for not putting you earlier), and @ethicaltreatmentofcowplants gosh I'm just forgetting everyone tonight. But I am tagging all of my moots! Also thank you for the love sent to my ask box, I am planing on getting to it, I'm just extra fatigued right now 💌💖

[shirohige-pirates]

Birds of a Feather

CisFem Reader x Marco

CW: Violence, blood, language, adult themes and scenes. 18+ only

Summary: Life has not been kind to you. After a string of bad relationships, you're a little jaded and a little depressed in all honestly. The worst day of your life seems to be the turning point, but the roller coaster ride that follows could either throw you soaring free, or have you caged forever?

Tag List: @clumsyraccoon

Chapter 31: The Library

It was almost like watching a cartoon in slow motion. There was a second of terrible realization on Teach’s face before it registered what was happening. Gravity reacted faster than he did, and before he could level the pistol at anyone he was already past the lip of the door. The bang of a shot rings in your ears, but the crack and shattering of plaster and wood from the ceiling from the bullet is just as clear to you.

You tugged with all your will, bringing the door closed. It wasn’t a physical action, but one that required focus. The doors only closed automatically once you passed through them.

“(Y/N)!” You hear Marco gasp.

“I’m fine!” You assert, putting your hand up past the line of the desk, turning and pulling yourself to your feet. “I’m fine, I’m here.”

Macro leans back after taking a second to make sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him, and he practically sinks into the chair like a lead weight. You look around the room, wincing a bit at your own pain.

“Let me go, uh, look for that key.” You say, trying to ignore all the aches and pains in your body and force it to move.

“Just… just come here, yoi.” Marco insists, pushing himself up so he’s settled into the chair a little more comfortably. “Please.”

You let out a shaky breath, nodding as relief sinks into your bones. You make it to the chair, legs buckling as you just grab onto his leg and hug it. The tension from earlier turns into nervous, garbled, messy energy and you just shake and sob for a few minutes.

Marco moves very carefully, fingers resting on your shoulder. The warmth is there, and some pressure from his fingers, but there’s a weakness in it that twists your insides. An effort to soothe you, without letting the seastone at his wrists touch you.

“It’s alright.” He reassures you. “It’s going to be okay.”

You garble out half-choked words of apology, lost in the tears and mess of your current state.

“Don’t apologize, pretty bird.” Marco hums. You can hear the effort in his voice, and quickly try to clean up your face a little with your shirt. You look a mess, but it’s easier to see and talk if you aren’t covered in tears and snot.

“I… need to go find that key.” You insist, pulling yourself to your feet carefully.

Marco shifts, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll give Thatch a call. He and Izou are at the end of the road, waiting for Teach’s bike. I… we thought he’d be alone.”

You give him a somber smile, leaning over and kissing the top of his head. “I would’ve rather been thrown from his bike, than taken off this island against my will.”

“I would’ve rathered the chance to save you,” Marco retorts as you head out of the office to work your way upstairs.

At the top of the stairs was the bathroom Teach had used to clean you up a little, and you were pretty sure the key wasn’t in there. You hadn’t torn the room apart from top to bottom, but the idea of putting you in close proximity to something like that seemed like a poor move on his part. Despite the fact that the evening had not gone how he had planned, his planning had still been solid.

Turning to head down the hall you froze.

The devil fruit you’d unwittingly consumed years ago had three sides to it. Active, passive, and utility. Actively, you could change into a powerful owl, but you barely had control of that. Keeping things secret meant using your power as little as possible. Utility was the library, and your access to it and control over it. That was far more practiced than your ability to change. The library was easy to slip into and out of, and for you it was painfully easy to read through several books in a very short amount of time.

It was very efficient.

The boon granted to you passively was an uncanny sense of sight and hearing. You spent a lot of energy at first trying to only “see” and “hear” what was normal for everyone else to be able to catch, but in the end you went with just having slightly better senses. In truth you had painfully better senses, and it had taken years to adapt to it.

Better enough senses to hear Kid call Marco “the Phoenix” when you went to get your car painted. The tattoo had made more sense after that, but you didn’t want to know until he was willing to tell you, and you weren’t upset about it.

You both had your secrets.

Not that there would be many left after this.

It was your senses that had you so still in the hallway. It was hard to see but there was a thin, nearly invisible wire barely an inch off the floor. Once you noticed it your sight sharpened and you were taking in more details than you did normally, just like any creature did when they were hunting. Owls were really good at it, and devil fruits were often representative of their animals in an exaggerated manner.

If you ever learned how to do partial transformations, then you imagined your capacity to see and hear would be even sharper than they were already. The flood of sight and sound would probably give you migraines though.

As far as you could tell, aside from a thin wire on either side of the staircase, there wasn’t anything else up here. If there was, it would have to be wholly invisible for you to not be able to see it, and there wasn’t anything you’d be able to do about that if it was the case.

You stepped carefully over the thin wire, keeping your senses focused and on edge, grateful that heightening your sight and hearing didn’t also heighten your senses of smell and touch. Otherwise the pain and scent of blood from your wounds would be overwhelming.

With your senses on edge it took you a while to pick your way through the upstairs. You found the key inside a box with a bullet lodged into the side of it. A heavy scratch mark marred the symbol on it, and the design looked like Roger’s jolly roger. It wasn’t the bullet from earlier, that was stuck in the floor, having pushed up from the library’s ceiling and cracked the wooden floor in, what you assumed, was Teach’s bedroom.

You brought the box with you and the key, stepping carefully over the wire again before heading back downstairs. You could hear a couple voices approaching the front door, but you ignored them, letting your senses calm down, and focused on returning to Marco in the office. He’d been in those awful cuffs for far too long as it was, and it was your fault he’d even had to put them on.

Setting the box down on the desk you hold up the key. “Hold still.”

“Thatch and Izou should almost be here.” He says, arms already on the armrest. “They can do this without -.”

“I appreciate that.” You interrupt, slipping the key into the lock and giving it a turn, releasing the first shackle. “But you’ve been in these too long already.” You insist, hobbling a little over to the other cuff and unlocking it. You grab the chain part, relieved to find the links themselves are just iron, and pull it off and away. It’s heavy, the weight of it makes your muscles scream. If you had the strength you’d throw it full out of the room.

Immediately the color comes back into his skin and he stands up, stopping just short of embracing you. His fingers tense, as though he wants nothing more than to just embrace you, but even with Teach’s patch job you look rough. Your eyes are sunk in, exhaustion etched in every breath. He looks over every piece of you he can see, and you can see a glimmer in his eyes - rage, relief, and guilt in equal measure.

“Don’t close your eyes.” He says the words softly, so quietly you aren’t even sure they were said until teal and gold flames dance around his hands and arms. The flames themselves aren’t hot, at least no warmer than Marco is, but the gentle heat sinks into your skin, and you can feel a slow, but insistent relief as the bruises and cuts of your ordeal lessen.

It’s a sweet and light relief, like balm on a burn. The sharp sting abates, the dull throb stays, but is so much more manageable.

“I can’t heal it all,” he whispers, as your eyes close from relief. “But I can make it better.”

“Seems we’re a little late.” Thatch says from the doorway.

Izou looks around before looking back into the office. “Where’s that black-hearted traitor?”

“I… am not sure.” Marco says after a moment, looking down at you.

“He’s… um…” You start, and stop, opening your mouth, but unsure of what you should, could, or want to say.

“You don’t have to say anything, pretty bird.” Marco says, pulling you gently into hug. “I trust Thatch and Izou implicitly, but I won’t be mad if you want to keep things to yourself.”

“Yeah, we can step outside.” Thatch agrees. “Marco’s not in sea stone, so we’re not needed -.”

“No it’s…” You lean back and clear your throat. “It’s alright. I think, at this point, it’s better for you to know.” You take in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Teach found out on his own, and… if he had struck when he said he originally intended to, no one would’ve known. That… could end up being more of a disaster for this island than not, so, I want to say it.

“And, I’ll need to tell Ivan tomorrow.” You sigh a little. Not because you think Ivan isn’t trustworthy, but it’s hard to have to tell someone that you were keeping such a big secret from them for so long. This was nothing like the conversation you’d had before. The weight of the details of your devil fruit often dragged you down as it was.

“I don’t know what the fruit itself was called, there’s no record of it that I’ve found, and The Library doesn’t have an entry on itself, so, no luck there.” You begin. “But the fruit allows for three things,” you tick each item off on a finger. “Heightened hearing and sight, transforming into a Powerful Owl,  and access to, and control of, The Library. Which is, as best as I can describe it, a sort of pocket dimension full of all the world’s knowledge.”

“You… locked Teach in a library?” Marco questions.

You nod. “I don’t think he can leave unless I let him.” You say. “But I’ve never even let someone else into that space before now. I honestly don’t even know if there’s air in there without me in it.”

The three brothers exchange glances, but there’s a long moment before anyone says anything.

“If he’s suffocated by now there’s nothing else to be done,” Izou says flatly, “but the idea of leaving him to starve for… who knows how long he’d last, seems… distasteful. Like drowning a devil fruit user instead of fighting them.”

Thatch nods, but Marco just has a dark look on his face. Izou and Thatch exchange glances again and then look back to Marco.

“He was going to take her to the World Government.” He says after a moment. His voice is flat, but strained, as though he’s struggling to keep control of his own words. “They’re looking for the devil fruit, and there’s a several billion berry reward.”

“Just for information.” You clarify softly.

“He was going to kidnap her then?” Thatch asks and Marco nods.

“I’m not saying we let him to starve,” Marco says after a moment. “But if he leaves this island, and goes to the W.G., then they’re going to come here, yoi.”

“They leveled Ohara for what they might know.” Izou says quietly. “Not even Roger could stop it.”

“Lvneel’s been a good home to us,” Thatch admits, putting his hands over his face and growling in frustration. “Is it really the only answer?”

“We’d need some place truly isolated.” Izou states firmly. “All the first generation should be there.”

“There’s an island north of Lvneel.” You say, “West of Notice Island, it’s not on any maps because it barely qualifies as an island, but there’s enough land there that it has its uses.”

“Isn’t that Drop Island?” Thatch questions, tilting his head.

“I… wasn’t aware it had a name.” You admit.

“Ivankov and the Revolutionaries know about it.” Izou says and you nod.

“I did point it out to Ivan years ago. I wasn’t aware it was being utilized.”

“Just as a smuggler’s drop.” Marco says. “We’d have to coordinate through Ivan, but, considering he helped us tonight, I don’t think that’ll be an issue, yoi.”

You put your hands up and purse your lips, taking a step back and furrowing your brow. “Wait. Wait a second we need to slow down. How’d Ivan help?”

Marco nods to the duffel bag. “Got us the berry on short notice. Drove out of the city to meet up with us to hand it off. Got Tori-chan towed too. Wanted to come with us, but she admitted she would’ve leveled the house and accidentally hurt you in the process.”

“So… Kid knows.” You say, making a complicated face.

“Kid knows your car broke down on the road,” Marco says. “Not that you got kidnapped.”

“He’s going to see that gas line and know.” You sigh with a nervous chuckle.

“How’d you think Ivan was going to help?” Izou prompts.

You shrug. “My assumption was he’d move mountains to help. Whether it was using company funds, my funds, or calling in favors from the Revolutionaries - which she admitted being a part of just recently when we talked about my knowing of them in the first place.” You yawn. “I know those three tried to shi-shield me,” you yawn again. “From the shady side of the business, but half the time I’m piggy-backing on it to move funds anyway.” You rest your head against Marco’s chest, yawning again.

“Your funds?” Thatch questions and you nod.

“I have… a lot of knowledge at my disposal.” You yawn again and lean against Marco even more. “I have a lot of money. More’n… anyone knows.” Another yawn nearly feels like it’s going to dislocate your jaw. “Wow, I’m jus’ really sleepy.”

“It’s been a hell of a night, pretty bird.” Marco says, kneeling down and picking you up, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. “And when I heal someone else it’s a drain on stamina, so part of this is my fault.”

“Once the tension of the night passes, relief cuts the energy right out of you too.” Thatch admits. “Are we taking you both back to the big house?”

Marco nods. “Closer is better. She can get some rest, and we can-.”

“No.” You murmur the words, clutching onto his shirt. Your fingers tremble as you try to find words that don’t sound childish, but Marco kisses the side of your head while you’re thinking.

“Seems I’m busy tonight.” He says, holding you close and letting you rag doll into him. “We can all talk tomorrow.”

Note: When the reader says "Powerful Owl" it is referring specifically to an owl that is called "powerful owl" - it's not a reference to actual power.