#I'll get that slab next time

[starlitscars]

Made of ice

Jackson era! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: One stormy night in the safety of Wyoming, it occurs to Joel that even though life has turned his heart into a slab of ice, there's a soft, melting spot buried deep inside... Only reserved for you.

Word count: 5.2k

Masterlist

Tags/warnings: MDNI, NSFW, implied age gap, canon-typical violence, Joel Miller needs his own warning, protective! Joel, soft! Joel, angst, fluff, smut, finger sucking, fingering, pet names, praise kink, language, no use of y/n, soft dom! Joel, negative thoughts, dea*h wish, self-doubt, self-confidence issues, Joel is a sweetheart here (but he doesn't think he's worthy of peace), rain, lots of rain, lightning, stormy weather, kinda established relationship, let me know if a tag has gone unnoticed.

Author's note: This is my very first attempt at writing for Joel Miller. I've had the idea in my mind for a few weeks now and it's hard to resist when it comes to him (did I say Pedro Pascal?) So I hope the details are accurate and if you decide to read this one shot, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did while writing it. If you want to be mutuals, I'll be more than glad <3

Divider by: saradika-graphics

Made of ice

You should've seen what you made of him.

The calm, slow beats in his chest are strikingly different from how he remembers them. In fact, he vaguely recalls the way those racing, dreadful patterns had carved themselves into his memory. With a rigid heart made of ice, it was nearly impossible to find the pulse in him, even at his most frightened, disappointed state. 

Joel used to walk into the face of danger with a rifle clutched in his dying grip, a life to save and thousands to destroy, and in all those moments any sign of life was nonexistent in him. There used to be rage, hatred, regret, and frustration... Oh lots of frustration, running through the veins in his body. He used to walk, talk, and breathe. But he wasn't alive.

Now he doesn't find it in himself to call it miracle. But somewhere between the lines, you happened. You happened and fuelled the dying fire in the far corner of his heart. He used to keep it empty and dark, like a deserted house with no furniture, a perfect place for the noises in his head to become loud and maybe help him stand the never-ending days of what everyone called life. 

You entered his life and now most of what he feels in these old veins is warmth, safety and attachment. Yes, he doesn't call it miracle, because his past doings are too  stained and unforgivable to deserve a miracle. To deserve you. The real miracle. The fathomable idea of what it feels to be alive.

Joel feels alive.

Some days, it feels like his wretched past is clawing its way back into his mind, calling those demons to end his days of peace with you. Some nights, he's restless... So terribly restless. What if you get injured on your next patrol? What if the Raiders attack you when you're out of the gates of Jackson? What if something bad happens to you the moment his eyes close? What if these damn what ifs come to life? This old mind tricks him into seeing pictures of what has never happened and probably never will. You always assure him that you'll be careful. He trusts you and your abilities, but he does not trust his fears. Because if life is too good, it scares him. 

It scares Joel Miller, way more than it would if he was trapped in a dark room with all of his fears and demons creeping on the cold hard floor towards him. He'd rather spend every day fighting off the Clickers and Raiders and every nasty threat out there, instead of pacing around the room and waiting to see if your patrols end well or not.

So he has no choice but to either convince Tommy to pick him as your patrol partner every damn time you have to do it – which he makes sure is as limited as possible – or occasionally keep an eye on you from a distance and let his thoughts consume him at the same time. Just like what he's doing now. 

His persistence in being close to you tends to earn him annoyed eye rolls and "She's more capable than that, Joel." comments from his brother... almost all the time. But he simply can't help it, and he thinks that you know it. Because you never complain nor haul him over the coals for his instincts and worries and the immense amount of care his rigid heart feels for you. He's silently thankful for that understanding.

You are safe here, he thinks. Even though he feels restless, his heartbeat has never been this calm. He sits and watches you on nights like this and there's only one thought ringing in his head. All the scolding is worth it. You're sprawled out peacefully on the bed. His bed. It must be straight out of a fucking impossible dream. You're here, in his atmosphere, in his menacing, guilty, dark presence... And you have chosen it knowingly. It's all he can ever ask for. 

The dim moonlight is swimming in through the curtains, casting a soft, silvery shadow over your face. Your hair is falling all around you like you're knowingly doing it... Posing for an artist just to paint this delicate beauty on a canva. 

Despite his bitter mood, a content smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Tearing his gaze from you, he downs the remaining whiskey and silently places the empty glass on the table, deciding that he needs a short walk to free his troubled mind. One morning, Maria woke up and decided that Joel needs to stay behind and help Tommy in fixing the issues in the town's only library. So you should have another partner for your patrol days for god knows how long. He fucking hates being told what to do. He fought tooth and nail to prevent that, and if you weren't there to stop him, he would as well turn the mess hall into another ruin that needed to be fixed – which only meant more time away from you. 

So it's going to take only two weeks, at worst. Only a terrible fortnight before things go back to normal. It's almost unbelievable how you have managed to awaken a sense of normalcy in him that he hasn't known in decades. Your absence is an instant threat to this normal life.

Maybe it's about time he gets used to it. He's not that weak. He shouldn't let his angers and worries run him. More importantly, he shouldn't ruin your much needed sleep with his usual problems right now. You've still got the weekend. He'll take a walk and be back here before you as much as stir in your deep slumber.

Oh. The damn library.

...

Jackson is eerily quiet in the middle of the night, enveloped by darkness and as isolated as it can be in this corner of the world. It's a stark contrast to how busy the whole community is during the daylight – bustling with happy greetings, careless jokes, movie days, small parties, and lots of work to do. It all asks for social interaction and he deeply hates it.

He hates when every passer-by's attention turns to you every time you step out in the open. He hates how prying eyes rove up and down your frame every time you walk into the bar. He hates how... He shakes his head, almost rolling his eyes at the loudness of these thoughts. Joel has to remind himself that he is the one you hold onto and introduce to everyone in every social gathering. The proud gleam in your eyes always placates him. There's no need to break a jaw in this town... Perhaps.

Lights flicker by the porches and the sound of his boots on the ground is the only sound that disturbs the silence. The sky is clouding over, distantly promising another stormy night in its gloomy wake. Occasional flashes of lightning light up the road and before Joel knows it, he's passing by the Tipsy Bison. It's 3 past midnight, no wonder why its doors are locked and closed. Either way he comes to a halt, letting the gears turn in his head as he opts for a very familiar path.

Your house. It's a short walk away from the bar.

Joel still recalls that day. How long has it been? Five, six, seven months? It feels like yesterday to him.

He'd had a terrible conversation with Tommy, not at all the way he'd planned it on his first day in Jackson. Things got heated up pretty quickly, leaving a bitter taste of rejection lingering on his tongue, the burn of the whiskey only worsening his mood.

"Just because life stopped for you, doesn't mean it has to stop for me..."

The words were ringing in his head as he stormed out of the bar. Shrugging his jacket on, all he wanted was to walk as far away from that area as possible. This affronted, begrudging, irrational sting was boiling in him and in that moment he was more than ready to leave the gates of Jackson even if it called for more danger. Life had really ended for him years ago, but to hear it from Tommy right after the hell he'd went through to find him... It really hurt. 

The pain was resurfacing in rapid tides.

If his boots could dig deeper, get stuck in the snow and propel him into the cold biting blanket of the earth, he'd welcome it. If life had really ended for him, he had to make it make sense by ending himself as well. This... There was this distant melody echoing in the air and cutting through his troubled thoughts. The wind was harsh against his ears, and each step brought the melody closer. 

It really could be the last song that played before his funeral.  

Joel was surrounded by all the colors, and all he could see was white, eyes fixed on the ground. He didn't pay much attention as he bumped into someone. He barely lifted his head to apologize, and then his gaze settled on the crackling fire on the left side of the road. 

Red and orange and yellow hues. It was a fresh contrast. His eyes were hurting from all the white snow.

He came to a halt, mindlessly waving at the person he'd bumped into. A dozen of kids had gathered around the burning logs in a barrel on the porch, rubbing their hands together and listening to the same melody he was entranced by. The same melody that he thought would be his burial hymn.

Joel's eyes followed their excited faces, wondering who they were looking at. He saw you mirroring their hopeful gleams first, and then he registered the guitar on your lap. 

To make the matters worse, you had tilted your head, shooting him a funnily quizzical look. He might've looked weird back then. The town's newcomer, with a permanent scowl on his face, maybe plotting murder as well (considering that it was the main topic in all the words that already flew around about him).

He didn't answer, still dead in his tracks as if he was immobilized by some invisible force. So you shifted in your seat, silently offering him a spot among the children as if to say "You can come over and join us."

He had two choices in that moment, either a polite decline was on the table or a dismissive frown. He looked over his shoulder at the bar and finally opted for the third choice – or so his mind created another choice for him – and he nodded, joining in on your little gathering without as much as saying a word. He really wanted to hear that song.

He never asked whether you knew the words to that song, but that night when he lay in bed and his thoughts were far from the idea that he wanted to bury himself in the snow, he vaguely remembered the lyrics. And it hit him hard, like a punch to the gut.

Yeah, I don't want to hurt

There's so much in this world 

To make me bleed

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Stay with me

You're all I see

He wanted to ignore how the words affected him in the middle of the night. It was the first night he could feel some semblance of peace, not sleeping with an eye open in case someone attacked them. Ellie was safe in another room. So he really considered that. He considered the possibility of staying. He was relatively new to the community... And so damn unaccustomed to the whole arrangement. He almost woke up the next morning and started packing before he remembered where he was.

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Those words stuck with him.

And his first encounter with you was a harbinger of different things to come.

One day of patrolling with you led to another, one night of inviting you for a drink led to another. One peaceful afternoon in the stable led to another. One gloomy evening in the clinic did not lead to another. He was way too protective of you to let that happen again.

He truly feels lucky. You could be anywhere else, better off if you picked anyone other than this grumpy, old man. And yet you still want him. You silly girl. You've melted his heart with your warmth. 

But he's like a lake, deserted in the middle of a haunted forest and engulfed in coldness. Even though the center is warm and gooey, he keeps the surface frozen and rigid and menacing. Hard enough to keep his instincts sane and alarmed. Cold enough to let everyone know that you're his and he will not fucking share. 

Lightning strikes again in the sky.

He lifts himself up and off your front stairs with a heavy grunt. An hour has passed since he left for a walk. The clouds have fully gathered in the sky and he thinks that he should be by your side now.

Joel really cares little for the details, always asking Tommy and Ellie to spare him the explanation and get straight to the point. But with you, it's hard to forget a couple of things. One night, a few weeks ago, you were pulling him past the threshold of your house. So adorably drunk and inviting. He was still a little pissed by how the rainstorm had ruined your nightly walk. Despite your complaints about sharing a kiss in the rain, he'd dragged you back to the nearest shelter possible, because he just didn't want to get fucking soaked. Joel didn't find it romantic at all. He was frowning, still pinning you against the wall for a begrudgingly needy kiss. You giggled into his mouth, playful fingers pocking at his chest. "Come on Joel. Let yourself enjoy it... All these neverending drops on the roof, the fresh earthy scent that comes after it... It's just really beautiful. One of the few things that kept me sane before I came here..." 

He's not really against the idea. But the changing weather doesn't bode well with him. One day is sunny, and the next is rainy and it just goes to show how he has no power over the situation.

Hell. A part of Joel is really terrified of the changing weather. One day it was scorching hot, and the next his boots crunched against the white blankets of neverending snow, reprimanding him for his carelessness. Time would pass whether he wanted to or not. He is still terrified, wishing he could stretch the time he could spend with you. God knows he wants an eternity with you. 

He has seen enough rain for a lifetime. He hasn't seen you enough. How could he enjoy getting soaked in tiny drops of water when all he wanted was to bury his face in the crook of your neck and stay there for a while – maybe forever and a little more?

But he has considered it since then. If there are a few things that keep you happy and rainy days have to be one of them, he'll give you that. He'll get used to that. There's no pattern with the rainfall in here, and the weather forecast is pretty much nonexistent. He has promised himself to tell you whenever it rains, even though he despises the idea of you catching a cold after minutes or hours of dancing in the cold, letting droplets of water wash over you without a care in this wretched world. 

He also despises the idea of waking you up.

But he knows you'll like it. You careless, adorable girl. He lives to see that excited gleam in your eyes. Everytime you show it, this old heart pounds impatiently in his chest and it all feels like the first time it has happened.

He's back home in no time. 

So, kicking his boots off as silently as possible, he trudges over and settles down by the edge of the bed, suppressing a low groan. His knees still ache from all the never-ending effort he's put in repairing the library over the past few days. Jesus, he just wants it to be done as soon as possible. It feels like he's losing so much time when he's away from you. Now that you're still pretty much asleep in the same position he last saw you, all Joel wants is to lie down by your side and melt in your warm embrace instead of having to fight with his thoughts and the world to not take away yet another precious piece of him. He can't afford to even think about losing you.

Each flash of lightning illuminates the contours of your beautiful face and he can't help himself when he lifts a hand and lets his knuckles gently stroke your cheek. Your lips are parted ever so slightly and you look so innocent in your unconscious dream. He almost backs down, part of him hoping that it rains throughout the day, just so he doesn't guilt trip himself for the pout on your face if you miss it. You need to rest.

As if you sense his hesitation, you stir in bed and lean into his touch. A low hum escapes you, and Joel is too weak to deny himself the softness it brings. His wounded knuckles are soon replaced with a calloused thumb and he wonders what's so interesting about these hands that never ceases to catch your attention.

One night at the bar, Joel had caught you actually staring at them and when he teased you a little about it, you just shrugged and grinned mischievously. "I mean... I just like them so much. Your hands are always warm, and... and that's all."

He shrugged it off that night. Ellie had also considered it a flex for him to have warm hands even in the coldest days of winter, but with you and the way you looked at him... It was different. He knew it was more than that. 

And when the nights he shared with you went further than his sinful thoughts had planned, you showed him that it was more than that. It was more than the warmth you found there. If anything, your helpless whimpers were an indication of how capable and strong these hands were.

Heat blooms in his chest. It simply is endearing. The way you always seem to recognize his touch and send his head spiraling with the idea that you want him to do more. You've never been afraid of him. You've never pushed him away. You've never judged him for the horrible things he's done. Jesus, it should terrify him. Joel should've pushed you away at some point, because he knows you'd be better off without him, but how could he muster the strength to do so? Since that fateful moment on your porch, your presence keeps on inviting him for more. More than simply existing. And God, if you knew how he wants to do more than that every second of the day... Only if the world lets him breathe a little.

There's another bolt of lightning and raindrops finally begin to drum against the window pane.

Joel shakes his head to get rid of those worrisome ideas. Propping himself on one elbow, he leans over ever so slightly and lets his thumb trace its way to your chin, up to your jawline, and then back to the soft skin on your cheek. He draws circles over the blooming flush and then his thumb is traveling down to your lower lip. Your mouth parts just a little more, breathing even and content and if he gets a grip on himself, he may notice that there's a ghost of a smile in there as well.

"Baby..." He whispers softly, his gaze drifting all over your adorable face. You really are a piece of art, tangled in the sheets, in the safety of his house, and your innocent hums are doing something to him. Some obscene voice that silently pleads for more. More and more... Just to give you more. 

You stir a little more.

He leans over and places a gentle kiss on your forehead, the sweet, fruity scent he's come to like a lot about you engulfing his senses. He watches every little movement with amusement. "My sweet baby... You want to see what's waitin' for you outside."

"Joel," you mumble sleepily, voice drowsy and laced with a hint of confusion as you rub your eyes and stretch your arms before looking around the dark room with a quizzical expression on your face. It doesn't take long for the realization to hit you and the familiar gleam in your gaze makes him smile. You stare a him, wide-eyed. "Is it- again?"

He chuckles and gestures at the window. "Yes, a heavy one at that."

Again, there's that hum of delight as you follow his gaze. The pitter-patter of the rain cheers you up like a lollipop would do to a child. It's maddeningly adorable.

You should be running to the backyard by now, but instead you stare at him for a while. It's his turn to be confused. Your smile gets broader by each passing second as your delicate hands trace his face and run over the salt and pepper patches of his beard. When you playfully ruffle his hair, your eyes are still droopy and dreamy and so damn kissable that he just can't help himself.

His other hand fondles with a loose strand of hair beside you on the pillow before twirling it between his fingers. You bite your lower lip and lift your head just enough for a brief peck on the tip of his nose. He chuckles, letting his fingers draw a line over the column of your neck, down to your chest, and at last they disappear beneath the sheets, settling comfortably on the warm expanse of your belly. 

Joel assumes that his presence is not too close to lock you in place, and yet not too loose to let you drift back into unconsciousness. You just have the perfect moment to escape. For goodness sake, rain is the one thing you choose over anything else. The thing you like a lot.

But you're still here, dazed eyes flickering all over his face and it just gives him a second thought. A new idea to test your patience. Seeing you still pinned under him and unmoving, was not really in his list when he decided to walk back home and wake you up. He chortles with amusement. If you want what he thinks you do, he could give you that... "Come on sweetheart, what's stoppin' you?"

His fingers drift lower, exploring the bare flesh of your thigh, right where his mouth was hours ago. Still as warm as he remembers, maybe a little bruised too. "It's all rainy outside. Ain't that what you wanted?"

"I know..." You mumble, an undertone of need sewn in your voice as you look down over the sheets that cover every movement of his hand. It's too dark for you to see anything anyway. He could easily toss the covers aside, but it's wickedly satisfying this way. "I'm- um, just feeling a little under the influence...and it's- uh, it's distracting."

His hand caresses its way to where he knows you need it the most, and you barely repress a shudder when his fingertips glide over your folds. But he barely feels you, a ghost of a touch hovering there as a smirk threatens to flicker at the corner of his mouth.

"Wonder if my hand's makin' a good influence or a bad one. What d'you say, baby?"

It pelts down steadily outside, but you don't seem to care the slightest about it. Neither does Joel. A low gasp emanates from you when his touch becomes proper, rubbing circles and spreading the slick over your clit as slow and unrushed as he physically can manage. You're still indecently wet after he'd brought you over the edge again and again before you dozed off... and the fact that some of his cum might be gathering in his hand is fueling his lewd thoughts.

You naughty girl.

"A very bad one, I see." He tuts, feeling your chest heaving up and down beneath him. It's easy to rile you up this way. Desperation is written in your expression... and he hasn't even started yet.

"She needs fixin', doesn't she?" Joel asks, bringing his movement to a sudden halt. You're too distracted by everything he does to form a coherent thought. He lifts an expectant brow, now actually waiting for an answer.

"Yes- yes Joel... need it so bad... so bad it hurts." You breathe, a helpless pout forming on your lips.

"I know baby. I know... Jus' lay down and let me take care of it, hm? How's that sound?" He demands again, but this time he doesn't give you a chance to respond as he pushes two fingers past your weeping hole, burying them knuckles deep within your warmth. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, eyelids heavy as you grasp his arm, squirming like a helpless, needy girl.

What a cruel man he is.

"Not off to a good start, angel. I know you can be more patient."

You nod quickly, biting your lip in an attempt to stop yourself from wriggling and twisting on the bed. For a split second, Joel considers pulling out to nuzzle his face between your legs and let the heat consume him. A perfect place to brave the cold, restless seasons. 

But his fingers aren't shy either. He starts with slow thrusts, effortlessly sliding in and out before picking up the pace. He makes you adjust to his rhythm, and when you let go and open up, the obscene moans and chocked out cries are all that fill the silence of the house. Jesus, he lives to hear them every day. He rewards you by curling his fingertips to hit that spot that makes you see stars.

You shudder particularly hard at that, more arousal pooling inside you and soaking his fingers. You're losing your grip with reality, and he can sense it as your legs begin to shake and your knee brushes over the denim of his jeans, but you still remember to abide by his "No squirming" rule.

You're so pliant and obedient in his hands that it does nothing but to spur Joel to give you more. And so he does.

"I like these sounds," He adds a third finger, tilting his head to whisper in your ear. "I dream about them all the time."

You whimper and tighten your hold around Joel's arm. When he feels that your orgasm is creeping impossibly close, his thumb joins and rubs rapid circles over your bundle of nerves and that's your undoing. You clench around him, walls tightening and squeezing his fingers deeper – if that's even possible – as waves of white-hot euphoria crash over your worn-out body and take over your senses. Your back arches involuntarily into him. A sound between a groan and a curse escapes his throat.

"That's it. Atta girl... that's it, so fuckin' beautiful."

His touch is unrelenting as he talks you through it with a string of sweet nothings. 

Only when you come down and rest back on the bed he slowly pulls out. You're panting heavily, face flushed and heated and so effortlessly seductive that Joel is sure no fucking artist could ever capture it in words of a poem or colors of a painting. Joel is the only one to witness this moment and it swells his chest with pride. He wants to drink it in, let it run through his veins like never-ending liquor.

He lifts his hand, smirking as you gape at the way it's glistening under the dim light. You're in awe. He softly places the tips between your swollen lips and you waste no time in swirling your tongue around them, licking the slick off as if it's a delightful lollipop. And the hazy look on your face says that it's more than just a sweet treat.

His own breathing hitches when you open your mouth a little wider and take him fully in, sucking and humming and driving him absolutely crazy. He shakes his head slightly, catching the playful gleam in your gaze.

"Hm. Still a very bad influence."

When you're fully recovered and satisfied, Joel lifts you up in his arms and walks towards the backyard, chuckling at your confused expression. You give a squeal and wrap your hands around his neck to keep yourself steady, at the same time trying to gauge what his next plan would be. You really have forgotten about the rain, haven't you?

He comes to a halt, making sure the blanket he'd just picked off the bed is not leaving any part of your body uncovered. The rainstorm has eased off considerably over the past hour, but he doesn't want to risk it. Keeping you warm and safe in the cold is and will always be his top priority, no matter if his back or knees protest from how much they ache. Hell, he aches for you and that content smile on your face. Nothing beats it.

"My girl still wants to go out, hm?"

Your eyes flicker between him and the half-open door, filled with excitement and delight and a tiny flicker of doubt. "Yes Joel... but...you sure you want to join in?"

"I don't know," He feigns innocence, pretending to think for a short while before his face lights up with an idea. "Do I get a kiss for it?"

You laugh and lean up to press your lips into his in a soft, lingering kiss. It's so tender and reassuring that he has to pull back before changing his mind and taking you back to the bed.

"Then it's settled."

It has been settled for a long time.

Maybe he can get used to it. Maybe you get a better idea of what you've made of him with your presence at times when he easily complies with things that make you happy. A heart made of ice, molten enough to experience the world with you all over again. Even if he gets soaked in the rain, he's alright with it. You kiss him and all the discomfort is forgotten.

He should give it time and learn to breathe again. Learn to stay, to settle. To let you know that you're all he sees.

Yeah, I don't want to hurt

There's so much in this world 

To make me bleed

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Stay with me

You're all I see

The words are carved in his head. He chances a glance at the living room before walking past the door. Your guitar is placed on the couch. Maybe one day he'll bring himself to play his melodies for you too. He thinks that he's got a lot of time for it now. He wants an eternity with you, and in this wretched world, eternity lasts as long as you'll have him.

One, two... Ten droplets fall over him. He kisses you again, harder and longer. His ice-cold heart melts just a little more at your careless laughter. Just stay with me.

[prael]

Delicacy

ILLIT Moka x male reader smut

Happy (kinda late) Moka Day!

Masterlist word count: 5,401 Kofi(donations/commissions)

"Ladies and-a gen-entleman! Step right up! Ge-get yourself a-a mystical item today!" The old Murgo's voice is loud, his tone is jovial. His accent is hard to understand and his stuttering speech patterns would indicate a man who is not well-educated, though you've always expected he puts it all on for show.

His skin is scruffy, full of moles and unkempt facial hair that creeps down to his thin neck. The elderly man's uniform consists of a long, purple-sleeved coat—sleeves that fall every time he waves an arm at the next item he tries to flog.

"Y-you sir! Consider this, this is truly a-a magical mirror, for as long as you lo-look into it, it will make you b-beautiful." He smiles at the group before him, pearly white teeth contrasting with his murky skin colour. They are the only noteworthy things about him, other than his height, a whole foot smaller than the usual man.

The rough-looking labourer by your side mumbles, "What a crock of shit!"

While the bald man at the front calls "I'll take it!"

Murgo, as Murgo so often does, announces the catch, "Very wise pu-purchase. Now, just remember, the m-magic only works if you look a-at in complete darkness."

Murgo collects his due payment and the man at your side shakes his head as he turns away. "Idiots," he grumbles before he walks away.

"You there!" Murgo singles you out. "Do you fancy trying a-anything?" He asks you with a smile.

Murgo's entire stall is packed full of oddities, and none of them are ever what they seem. You may not believe in Murgo's little items, but it's always interesting to come and see what he has to sell today. It's nice to consider his fantastical excuses and embellishments.

"M-may I interest you in a fan-antasy?" He sing-songs. "You must ha-have a wish to make come true? Consider this ma-magical music box! One wish! M-Make it come true!" He boasts about another silly item, something that always leaves you rolling your eyes. Wishes cannot be bought.

"Tha-that's a look of uncertainty. Well, how about this." Murgo holds out a hand containing a single chocolate. A perfect, colourful item shaped like a square. "Gen-entleman, please m-may I present, a most magical item to y-your attention! A chocolate! Bu-but not any chocolate! They say this one tastes of m-mocha, and its ingestion a-allows you to live a fantasy."

You scrunch your brow.

"Ingested fantasies might seem an im-impossibility, but I have p-proven through a rigorous scientific process..."

You know he's lying, as always, but you're not about to interrupt though. You doubt the old man actually has much training in anything even related to science, and everything about him can only lead you to believe that he doesn't own many resources to test things on anyway.

"...so, sir, I urge you!" Murgo finishes his meaningless rambling by saying, "Try and taste your fondest dream. Try the ma-magical wonder and live a dream so real, so plausible that y-you'll forget who you are!"

Live a dream so real... He's definitely lying, but you are curious as to the taste of his chocolate.

Your eyes switch from Murgo's insistent, excited stare to his chocolate, and back to Murgo's knowing smile. "Just this once," you tell him.

-

You sit at your kitchen table, staring at the little rectangular block that rests on the wood.

"A fantasy, huh?" you contemplate. You lean in close and give it a sniff; it certainly smells like chocolate, with a hint of mocha.

Shrugging, you hold up the chocolate and drop it into your mouth. Immediately, it melts away and you're overpowered by the delicious flavour. It's milk chocolate, but you find hints of cocoa and coffee mixed between your lips.

You chew a few times and then swallow. At that moment, Murgo's words ring around your mind. 'Live a dream so real,' they repeat.

You sit and you wait. Staring expectantly at the table, you blink blankly at the slab where the chocolate once rested. You tap your fingers. You scratch the back of your neck. And still, nothing.

"Wow." You shake your head, chastising yourself for thinking so optimistically, and push out the chair.

As you stand, your head spins. The world about you warps into another form, a dark space resembling nothing you have ever seen.

The ground crunches beneath your feet. Gravel, perhaps? Black grazes at the surface, but you can't quite make out any details. As if a curtain has fallen to obscure your vision.

You spin around and wave your hands to find a purchase with something.

And then you feel it. Feel... her?

Small, smooth hands in your own. They let go before too long, and then those hands brush up your forearms.

A shadowed girl—clearly a girl by her soft curves—gently touches your cheek, and you grab her hand again. A soft gasp escapes her, and then she giggles. "Do you know how hard it's been, to be stuck inside a piece of chocolate? Of course, you don't. Why would you?"

This... isn't real. Could you be dreaming? Could you be high, or drunk, or passed out? Perhaps poisoned? You bring your fingers to your face to ensure you're not gushing blood or anything odd. Nope, normal. Completely and utterly normal, so... what the hell?

She whispers as her fingers move along the waistband of your pants, "Did you like the taste of the chocolate? Of... Moka?" She laughs. "My name is Moka, do you understand? Mocha and Moka!"

She has the cutest laugh. Soft, genuine, and one that leaves you smiling. Smiling? You ask yourself what you're doing and how you possibly ended up with some mysterious woman pawing your crotch. Regardless, you answer.

"Yeah," you say, her laugh encouraging you to express honesty. "Definitely not a bad product at all."

"Of course not!" Moka cheers. You catch a glimpse of a smile in the shadows that surround her. "After all, I was made with all the finest ingredients to give a taste that absolutely anyone can enjoy! And you're no exception, are you?" Moka's weight presses against you, and she leans close to your ear to murmur, "This little bump in your pants proves that."

You let out a sharp breath, but no denial. Moka may be shrouded in darkness, but you don't have trouble appreciating her presence. You can feel the warmth from her body, her rounded breasts that are all too tempting to touch.

"I'm so confused..." you whisper.

"Good." With the utterance of one word, you see the brightness of a smile. How wonderful and expressive her face is. The darkness clears and the mystery goes with it. The girl in front of you can only be described as utterly breathtaking. She's wearing this smile that turns up a little more on one side of her mouth than the other, and you're absolutely enchanted by its beauty. There's this beauty mark on her nose, such a cute mole. And then her eyes... you could very happily lose yourself within them.

"So incredibly confused," you repeat, and watch with fascination as a lock of her dark hair slips past a black strip and over her flushed cheek.

Moka kisses you. A gentle, testing peck, but there's no time for timid, because she pounces, and suddenly you're drowning under her affection. Kissing her like this is all you can think about, and the way she tangles her small tongue around your own is wildly erotic, both innocent and sinful at the same time.

You are too complacent, but then Moka brings her body flush against yours. You don't know where she came from, you have no idea why she's here and what's going on, but your body is certainly not questioning that right now. Her lithe form under your touch is as smooth as the chocolate she came from.

"Take me," she all but purrs, "It's what I'm here for."

"But you're..."

"Not real? A fantasy? Exactly. That's all the reason you need to let go," she whispers and there is a clarity that brings her words like truth.

Real or not, you can't deny it. You want her, this exotic enigma. You tug her close, fingers tracing a curve, your lips following a line. Her body, her skin, you adore her. Every facet, every inch, you crave her. You take hold of Moka and lift her, she lets out the gentlest of squeaks but instantly wraps her legs around you, and just the sound and feeling of her draws a shudder out of you.

"I spent months in Murgo's storage, just waiting for someone like you. Every single day growing more and more frustrated as I waited. You can't imagine being that pent up, can you?"

She's taking off your shirt. Impatiently running her hands down your torso, like she can't get enough. You stumble until you plant her against the wall, holding her firm and kissing her with all the frustration she feels, biting and sucking and leaving her breathless.

Moka wraps her arms around your neck, curling her heels, pulling you close.

"I can't imagine it, but you don't have to wait for another second though." You squeeze at her taut thighs, making her whimper with delight.

"Taste me," she whispers and you take your lips to her neck. It's not exactly what she has in mind, but she knows it's inevitable. All roads lead between her thighs.

So you fall to your knees before her. Hands up her thighs, driving up the frills of her skirt. She's a delicacy, soft and pink, beautiful, just waiting to be savoured. And the moment your lips touch the inside of her thigh, she gasps, one palm smacking the wall behind her. The tension, the excitement, the breathless little whimpers that escape her, every little thing, has you completely engrossed.

The whole time you press a barrage of kisses against her thighs, moving closer to her core with each passing second, but the light, teasing kisses draw a litany of frustration out of her.

"P-please..." Moka whimpers.

The breath from her plea leaves her in a shudder. She huffs, already trembling. You test how wet she is with your fingers, feeling her damp warmth, her sticky arousal coating your digits. You're unable to resist running your fingertips up the folds of her pussy, using the natural slickness to help move, dancing around her clit and drawing cries from the breathless girl. Her pleasure is plain to see, the rising blush reaching her chest and the deep breaths escaping her.

You slide a single finger inside her, then quickly two, slowly finger fucking her pretty pink, twisting around and feeling her wrap around you.

"You like it?" you murmur and it's not like you could call anything happening now an act of romance, but you turn your head and kiss her thigh. Such a tender moment is shared despite the sordid acts.

Moka huffs, her fingers clinging to your shoulder. "I need it." She sputters, moaning and thrusting down to meet your slow motions. "Oh... It's so good..."

"It's about to get even better," you say.

You lap your tongue along the seeping moisture of her beautiful cunt, and you lick over her slick folds and lap up everything she has to offer. With deep, intense licks, you give her pussy the attention she's been begging for.

"Ahh! Oh, yes!" she shrieks, falling back against the wall and panting with pleasure.

The sweetness of her nectar assaults you, and your tongue finds the little spot that has her moaning each time you lick near it. Faster and faster you circle her clit, watching as her knees quiver and twitch. Closer and closer, your tongue working her into a frenzy.

"More... I-I... yes, don't stop!" she cries, pulling your face against her. She wants more, she won't wait, and she twists and tangles her fingers into your hair, pushing and grinding her dripping sex against you. "Can you imagine it? I was made for pleasure. To give and receive, only to be forced to hide away, all alone? To suffer every day, tortured by my need?"

Moka whimpers and struggles to keep her breath even. You must want to do something about that, don't you?

You grab her thighs, lifting her off the ground and shifting your hands under her, grabbing her soft, plump ass cheeks. She cries at the movement, but then her legs are wrapped around your shoulders, clutching you to her desperately. You eat her little pussy out furiously, ravaging her drenched folds as she cries out, screams filling the room as you pick up the pace. Your tongue dances around her clit, your fingers sinking deeply into the soft flesh of her cute little ass.

"Oh god... I can't stop myself," her desperate cries fill the room.

You cannot deny this girl, even if you wanted to, so you devour her sweet cunt, and watch as her eyes close, the pleasure becoming too much as her body explodes with euphoric release. She screams, desperately riding your face, her entire body quivering and twitching as she cums. The juices drip down your chin as she rides the wave of intense bliss, rolling her hips, indulging in it, prolonging it for as long as she can.

Finally, the surge of her overwhelming orgasm ends, but she slumps, nearly lifeless in your grasp. You struggle to keep her up, and she keeps trying to grind her sensitive folds against you, but her exhaustion finally hits her. So you take her, back in your arms, and toward your kitchen table.

There she lays, shaking and sweating, struggling to catch her breath, and you want nothing more than to pry her delicate figure from that dress. You strip her, your mouth kissing every newly exposed surface of her perfect body.

"This is how things should have been, how life should have been," Moka mumbles, her dark hair swirling beneath her as she lays across your table. Her sweet skin comes into sight and you can't help running your hands along the feminine curve of her stomach. Her perfect breasts fit in the palms of your hands and you trace circles around her taut nipples as she sighs happily.

You undress, and she watches, pulling her lower lip between her teeth. Her expression is suddenly guilty, as though admiring a man naked isn't something a girl should do. But you caress her face, she's your beautiful enchantress, and that moment of hesitation seems to pass as she leans into the palm of your hand. Her eyes shimmer with acceptance, and she's accepting of all the dirty things she's thinking, all the things she's about to say. "I...I want you inside me," she whispers.

Your cock is erect and eager, so hard, aching, throbbing with the desire to know her warmth, and you line yourself with the wetness between her legs.

Gently, you lean forward, pressing the tip against her tightness. "Are you ready?"

"For however long I've waited," she breathes.

She's quivering under you, full of tension, gripping the edge of the table tightly. The expression on her face is so vulnerable, open and raw, so beautiful. Her chest rises and falls with her need, and there's a hunger burning in her, a fire begging to be ignited.

"Please," Moka begs.

"Gentle..." you tell her, though who it's meant for, you're not entirely sure. But you take a deep breath and ease into her slickness.

She gasps, her grip around the side of the table tightening. It takes a moment, but she grows accustomed, her tension dissipates and her trembling is overcome. She laughs, and the sound is nothing short of stunning. Chime-like, the light, airy melody fills the room as she touches herself. Cupping her supple breasts, and tugging her pink nipples, she indulges in her lust and rocks gently against your hard shaft.

"Fuck away my lusts. Fill the void, be the man I've needed so badly," her sweet voice begins to sing with pleasure, her pitch rising.

Her cunt is so warm and inviting, so wet, stretching tightly around you as you pump back and forth. Wet noises sound with every pass. Moka's eyes glaze over and her legs wrap around your waist, pulling you even deeper.

Your thrusting finds a comfortable, easy rhythm, and soon your hips are slapping eagerly against her every time you push in. Wet noises fill the air each time you drive into her deepest parts.

"God, yes..." her desperation only heightens, "Use me, please. Don't stop, fuck me."

"How could I ever?" you pant, both leaning in, sucking the taste of her chocolate mouth, twirling her tongue, drinking her intoxicating exhales.

She's a dream, this girl is made for indulgence. Her arms hook under yours, hands grasping your shoulders, digging into your back, desperate for some way to anchor herself. You want to touch every part of her, soak up her delicious little whimpers and commit them to memory. As your breath runs ragged and your heart pounds in your chest, nothing other than her is present in your mind. Nothing else matters. She is the pure embodiment of desire.

As the feverish motion speeds up, her soft breasts bounce and her entire body shimmers. Sweat glistens along her slender form and you push her to limits she's never known. Her cries run longer and louder until she's screaming, moaning your name, muttering incoherent praise.

"Moka..." you whisper her name, lacing her with what little you can say with a mind lost in the overwhelming bliss of her body.

It isn't long before your rhythm begins to break down. A rising and falling beat, speeding and slowing, stuttering with your every breath. She's drowning with you, and yet floating all at once. Latching onto you, refusing to let go. Desperate, clamping tightly onto you as you enter her deeper with each sharp thrust.

Panting, drenched, bodies so close. Your hard, feverish heat, her spiking lust, colliding with explosive fervour as you surge forward, burying yourself inside her and grunting as you shudder.

Unbridled and relentless, the swelling heat pulses through you and down your length. Rippling through her, filling her cunt, pouring into her. Her cries peak alongside yours. She shudders and shakes as your pulsing cock pumps a shockwave of ecstasy through her.

Delirious laughter escapes her when her rolling euphoria subsides, and her satisfied smile when she strokes her hand down your hot chest... everything about her... the delight of satisfaction washes through her.

Just what was that? That woman made you feel desires you could never imagine possible. Never could you have imagined something would make you feel as if you were flying.

Never could you imagine her.

And yet here she is.

"Can we..." she seems uncertain now, nervous, unsure.

You take her hands and kiss them. A delicate display of adoration that causes her nervous smile to transform into something happier, more certain. "What is it, Moka?"

She presses her finger to her lower lip, searching for the right words. "We can do this again, can't we?"

You can't resist chuckling at the blush that reaches her chest and the shy way she turns her head.

"Of course," you say.

-

Now you understand, even if vaguely, what happened and how things came to be; your actions and hers.

But, as always, the question remains... can a fantasy ever stay?

Moka is sitting outside on the small porch of your humble home. Fond memories occupy your thoughts; nights filled with bliss; mornings spent listening to her joyous voice.

"Are you having doubts?" she asks, unable to meet your gaze.

You sigh and rest against the rail. Her feelings are difficult to understand sometimes, but you have this odd connection, as if an invisible bridge exists between you, allowing you to feel her as she can you. She wants your happiness, you know that, she craves it, and yet...

"Will you stay?" you ask her quietly, a little afraid of the answer.

The setting sun casts pink across the sky. From the lush valley, there's a stream that cuts across the landscape, shaded by the greenery, broken only by the towering tree that stands tall in the distance. Its wide leaves filter the sunlight, casting gentle patterns in the trickling water. It really is such a peaceful place to live.

You stand and enjoy the moment. Fresh air, the calming simplicity of nature.

"I'm sorry," Moka's voice is only a whisper, "I don't know the limits of the magic that brought me here. If I stay, would I be stuck as a human? If I leave your side, would I ever be able to return? It's as much of a mystery to me as it is to you."

"Should I ask Murgo?"

"That fool? He didn't even know the chocolate was really magic. No," her voice grows firmer, "Don't trust the words of that merchant." Her hands clutch tightly at her knees, "I do have this feeling. I can't quite explain it, but, I've been feeling it since you first tasted me."

"Feeling?"

"A pulling—a tug—toward you, away from you too," she says. "Magic, desires, loneliness... maybe they've been woven together. I can't be sure."

"Not sure I understand."

"I feel it now. There's this need to be satisfied. And when I'm not, it feels like the magic will just tear me away."

You push away from the railing and step towards her. She's sitting, knees pulled against her chest, wearing nothing more than a white linen gown. Seeing her so small...

"So, if I just satisfy you..." You reach out and gently brush your knuckles along her soft cheek. Moka leans into your touch, her deep brown eyes gazing up. Your fingertips push through her silky dark hair and cup her delicate chin. As she stares at you, you can feel the deep, yearning emotion within her. "Then you will stay with me."

"I think—"

You interrupt her with a kiss. Softly locking your lips, bringing her comfort. Just a moment, simple tenderness. Then passion, as you open your mouth and taste the pure sugar of her tongue. Slipping around yours, her hot exhale, her warmth, both erotic and meaningful.

You can only pull away by taking her with you, pulling her up from the chair. Eagerly, Moka smiles and steps into your arms. Squeezing her tight, holding her around the waist, breathing her scent, feeling the tension inside yourself. She kisses you back with the same intensity, lips tight on yours, warm and dripping as they open, teasing you with her sweet taste.

You stumble back towards the railing, bodies entwined. Tilting your head, her chocolate flavour can make anyone addicted. Kissing her, nipping, sucking, biting her lip. Sinking into her warmth, her body. Lifting the hem of her short gown, running your fingers along the silky skin of her thighs. She arches back into the wooden railing, and you break apart the kiss as she sinks into the support behind her.

You take hold of her shoulders and turn her. She braces against the railing and leans forward, showing off that inviting, delicate shape. Between the arch of her back and the curve of her cute ass, she begs to be taken. And that thin linen may as well not even be there; it's so taut, so transparent.

You move behind her. In the fading light of the evening, the shadows reveal more than they hide. Lifting the cloth and leaving her bare. Running your hands down the lines of her hips and sides, your fingers lightly trace back up her ribs and finally, you cup one of her light breasts. Her nipple presses into the palm of your hand, and she's so sensitive, arching at even the slightest touch.

She looks back at you, her eyes longing, knowing what comes next. Spreading your fingers down between her legs, you run them along the slick, wet flesh waiting for you. She's already ready, dripping, and your fingertips only tease her. Bending, lining up your rigid cock against her wetness. You place your other hand on her hip and ready yourself, preparing to push forward.

"I'll never grow tired of this," you say.

Moka looks back at you, blushing, hair over her face as she tries to look through the veil. Before she can respond, you push, and she lets out a sharp cry at being filled. With her firmly held, you slide in and out of her dripping cunt. It's not a frantic, hurried pace, but deep, intense thrusts that give Moka what she needs—give her relief.

"Ah! That's so deep... so deep."

Her moans spill out without restraint. Such a vibrant voice, full of the lusts she's harbouring. Holding her firmly, plunging deeper and faster, her tiny pussy wrapping tightly around you. Wet, slippery squishing echoes through the empty air. Slaps sounding with every time your crotch strikes hers. It's all so lewd and brings you ever closer, keeps driving you.

The deeper her chest falls, the more she arches, and a deep moan escapes as her body shakes. Her orgasm comes strong, fast, and powerful, making her legs quake and her voice stutter. But you hold her and keep fucking. Slipping against her back, clinging to her waist, burying your face in her hair. Her trembling sex tenses and flexes and still she moans, incoherently telling you just how good it feels.

You've lost track of the number of times you've filled her tight cunt in the past few days, so this is just another one of many. She loves it, though; loves feeling you pour so deeply inside her. She'll do anything to feel it. So you fill her. Firm thrusts as you pump her full of your cum, right there on the porch.

-

During the moments she spends staring out the window, you run your hand down Moka's back. She hums a little sound, appreciating the act, and snuggles into the blanket further.

"Cold? I could go get the fire going again if you like."

Moka stares blankly, fixated on a flower just outside the window. She blinks and laughs suddenly.

"Hm? Sorry, what did you say?"

You repeat what you said and she quickly responds.

"It's alright, but there's something I need you to do."

"What is it?"

"Lie on the bed, let me ride you. I want to feel you fill me. I need it." She reaches a hand up and cradles her own breast, grasping at it and squeezing the supple mound.

It's getting worse—her constant need. Like an itch, she says. Something has to constantly be done to keep it from being painful. It's barely been two hours since you were last inside her, and it seems to be the only thing she can think about.

"Please. I just need a little more..."

You can't bring yourself to deny her. Not when she looks at you like that. So you stumble backwards, pulling her naked form along with you, and ungracefully land on your back. Already you're growing hard, just from looking up at her dainty body and recalling all the wonderful acts you have performed and thinking of what is yet to come.

Moka runs her hand through her hair and gazes downward, a serene look washing over her delicate features.

"Smiling suits you," you tell her.

Again, you watch her eyes light up at that little kind of praise. "Thank you," she says, blushing as she clambers across the bed to kneel above you. She fixes her knees on either side of your hips and runs her palms over your chest, teasing your body as her breasts sway before you.

"Oh..." she purrs as she rocks back and forth, rubbing her bare sex up and down your length. "Oh, yes..."

You hum with delight, but remain still for a moment, listening to the happy sounds she's making, letting her indulge in the simple foreplay.

Eventually, she can take it no longer. "Here..." She lifts herself with her thighs and wraps a single hand around your hardened cock, steadying it and gripping tight. With a single gasp, she guides you inside her. Her moisture envelops you and she's so tight, the way her pussy seems to suck you in all the way to the base. But once you reach that far point, you both let out a loud moan of satisfaction. She's got all of you, every last inch of your shaft has found its home inside her.

Moka rests there for a moment, staring down with these innocent, almost vulnerable brown eyes. From the soft feeling of her velvety interior and the cute, lewd look of her blissful face, you can't help yourself, and buck up into her, plunging even further in. She lets out a gasp and stumbles forward, catching herself on your chest.

"I'm sorry! Are you alright?" you ask.

The dark-haired girl giggles—something that pleases you more than you can describe—and returns to that dainty smile. She pulls her hips and then drives them against you, before groaning, "More than alright."

Moka finds her rhythm. Rolling and grinding her hips, each motion punctuated by her spiking arousal. Her small cunt welcomes the friction, drips with desire. You grip her waist, helping her balance as she bounces in your lap, pushing herself harder and faster each time. She pushes harder, taking more of you, and soon she's crying out your name, begging you to fill her with everything you have.

Her gorgeous form rocks above you. Thrusting vigorously, her little breasts barely bouncing in a way that you can't take your eyes away from. Moka digs her nails into your chest. Her moans and cries grow increasingly desperate.

"You're amazing," Moka moans through her pleasure, voice quivering and trembling with it.

You can feel her clenching tighter and tighter, her insides quaking as she begs, and pleads for release. It brings your climax close, and despite the urgency of her pleasure, she maintains a controlled rhythm. Not so fast as to short-circuit things, keeping you on the very edge of euphoria.

"God, I love the way you..." she exclaims as a bright flush blossoms across her face. She sinks her teeth into her lower lip, muting her sound.

"What?" you struggle to speak as her slick folds wrap so tightly around you.

You don't know what it is, but something catches her attention. Her movements slow and she's searching, somehow peering through the dark outside. The noise has stopped too, usually at night there's a cacophony of singing insects and rustling, fluttering wings, but now nothing. No wind or creak or creasing leaf. Quiet. Dead quiet.

Moka slips off of your cock and crawls backwards to the end of the bed.

"What is it?" you ask.

Moka's lips twitch. Anxiety sets in over her features and she steps away from the bed, toward the window. Moonlight kisses her skin, the pale rays dancing on her shadowy form. Your heart falters and you realise... you really do want her here. Like this. Always.

"Moka?"

A strong gust blows and the window swings open. Her silky hair whips against her face, catching on her lips. She raises her hand, fingers hovering lightly in the moonlight. You remain motionless in fear of breaking whatever is occurring. Nothing feels right, not a single thing. As if the fabric of reality has been slashed in two.

The wind howls. The lights flicker and the fireplace across the room somehow brings itself to light. She turns to face it and the flames illuminate Moka's eyes. They glow a pale violet, the hue all wrong, ghostly. A tremble comes over her, and she says just five words. The last five words you'll ever hear from her.

"I'm sorry. I'll miss you."

Her hand turns to dust. The grains reflect the moon as they blow out of the window. You watch as the rest of her body follows, leaving only the imprint of where she once stood.

Time moves slowly—too slowly—like your heart, which can't beat. Something has broken, something in you, though not a sound passes through your lips. Tears stream from your eyes. The pain, the sorrow, the emptiness—it all feels irreparable. You can't bear it, and without a single word, without a single sound, the world goes black.

[aetherdoesthings]

hello!!! i hope ur having a good day/night! can i request headcanons or fics (whatever you prefer!) of reader falling asleep because of work and the monster trio's reaction to it? thank u!!

hello!!! i hope you're having a good day/night too!

forethoughts: gonna be out of my country next week for vacation, so probably not going to upload as much, but i'll try. i hope you enjoy!! also did tumblr remove yellow from the color choices? odd.

notes: gn!reader

Luffy

“Y/N! Check it-” With a kick, the Captain of the Straw Hat Pirates stepped into your office, holding a slab of meat. His excitement plummeted as his eyes fell on you. Your head was resting on top of stacks of papers, a quill in between your fingers. Your entire body was limp against the wooden desk in the corner of the room, the lamp above your head still burning bright. 

“Y/N?” Luffy walked closer to you, his sandals thudding against the planks below. He tapped your head, shaking your shoulder, until he could see the slightest movement coming from you. 

You shrugged Luffy’s hand off of you, forcing yourself to sit up. “Luffy?”

“Why’d you fall asleep?” A small frown appeared on Luffy’s face. You knew he didn’t like you overworking yourself and filling up your time with ‘boring stuff’.

“It’s just a nap. Promise.”

“Are you overworking yourself again?”

“N-No.”

“Y/N… I already told you. If there’s too much work for you, just tell me.”

“It’s fine, Luffy.”

“No, it’s not fine. I don’t want you to overwork yourself to the point you fall asleep. Come on.” Luffy shoved the meat into his mouth, his hands wrapped around your arms as he dragged you in the direction of your shared bed. Without much protest, your head was now resting on top of pillows, a soft blanket plastered on top of your body.

“Sleep. Okay? You better be asleep by the time I come back.” Luffy pointed a finger at your face. You let out a chuckle, nodding your head. 

“Thank you.” You whispered softly.

The corner of Luffy's mouth stretched up to his eyes. "I asked you to join because I wanted to go on adventures with you, Y/N, I didn't ask you to join my crew because I wanted to see you work until you fall asleep! Please take care of yourself, otherwise we can't go on adventures anymore."

Zoro

“Oi, Y/N, it’s my turn. You can go back inside.” Zoro climbed up the crow’s nest, getting ready for his shift of watching over the ship. When he got up there, he saw you curled up into a ball on the side, fast asleep. He stared at your figure for a moment, before climbing into the circular space next to you. He flicked your forehead, gently slapping your face, to no avail. You were dead asleep, a quill balancing in between your fingers. Zoro placed a hand on your arm, retracting immediately. You were freezing cold. 

“Tch. Falling asleep on the job.” Zoro crossed his arms, staring at your unconscious body, putting his swords aside as he surveyed the scene.The inside of the crow’s nest was littered with papers and notes, an empty bottle of ink haphazardly discarded on the side. Anger and annoyance clouded Zoro’s head, the urge to wake you up and scold you for prioritizing your work over the safety of everyone. But in the cold winter night, a drop of warmth entered Zoro’s heart as he stared at your curled up figure, shivering slightly, but still dead asleep. There were heavy eyebags visible on your face, your lips cracked. The veins on your hands were visible, bulging out at Zoro.

“Damn it.” Zoro scoffed, as he reached a hand out towards you, dragging your body closer to his. He propped you up against his chest, letting you use his body heat as a source of warmth in the cold night. “Always overexerting yourself, you idiot. Should’ve brought a jacket instead of your papers. Geez. Now I gotta take care of you.” 

You were still knocked out, head resting on Zoro’s shoulder. Zoro let out a scoff, placing a hand around your shoulder, warming you up. “Tch.”

Sanji

Finally done with cleaning up the kitchen and preparing the next day’s meals, Sanji headed back to the bedroom you shared with him. He tried not to make as much noise as possible; at this time, you were most likely asleep already. He stepped into your room, closing the door as quietly as he could.

“Eh?” Sanji looked at the bed. The blankets were still neatly made from this morning, pillows organized with no wrinkles. He turned his attention towards your desk in the corner of the room, a small smile on his face. At least you didn’t go missing. You were dead asleep, head resting on your left arm, your right holding onto a quill. Sanji tiptoed over, examining your sleeping figure. 

My dear Y/N… Sanji sighed, plucking the quill out of your fingers. Without waking you up, his hands curled around your neck and the back of your knees. Without breaking a sweat, Sanji scooped you up, letting your head hit the pillow before the rest of your body was on the mattress. He draped the blanket over your body, planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Sweet dreams, my love.” Sanji whispered, before heading back over to your desk. He took a seat, rolling up his sleeves as he stared at the sea of papers and ink. As the moon itself was about to go to sleep, and the sun slowly woke up, Sanji stayed there, helping you organize all your work and sort out all your notes, filling out blanks you had left or letters you needed to write. He didn’t care if he lost some hours of sleep; in a few minutes, he’d have to ‘wake up’ to start prepping the next day’s meal anyways. As long as you were well rested and taken care of, Sanji didn’t care if he would have to lose hours of sleep. 

[kirain]

You've given us Emmrich taking care of sick Rook. Can you maybe give us Rook taking care of sick Emmrich? Please and thank you

The eerie hum of the Fade outside matched the tension within as Lucanis, Bellara, and Neve entered Emmrich's study. They carried the corpse of a Venatori agent, the body wrapped tightly in a stained canvas. Emmrich rose to greet them, his pale face illuminated by the flickering candles scattered throughout the room. His tall, wiry frame seemed more fragile than usual, his movements slow and listless.

"Emmrich," Lucanis said, setting the body down on the stone slab to the left of the room. "We need your help. There's a chance this agent knew Elgar'nan's location. If we can get answers, we might finally be able to stop him."

Emmrich steeled himself as he studied the corpse. Despite his obvious exhaustion, he managed a faint smile. "Of course. I'll do everything I can."

Vae, who had been observing from the doorway, stepped closer. "Are you feeling all right?" she asked, her cerulean eyes flickering with concern. "You look—"

"I'm perfectly fine," he interrupted politely. "There's no time to waste. If this man's spirit holds the key to finding Elgar'nan, we must act quickly."

With a wave of his hand, the air grew heavy, a slight chill nipping at the back of everyone's necks. As the magic strew through the body, something stirred beyond the Veil, and Emmrich pulled, catching it in his snare.

The corpse twitched. Then its chest heaved with a sharp, unnatural breath, its eyelids snapping open to reveal dull, glassy orbs. Emmrich staggered unexpectedly, but steadied himself, his hands trembling as green energy crackled around his fingers.

"The connection is weak," he gasped. "Guarded, likely due to Elgar'nan's influence. Haste would be appreciated."

"Where is Elgar'nan hiding?" Lucanis asked, plainly.

"Everywhere..." The corpse's mouth moved sluggishly. "And nowhere."

Bellara frowned. "It's being vague on purpose. Let me try." She leaned closer. "Where is Elgar'nan's physical body?"

The corpse let out an ear-piercing screech, its limbs convulsing against the stone. Emmrich winced, his face contorting in pain.

"Are you all right?" Vae asked sharply, rushing to his side as he swayed.

He nodded, though his pallor deepened. "It's fighting me... but I can hold it. Ask again."

Bellara's tone turned forceful. "Where is Elgar'nan's physical body right now. Give us the location."

The corpse writhed, its jaw locking momentarily before a rasping hiss escaped.

"The spirit... resists," Emmrich groaned, his voice strained. "We don't have long, I fear."

Neve, her expression icy but focused, stepped forward. "Enough of the now. Let's try the when." She addressed the corpse. "Where is Elgar'nan planning to attack next?"

The corpse thrashed violently, its head snapping back in defiance, and Emmrich stumbled, his knees buckling, as though some unseen force was pressing down on his shoulders.

"Stop this," Vae demanded, gripping his arm to hold him upright. "Something is clearly wrong."

"Not yet," Emmrich whispered, his voice barely audible. "Neve... ask again."

"Elgar'nan's next attack—where is it going to be?" she emphasised, leaning over the slab.

The corpse choked out two words through clenched teeth. "Castle… ancient..."

With a final, guttural cry, the connection severed, like a taut thread snipped by scissors. The corpse fell limp, and Emmrich suddenly crumpled to the floor.

"Emmrich!" Vae yelled, kneeling beside him. She gently rolled him onto his back, his face tight and drenched with sweat.

"What happened?" Bellara squeaked, horrified.

Vae's brow furrowed as she touched her hand to his forehead. "He's... sick. He had a fever this whole time, and we didn't even notice."

A heavy silence fell over the group as the realisation sank in—they'd pushed him too hard, with no regard for his safety. Neve and Lucanis, ever pragmatic, quickly but carefully lifted him off the floor and carried him to his bed, while Bellara fetched a bowl of water and a cloth, her expression rife with remorse.

"I'm so sorry," she mewled, handing the bowl to Vae. "You told us to stop, but we didn't listen."

Vae shook her head. "Neither did he," she sighed. "I'll take care of him. You three focus on what we've learned. 'Castle', 'ancient'... it's not much to go on, but maybe it's enough. Let the others know, too."

They nodded, then left the room, casting worried glances over their shoulders.

Once alone, Vae sat beside the barely conscious man, soaking the cloth and dabbing his forehead. "You're too kind for your own good," she muttered, her tone a mix of exasperation and affection. "I wish you'd tell me when you're not feeling well."

Emmrich's eyes fluttered open, his mind hazy, though his hand reached out, weakly brushing against hers. "Now you... know how it feels," he coughed.

Vae flinched, then gave him a defeated chuckle. "All right, point taken," she assured him, clasping his hand. "I guess I deserved that."

His lips curved faintly before his eyes closed again, his breathing shallow. "But I am sorry, my dear... for frightening you."

"Shh. Just rest now," she hushed, pulling the blankets up to his chin. "I'll be here when you wake up."

[bbkoolkatz]

pairing: barbarian prince! katsuki bakugo x fem! reader

content warning: violence, injuries, blood, death, implied torture, captivity, drugging, coercion, non-consensual restraint, threats of death, xenophobia, cultural discrimination, grief, fear, power dynamics, emotional distress, attempted intimidation, aaand use of weapons. lemme know if I missed somethin.

this one's extremely short 'cause I couldn't leave y'all with nothin. there's barely any katsuki I KNOW! but trust🙏 this is just a fraction of the next chapter! hope ya enjoy and look forward to Saturday! 🌸

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 3 𝖕𝖙1 𝖕𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖋𝖞𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 1.3k+words

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 2!

"you must pull the rope harder, my lady," ragna instructed, glancing at you with a faint smirk, "or you'll be chasing after your tent when the wind picks up."

"ha ha, ragna," you rolled your eyes, blowing away stray strands of hair from your face, "i've got this," giving her a small pat her on the shoulder. putting up tents isn't so difficult after all. you stood proud in front of your hard work, admiring it with your hands on your hips.

a huge shadow that glided overhead caught your attention. soaring the night sky on his beautiful crimson beast, was your husband—who should be having dinner with you around the little bon fire you also worked so hard on, to get going.

"does he ever rest?" you yawned, squinting up to see when he'd fly by again.

"on a night like this? i'm afraid he will not." ragna shrugged, poking a stick in the fire absentmindedly. you glanced upward again, catching sight of your husband's silhouette against the moonlit sky. and you sighed —a soft sigh— to yourself.

to the far end of the gathering, the tetsugami rested peacefully in some tall bushes as mitsuki's guards marched around camp at the bark of her order. after ensuring your belongings were secured, you threw yourself onto the thin slab of cushion, snuggling in to make yourself comfortable and you began to drift off.

your eyes shot open to a scuffle outside your tent and you flew up, reaching for the dagger mitsuki gifted you on your wedding night, under your makeshift pillow, preparing to launch at whoever was about to enter your tent.

your heart pounded against your ribs as the tent flap flew open and you moved instinctively, springing toward the intruding figure.

"frú mín! it is me!" ragna dodged, holding her hands up by the sides of her head. "we must go, now!" she hissed, clutching the side of her waist.

there was no time to ask questions, you nodded taking her word as you rushed out of your tent. the guards were scattered all over the forest grounds, laying in pools of their own blood before you. "where's mother!?" you instantly panic, eyes darting about, hoping not to find her laying among the defeated guards.

"she's... waiting for us -gasp- near the... tetsu-gami," ragna heaved, coughing as she spoke. "we must hurry -ahgk!-"

"ragna!"

"run!" she gasped, decapitating the the man who sneaked up behind and stab her. you hesitated—"we- we have to stop the bleeding!"—looking at her sluggish form—she's heavy—you try to hold her up. "please, my lady... i'll be okay," she wheezed, "your life... matters m-most..." weakly smiling as she caressed your face with a bloody hand.

"i can't just leave you," tears threatened to fall, as she whimper out yet another plea. with a heavy sigh and a hesitant squeeze on her hands, you stood up, turning on your heels, making a sprint toward the tetsugami. you frantically bat webs and low branches out of way as you ran through the dark forest, wiping at the hot tears that flowed down your face, blurring your vision.

"mær mín!" a worried voice called out to you, you stumbled forward, and they caught you, holding you up by the shoulders, "hvar er ragna!?" ragna... tears well up in your eyes at ragna's name... mitsuki took the hint, and grabbed your hand.

"þú ert framtíð okkar. finndu katsuki. farðu!"

"ekki svona fljótt," a low, sinister voice, snaked into your ear... and before you even react, your limbs seized up, the air feeling much colder as an anonymous figure loomed behind you.

mitsuki wasted no time in drawing her sword and swinging it at his head with a grunt. the shriek of katsuki's dragon made your heart race, relieved to hear the beast's rumble, descending from the skies above. he leaped off the overgrown lizard, charging forward with no hesitation, incoherently yelling at the man who held you captive—before a dark cloud of smoke swallowed you both in almost an instant, leaving katsuki standing there dumbfounded as he took in the scene in front of him.

-

no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't move a muscle, you couldn't talk and it felt like you were burning up—trapped inside your own skin.

"haltu henni niðri!" he commanded his people, and as soon as his hands left your body, you felt a rush of blood coursing through your veins as the feeling returned to your limbs. you fought back, kicking and twisting out of their holds as much as you can, as hands tried to grab you.

unfortunately, it wasn't enough. their sizes and strength, greatly overwhelmed yours. one of them managed to loop a cloth around your face, and you struggled against the drowsiness invading your system at the bitter scent of it.

"you're... going... to die... for this..." you mummur your last words, before your eyes we're completely shut.

-

your hands were bound, and your head throbbed from the drug they'd used to knocked you out. you roll your shoulders back, feeling a sore muscle right under your shoulder blade as your eyes flutter open.

"gods... i hoped this was one of those really realistic dreams..." you groan, scanning your surroundings. you we're in a tent, similar to those of the barbarian clan... and there was a tall wiry figure in the corner, both palms pressing against a wooden slab of a table in front of him.

"your blood has no place in our clan." he spat, looking over his shoulder in disgust, and you had to shake your head a bit, to come to your senses properly, rubbing your ear against your shoulder... did he just... "your blood will sully our future warriors." he continued. oh he's definitely speaking your language...

"your learned my language just to say that to me?" you mocked, "how sweet," teasing his supposed efforts.

he stared at you, a sneer tugging at the corner of his lips. "you are most lucky our ritual requires your death at dawn..."

"at dawn!?" you dramatically gasped, and if you could, you'd dramatically put a hand on your chest to emphasize, "couldn't you have waited longer?" sarcasm laced in your voice as you glared back at him.

"i'm beginning to wish i didn't use that spell on you," he grumbled, turning back to whatever he had splayed out in front of him.

"you gave me something as useful as your language?" you mused at his stupidity, "why on earth would you do that?" giggling to yourself.

he turned around completely, looking confused as ever as he watched down at you tied to the bottom of the tent's center post. "i did it for myself. do not misunderstand." he sneered, scrunching his nose at your significantly smaller frame below him.

"why?" was all you said, keeping eye contact.

"why?" he chuckled, "i want to hear your cries of agony as every ounce of your blood drains from your small, feeble body." he stooped in front of you, bracing a hand near your head against the thick pole.

you raise a brow, the corner of your mouth twisting into a sardonic smile, "was that supposed to scare me?" you leaned forward, countering his intimidation.

his expression faltered for a fraction of a second, but he shook it off, motioning for his men to fix your restraints and they left you alone. your mind worked furiously, calculating your next move.

then a sudden heat surged through every fiber of your muscles, you felt like you were beginning to break into a cold sweat as your vision blurred. your head spun toward the entrance of the tent, hearing rustling sounds outside.

a familiar face peeked through the flap and a wave of relief washed over you and tears began to flow uncontrollably from you reddened eyes, "ragna," you cried, sniffling like a little brat.

»»————> 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘! <————««

Frú mín! - "My lady!"

Hvar er Ragna!? - "Where is Ragna!?"

Þú ert framtíð okkar. Finndu Katsuki. Farðu! - "You are our future. Find Katsuki. Go!"

Ekki svona fljótt. - "Not so fast."

Haltu henni niðri! - "Hold her down!"

Mær mín! - "My girl!"

»»————> 𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙!

@twoplayergaymers @ch3rryjampi3 @lxdystxrdustt @selfishgucci @sleepyfxce @depressed-waffle-time @abinformyobsessions @kodzubaby @cottagedumpling @msjaeger @condy-wants-a-cookie @who-xo @naiomiwinchester @your-mum3000 @weebperson2003 @koigeidi @lanadelgarf @misaki-kira8 @lightsinmycity @kit-katsukii @the2ndl @kalulakunundrum @eyesforbkg @httpfandxms @luvbuuny @goodiesinthecloset21 @qyuin

mlist!

[yanderefarm]

I NEED. another part of that achilles x sadistic make reader thing PLEASEEEE

cw;; nsft language, misunderstandings, hurt/comfort, suffocation

ok i wanna write this idea i had so im putting it here bc im attaching the actual part 2 to another ask.

this was supposed to be filthy femboy achilles sending you sexy videos. it got away from me bad.

your lovely partner is a hard worker even with his proclivity for perversion he very rarely ignores work to get off. usually you two maintain a healthy balance, work and play and on weekends you get him for the more extreme play, but he's out of town. his father needed him to go take care of somethings in another city a plane ride away leaving you without your lovely boyfriend's company for the time being.

the first few days coming home without him being there was strange. it was strange to not have him on his knees at your feet, or curled up in your arms, or tied to your metal slab. you hadn't even realized how much your life had become entangled with his until he was gone. you still texted him every day but you were really starting to get lonely. i mean... his texts leave something to be desired.

'good morning.'

'good night'

'i had an avocado and banana smoothie for breakfast.'

'im working'

'please don't call me at this time.'

it's bad enough that in person he looks like a lifeless robot sometimes, why does he text like one too? you could get more emotion from an alexa. you've been trying to be understanding because you know he's just that kind of person but it didn't help your loneliness. you were trying to call him at night before he went to bed just to hear his voice.

'please don't call me at this time.'

that message was really starting to piss you off. you couldn't be nice anymore.

'answer your fucking phone or im going to bleed you.'

it took a few minutes, about 10 to be exact, for your phone to ring. you immediately picked it up about to scold him for his lack of communication when you heard his harsh breathing on the other side. you could recognize it as how he usually sounded after something intense.

"chilles? are you ok?" your brow furrowed in worry.

"m okay" his words slurred slightly which usually meant he was fucked out.

"... you wanna try again? maybe this time tell me what bitch you're fucking?" your eye twitched in anger.

"m not-"

"im not stupid. you've been barely talking to me this whole week, you won't answer my calls, and now you sound like you just got your ass pounded. so you wanna try again? one more chance before i start sharpening my knife."

you heard him struggle to take a breath before finally letting out a pathetic little whimper. "m sorry, sir."

you let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through your hair, gripping a handful of it as your anger became overwhelming. here you were being lonely and worried and missing him! and this stupid whore was out in another city running around with some bitch.

".... so. is this another attempt to get your throat slit or do you just.. not... care?" fuck you hated how your voice started to crack at the end.

"i.. i would gladly accept your punishment. i tried to resist for as long as I could."

"you fuckin-! yeah! you poor thing must have been so fucking hard for you to resist that!" you were messing up your hair as you rubbed at your head like you were trying to scrub him from your mind.

"im sorry sir. i know im a disappointment."

"disappointment?! that doesn't even begin to describe it!"

"im... im sorry... i didn't realize you would be so angry." you heard him make a hesitant sound before he spoke again. "we'll be here another week and I'll try to behave until we return."

you dropped your hand from your hair instead rubbing the bridge of your nose. tears were starting to gather in your eyes.

"don't bother coming back here. next time i see you you'd be lucky if i don't actually kill you."

you heard a strangled noise on the other side of the phone.

"no... please please, i know im bad. im the trash beneath your shoes. im disgusting and vile. but please please please" you could hear his voice cracking as he started to quietly cry.

you hated how it pulled at your heart.

"you should have thought about that before you 'couldn't resist'." you heard your own voice sounding rough and raw.

"i... i didn't think a toy would make you this angry i-"

"a what."

"a -a toy? the-the toy i bought..."

".... im gonna fucking murder you. you bought a sex toy??"

"yes-! im sorry. im sorry i knew i shouldn't have. i should have just waited. im sorry."

"you..." you couldn't help but laugh as tears fell down your cheeks. "fuck you're stupid."

"im sorry i know. im sorry."

"shut up. jesus... i thought you were cheating on me moron."

"i would never?? i-??" he sounded so genuinely confused.

"you've been avoiding me all week, chilles. you won't take my calls, you text me like a robot, and when I finally hear your voice you're all... horny."

"ive been very busy... every night ive had to go to different nightclubs for meetings... you always manage to call when im trying to be intimidating and I know i wouldn't be able to compose myself if I heard your voice."

"and tonight? you did it again."

"i... i should have answered but i knew i was misbehaving. .....and it would have been hard to speak."

"what were you doing? don't spare the details. i don't want room for more misunderstanding."

you heard him swallow hard.

"i bought the largest... silicone penis... they had at the store. i used some spare rope to tie a noose to the closet and then i put a chair with the toy in it underneath the noose. you called right when i started..."

"you're such a freak. jesus..." you wiped the last of the tears from your face. you let out a sigh of relief and relaxed into the couch. "you shoulda just answered i would have talked you through it."

"i was embarrassed and ashamed of myself... i knew you would be angry"

"yeah i think being convinced you were cheating on me is much better."

"i would never cheat on you. you're the only thing that holds meaning to me. you are my god, i only continue to exist by your will."

"there you go saying weird shit again."

"i mean it... my whole being is only for you. you're not my soulmate you're the owner of my soul. i wish you would carve me open and live inside my skin only then would i be close enough to you." you heard him whine softly.

"freak. ...i miss you. so much. i guess it's getting to my head not being able to hear you say your weird shit and worship me every day."

"i miss you so deeply... i feel empty and purposeless without you. even sexual gratification was empty..."

"did you finish?"

"yes... im.. im still sitting on it. i just removed the noose so i could talk to you."

"perv. c'mon baby boy drag yourself off that thing. it's bath time."

you heard him shift slightly most likely shivering.

"will you... guide me through bath time?"

"yeah. it'll help me relax too."

"thank you, sir. i love you."

you let out another sigh. you could feel your heart swell at his words spoken so softly with only the slightest of warmth. it was like you were freezing because his slight warmth seeped into your heart and spread through every inch of your body.

"i love you too."

BONUS;;

achilles: i don't really sound like a robot do i?

sadist darling: sorry babe. you're super roboty.

achilles: ive been trying to be sweet and text you everyday....

sadist darling: .... just add 1 emoji babe. it'll do you wonders.

achilles: like this..? ⛓️ good morning ⛓️

sadist darling: .because you're chained to me? is that right?

achilles: yes. 🧎

sadist darling: i take it back no more emojis.

[watarfallar]

Desert snacks anyone?

Scar: You know, you were right. Grian: About what specifically? Because I’m right about a lot of things.

Scar: So Grian, how did your first time cooking dinner go? Grian: Pretty good if I do say so myself. Scar: Oo! Okay, what are we having? Grian: Alright, so for appetizers, we have a potato. Scar: A whole potato? Grian: Yes. And then for the main course, we have grilled cheese sandwiches! Scar: These just look like big slabs of black. Grian: Because that's what they are! Grian: And then for desert, we have chocolate. Scar: These are just chocolate chips? Grian: They sure are! Grian: And then for drinks, we have toast! Grian: *lifts up a glass of blended toast* Bon appetite!

Scar: Can you keep a secret? Grian: Well, I'm good until I meet the next person.

*Scar and Grian are planning to break in somewhere* Scar: We need to distract the guards. Grian: Right. Scar: What are we gonna do? Grian: I'm gonna break their elbows while you poke their eyes. Scar: Grian: Scar: Deal.

Grian: If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're impressed. Scar: But you do know better.

Grian: I wonder who’s ruining my life. Grian: *looks in the mirror* Grian: So we meet again.

Scar: The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was changing their name to Grian.

Scar: What is the most illegal thing you can do with one gold? Grian: Exchange it for a hundred copper, put them all in a sock, and then beat someone to death with it.

Scar: Vegetable oil is made from vegetables, coconut oil is made from coconuts, so BABY OIL- Grian: CAN'T WE JUST HAVE A NICE FAMILY DINNER FOR ONCE?!

Grian: If I stay in bed I'll be warm. If I get in the shower, I'll also be warm. But the distance between the bed and shower? No. That is not warm.

Grian: A fistfight CAN be romantic. (<-NO BUT THIS IS LITERALLY JUST THE CACTUS FIGHT-)

Scar: Why are you like this?? Grian: I used too much "No More Tears" shampoo as a kid and I haven't felt a single emotion since.

Scar: Are you coming to bed? Grian: I can't. This is important. Scar: What? Grian: Someone is wrong on the internet.

Scar: Just say when. Grian: When. Scar: I- Scar: Now or later? Grian: Oh.

Grian: So what are your political beliefs? Scar, awkwardly trying to impress them: Well, I think Pikachu would be a lot more powerful if he had a gun.

Scar: Kill me nowwwww. Grian: Sorry, no can do. I need your help with my homework.

Scar: Everything’s fine, Grian. Grian: Scar, I know your relationship with the english language is strictly casual, but you- I- *deep inhale* ALLOW ME TO TELL YOU WHAT’S NOT FINE.

Scar: I'd make fun of your height but there isn't enough to make fun of.

Scar: If by any chance Grian should attack, just start calmly talking about anything.

Grian: I love saying 'fuck me' because it can either be sexual or self-loathing and those are two things that describe me perfectly.

Grian, making a cup of tea: Yeah, get into that leaf juice, you sexy, sexy bee sauce. Scar: Hey, do you take constructive criticism? Grian: I absolutely fucking do not.

Grian: Of course I have a lot of pent-up rage, you fool! I've been the same height since I was twelve!

Scar, shooing Grian away: Can you go be depressed over there? You’re bumming out my whole area.

Scar: I can’t believe all these people are wearing black. black is supposed to be my thing, they’re all just posers. Grian: Scar, for the last time, we’re at a funeral.

Grian: No problemo! Grian, internally: But it was all problemo.

Grian: I want a trip down memory lane. Scar: *proceeds to grab every warrior cats book they have and sets them in Grian's lap* Scar: I heard you needed these? Grian: YES! ALL OF THEM!

[datesinredink]

Heyyy so maybe I'm insane but. Do NOT Take This Cat Home (which I'll shorten to Dnttch) yandere rottmnt au. Hmmm. I havent slept in 24 hours so I don't know how you would meet them but I do know that it would be very fun to think about how the weird eldritch horror/"OH NO THEY EAT PEOPLE" part would come into play.

Oh wait actually IDEA you could start off meeting one of the turtles (probably Mikey, he'd be most likely to stick around instead of eating you and convince you to take him home because he's so lost and hungry in this new place, couldn't you pleeaaase take pity on this poor turtle?) and then over time, since we know in the Dnttch universe, the cat multiplies in at least two ways (I, in fact have not seen all the endings yet), so the first turtle could gather the other three over time. One could be from a plushie in the pet shop or won at the carnival (prob Raph), the second could be from the movie theater (Leo, I think the hypnosis is weirdly fitting for him), and the final one... Wait. I'm not sure. THERES A LITTLE LIVE PETS TURTLE???? YEAH OK THATS FUNNY I'LL PUT IT IN.

Buuuuuuttttt after the four are all gathered and living in your house (despite your insistence that you couldn't possibly afford to support them. luckily, despite occasionally waking up and seeing one of them in the corner of your room drooling, they've never shown any need to eat) they've gotten a bit attached. They saw you as a possible meal, at first, then a convenient hiding place, but they seem to have found themselves getting attached. They decide that since you've helped them soo much, that they should at least return the favor before they decide to eat you(something you're frighteningly aware they've almost done- the still healing scar from the last time the red one visited your room) or leave.

Now, you feel constant eyes staring holes into your back, and your rude coworkers now either show up on the news with their bones picked almost clean or don't turn up at all. Now, sometimes they'll bring back one of their kills to share with you (after all, aren't you hungry? They've seen you eat, but surely it isn't filling enough to really sustain you- to them, that's why you seem so tired all the time). Since you always turn them down, maybe instead they'll just have you help them store the leftovers!

Raph, as they've taken to calling the biggest of them, eats more frequently than the others to sustain his growth, so there can sometimes be extras that the other three don't particularly want at the time. He even goes out of his way to help you with tearing and cutting apart the meat! It's almost sweet, if only for the weight of what exactly you're putting in Tupperware right now.

Leo gets more aggressive about your attention now, always begging you to play games or watch TV with him. Sometimes he's even fine with just reading comics in the same place, as long as he gets to hold onto you in some way. It's annoying at best in the morning when you have to go to work, but downright terrifying when his marks flare up late at night after you've just insisted for the 10th time that you're tired and don't want to deal with him. Usually, the threat of flickering blue light vaguely forming some kind of sword is enough to convince you otherwise.

Mikey tries his best to help you adjust to your new roommates! He knows how stressed out you are about work, you should tell him about it! He'll even take notes about how they can all brighten your day, so feel free to speak your mind about that horrible lady who yelled at you today. Was she your boss? A coworker? Maybe a customer who asked for the manager? He'll give you a warm hug and reassure you that everything will be ok, and that maybe you should teach him a new recipe from granny's cookbook tonight to take your mind off things! The scene you wake up to the next morning is Mikey humming to himself while the girl's flesh sizzles in the pan you let him borrow last night, Raph drooling over said slab of meat, as well as Donnie and Leo playing the most intense game of rock paper scissors (a game they're glad you taught them- how else would they make decisions) to decide who gets the first plate of food.

Donnie's always useful to have around, his fascination with human technology quickly being honed into electronic mastery. Despite his more reclusive nature, he's still gotten you out of many a pinch with malfunctioning devices, like when you sorrowfully cradled your old toaster in your arms on your way to trash it, only for him to take it from you and return it a couple days later fixed up like new. You appreciate his contributions, and though you're the beta tester for a multitude of his dangerous inventions, with the amount he does for you, it's hard to not feel like you owe him, especially when he himself openly agrees with that point. You just wish he'd give you a break from the explosions...

[in1-nutshell]

Hi!

How would TFA team and elite guard react to buddy children?

(Like for example: Buddy adopted some children)

Ooohhh! This is going to be fun! Since you did not specify which characters specifically, I will be picking them at random.

Hope you enjoy!

Optimus, Ratchet, Jazz, and the Jettwins reaction to single parent Human Buddy

SFW, platonic, familial, Human reader

TFA

Buddy was Sari's babysitter.

Well, her human babysitter. Professors Sumdac thought it was important to at least have another person in Sari's life that wasn't him or a robot.

And they were a great babysitter. They had the job roughly 3 years before the Autobots came to Detroit.

That was roughly the time they had recently adopted a set of baby triplets. They had opened their door one night and a classic wicker basket filled with the babies. The note on the basket simply said to take care of them. Buddy's original plan was to take them to Fanzone in the morning.

But Buddy had gotten attached to them.

Buddy explained their new situation to the Professor which was met with understanding and a pay raise with additional medical insurance.

Buddy's friends had noticed their sudden absences and tired look on their face. Everyone was getting worried. So, an intervention was called.

"Why is everyone here?"--Buddy

"It's an intervention kid."--Ratchet

"For who?"--Buddy

"For you! You've been so sleepy and tired recently."--Bumblebee

"Not to mention you missed our game tournament."--Sari

"The gaming--Oooh! I forgot to tell you guys!"--Buddy

"Forgot to tell us what?"--Optimus

"I'll show you guys tomorrow! Make sure to bring the Elie Guard if you guys want!"--Buddy

The next day Buddy came into the base with a baby carrier and two in the stroller.

To say everyone was surprised was an understatement.

Optimus

Vietnam flashbacks to the first episode.

Optimus is surprised to find out that Buddy was taking care of new born children. Even more finding out they are triplets.

Twins are something that rarely happens on Cybertron. Even fewer after the war was over. Triplets were in a sense unheard of.

He is nervous to even touch the little ones. They looked so fragile and tiny! They were even smaller than Sari!

The babies on the other hand were enamored by the firetruck.

By the end of 15 minutes, Optimus had his servos with the triplets who were crawling around and hugging his digits.

He swears to protect these kids with his life.

"Gah!"--Baby 1

"Aw they like you Prime! Isn't that cute, wait are you crying?"--Buddy

Optimus sniffling and trying not to let the tears spill.

"...no-no... I'm fine..."--Optimus

Ratchet

At first Ratchet thinks the smaller humans are the equivalent of human minibots.

Then he finds out they are babies, he stops for a good couple of seconds.

Rebooting: Grampa mode activated.

As said before, it's rare to have twins on Cybertron. He had never seen triplets in all of his technical career.

He suddenly understands why Buddy has been acting the way they had for the past months. They were taking care of the kids.

Ratchet makes sure to brush up on his knowledge of babies to help Buddy out a bit. While Buddy takes a break or a much needed nap, he makes sure the kids are well taken care of.

"Aww. The Doc bot's gone soft!"--Bumblebee

"Hear that kiddo. That's the sound of a bot who's going to get strapped to the medical slab in 5 minutes if he doesn't quit."--Ratchet

"Bah!"--Baby 2

Jazz

Jazz is floored by the amount of cuteness these babies are.

He totally gets why Buddy would be tired from these kids.

It's bad enough trying to keep track of the Jettwins and they are at least old enough to be here. Those babies still have a long way to go before even walking!

Jazz handles the babies with the utmost care. Makes sure that the babies are having fun while being safe.

The babies themselves are enamored by Jazz's voice. He is the to go bot for nap time. The babies fall asleep in record time.

"So these little guys are all related?"--Jazz

"Yeah they are."--Buddy

"I wish you luck then. If the Jettwins were hard enough now..."--Jazz

"...I know Jazz, I know..."--Buddy

Jetfire and Jetstorm

The twins are freaking out!

In a good way!

They've never seen another set of twins back on Cybertron, much less human twins.

Now they know that they know that there can be triplets!...

Jazz has to calm them down before they can hold the babies. And they have to promise Buddy that they will not use their powers around the babies.

The twins once they have the babies are uncharacteristically quiet and still. They take in the tiniest details of the babies and how each one differs from the other.

They promise each other to look after them, even when they get older. Siblings have to stay together. The triplets are now the twins siblings now. Buddy has two more robo kids to take care of.

"Buddy! It's my turn to get 1 but Jetfire isn't letting them go!"--Jetstorm

"Jetfire, listen to your brother and pass your siblings to him, gently."--Buddy

"Please! Just a little longer!"--Jetfire

"You either pass your siblings or they come with me and you have to go back to Sentinel."--Buddy

"Here brother!"--Jetfire

Somewhere on the Steelhaven.

"...Someone just insulted me..."--Sentinel

[joanna-olson]

Homesick

Sooo, I haven't really written anything for @galladrabbles in a hot minute, but inspiration struck this week and since I'm home with Covid (yay?) I finally found the time to actually write again. I hope I'll get back into the swing again, but I won't promise anything. Anyways this weeks prompt is "homesick" and it's from @sickness-health-all-that-shit. Here is what I came up with.

___________________________

Ian lies awake, staring at the ceiling.

Everything is like he remembers, the city noises, Carl snoring somewhere in the dark, someone yelling in the distance. The shitty matress that is so much softer than the slab he had slept on in prison.

He closes his his eyes and imagines a warm body next to him, a soft snore and a smell that is distinctly Mickey.

Ian is at home, but he doesn’t feel like it, not really.

He feels the longing burning in his chest. Longing for that uncomfortable slab with Mickey in his arms. Locked up but home.

[thisisourlovestory]

Safe and Sound

Finnick Odair x reader soulmate AU

Summary: you are a victor from district 4. The Quarter Quell has just been announced. How will you cope with the turn of events coming your way.

Word count- 2.8k

Notes: Happy New Year! Hope you enjoy this one. My phone deleted half of it so I had to rewrite it but that worked in my favour and I think it’s better than it was

Chapter 3

The next morning I was awoken by knocking at my door. Assuming it to be Lysander I ignored it and took my sweet time getting ready, taking a long shower under burning water, brushing my teeth vigorously, loosely clipping back the front strands of my hair and slipping on a pale blue dress from the wardrobe in the wall before making my way to the dining area. I followed the smell of freshly cooked bacon and pancakes, my mouth watering as I sat down and took a few pancakes, stacking them up, cutting a slab of butter that melted as soon as I dropped it on top, drizzling sticky sweet syrup over them and layering bacon on top. I grabbed a fork and dug into my towering pillar of food, the salty bacon contrasting with the sugary syrup. I polished it off in no time at all and reached for the piles of jewel like fruits, stacked in tiny ceramic bowls in the centre of the table. I had just bit into a slice of watermelon, pink juice dripping down the corner of my mouth, when Mags walked in with Lysander who flaunted a garish purple and gold striped suit and he began to speak as loudly as ever as I quickly wiped my chin.

“Good morning!” My head hit the table.

“Goodness Y/N, did you not get enough sleep last night?” He asked, looking at me with slight concern.

“I'm fine thank you for asking,” I answered, “Just woke up a bit too early.” I rubbed my head, smiling sheepishly and his gaze softened.

“That simply won't do!” He exclaimed, “We need you to be on top form for when you’re in the arena.”

“Lysander.” I called out softly, interrupting what was sure to be a long tirade. “I… I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for my outburst yesterday. I don't know what I was thinking. I suppose, well I suppose I was just a little overwhelmed by all this. I hope you can forgive me. “ I twisted a strand of my hair in my fingers and he took the bait immediately. I could almost see what he was thinking. Such a kind girl, she must be terrified, very sweet of her to apologise. His eyes gained a look of sympathy as he raised a hand to his heart and walked over to me.

“It's quite alright dear, no need for apologies. I completely understand you must be feeling absolutely terrified of all this. You did such a kind thing volunteering for Miss Cresta, so selfless, dear and I’m sure she appreciates it very much.” I nodded, going back to my food, and he clapped. “Now that's all sorted out, we need a plan for you.” He looked me up and down, assessing me as Mags grinned into her bowl at the look on my face. “I'm thinking we play the innocent card, the fact you were so young when you won will help with that a lot. You are one of the youngest in the games this year after all. We simply must also use the fact that you are a true performer and ballet is such a beautiful art form indeed so,” he turned to Mags, “I propose we paint her as an angel.”

I choked on a piece of watermelon, the apprehension on my face giving way to horror. Mags patted me gently on the back and I straightened in my seat, sending a grateful smile her way as Lysander continued, lost in his own world.

“Of course only your stylist can decide this but I’m fairly certain I can put in a word and if they didn't already have the same idea after watching the reaping then I'll eat my hat.” I eyed the purple monstrosity on his head and imagined it being stuffed into his mouth, wondering if maybe that would be the thing that would finally shut him up. I wanted to scream at him, tell him that I was no angel and he was a monster for finding some kind of pleasure in this, deciding what part I should play as I die. Instead I just smiled slightly and lowered my head to stop him from seeing the tears in my eyes. At that second Finnick walked in and Lysander's attention was immediately drawn to him. I sat silently as he practically interrogated him, asking how he was feeling, if he thought he could win. The answers were short, not letting anything interesting slip but giving enough to satisfy Lysander and fool him into thinking he was basically his new best friend. I zoned out part way through Lysanders rant about what the Gamemakers would throw at us this year- as if we hadn't all been thinking about it since they were announced. Suddenly, I was brought back to reality by the sound of my name.

“Y/N, Y/N.” I blinked and my gaze shifted to Lysander.

“Sorry.” I muttered

“Quite alright dear, you must be tired if you didn't get enough sleep. We're going to watch the games you were both in, for reference.” My mind didn't register the words and I simply nodded before I realised what he had said and my eyes widened in shock.

We watched Finnicks first, since he won before me. From the reaping all the way through to the crowning ceremony. He was confident in the interviews, dressed in the most impeccable suit and tie, clearly designed to show off his beauty, laughing at Caesar Flickerman's comments and responding with his own witty quips, not just a pretty face at all. Then utterly deadly in the arena. For the first few days he had lain low, not much excitement but enough to keep sponsors interested. Then he got the trident, the most expensive gift ever seen, and it was over. District 4 was fishing after all, and it seemed Finnick Odair was born to wield the trident. He captured tribute after tribute in a net and killed them all, offering no mercy. And finally the last cannon went off announcing him the winner. Fourteen years old and he had won, the youngest victor, the most handsome victor, the Capitol darling. Finnick Odair. If he was that good back then, I had no doubt he would be extraordinary now. He had it all as well, the looks which first made the Capitol love him, he was intelligent, and undoubtedly one of the best fighters that would be going into the arena. Mags and I sat there speechless as Lysander congratulated Finnick endlessly.

“And how you used that trident, extraordinary! I don't believe you'll struggle in these games now that you've had ten years to practise.” I could only think of how young he'd been, how he'd been forced to grow up so quickly after, how he'd won- but what was the cost?

Then my games were switched on; I saw myself going through it all over again. The walk up to the stage after my name was called, all eyes on me. The chariot ride where they had dressed me up as a mermaid, all shimmering fabrics and a golden crown. The interview, where Caesar asked me questions about my life back home and I answered quietly, barely audible, playing the sweet little girl as I danced for them momentarily. The arena, my frightened face as the boy from 10 died in front of me, running and hiding. Then a cut to as I made my first kills, I saw the light leave their eyes as the blood left their bodies. Another cut, to the chase and confrontation with Arion, the second the knife left my hand I closed my eyes and the thud as it hit him echoed in my ears.

They showed the crowning ceremony last, I stood calmly on the dais with my hands clasped in front of my body. I had been made to wear a white dress that fell to my knees and had a red bow tied around it. The same red adorned the pins in my hair, shaped like roses, and the single gem hanging from a silver chain around my neck. The significance was not lost on me, young as I was. I had killed three people in the arena so I wore three pieces of red. One for each of them, the crimson colour their blood on my hands. President Snow walked up slowly and placed the golden laurels on my head. He looked down at me, a small smile on his face as I gazed up at him, he whispered something that only I could hear. Words that left me pale and confused, words that could have been good but in the circumstances only sounded like the promise of a life of pain. His mouth moved on the screen and I read his lips.

“The Capitol will love you.” He stepped away and proclaimed me their victor. And it struck me how I looked so tiny compared to him and everyone around me, as the Capitol roared with applause and my big eyes stared out over them, disbelieving and uncertain before the tape ended leaving the compartment in silence.

I shoved my seat back, the legs screeching on the floor, and stood up quickly. Everyone turned to face me as I stayed still for a second.

“Y/N.” Lysander began but I cut him off.

“No, I just, I need to, I can't.” My brain was jumbled, old memories being dragged to the surface unwillingly. So I turned and I ran.

I sprinted along the train, pushing doors open as I ran through the compartments. Avoxes jumped out of my way as I barreled past them, looking at me in curiosity. I came to the end of the train and held my hands in front of me to push through the doors. I crashed through them and fell into the railing. I gripped onto the cold metal as if it was the only thing keeping me in reality, the wind rushed past me and my hair floated in front of me, strands whipping in the cold air. I could barely see, tears blurring my vision and hair covering my face. I took a shuddering breath, letting the cold air flood my lungs, and I broke. I cried and cried and cried. Letting out everything that I had kept bottled up for seven years. I had cried before, that day on the cliffs, that was for the games, for the fact that it was happening all over again for so many people across Panem. But this. This was for me. For every pain I had endured since I won, the evenings spent dancing and singing under lights focused solely on me, the fear of making a mistake stopping me from enjoying it fully, the nights spent alone, unable to sleep because of the nightmares, the days spent wandering around like a lost soul, wondering if it would ever be better than what it was.

So I cried for myself, in one selfish moment I allowed myself to only care about myself. Tears dripped down my face, droplets falling on the railing for what felt like forever. Eventually my throat grew raw and my eyes seemed to run out of tears to cry. I dropped my head forwards into my hands and my eyes glazed over with the memories I had suppressed.

I was no longer on the train headed to the Capitol. I was in the arena. Perched on an icy tree branch, pressed against the tree trunk to keep from slipping off. Hidden by the frozen leaves in the white fluffy clothing they had given us to wear. A tribute ran underneath my hiding spot, running away from something, two others followed chasing him. I immediately recognised them as career tributes, this was all just a game of cat and mouse to them. And they caught him. I shoved a piece of cloth in my mouth to stop myself from letting out any noise that would give myself away and clapped my hands over my ears to block out the noise of his screaming in pain and crying out for help from someone as they ripped into him, their laughter echoing in the otherwise silent forest. A warning that they were on the hunt and if you valued your life you would get out of there as soon as possible.

I had stayed in that tree for the first few days until I was eventually forced to move when the gamemakers released mutts into the arena. Great big slobbering beasts that lumbered along harmlessly until someone tried to kill one. Then all hell had broken loose as they chased tributes up trees and then hurled themselves unrelentingly at them, bringing them down and mauling them beyond recognition. They brought about the deaths of five tributes before they just disappeared, presumably called back out after doing their job.

I snapped out of my daze as I felt someone standing next to me. My gaze cleared as I pushed the memories back into a locked box in my mind. I didn’t need to look to know who it was, the mark on my wrist burning and on instinct I pulled my sleeve down and took a small step to the side to lessen the sting. It eased immediately from the small distance between us and faded to a dull throbbing. Finnick said nothing at my movement and we just looked out over the passing countryside, rolling green fields, trees that touched the sky and vast lakes stretching beyond the horizon. We stayed like that, peaceful, just taking it all in until he finally broke the silence.

“You were so young.”

I smiled bitterly, resting my chin on my open palm propped up on the railing.

“We all were but we had no choice. They just want to watch their games. And they don’t care if innocent children die so they can have them.” I laughed slightly. “Then they get the one that lives.” I shook my head, my fingers tightening on the rail, the cold metal biting into my skin. “They get to kill us then they get to keep us.” I turned around, leaning backwards onto the railing and looked up, watching the clouds move slowly away in the blue sea of the sky. Then the Capitol came into view, towering buildings taking up the skyline, marring it with grey,

“I'm going to go back in,” Finnick said, following my line of vision, “You should as well.” With that he stepped back into the train, not sparing a second glance as I watched him walk through a set of doors and out of sight. I relaxed as he left and stayed in my position, head tilted skywards, eyes closed until I felt tiny drops of water on my face. I opened my eyes to see rain falling, a light drizzle but enough to dampen my clothes and hair, I laughed slightly and walked inside, the warmth hitting me in a blast. I hadn't realised how cold I'd been before but the heat warmed me and my clothes quickly dried off. I looked over my shoulder as I walked through the doors that slid open, the rain pattering on the windows lightly, a last glimpse of normality.

I quickly made my way through the train, hearing Lysander screeching at unfortunate avoxes to find me as if I was missing and he had no idea where to find me. I stepped into the compartment to see him looking frazzled, he immediately caught sight of me standing unsurely at the edge of the room and gave a dramatic sigh of relief.

“Not to worry everyone she's here.” The train jolted to a stop. “We have arrived.” Lysander practically squealed and eyed me.” Dear, you should just fluff out your hair a bit, and try to look happy for the cameras.” I nod my head once and plaster a smile on my face. He nodded in approval.

We made our way to the doors. Finnick and I stood either side of Lysander and Mags was just behind us. I can see people through the windows already, screaming and shouting with excitement.

“Now everyone, remember this is the first time they will see you so make sure to leave a good impression. That means smile and wave, blow a few kisses if you have to.” Lysander told us, focusing his words mostly on me. A bell rang and he quickly turned around to me, perfecting everything he could see wrong, the tiniest hair out of place, my sleeves at different lengths and pushing my cheeks into a smile. Facing forward just in time as the doors slid open and we stepped out into the masses.

Taglist:

@nekee-lilac02 @hinata7346 @bambikitten @the-lonely-abyss @mxacegrey @m-maxie-ie @not-aya @camatchoum @maw1dk @avoxrising @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @somdreamy @thehairington86 @millzluvrs @val-writesstuff @erindiggory @reader-bookling123 @elisa20beth @maxinehufflepuffprincess @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @mystargirl-interlude @ponkaniee @missunicorn @purplelavin @user123453226780536 @littleanubis21

[thewertsearch]

Just as it's up to you to face the decision to claim immortality before you enter your creation.

A classic perk of godhood - and one I considered to be an Ultimate Reward candidate, back in Act 4.

Hopefully it's a flavor of immortality that still lets you age. If Vriska's to be believed, then Sburb wants to be played by adolescents - but they don't need to be kids forever, do they?

TT: Are you saying I will? No. […] TT: Maybe this question will suit you better. TT: Is it probable? That's a strange question to ask someone who is omniscient and therefore knows outcomes with one hundred percent certainty. […] You have exactly a fifty percent chance of ascending to the god tier.

A non-binary probability? From an omniscient being?

That doesn't... that makes no....

Alright, screw it. I'll nerd-snipe myself on this one.

First of all - is Scratch taking doomed timelines into account? Because one way to interpret this statement is that exactly 50% of all timelines will feature Rose's God Tier ascension. If so, this is a functionally useless statement, as we don't know which category the Alpha Timeline falls into.

Another, more interesting interpretation arises if we assume Scratch is only referring to the Alpha Timeline - or, more accurately, the Alpha Timelines.

The whole point of the Scratch is to create another instance of the kids' session - one which can't be doomed, because that would render the whole endeavor pointless. Therefore, there's about to be a second non-doomed timeline in play, with a second Rose Lalonde.

If there are two Alpha Roses, and if 'Alpha Rose' has a 50% chance of ascending, then it sounds like only one Rose will ascend. Either our Rose will become a god, or the next Rose will.

Because, much like the decisions you must face to complete your dual suicide missions, you have two ways of achieving godhood to choose from. […] TT: By dying on the Quest Bed on my planet, and some other way? Yes. TT: Is there another Quest Bed somewhere? Yes. Good guess, Seer.

Aradia’s Time Slab, in Derse, functioned as a backup Quest Cocoon. Her ascension raised a lot of questions, and hopefully we're about to get some answers.

Notably, the Time Slab was able to ascend Aradia's dream self, long after her original body was lost. Can it only solo-ascend dream selves, or could Jade use one to ascend without Jadesprite? Could Rose use one, even after her dream self is consumed by the Tumor?

Also, why is this mechanic hidden from the Players? Is it even an intended feature of the game? I have to assume you're not supposed to learn about it from a corrupted First Guardian. The trolls completed the entire game, and none of them seemed aware of it - so when do you learn about it? What's it for?

TT: Where? What difference does it make? You already know where the first one is. You have the choice to go there right now and take your own life.

You have the choice, but it’s obviously not that simple.

'Logically', every player 'should' God Tier as soon as they learn it's possible - but we're dealing with people here, not ratfic protagonists. It’s not easy to go through with something like this, even when you know it’s exclusively beneficial.

[aboutkiyoomi]

003. bittersweet chocolate chunk | onigiri cravings

cw: cursing, angst............and slow burn sooo yasss.

"i'll be here for the next couple of months," he says, leaning against the counter slab. his apron is a mess, covered in various substances, and his hat is thrown to the side as he runs his fingers through his hair.

"why?" semi asks, appearing from the kitchen.

"bet it's 'cause of y/n," suga whispers, very obviously, into iwa's ear, causing osamu to clear his throat loudly.

"we're gonna be undergoing some slight renovations, and i need to meet with some contractors. plus, i have new recipes to release," he states, eyes shooting a look at suga. "speaking of y/n, where is she?" samu asks, glancing around hopefully.

"she's gonna be a little late. said she'd explain when she gets here," suga starts, shrugging his shoulders. but the worried look on his face transfers to osamu, who hums quietly.

meanwhile, in your studio apartment, you wonder when it all got this way. when did akaashi become so overly consumed with school and so inconsiderate of his relationship? it all boiled down to this moment. you expected it, but not like this, not this torturous.

the arguments continued after he stormed out, but the apologies became less and less frequent between the two of you. the house was ghostly, with nothing but short screaming matches followed by the slamming of doors. you found out that when he leaves, he stays with bokuto.

"i'm not arguing with you today," akaashi states, pushing past you into the study.

"akaashi, what are we even doing?" you huff, eyes tired as you watch him pause in the doorway.

"i…" he pauses, taking a deep breath before pinching his temples. "i don't fucking know, y/n. this isn't us," he starts, turning around to face you.

"no shit," you reply plainly.

"i think we should break up," he says, his mouth straightening into a thin line. but your reaction isn't sad in the moment; you won't give him that satisfaction. you scoff and cross your arms over your chest.

"you know, i had a feeling this was coming, but i thought you were too scared to do it. you grew a pair, keiji," you say bitterly, as you begin grabbing your stuff. his mouth opens, but he shuts it promptly.

"and i'll move out. i'll find a place and stay at suga's until then. you pay most of the rent anyway," you say plainly, willing yourself not to cry, to be strong.

"y/n… you don't have to—" he starts, but you immediately cut him off.

"keiji, i do. we were in love for a long time, but there's something you love more than me, and that's okay. it takes time, energy, and patience to become a doctor—something i don't have," you laugh harshly, your eyes clouding slightly as you remember words from a past argument. "this was a long time coming. we need space to process this, so don't worry about it." you finish, stepping into the genkan and silently sliding on your shoes. you leave akaashi there, standing in the middle of your apartment, eyes glazed and dazed.

you walk to work, willing yourself not to cry. if anything, this gives you a chance to study more for your upcoming nclex exam and work more hours. you will try your hardest not to let akaashi keiji break you.

as you walk into work, you're met with the face you've grown to find safe, and somehow, your eyes immediately begin to water. suga knowingly opens his arms while semi opens the door to the back of the house.

"oh, baby," suga mutters as tears pour from your eyes, and you all but fall into his arms.

"it's over," you mutter repeatedly into the fabric of suga's dark 'onigiri miya' shirt.

osamu's eyes flicker up from his office, catching sight of suga walking you to the break room, streaky tears staining your beautiful face. osamu immediately makes a beeline for you, but iwaizumi stops him.

"she'll be okay, but right now she's going through something. it's not my place to explain, but just… give her a moment," iwa says, placing a firm hand on osamu's shoulder. yet osamu's eyes drill into the window of the break room. you are seated on the bench, your head buried in suga's shoulder while he pats your back and nods. iwa squeezes his shoulder reassuringly before guiding him back towards his office.

the tears eventually subside, and you explain the situation, albeit briefly. suga is understanding, immediately offering to help you move your stuff into his house for the time being. you explain it would truly only be for a short time and that you would do anything for him in the meantime, ranging from housework to picking up his shifts.

if there's anything you hate, it's feeling like you're burdening people.

you head into the employee bathroom and wash your face. your eyes are slightly red and puffier than usual. you sigh deeply and take a second to breathe before making a resolve in your mind.

three years is a long time, and the two of you have grown apart. it was excruciatingly obvious, yet no one wanted to acknowledge it, causing this pain. there's no time to be upset over this—it was coming, and you expected it. so, you would allow these feelings to pass and focus on what was important: your upcoming nclex exam and saving money. that was it; you would simply focus extra hard for now.

as you walk out of the bathroom and push out into the kitchen, your eyes catch on osamu, who is wrist-deep in a bowl of pre-cooked rice. his eyes immediately meet yours, catching you off guard.

"you missed the big announcement," samu starts, his lips twitching up playfully but carefully not to offend or hurt you any further. "i'll be staying here at this location for a bit," he finishes, smiling clearly from under the brim of his onigiri miya cap.

"ah… i see," you smile, your eyes still dull and puffy. you push out into the front of the house, ready to work and fueled with a renewed sense of energy.

a/n: dang rip akaashiyn, you will be rejuvenated in another series. AYEEEE bring on the slow burn with samu. i might double update, keep ya eyes out. this chapter is kinda..i promise the development is worth it.

taglist (open): @wyrcan @nightlybakes @anyalou @boogiemansbitch @peppersapro @wave2mia @applepi25

[macgyvermedical]

For episode explainers, have you done the episode of Psych where Shawn gets shot? S4e9

"...If you could just mail me to my dad's house now, that'd be... that'd be awesome."

I feel like I did this one, or maybe it's somewhere deep in my drafts, but I'll do it again, just for you Anon.

If you weren't watching American TV in the mid 2000s, Psych was a loosely-Sherlock-Holmes-based comedy about a brilliant detective who has severe ADD (as was the diagnosis at the time) which he uses, along with his father's extensive training, to pretend to be psychic.

In this particular episode, he ends up shot in the shoulder and kidnapped by the bad guys of the week, who are halfway through a plan to rob an armored vehicle transporting money between two banks.

So, essentially the big questions for this episode:

Where is the bullet wound exactly and is there a way to get shot in the shoulder that doesn't incur permanent damage?

Would his unconsciousness due to head injury be reasonable?

With said bullet wound and later head injury, would Shawn be able to escape the trunk, run for his life, and later jump between two moving vehicles with the extent of injury he suffered?

Bullet Wound:

So I get at least 2 asks a month that insinuate that getting shot in the shoulder (or abdomen) is some kind of relatively minor injury, and what can be done about them outside of a hospital.

Certainly that's how those kind of injuries are treated in fiction. Just to clear it up, however, getting shot in the shoulder is not only potentially life threatening due to non-tourniquet-able bleeding, but it can also be permanently disabling. Also, barring a shallow graze, there is no bullet-related shoulder injury that can be healed to full function without surgery.

Shoulders are not slabs of muscle- there's a TON of stuff in the shoulder that can be hella messed up by a bullet. These include the subclavian artery and vein, a nerve plexus, the brachial nerve, multiple bones, and tons of tiny little muscles (and also bigger muscles). Consider these 2 pics:

Based on where the blood makeup was applied, it looks like Shawn's wound starts maybe just above his rib cage but below his clavicle (shoulder bone), goes through his scapula (shoulder blade) and exits a little higher up than it entered. This puts him at risk for a lot of damage.

Potential damage includes: torn artery and vein (though unlikely given he did not bleed out where he was shot), injury to the nerve and nerve plexus (unlikely due to the fact that he is using his arm in the next episode), and potentially very bad injury to the scapula.

Duct taping the wound would do nothing for the bleeding without pressure also being applied, and while the guy that shot him was a sniper, likely with some combat first aid training, it doesn't look like he did much in the way of actually trying to stop bleeding.

To repair a torn artery or vein, a microsurgeon would have to literally sew the vessels back together. If they didn't, Shawn would have lost his arm. Or, in the case of injury to the vein, suffered permanent swelling in that arm.

Repairing a nerve is surprisingly more difficult. The surgeon basically sews the sheath around the nerve back together, but the nerve has to reconnect itself. This can take years and years, during which time the arm would be numb and paralyzed.

For the scapula, an orthopedic (bone) surgeon would have to replace all the pieces with either bone cement or fix them in place with metal plates. This would probably be the "easiest" to fix on the time frame in the episode.

Head injury:

When I started this blog 10 years ago, head injuries in fiction were used like they are in this episode- basically as a convenient way to knock someone out without lasting damage. As most of you know by this point, if someone is unconscious after a head injury, they are going to have some lasting damage.

In Shawn's case, it looks like he was out for long enough to move him to a chair and duct tape his wound. Maybe about 5 minutes. That's a fairly long time to be out after a head injury. Maybe not "learn to walk and talk again" but enough that he's going to spend the next few months unable to work, read, or look at screens without a fairly severe headache.

So, like, could this have happened? Sure, but the next episode would have to take place several months later, which I don't think it does.

Action scenes:

Well, Shawn would have trouble here. A broken scapula is going to severely limit movement and weight-bearing capacity on that left arm. He might have been able to run while holding the arm close to his body, but cutting the duct tape in the trunk of the car, texting Gus with both hands, and catching himself after jumping from the pickup to Lassiter's car would have been nearly impossible.

Also he would have spent probably several days in the hospital recovering from emergency surgery, and potentially months in outpatient physical and occupational therapy after a series of injuries like this.

So in conclusion, there was some literary license taken, as there usually is. Hope you liked it!

[candycandy00]

Roses in the Sky - An Original Alien x Reader Story Part 9

In a future where humanity huddles in decaying domed cities controlled by alien invaders, you and your best friend Anna work as make-shift nurses in a tiny clinic run by the young doctor Terrian. The city is ruled by the aliens' violent, half-breed offspring who serve as brutal overseers. You and Anna have always tried to avoid these overseers at all cost, but your life is changed when one of those same terrifying offspring is brought into the clinic, injured and unconscious.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

This is an original Alien (well half alien) x Fem Reader story! I hope everyone who enjoys my fanfiction will give this a shot! I’m posting the first chapter just to check for interest. Any feedback whatsoever would be loved! I’ve already written this story so it’s not going to delay my fanfics. Just thought I might post chapters of this between fanfics if anyone is interested.

Slow burn, as this is a novel-length story, but there will be smut in later chapters! Also: violence, blood, rape attempts, death of side characters, etc.

Work at Terrian's house the next day was awkward and slow. Anna was obviously still upset over Nariah, and Terrian flitted around nervously, making pathetic and desperate attempts to get Anna to talk to him.

"Look, girls! I'm breaking out the steak reserves for lunch today!" he called at one point, holding up two large slabs of frozen meat.

Steak was Anna's favorite. She had looked up then, apparently tempted to say something, but she held her tongue and continued dusting.

You waited until Terrian stepped out of the room, then turned to Anna. "How long are you going to keep this up? He already apologized."

Anna looked down. "I know. I'm not really angry at him anymore. I just don't know what to say to him. Yesterday I admitted for the first time that I'm in love with him. Now I feel insecure around him."

"Well you're not making any progress like this. Just act like you did before. He's worried sick right now."

"Are you making progress with Vartan?" Anna asked suddenly.

You were caught off guard by the question. You stumbled over your words for a moment before nearly choking out a quiet, "Sort of."

Anna grinned. "Oh really? Are you sleeping with him already?"

"Of course not! I made him a bologna sandwich, okay?"

"Whatever you say," Anna laughed, nudging you with her elbow.

Terrian's doorbell rang loudly through the hall. You laid down your dusting rag and stood up, straightening the too-short skirt of your maid uniform and making your way to the door. You sighed as you pulled it open. "Yes, can I help-“

You were immediately silenced when you realized the person standing on Terrian's doorstep was a male half-breed with silver chin-length hair that framed his pale face. His narrow eyes were ice-blue and a strange shade of violet that you had never seen before, not even on a half-breed.

"A doctor lives here, correct?" His voice was lighter than Vartan's.

You weren’t sure how to answer. What if Terrian had gotten into trouble somehow? Perhaps confirming his location wasn't a good idea. "Um... I..."

The half-breed leaned in close. "This is important. Tell the doctor to come and examine my..." He stopped there, as if he had no idea how to finish the statement. He glanced back, and you noticed the thin young woman standing behind him. She was very clearly human, and her face, while pretty, was darkened by visible sadness.

"Is she sick?" you asked.

The half-breed took the woman's hand and gently, too gently for a half-breed, pulled her closer to the door. "She needs medical attention, yes."

You stepped aside. "Come on in. I'll get the doctor." You led them through the hall and to the living room, shrugging at a very shocked Anna on the way. The couple sat down on the couch as you ran to fetch Terrian.

You and Anna followed Terrian back into the living room and stood on either side of him. The woman introduced herself as Sophie. 

"I'm pregnant," she said, quietly but bluntly.

You stifled a gasp. Terrian's face lit up. "You are? That's amazing! Pregnancies are so rare. You must be immune to the chemicals in the water."

Sophie did not share his enthusiasm. "I didn't believe it at first. I missed a couple of periods and then a friend gave me an old pregnancy test to try. After that, I still didn't believe. Then Keon gave me a Pagoda test, and it came back positive. He says there's no way it can be wrong."

You noticed that Sophie seemed so sad. Her voice sounded as if it was threatening to break at any moment.

"So, do you want me to monitor the pregnancy then?" Terrian asked.

"No," the half-breed spoke up, "we want you to terminate it."

The smile Terrian had been wearing dissolved. "What?"

"You are capable of terminating the pregnancy, are you not?" the half-breed asked.

Terrian looked directly at Sophie. "Is this what you want to do?"

The half-breed opened his mouth, but Sophie put a hand on his arm. "Please, Keon," she said weakly, "let me talk to him. I'll explain."

The half-breed, Keon, looked at her with a flash of anger in his eyes.

Sophie didn't move her hand. "Please," she repeated, and Keon stood up. He walked out of the living room and closed the door behind him. You had never seen a half-breed do as a human asked before. Well, not besides Vartan.

"Keon is the father, as you've probably guessed," Sophie began, her voice still shaky. "We met three years ago. He showed up at my door one day out of the blue, with a proposition.”

“A proposition?” Anna asked. 

Sophie nodded. “Apparently some half breeds make arrangements with specific humans. They offer protection from the other half breeds, and in exchange the humans satisfy their needs. It’s a mutual arrangement, or at least ours is. I don’t know what would have happened if I’d refused. But I agreed to the terms, and I’ve been able to walk through the city without fear. They call it ‘claiming’. I’ve been claimed by Keon, so no other half breed will touch me.”

Your heart was beating fast as the words sank into your brain. Half-breeds could choose specific humans? Other half-breeds would stay away? Was that what Vartan had done to you?

"It's not so bad," Sophie continued. "Keon has always been relatively gentle with me. But now..." Her voice trailed off as she looked down at her own stomach.

"So he doesn't want his pet to have a baby?" Anna asked with a tinge of venom in her voice.

Sophie chuckled bitterly. "He was so furious and disgusted that I thought he would kill me."

Anna's face was turning red, her hatred for the half-breeds boiling beneath her skin.

"But he didn't kill me," Sophie went on, "Instead he started frantically asking around for a human doctor. One of the other half-breeds apparently told him about a clinic they had shut down, and that they had heard the doctor survived. That's when he told me I have to have an abortion."

"But why?" you asked.

Sophie met your eyes, and you could almost see the agony and rage festering there, held back by her quiet sorrow. "The half-breeds are forbidden to breed, at all. If the Pagoda were to find out I'm pregnant, they would execute Keon and myself immediately. The baby would die anyway. If we somehow managed to hide the pregnancy until the child was born, the Pagoda would give it a gruesome death if they ever found it. We would have to live in constant fear. Keon said that we should end it now, before..." Her voice finally broke, and tears streamed down her face. "Before we... grow to care for the child," she finished.

Terrian stood up. "Alright, I understand. I can examine you in one of the guest rooms and make preparations."

Sophie nodded. "Thank you, doctor. Please just give me a moment."

"Of course," Terrian told her. "My nurses will help you when you're ready."

He left the room. You and Anna began to follow him out, eager to give the woman privacy while she regained her composure. "It's not fair, is it?" she asked, and you stopped to look back at her. Sophie’s eyes were red from crying and her hands were shaking. "It's a miracle, that I'm immune to the chemicals, that I can give birth. It's my miracle but... I have to kill it." She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

Keon, who had been waiting patiently in the hall, walked into the living room and sat down beside Sophie. He stared at her wordlessly, and you saw a faint hint of pain in his face. He looked as if he wanted to reach out to the trembling woman beside him, to comfort her, but his hands remained stiffly by his sides. You found it sad that he had been sleeping with the woman for three years, yet he had no idea how to hold her.

Terrian examined Sophie several minutes later, and afterward told her to come back in two days for the procedure to end the pregnancy. He had to gather up the tools and medicines needed to ensure her safety. The couple thanked him and left, leaving the rest of the day clear for you and Anna to finish your cleaning duties.

Two hours of mopping and dusting later, Anna disappeared. You searched the kitchen, hall, and three rooms before hearing voices coming from behind one of the bedroom doors on the second floor. You pressed your ear against the door and listened.

"I'm not angry with you," you heard Anna say. "It's not your fault that Terrian kept you a secret."

"But my presence bothers you," Nariah's lovely voice responded.

"Well, I'm still getting used to... your kind."

"Don't worry," Nariah said, "you're certainly not the first human to regard me with fear and unease." Anna said nothing in response, and after a brief pause, Nariah spoke again. "Did you know that half-breeds are not allowed to meet their human parents?"

Anna must have shaken her head, because Nariah went on. "Most often, the human parents are executed shortly after the birth of the half-breed. But sometimes, very rarely, the human is kept alive if the offspring is viewed as exceptional by the Pagoda, for further breeding. I do not understand what their standards are, or how they determine such things, but I was considered one of these 'exceptional offspring'. My human mother was kept alive for three years after she gave birth to me."

You could hear Anna's breath hitch as she gave a small gasp. "You met her, didn't you?"

"Yes," Nariah said softly, "I did. One of the other half-breeds told me where to find her, probably more out of malice than of kindness. I searched the Tower, my curiosity overpowering my sense of obedience to the Pagoda. We half-breeds were forbidden from visiting the breeding and containment rooms, you see. But I found her, huddled in a metal contraption that looked like a cage. She looked so much like me, I knew in an instant that she was indeed my mother."

There was another pause, then Anna finally asked, "What happened?"

"I approached the cage, my heart pounding, and looked her in the eyes. At that moment, I called her 'mother'. I don't know why. We were never taught to use such sentimental terms, and I had only heard the word on the lips of the humans in the city. Maybe it was some buried human instinct. Regardless, she had heard me, and she screamed in terror. She recoiled from me until her back hit the other side of the cage. I was... repulsive to her."

Tears formed in your eyes as you listened outside the door. Anna remained silent.

When Nariah continued, her beautiful voice was slightly darker. "My mother began shrieking, 'Get it away from me! Get that monster away!' and she wouldn't stop until a Pagoda, my father, appeared behind her with a blade in his hand. He reached in between the metal bars and slit her throat, silencing her. She died in the cage, still looking at me with horror in her eyes."

For several minutes, the room was quiet and you heard nothing. Then footsteps abruptly headed toward the door and it slid open. Anna walked out of the room, her face red and puffy. She had been crying. "Oh, hey," she said when she noticed the hall wasn't empty.

"Sorry, I listened in," you told her, wiping your own eyes.

"It's alright. How much did you hear?"

"The story about her mom. That was awful. How could someone be afraid of their own child? And Nariah was only three at the time, right? How could she be scary?"

"Oh, so you didn't hear about the age thing," Anna said.

"What age thing?"

Anna smiled, the redness in her face dissipating. "Nariah is only fourteen years old."

"No way!" you said, a little too loud. Nariah looked at least twenty.

"I'm serious. She said half-breeds age a lot quicker than humans until they reach maturity. Then the process slows down to a crawl. So when she was three, she might have looked ten."

"Whoa, that's crazy. I guess we were wrong about her relationship with Terrian then.”

Anna's smile grew broader. "Yeah, she didn't know how to describe it, because she doesn't have anything to compare it to, but I think he treats her like a sister from everything she told me."

You smiled too. "That's great, Anna!"

They finished the chores, both in a slightly better mood. Anna was on speaking terms with Terrian again, waving and saying goodbye as she left. He was so happy he nearly cried, and you laughed as you headed out the door.

When you reached the door of your apartment, you wondered whether Vartan would still be there. You kept reminding yourself that he could leave at any moment without warning. With more than a little apprehension, you stepped inside.

Clearly visible from the door, Vartan was lying across the couch, fast asleep. You took a blanket from a nearby chair and spread it over his body. You turned out the lamp on the table next to him and leaned down.

"Goodnight," you whispered, then smiled as you walked to your own room and went to bed.

Tag List:

@scrumptiouslampwobblercop

If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know!

[patchworkcuddlebug]

The Prisoner

The doll steels its nerves. It was just a routine cleaning assignment. It is to enter the dungeon, dust the walls, sweep the floor, and leave.

Every second of hesitation felt improper. It was a good doll, and good dolls obey. But it's seen what's down there. It didn't want to feel like a bad doll again.

As the uneven stone steps took it deeper underground, the doll felt itself chill. It had no heart or blood to keep it warm, so it had no recourse to fight off the bite of the untended cold. It wished it had nerves to shiver, something to offer a reprieve, a reaction to its body, something that the winter months never left it wanting for. But it simply marched along, obedient and docile.

It's a simple structure. At the bottom of the descending cobblestone hall was a single door, wide enough for two people, with iron keeping it bolted in place. The wood is frayed and gnarled, saturated with untold humidity and rotted enough to almost give way to the view behind it. The iron was pristine, like new.

Still keeping it held close to its chest, the doll took a single hand off the handle of its broom, just enough to push the door open. It's still just as heavy, needing the full lean of the object's weight.

He comes into sight. The fae seems comfortable. He looks well fed, his clothes look freshly sewn, and his hygiene seems immaculate. He even has a smile, only on his face. His shackles seem like a mere suggestion, thin and loose-fitting, letting him move around the whole of the stone enclosure. As if he kept to the far wall by choice.

The doll wastes no time. It retrieves the feather duster from its belt, extending it to reach the upper corners of the cell. It brushes in swift, yet firm motions. The tickle on its nose as some of the dust is knocked loose makes it wish it could sneeze, especially with the miasma of must the seemed to haunt the stone surroundings.

"Can you tell me about stillness?"

The doll moves on to the next wall, struggling only for a moment to nestle the duster into the deepest crux of the corner wall. The stone way laid unevenly, as much as one could say a room spawned of ambient magic was laid, making it difficult to fully clean.

"I can hear your ticking. Please, don't be scared."

The fea bends its legs inward politely, letting the doll step around it to dust the wall behind it. Some of it lands on his clothes, breaking his already thin veneer of glamour. The dust bores holes in his tunic, showing the threads as frayed and ripped. His cheeks are already starting to sink.

"I'll let you breathe. You want that, right?"

The doll has made its way to the bed. It's a wooden slab, long enough to comfortably fit a doll, but too thin to support its weight. It's bolted to the wall on hinges, with diagonal chains to keep it from overextending. It's out of reach of the fae.

"Your old name. Soreness, the flu, getting drunk. Anything that one wants."

It begins to brush the dust off of the top, before holding it up with one hand to give the bottom and edges a quick dusting, those parts not having as much accumulation.

"I need to be still. Please. I can't take much more."

Now it can move on to the floors. It collects up the dust fallen from the walls and the dust that naturally accumulated on the floor in a single sweeping. That's one of the first things it learned after it became.

"I won't take it from that one. I just want to know how you do it."

The doll pulls a small garbage bag from its pocket, taking a moment to flick it open with air. It then detaches the dustpan from the base of the broom, bending over to sweep the dust into it.

"Please, just... talk to me. Please."

It takes a few tries to collect all the dust, but once it does, it ties the bag closed. It leans the broom against the wall, using its free hand to close the heavy door behind it.

It looks at the fae. He pulls his knees to his chest and buries his face, arms still kept in place against the wall. He tries to keep himself quiet, to seem fine, and fails.

The doll quickly looks away. It wants to call itself a bad doll for looking at him. But it can't think of a reason why. It hasn't been disobedient. It just feels restless. Like there's another chore that it's ignoring, something it should be doing.

The doll rests only for a moment at the top of the stairs. It tries to be still, only for a moment, appreciating the warmth trickling in through the windows and the freshness of the surface's air. It wishes it could exhale, or sweat, or curse. Anything to relieve this tension.

It doesn't stop long. It needs to tell Miss that her fae's glamour is weakening, and she needs to consider replacing him within the next few years.