#Iffy Writes

[iffondrels-library]

New work has been added to The More Things Change! Wild and Wars go off on their own to further investigate the Arbiter's Grounds of Wild's era. Warriors is looking for something special that he left there after his own journey, but does it truly still exist? Warriors looks to find any connection he can to his own adventure, in a version of Hyrule where everyone but him had managed to do the same.

[lacircificance]

“Don't stop” - Ifrit/Aether

A request from a friend on discord a few nights ago <3 I love these two n it's a shame there's so little about them online.

Word count: 593 words

"Fuck!"

The sudden burst of exclamation almost shocked Aether out of his skin, jumping away from his partner like he'd been electrocuted.

"What?" He finally managed to gather his brain from the puddle it'd melted into moments beforehand, "What's wrong?"

Ifrit didn't move; his arms crossed under his forehead, back and chest heaving under the intensity of every intake of breath. Aether couldn't help but settle his eyes on the Fire Ghoul's dusky nipples and prominent chest.

As Aether watched, his partner raises his head from his forearms, eyelashes wet with unshed tears, cheeks stained with soft pink as the flames of his gaze licked at Aether's consciousness.

"Nothings wrong," reassured, Aether deflated slightly, only to perk up again when Ifrit continued, "I didn't tell you to stop."

Shaking his head with a shaky intake of breath, Aether watched his bandmate settle into position again. Forehead nestled against his arms, knees pressed deep into the white silk of his bedsheets, denting the mattress under the effort of holding up his hips.

Presenting himself so wonderfully for the Quintessence Ghoul.

His mate.

In that moment, Aether thought he must be the luckiest Ghoul in the Abbey – blessed by Satan himself – Ifrit could be nothing else but a gift.

Leaning down, he bent himself over his mate's waist, his chest pressing firmly against the other's as he nudges the head against Ifrit's clenching hole.

Aether presses a gentle kiss to his nape, reassuring the other of his presence, the tension trapped in Ifrit's shoulders seemed to melt away with every hot press of gentle, full lips against his heated skin.

"Beautiful," he whispers, his hips pressing on until he felt the warm flush of Ifrit's flesh against his stomach, listening to his beloved cry out as his body was breached, "So gorgeous, bellezza,"

The room felt hot – humid. He could feel the Fire Ghoul's body warming under the palms gripping the flesh of Ifrit's hips. The heady breaths and gasps for air wrapped around the two Ghouls in a thick blanket of lust, both eager to hear every noise the other had to offer.

"Move," Ifrit pushed back against Aether's hips, an indirect urge to push forward and give both of them what they wanted, "Fuck me, Aeth."

The sudden spark in his chest – be it lust, affection or passion, he couldn't quite put his finger on it– melted his brain once more. Aether felt his body move of its own accord; grabbing the other Ghoul's thin waist and driving himself deeper and deeper into him.

Shouts of pleasure and shock cascaded from Ifrit's slack jaw like water, filling the room and pouring into Aether's ears. The gasps and moans only serving to spur on his frenzied movements.

"Aether!" The cry was wet, ebbed with the tears that had finally started rolling down the Fire Ghoul's flushed cheeks.

No matter how many tears were shed during their sweeter sessions, Aether knew his mate greatly enjoyed enjoyed the closeness that came with making love rather than heartless, rough fucking.

Eventually, cries and moans melted away into mewls and sighs of soft pleasure. Aether's strong hands encompassing Ifrit's pecs, kneading the supple muscles with his fingers.

"You're so very gorgeous," he offered once more, silently delighting in the way Ifrit's eyes finally brightened at the comment, his senses returning to him as the waves of his orgasm finally settled.

"Don't even try it, Aether," his voice still faltering slightly, evoking a good natured laugh from the Quintessence Ghoul, "flattery won't get you anywhere."

[letsplaythermalnuclearwar]

hey you know what would be like. the WORST possible thing? if no time had passed for mortals during God Games. if the entire time, Odysseus had just been frozen on that ledge. and at the start of the Vengeance Saga, Ody's still on the ledge. he looks to the skies, to the trees, out over the ocean. he looks for an owl with knowing eyes and strains to hear her voice over the waves, because surely, surely she'd come for him. the haven't spoken in nine years and he ruined whatever relationship they had when he stupidly, foolishly let the cyclops live, but she has to still care, right? she was his mentor. she was his patron. he meant something to her. he's sure of it

but she's not there. he waits, but she's not there. he closes his eyes, sparing himself the view, and steps off the ledge

and is saved by Hermes. and Odysseus briefly thinks that he has died, since Hermes escorts souls to the underworld. but Hermes assures him that, no, he's alive, Athena heard him, she bargained with Zeus, he can go home now. he can finally go home

his friend came through

[uzurakis]

in the face of uncertainty and despair, two hearts confront the possibility of loss, grappling with the question of what remains when yuuta okkotsu is gone.

n. wrote this to cope with whatever fucked up mental shit going on in jjk261. god please take away his suffering and triple it to gege. comfort? angst if you squint. the theme is similar to canon. please be safe my glorious morally grey king.. we will miss u..

“what will you do if i’m gone?”

yuuta's shoulders slump, his eyes reflecting the weight of his thoughts. you notice the tension in his posture, the way his hands fidget nervously in his lap.

“huh?” you ask softly, the sound very audible in the heavy silence that surrounds him. “what kind of question is that?”

he turns to you, expression a mixture of exhaustion and despair. “what if something happens to me, what will you do if i’m gone?”

the weight of his emotions bears down on you as if it were a tangible force as you sit next to him. his breath escapes him in short, jagged gasps, each one laced with doubt.

“then i’m gonna be sad. really, really sad,” you murmur, reaching out to touch his stiff hand. a lump forms in your throat, the thought of losing him too painful to bear. “and i will miss you, every single fucking day.”

“i don’t want to live without you, yuu. i can’t live without you.”

he shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “but what if i’m not myself again? there’s nothing—“

“shh,” you interrupt, placing a finger against his lips. you pull him into a gentle embrace, hoping to offer some small measure of comfort in the face of his pain. “even if you change, even if you’re not yourself anymore. who gives a damn about that?”

the man’s eyes enlarge, a kaleidoscope of feelings tumbling through their depths. his eyebrows wrinkle slightly as shock leaves its mark on his appearance, resembling cracks in a fragile facade. you can see the desperation for reassurance battling with the unknown.

“so what? i’ll always love you nevertheless, yuuta okkotsu.”

with a hesitant breath, he leans backwards, away from your touch with his hands on your shoulders. his gaze locked onto yours with such intensity. it's as if he's searching for something, something elusive yet vital, within the depths of your soul. you can feel the weight of his scrutiny, the silent plea for truth in the midst of everything uncertain.

“my love for you will always stay the same, yuu. nothing matters beside that, ‘kay?”

and then, like a dam breaking, understanding floods his expression, washing away the shadows of doubt that had clouded his mind. tears began to form at the corners of his eyes slowly, barely noticeable.

and yuuta's breath hitches, his grip on you tightening. "but i don't want to leave you…”

"then don’t you dare die on me, dumbass,” you say passionately. "you’re not leaving me, yuuta. we’ll go through this together, i fucking swear." softly brushing his hair, attempting to provide some comfort in this time of turmoil.

"i need you here with me."

@uzurakis

[softartemisart]

temple to a god of hedonism that gradually changes those inside to best live lives of pleasure and feasting

if you visit once, and stay for only a few minutes, you might get out with only a little extra softness on your frame, easy enough to work off. if you stay for much longer, well...

theres a growing hunger in your stomach, despite not eating that long ago. but it's a temple to a god of parties and feasting - there's plenty of food available. the dishes only seem to grow more aromatic the longer you stand near them and, when you cave and try a mouthful, it's unbelievably delicious.

you're so taken with the taste, you don't notice what's happening to your body. your stomach bloats from your gorging, and then softens into a wobbling belly that tests the durability of your clothes, hanging lower and lower towards your thick thighs. leaning over the table for another plate, your ass sticks out behind you, round and cellulite-ridden. your figure is soft, swelling, a picture of indulgence.

and it's not long before the servants of this god come and show you another kind of pleasure. warm hands make contact with sensitive skin and you moan through mouthfuls of rich food. they guide you to a soft chair, lean you back, make sure your every want in this moment is fulfilled. one continues to feed you all manner of decadent desserts. several more attend to your body, removing the remains of the constricting clothes you entered in and then kissing, massaging, rubbing every growing, jiggling inch of you. your chest is squeezed, nipples toyed with. your gut is oiled and played with. once they're done teasing you, one hefts the blubbery mass up while another finally reaches between your legs.

the next day, you wake up in one of their luxurious beds, the most well rested you've ever been. you're free to leave, of course. but as the heavenly smell of breakfast finds your nose, you also notice the new set of temple robes at the end of your bed, inviting you to join their ranks

[th0ti-th0ts]

just desserts

hobie brown x reader, miguel o’hara x reader (implied)

summary: leave it to the big guy to be so damn obvious. if only it wasn't this fun for hobie to mess with him.

or: hobie exploits miguel’s one weakness for some shits and giggles (but also to stick it to The Man).

cw: fluff but hobie makes some innuendos. jealous!miguel, miguel who can't admit his feelings, hobie who knows this and knows he has more game and takes full advantage of this

You’re talking to Hobie when his attention is captured by something behind you. His gaze shifts as he raises a brow challengingly, mouth pulled into a cocky slant. It’s quick, quick enough that most people wouldn’t catch it, but you’re not most people. Not with your reflexes.

“—And I was—Hobie? Something wrong?”

You’ve got his attention again. “Yeah, luv? Sorry ‘bout that, got somethin’ in my eye.” He wraps an arm around your shoulder, and gives you a lazy grin. "Distracted me fro' your beauty for a minute."

You roll your eyes as you continue to tell your tale, Hobie listening to you with the kind of careless intensity that only he could pull off. While his flirtatious comments could be construed as something more, he says them with such a dry wit that it's hardly anything more than friendly. As the the two of you meander down the line of the cafeteria, grabbing whatever food spikes your interest, his arm remains a steady presence around you. Again, you don’t think much of it—Hobie's a touchy guy with his closest friends.

“Ya’ ever wonder 'ow these futuristic blokes come up wit’ some o’ these pop flavors?" he asks you, holding a can of soda in his hand as he languid reads off the label. "‘Sparkling orange cream cider with a 'int of lime...'" He pulls a face. "Sounds mad.”

You laugh. “It’s actually kinda good. Peter recommended it to me last time.”

He looks at you, surprised. “Huh." And then, with a hint of suspicion, he asks, "...Which Peter? Ya' can't trust all ov' their taste buds...”

With his arm around you, Hobie steers the two of you around the cafeteria, and you end up accidentally bumping into the person next to you in line. The two of you continue to chat--that is, until you hear someone clear their throat meaningfully. You glance behind you, unaware of the challenging glean in Hobie's cool gaze.

"Oh, hi, Miguel! I don't think I've ever seen you out here before."

He raises a brow. In his hand is a box of the empanadas he loves so much.

"I do... eat, you know."

Miguel's usual dry and blunt manner of speaking has hardly deterred you before.

"Yeah, but I don't think you really leave that dinky, dark room of yours," you say thoughtfully, to which Hobie snorts next to you. His body shakes with the effort to contain his amusement. Your eyes widen. "I—I didn't mean it like that!"

"I know what you mean," Miguel cuts you off. He jabs the empanada before him with tongs, puncturing its shell. His irritation is palpable. Maybe he's having a bad day? "I..." He sighs heavily, surveying the two of you, his gaze lingering on your shoulder. "Just felt like a change of scenery."

"Or at least I did," he mutters, but you don't quite catch it.

"Sorry?"

"Nothing."

"'Ey, 'ey. Look wha' we got 'ere." Hobie, the ever keen observer, steers you around Miguel, to direct your attention to today's dessert on the menu. Your eyes widen at the various flavors of cupcakes before you. You fucking love cupcakes.

"Lemme guess," Hobie says. "You're a chocolate kinda gal?" He snags a cupcake for each of you. Just as he hands it to you though, you're distracted by the sound of tongs clattering.

You glance to your right, only for Hobie to end up smearing some of the cupcake's icing across your cheek. You blink in surprise.

"Hey!"

"Oops." An amused smirk stretches Hobie's face. “Made a mess o' yourself, looks like it."

"You're the one who did it!"

Hobie puts his palms up, stating solemnly, "All's wort' it in pursuit of something sweet."

You glower at him, rubbing your cheek. "Did I get it?"

He shakes his head. "Nope." You rub again. "A lit'le to the left. Nope… Is a bit like finding a needle in a 'aystack for you, innit? Lemme help.”

Hobie’s thumb comes up to your cheek, swiping the suspect away. You scrunch your nose up, to which he makes a satisfied noise in his throat.

"Almos' regret doin' that. Ya' pull off the 'cream on ya' face' look."

You roll your eyes at the obvious innuendo, smacking his chest. “Hobie. Not in public!”

He shrugs unapologetically.

CRCKK.

The sound of cardboard crumpling meets your ears. The both of you turn around.

“Ay, chingados,” Miguel curses at his crushed box, meat and veggie filling from his empanadas splayed across the ground. He kicks the box away, before slamming his hand onto the counter. Hunched over, a hand tensely massaging his brow as he mutters, “Maldito sea. Estoy harto de ver esta mierda amorosa."

You raise a brow. You think you hear Hobie mutter something to the effect of, "Stickin' it to the big guy one step a' a time," and you're certainly not sure what that means. Miguel stops only when he notices you and everyone in the cafeteria watching him. He straightens up, and clears his throat before summoning his AI.

“Lyla, just have someone bring food to my room,” he grumbles.

"Roger that," she says.

And then Miguel is stalking away before either of you know it.

You watch his retreating back curiously. "I wonder what that was about..." you think aloud.

“No idea,” Hobie drawls. Of course, it's a lie, or as Hobie likes to think of it, a covert truth. He salutes in Miguel's direction.

Leave it to the big guy to be so damn obvious. If only it wasn't this fun to mess with him. And... Hobie glances down at you. If only you realized how much power you held over him.

Both of them, really.

—

translations:

estoy harto de ver esta mierda amorosa = i'm sick of seeing all this lovey-dovey shit

the other phrases are just a bunch of cursing lmao

[ghostr0tz]

Very specific human Vox I've been trying to shake for weeks

[necrotic-nephilim]

"I don't care how much you hate me - you need to eat!"

DickTim during Bruce's Lost In Time phase but with Dick stopping Tim from leaving💕

send a quote and a ship and I'll write a short fic!

fucked up DickTim during Bruce's lost in time era my beloved. this is 2k of *very* dead dove DickTim, with one-sided feelings from Dick and unreliable narrator vibes. it is a smidge OOC, just bc of how dark Dick gets, but i think i kept it best i could. enjoy <3

It wasn’t supposed to go this far.

Dick thought he was doing this to honor Bruce. The last thing Bruce would’ve wanted was to see Tim drive himself over the edge and go too far, all for a fruitless chase to bring Bruce back from the dead. And sure, maybe deep down Dick knew he reflected some of Bruce’s worst traits. The obsessive control. The worrying to the point of being overbearing.

It came with the capes and spandex territory. Especially now that Dick had decided to man up and put on that damned cowl.

But even at Bruce’s worst, Dick was pretty sure he wouldn’t dare go this far.

Dick knew it was wrong. What he didn’t know was why he couldn’t stop himself. Why the gnawing guilt was so easy to compartmentalize and why every good point Tim had got ignored by Dick’s logical side, brushed off by one simple mantra.

He was doing this for Tim’s own good.

All of this was to protect Tim from doing something he would regret.

Dick had done brain scans, had Tim magically checked up, and even managed to get him to properly talk to a psychiatrist. Everything came back normal. Tim was perfectly healthy.

So maybe this was something that had always been a part of Tim. Maybe it was a bad idea for any of them to have let Tim into the vigilante world so young.

Some people could handle it. Some people couldn’t. Dick had seen firsthand how it broke minds and ruined lives. He’d seen people turn to drugs, cults, murder, and god knew what else just to try to cope with it.

That didn’t make Tim weak. Tim Drake was the furthest thing from weak, and Dick would fight anyone on that.

This was just a hard life to cope with. Sometimes, people needed support through the worst of it.

That’s what Dick was doing.

Giving support.

“I don’t care how much you hate me- you need to eat!” Dick stepped back, dodging Tim’s attempt to kick his feet out. The bowl of salad Dick had set next to Tim was completely ignored.

Dick had learned not to give Tim hot food after Tim flung potato soup at his head the first time, chunks of potato stuck to his hair.

Tim’s scowl was lethal. Technically, he wasn’t restrained. He could move freely around the manor and do whatever he wanted.

It was the shock collar that kept him from leaving the grounds or breaking into the Batcave.

Dick had decided that would be the most humane way. The shock was only momentarily painful, it was designed to knock Tim unconscious if he tried to get somewhere he wasn’t supposed to. The collar had taken three tries before Dick found a lock Tim couldn’t pick, and a few more unfortunate incidents of Tim finding weak spots in the barrier.

But Dick always found Tim and brought him back home.

That was what was important.

The fact Tim kept trying to break out and go to god knew where on some fruitless quest to find a dead man made Dick more secure about this decision.

He was doing this to protect Tim. Once Tim worked through the worst of his grief, all this would be in the past. Something they would laugh at.

Hopefully.

It was like one of Tim’s contingency plans. Really, he of all people should understand.

But he didn’t. Which was what hurt Dick the most, the angry look in Tim’s eyes and the way his fists clenched when Dick came into Tim’s room. Tim had access to the whole manor, but he stuck mostly to his room, refusing to talk to anyone.

Especially Dick.

And now, it seemed, his latest tactic was a hunger strike.

“I’ll let you look over the burglary case we’re working on,” Dick offered. “I’ll bring you all the files and your computer if you just…” he gestured to the salad, “eat something.”

That had worked, in the beginning. Dick could coax good behavior out of Tim by offering to let Tim help with whatever case Dick was facing. It took a load off of Dick’s back and gave Tim something to focus on.

Of course, Dick couldn’t leave Tim’s computer with him. The first time Dick did that, Tim managed to break all of the firewalls and safeties put on it to start a case file about Bruce. Dick had to delete everything and only allow Tim monitored access from that point on.

After that, Tim really didn’t like Dick.

“Can’t you just go back to ignoring me?” Tim snapped. He sounded… resigned. Emotionless in a way he hadn’t been, like all the fight he’d been putting up for weeks was finally going out.

“Ignoring you?” Dick frowned. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut at the words. He kept a wide berth from Tim, wary of more punches being thrown, and decided to sit at Tim’s desk chair, a good few feet from where Tim was on his bed. “What makes you think I’m ignoring you?”

Tim scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You only talk to me to ask if I’ve dropped the Bruce thing yet, or to try to force self-care on me. The rest of the time you ignore me so you don’t have to face your own guilt.”

Dick violently shook his head. “That’s not-” he sighed, running a hand over his face- “I’m just busy, I promise. Between being Batman, managing Bruce’s estate, and trying to handle Damian, I just…” his voice trailed off. So many things to balance. He still didn’t know how Bruce managed it all. “I haven’t made enough time for you. I’m sorry.”

He decided to take on the burden of helping Tim. It was his responsibility and Tim was right, Dick was doing a piss poor job of taking care of him.

No wonder he pushed away Dick’s attempts to reconcile. It must’ve come across as half-assed, in Tim’s eyes.

Dick wished Bruce was here. He would’ve known the right way to handle this.

“Don’t start now,” Tim said icily. He picked up a book from his nightstand and opened it, pointedly not looking at Dick anymore. “Just leave me alone.”

“Will you eat first?” Dick asked. “If you just eat, I’ll go. I promise.”

With a loud sigh, Tim snapped his book shut. He picked up the salad Dick brought and shoveled down mouthfuls, all while glaring at Dick. Once the bowl was empty he set it back down and spread his hands, waiting.

Dick didn’t leave.

He wasn’t going to abandon Tim.

Dick stood up and Tim relaxed for just a moment before he realized Dick was walking toward Tim’s bed instead of the door. Slowly, like he was approaching a wild animal, Dick crept forward. He chose to sit on the foot of the bed, still far enough away from Tim to give him personal space.

“Tim-”

“Out. Now. You promised.”

Dick ran his fingers through his hair. “I know, but-”

“What do you want from me?” Tim almost yelled the words. “Do you want me to just say I don’t believe Bruce is alive? Will you finally leave me alone, then?”

“Can you say it under a truth serum?”

Tim went quiet, grinding his jaw.

“I want you to get better,” Dick sighed.

“What happens when I get better, then?” Tim challenged. He moved to sit cross-legged on the bed. So close to Dick that Dick could reach out and touch him, but emotionally, they were miles apart and it hurt Dick’s chest. “You ‘fix me’-” he put finger quotes around the words- “to your liking, then set me free?”

“Don’t talk about yourself like you’re an animal.” Dick frowned, fist clenching at the idea Tim thought of himself that way.

Tim just stared at him. “Then don’t treat me like one.” He raised a hand and tapped the collar.

It looked like it had new scratch marks on it.

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Dick said. He tried to find the words. It was so hard to explain it when Tim wasn’t listening to him. He wasn’t even given a chance. Dick tried to reach out. For once, Tim didn’t pull away. He was completely rigid under Dick’s touch, though. His hand rested on Tim’s arm, thumb stroking back and forth. “You know I’m doing this because… because I’m worried about you. And I care, Tim.”

“No you don’t,” Tim leaned away from Dick, but didn’t pull his arm free. “Whatever version of me exists in your head-”

“Tim-”

“-isn’t real,” Tim ignored him and kept going. “You won’t even listen to my theory-”

“Tim!” Dick tightened his grip, ignoring the small wince of pain that came out of Tim. “I’m not entertaining that kind of talk.” He tried to be firm but loving with his tone. But even Dick could hear the anger and frustration that was bleeding off of him. “This is practically self harm.”

“I know I’m right,” Tim mumbled. He wouldn’t look at Dick. “Will you just leave, now?”

Against his better judgment, Dick stood up. He had to patrol soon. “I’m sorry. We’ll talk after-”

“I’m going to sleep,” Tim snapped. “No, we won’t.”

Dick tried to throw his hands up in frustration, but he was still holding onto Tim’s arm.

He didn’t want to let go.

He knew Tim was waiting for him to let go, but Dick couldn’t force his fingers to release. He just stared for a moment, breathing hard.

Dick was doing this out of love.

And now, he loved Tim too much to want to let go of him.

Did he have to patrol tonight? He was pretty sure the Birds of Prey were in Gotham.

“Dick,” Tim said carefully, starting to scoot away from him. The apprehension in his voice was unsteady, eyes narrowed. He was always too on edge. “I’m tired. Just go on patrol.”

Instead of letting go, Dick lifted his other hand and held Tim’s face. Tim flinched but stopped inching away. He was completely still, barely even breathing.

He looked afraid of Dick.

Dick’s chest clenched. He wished he could get Tim to understand. Dick leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Tim’s forehead.

He wanted to kiss somewhere else, somewhere a few inches lower and just as unobtainable. That was a feeling Dick buried deep, deep inside of him.

It wasn’t why he was doing this.

A hand pressed against Dick’s chest. Trying to push Dick away, but for just a moment, the pressure and warmth almost made Dick shudder. Tim hadn’t properly trained in a while.

He wasn’t actually strong enough to push Dick off of him. If Dick wanted to, Tim couldn’t have stopped him.

But their relationship was already fractured. It would take a long time of repairing and letting Tim heal before Dick could even try pursuing those feelings.

Tim had once had a childhood crush on Dick, though. So he was pretty sure they could work their way up to it, be something more.

Dick pulled away. He let go of Tim’s arm and allowed himself one stroke of Tim’s hair. It was getting a little long, brushing against Tim’s shoulders.

The entire time, Tim remained perfectly still. But his eyes got wider and wider, the way they always did when he had just figured out a case.

Dick was getting too close. He needed to pull back.

“You still have the spare comm link?” Dick asked.

Tim didn’t answer. He just kept staring with those wide, searching eyes. He looked a little pale. Dick should get him some iron supplements, Tim becoming anemic is the last thing Dick wanted.

“Use it if you need me for anything,” Dick continued. He gave Tim what he hoped was a calming smile. “Get some sleep, Tim. I love you.”

He turned and walked out of Tim’s room. Slowed to crawl at a snail’s pace, hoping for an answer from Tim. He would take any kind of answer.

But Tim kept silent, even as Dick took his time intentionally, slowly closing the door. Dick just sighed, turning down the hall to head down to the Batcave.

Someday, he’d get through to Tim. Dick would find a way.

Someday soon.

[otaku553]

Other than ASL, which characters do you like in One Piece? Whether it’s design, story role, personality etc.

I have SO many favorites in one piece it’s kind of difficult to choose lmao

Storytelling wise, outside of ASL and the main crew, I’ve really enjoyed Bonney and Law! Bonney especially with the recent arc in the manga :’) she’s so loved…….

(We don’t talk about Bonney’s canonical design. Or, at least, I won’t. Also whoops I forgot law’s other knuckle tats,,,, ignore that)

Otherwise I also really enjoy Robin (but I’ve drawn her already for another ask hehe) and Koala? But completely for story reasons. I would say there’s probably not a single female character in one piece whose design I fully enjoy just because at times I am convinced that Oda has never actually seen a woman before. But their stories are so incredibly compelling,,,,,,

Visual design wise I kind of enjoy Koby and Helmeppo and how they’ve changed over time! And I absolutely adore Jinbei and Brook and Chopper! Design wise I actually probably most enjoy brook and jinbei, and maybe post time skip zoro? I just think they’re really neat,,,

OH. AMD GEAR 5TH LUFFY. I CANNOT BELIEVE I ALMOST FORGOT GEAR 5TH LUFFY. that is just. Chefs kiss. EXCELLENT DESIGN

I think probably part of the reason I enjoy sabo so much is that he’s the only character design that just like. Fully appeals to me. Like I love his character design soooo much it is unreal. But also because he’s such a unique design among the characters (being about the only character with as much screentime as he has that dresses up as a noble) it’s difficult for me to find other characters that I enjoy so much visually. As reprehensible as nobles are in the story of one piece, I tend to especially enjoy characters that are more formally dressed,,,, honestly if they extended that sort of aesthetic to the entirety of the revolutionary army I would probably have a lot more favorite characters lmao

[toneelspeelster]

i've lost a lot of people in my life, jack. i don't want to lose the guy i love.

[iffondrels-library]

Next chapter is up! Following the fight between Twilight and Legend, everyone sits down to have a long talk about Ganondorf.

[lacircificance]

"Against All Odds" - Omega/Alpha

Angst :)

Word count: 414 approx

If one of the younger Ghouls asked about his life, Omega would probably brush off the question without a second thought.

After all, what was there to know?

The newly summoned Ghouls always had some unrealistic and wild ideas about what topside life would be like; comfortable living quarters, warm food, shelter, the possibility finding a mate.

It never failed to make Omega's stomach clench and twist itself into unrelenting, painful knots whenever a new arrival asked anything about mating.

He'd always reluctantly tried to answer questions from nagging Ghouls or Siblings, but it wasn't worth the memory of the heartache that came with recounting the loss of his own mate.

At least that's how Omega saw it.

If any of the younger Ghouls asked about Alpha, Omega would surely pause.

He'd think for a few moments, a flash of emotion behind his violet eyes – what emotion exactly, he couldn't quite place – before, once again, brushing off the question as crudely invasive.

Truth is, Omega didn't exactly know what had exactly happened to his mate. Though he'd heard a rather persistent rumour that had been carelessly floating around the Abbey since the loss had taken place.

Over a decade ago, Omega had awoken in a cold sweat. He could almost feel the searing, agonising pain pumping around his body, biting at every nerve and scrambling his thoughts. His heart raced, eyes watered and claws buried themselves deep into the silk bedsheets.

But most notably overall, the sinking pit of emptiness that weighed down his hammering heart.

The pain had been indescribable. He'd been confined to his sleep chambers for months; writhing around on his bed in unrelenting, all-encompassing loneliness and agony. Every night, he'd find himself crying out fruitlessly for his missing mate. For hours on end he'd remain awake howling Alpha's name; begging and pleading for his love to come and soothe him.

Only after those months of isolation did he come to find out what had caused his month-long bout of anguish.

Alpha was gone.

Sent back to the pits, from what he'd heard. Apparently he'd gone feral on Imperator and she'd banished him for his disobedience.

Omega always thought the story was utter bullshit. He knew his mate. They had been mated since day one; stuck together like glue since their summoning. Alpha wouldn't just go feral without reason, and Omega knew that better than any Ghoul, Sibling or Clergyman.

If one of the younger Ghouls asked about Alpha, Omega would brush them off.

But between the growing anger that came with the defiling of his long-dead mate's name, and the pangs of empty loneliness that the severed mating bond still burdened him with to this day,

He still felt the same fondness for the memories of his mate.

Still remembered the way joy would spark a grin across Alpha's usually stoic face, and how the other's hands felt resting atop his hips when they embraced.

The pain would never truly go away, and Omega knew that. But at least he was left with the bittersweet memories of the snarky Fire Ghoul he'd been lucky enough to call his own for many a century.

[nattikay]

Spider is not Jake and Neytiri’s kid and they had no obligation to act as his surrogate parents

[aroaceleovaldez]

they girlbossed Sally Jackson

[doctorkinney]

wip wednesday

"I was at the pier when the tsunami hit. And there was this kid by himself so I tried to protect him. God, he's awesome. He was actually the one reassuring me, telling me about these cool space facts and trying to make me laugh. But I lost him, Christopher—that's his name—and I'll never forgive myself for that.

So it is him. It really is the guy who saved Christopher. It warms his heart that he didn't mention his son's cerebral palsy and instead focused on his personality.

"Wait are you Buck?"

"Yeah. What— how do you know?"

Eddie exhales. "That was my kid. Christopher.

"Fuck. I'm so sorry. God, I'm sorry."

"You saved him. That's how he remembers it.

"Eddie," Buck says in a broken voice and Eddie just wants to take all his pain way.

"And from what I heard, you didn't just save him. You saved others. You did good, Buck. You're so good. Thank you."

thanks for the tags 💖 @wikiangela @smilingbuckley @inell

@dangerpronebuddie @kitteneddiediaz @loserdiaz

npt 💕 @steadfastsaturnsrings @monsterrae1 @hippolotamus @diazsdimples @spotsandsocks

@bi-buckrights @disasterbuck @tizniz @theotherbuckley

@jesuisici33 @watchyourbuck @exhuastedpigeon and anyone else who wants to share <3

let me know if you'd like to be added or removed!

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 42

Call Jaskier a fool, but he's fallen in love with a witcher. As a merman. But despite what all his peers tell him, he wholeheartedly believes the witcher would never hurt a merman, let alone one as harmless as Jaskier! They'll make great friends! And even better lovers! Hopefully! So when Jaskier learns the witcher is camping not far from a river, Jaskier literally jumps at the chance to get close to finally meet the man he's admired from afar for so long. Only problem is that the river is muddy in some parts, and in other parts thinner and more shallow than he thought, and though he loathes to admit it, he does get stuck. He's beached. He hasn't even met his witcher and he's BEACHED! BEACHED! AND HE'S NOT EVEN ON A BEACH! He's tied between being horrified he's dying alone, and being thankful nobody is seeing the embarrassing way he's leaving this world. He's not getting nearly enough water into his gills, and the sun is merciless. It's been nearly two days since he first got stuck. His eyesight is blurring and all he can hear is his own breathing. But then he's suddenly hefted up into arms and being carried away, and he can't even worry about who has found him, because he's finally drifted off into a (sadly very dry) slumber. He wakes up to find himself in a small pond, just barely big enough for him to swim a lap, and that was pretty much it. Clearly for healing and not long-term stay. But it was big enough to live. The gills on his sides near his ribs are fully submerged in the water, and he belatedly notices that water is being repeatedly poured on the gills on his neck. He turns to look at what is dripping on him, and finds it to be a waterskin. His witcher found him! His witcher found him, and is filling up his waterskin with the pond's water and pouring it on Jaskier's fills repeatedly. He's caring for him! Oh, how Jaskier's heart is singing! Jaskier tries to talk to him only to cough and let out a weak chirp noise. The witcher shushes him and warns Jaskier that he was in a very bad way and that it'd be best for him to rest for now. Jaskier decides not to take his advice, and instead stays up to stare at his witcher and chirp at him. One time when Geralt pours the water over the mer's gills, he reaches his head up to bump at Geralt's hand until Geralt allows the Mer to limply nuzzle his wrist. It's a tad annoying that this mer Geralt saved is so relentlessly determined to shower him with affection, but after a few days of the attention, Geralt submits to the routine. It only gets more intimate when the Mer regains speech and now keep asking Geralt things about himself and showering him with compliments. Geralt learns about the merman, and grows attached, he admits, but he can't keep care of a mer. He has to continue on The Path and the Mer cannot follow. So one day, he picks up Jaskier, brings him back to the ocean, and sets him free. Four times. It takes four times before Jaskier stops trying to beach himself to follow. Geralt is miserable without his little merman companion, but he knows it's for the best. That is, until a few months lather, when he hears word of a merman being captured nearby and he knows deep down it's his merman. I don't know if Jaskier is captured by poachers intent on killing or harming him or if he's been captured by some sort of circus/freakshow but I DO know that Jaskier got captured because he started recklessly talking to any and all humans asking for anyone who knows how to turn him human (so he can be with his witcher)