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starsstuddedsky · 1 year ago

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Tangled in Love

vernon x reader

summary: there's nothing in the world that vernon loves more than cats. at least, that's what you think

genre: fluff, tiny bit of angst, non-idol!au, uni au, f2L, idiots to lovers, fake dating if you squint, technically university au

warnings: none!

wc: 3.8k

a/n: started this a WHILE ago and finished it like a month ago but i wanted to let it sit lol,,, may or may not have been the other option for the poll i put out and then i may or may not have forgotten to post.... anyways i am working for literally the whole summer until school starts again so i can't promise i'll be writing a whole bunch </3 so basically: enjoy bc idk when anything else will come lol (not going on official hiatus though!! just like... limbo) pls pls feel free to drop in anytime and chat!! also requests are open but again,, i'll write when i write lol

tldr: adulting sucks, i love you all, none of this has to do with the actual story lol

Vernon’s car sits in your driveway. The sight of his little red sedan evokes a strong sense of familiarity, almost as if it’s yours. It’s survived high school and his first three years of college, up till now, though the engine sometimes shakes the car a little too much and the air conditioning chooses to work less often than you would prefer. Still, the one time Vernon mentioned getting a new car, you nearly cried, so you don’t let yourself complain too much.

He waits for you, keys in hand, as you tug on your shoes and sprint out the door with a shout of goodbye to your parents. Your shoes nearly slip off because you didn’t put them on all the way and they’re still untied when you make it to the front seat, slamming the door shut behind you and pulling on your seatbelt.

“You didn’t have to rush,” Vernon says, barely sparing a glance at you. You do a supreme job pretending it doesn’t bother you.

“Yeah, but my dad is watching hockey,” you say. Though it’s been years since Vernon has been to your house for a “play date,” you know the memory of your father yelling at the television as if the players can hear him isn’t one that Vernon (or anyone for that matter) can forget easily.

“You know if you move out, you don’t have to hear them,” he says, finally glancing at you before turning his head to watch the road as he backs down the driveway.

“If I move out, I also have to pay my bills on my own,” you say.

“You have three job offers and you haven’t even graduated yet,” Vernon says. “Of all our friends, you are the most financially stable, so don’t you dare try that argument on me.” This debate has been going on ever since Vernon announced he was moving out; two years in the dorms on campus proved more than enough for him.

You don’t understand why he’s so insistent about you moving out. Sure you complain about your parents occasionally but not enough to really matter, and he knows how grateful you are that they’ve let you stay in your childhood room and rarely let you pay for anything.

So why? You set your eyes on him, with his annoyingly perfect features that you’ve known most of your life. He studies the road, indifferent to your glare and undistracted.

That’s the Vernon you know: focused on the moment, and never noticing you. You know how pitiful you sound, pining for someone for so long who has never once spared you a second look. Still, before everything else, he’s your friend, your best friend. You won’t ruin that just because you caught feelings.

“Why are we going an hour away again?” You ask, resting your back against the cushioned seats and turning your head to the window to watch the scenery pass by. It’s easier to avoid thinking about those feelings when you aren’t staring at him.

“Because the people running the rescue needed a volunteer to pick up the kittens.”

“And why am I here?”

“So I don’t get kidnapped or murdered,” Vernon says nonchalantly.

“How am I going to prevent you from getting kidnapped or murdered?”

“Strength in numbers?” He takes his eyes off the road for half a second to flash a smile at you.

You rolled your eyes, plugging your phone into the aux. “You should have asked Jihoon. Between his gym obsession and unbridled rage, the nonexistent potential kidnappers-murderers would never stand a chance.”

“And he has good taste in music. Bump,” he says, bracing his arm in front of you as he hit a particularly large pothole. He drops his arm as soon as the car stops shaking and you ignore the urge to catch his hand in yours.

“He does not, and you better not be implying I have bad taste!” You dig through your playlists, trying to find the Vernon-approved one.

“I was implying but now I’ll outright say it.”

“His playlist is just Bruno Mars and Harry Styles and one random Ariana Grande song.” You hold up the shared playlist for good measure. Vernon ignores you, refusing to take his eyes off the road.

“Okay, not good taste, but better than yours.”

“What is wrong with my taste in music?”

“No comment.”

“How have we been friends this long?” You ask. You can’t quite say it with a straight face; the idea of not having Vernon in your life is an absurdity you can’t imagine.

“By the way, you need to give directions,” Vernon says. “I sent you the address last week.”

You shake your head but dig through the messages to find the address, putting Jihoon’s playlist on to prove your point. Vernon pretends not to care, singing along to “Leave the Door Open,” as if he didn’t make fun of Jihoon a week ago because he played the song on repeat during his four hour shift at the cafe.

When you’re being honest with yourself, you know you want more than riding in Vernon’s front seat and making pointless jokes. More than once, you’ve imagined what it’s like to go home with him and stay there, to wake up in his bed because you share it with him, instead of the times you drank too much and he slept on the couch (because of course Vernon is the type of person to give up his bed for his friend). Moments like that make it harder to remember that he doesn’t feel the same way.

You were doing a great job of paying attention until the second half hour, when you got stuck in standstill traffic. In your mind, only a few minutes pass, but suddenly Vernon shakes your shoulder and your heart shoots bolts of adrenaline into your veins to wake you up.

“We’re here,” he says softly. He holds your phone with the directions still open. The engine shakes the car; he must have literally just stopped. It takes a couple moments to remember that he drove you into the middle of nowhere to pick up some kittens to foster them (another bullet point in the ever growing list of why you love Vernon: he does absolutely insane things for what he loves. What would it be like to be the person he loves?). He stares at you for a moment and for some godforsaken reason, you think he’s going to kiss you.

He points to the corner of your lips. “You drooled.” He laughs at your groan, turning in his seat and cutting the engine, tossing your phone into your lap.

The door creaks when you pull on the handle but it swings open. You are extra careful when you swing it shut, being as gentle as possible. Vernon raises his eyebrows but doesn’t comment on it. You stretch until your back finally pops, jogging to catch up with Vernon who didn’t wait for you, striding up the smooth driveway.

Warm pastel yellow greets you, a cute door that matches the array of flowers on the front porch perfectly. Vernon sneezes and presses the doorbell, stepping back to wait, shoulder pressing against yours. Even though his jean jacket and your cotton t-shirt separate you from really touching him, you feel a different sort of warm, a tingly feeling that spreads from your insides and makes you feel giddy.

After a couple minutes, the door opens, revealing a smiling woman and a child that can’t be more than five clinging to her leg. “You must be the fosters! Sorry, it’s a little hectic today, but come on in!” She ushers you in, picking up the child.

Some psychopath. You glance at Vernon but he turns his back on you, following the woman down the hall to a closed door. Whatever, it’s not like he needs to see you to know the jokes you make.

“We’ve been keeping them away from the rest of the house since it gets so chaotic,” she says. “I’d love to keep them but we’ve got two toddlers and a hyperactive dog.” She sounds genuinely regretful, which you understand as soon as you step over the baby gate and into the room. It looks like it was a spare bedroom (you can’t help but think it’s for the children when they get too big to share a room), but the bed has been stripped and there isn’t any other furniture. In the middle of the room, in a nest of blankets, a grown cat sits and licks tiny balls of fur that mewl softly in protest. The black cat pauses in her grooming, studying you and Vernon while the woman and her child watch from the door.

“Do you want to tell the lovely couple what we named them?” She asks the child.

You freeze. Did she just call you a couple? “We’re not–” Vernon stops you with a hand on your arm, sitting cross legged on the ground and facing the woman and her child.

“The momma is Pinky,” the child mumbles, barely audible. “‘Cause she has really pink feet.”

You smile at her, though you’re still reeling from Vernon’s hand, which slips from your arm to interlace his fingers with yours. “Did you name her?”

The child grins. “Yeah! But my brother named the babies.” She pouts.

“I think Pinky is a great name,” you say. Vernon grunts in agreement. Pinky stands and wanders slowly toward Vernon’s hand (the one not holding yours), which he holds outstretched while looking away. Looking at you. You get to see the exact moment Pinky brushes her head against his fingers, watch the corners of his mouth creep up in satisfaction, watch his eyes slip away from yours as he strokes her head. She lets off a low rumble as she purrs, brushing her whole body against his foot before leaving him to study you.

You’ve never thought of yourself as a cat-person or a dog-person (you love them all the same), but a life-time as Vernon’s best friend (and an abundance of cat cafes) have trained you in how to get cat’s to befriend you. You let Pinky move however she wants, hyper aware of Vernon’s hand squeezing yours once before letting go.

He shifts to look at the kittens, earning a wary glance from Pinky. She watches him for a moment before turning back to you, brushing against your hand and eventually turning her back on you, purring like the engine of Vernon’s car the entire time.

“What’s this one called?” Vernon asks, pointing to the orange colored kitten.

“That’s Muffin, Momma named her,” the child explains. She stands at the baby gate alone, her mother off somewhere getting all of their supplies so that you and Vernon can leave with them. Her little fingers curl around the metal. “The black one is Fried and the white one is Egg. That’s what my brother named them.”

Vernon nods, smiling over the tiny kittens. Pinky finally decides she doesn’t want him quite so close, leaving your side to place herself between him and the kittens. He laughs, sliding back to sit next to you.

“There’s no way you don’t end up adopting at least one of them,” you whisper.

“I have self-control.”

“Wanna bet?”

Vernon turns to look at you except he’s much too close, nose just barely brushing against yours. It takes all of your willpower not to glance at his lips, infinitely harder when you realize you can feel his breath on your lips. Would he kiss you back? You push that fantasy away immediately: it’s Vernon. He’d push you away and call you weird, or do that judgy-eyebrow-wiggle-thing that he reserves only for special occasions (most recently used when Soonyoung was talking about a hookup gone wrong). You’ve always been the one he looks at when someone does something weird; what would he do if it was you being weird? Your stomach turns, the butterflies eating each other alive. You can’t do that to him, no matter how perfect his lips are.

You jump at the sound of someone clearing their throat. You turn back to the door to see the woman holding a cat carrier doing her best not to smile.

“Not trying to rush you two, but the sooner they settle into a nice loving home, the better,” she says, winking at ‘loving.’ You really should correct her. Actually, Vernon should correct her. He always does, the very few times that you have been mistaken as a couple. He never hesitates, so why isn’t he doing it now? Does he really not realize what she’s implying?

He stands up, turning to face you and extending his hands to pull you up. You roll your eyes but take them anyway, ignoring the way your heart sinks when he lets go this time. He takes the carrier and gently picks up the kittens, blankets and all, and tucks them inside. Pinky follows immediately after, as if she couldn’t bear to be away from her children for more than a second.

“I have a box ready by the door with their food, and toys, and other supplies, and I know you said you have a litter box and you’re ready, but I just wanted to make sure that they settle in nice, and I added a blanket in case they’re homesick, and–” She pauses, peering at the dark holes of the carrier as if she can see the little kittens inside. She takes a deep breath, picking up her child again, stepping to the side so that you and Vernon can leave the room. “I know you two will take good care of them, I do, I just– I’m going to miss them.”

“Me too,” her child says, clinging to her mother’s neck.

The woman smiles. “But we said our goodbyes already, and they’re going to be so happy with these two, right?”

“Of course,” you say when Vernon doesn’t answer. “He’s been obsessed with cats since he was smaller than you!” You wink at the child, who giggles.

You pick up the box at the door, grunting at the heaviness.

“We can switch,” Vernon says softly but you shake your head.

“It’s just to the car, it’s fine.” Vernon looks like he’s going to argue more, but finally he steps onto the front porch, moving as gently as possible, trying to disturb the precious cargo as little as possible.

“Thank you so much again,” the woman says, setting her child down. “We really do wish we could keep them, but it makes me happy knowing that someone capable will be taking care of them, especially an adorable couple like the two of you. Do keep me updated on their adoptions.”

You force a smile and choke out a “thank you,” following Vernon mindlessly down the driveway after she closes the door.

Adorable couple, were her exact words and Vernon said nothing. Why? The word hangs on your tongue, threatening to spill out if you so much as open your mouth. You watch as Vernon sets the carrier in the backseat, then takes the box out of your arms and places it on the floor. You force yourself to move to the passenger side when he raises his eyebrows at you, but once you’re sitting down and the seatbelt is across your chest, you’re frozen again.

Vernon takes your phone when you don’t move, putting in your passcode (the sum of his birthday and yours). He pulls up his own playlist, a collection of hyperpop and indie artists that you normally enjoy listening to. Today it takes all your concentration not to burst.

You almost make it the whole drive, all the way to his block, the apartment building he’s spent the last year and a half in that’s become far too familiar to you. How much time have you wasted away on the floor of his living room, drinking, doing classwork, listening to him talk about the future, rambling to him about the midnight thoughts that threaten your heart? He knows everything about you, except what you need him to know the most.

When the question begins to burn in your heart, you can’t hold it anymore. Vernon pulls into his parking spot and it falls from your lips before you realize it. “Why?”

He has the audacity to feign ignorance, blinking at you before finally asking, “Why what?”

“Why did you let her think we are a couple?”

One of the kittens mewls in the silence, a soft cry for help, sounding pitifully like your own heart.

Vernon stares ahead of him at the concrete wall, the fading red number 19 that designates this spot as his. Just say something, your heart begs him. Stop giving me hope where there is none. His shoulders rise in the tiniest shrug. “I guess I was just curious.”

“Of what?”

He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He glances at you, just once. “What it would be like.” He sighs. “This really isn’t the time for this conversation.”

Your grip on the door handle is so tight your knuckles are white. So desperately, you want to believe he’s trying to say what you think he’s saying but you refuse to give yourself hope unless it’s real. “What conversation?”

“Okay, for the record, I did think this through,” he says, “a lot. Like, for months. This isn’t coming out of nowhere, I really did try to figure out if it’s just a passing thing because the last thing I want is for things between us to be weird because you’re my best friend and I tried to imagine my life without you and that was worse than anything, so I decided I wouldn’t ruin anything except I can’t stop thinking about–”

“Vernon.”

He pauses, turning to face you again and this time he doesn’t look away. You’ve never felt self-conscious under his gaze, not when he’s seen every awkward stage of your life and stuck with you anyways. His eyes have always been familiar to you, an oasis of comfort that you always find yourself drifting toward. But the longer he stares at you, the more you want to run away, hide from the heartbreak you see in his eyes.

“I think I like you,” he says. “No. I do. Like, as in more than a friend. God, none of these words are working.”

You stare at him. He’s saying everything you want him to say. He’s saying he likes you. Why can’t you move?

Vernon runs a hand through his hair, and sighs. “Like I said, I don’t want to ruin things between us, you're still my best friend first. But I’m also sure about how I feel and I don’t want to keep it from you any longer. I can’t stay in this limbo of holding onto something that doesn’t exist, so, I’m really sorry.”

“Sorry?” You repeat, frowning. “Why are you sorry?”

“Because… I like you. And that ruins… this.” He gestures between you and him and that’s when you finally realize that he doesn’t know.

“You dumbass,” you say, “I like you, too.”

Vernon frowns, mouth hanging open a little, and you have to wonder if you looked this goofy when he was talking. Your heart swells when you realize you’re the reason for it. “You do?”

“Yes,” you say, grabbing his hand. Your cheeks ache a little, and you realize that you’re smiling wider than you ever have before. You’ve never been this happy, not when you graduated high school, not when you and Vernon found out you got into the same college, not when you got a perfect score on that notoriously impossible chemistry final. “Vernon, I am an idiot that always thought you didn’t feel the way I did so I did everything I could to hide it. But I like you, I really, really do, and I’m sorry I never let it show.” There’s another word for how you feel, but you aren’t quite brave enough to use it yet, even if it’s what you really mean to say.

Vernon leans closer, pressing his forehead against yours. “We really are dumb, huh?”

“I can already hear Jihoon’s gloating.”

“He’s been nagging you too?” Vernon groans softly but the smile never leaves his lips. “He’s going to be insufferable.”

You’ve grown used to silences with Vernon. Sometimes they are painful, like when he tells a joke and only you laugh. Usually they’re peaceful, comfortable silences that can only exist between two people that have nothing left to say but stay together anyways. But this silence is heavy, a weight on your shoulders pushing you to do something, move closer. You’ve known him your whole life but this is foreign territory.

His breath kisses your lips again and this time you have the bravery to lean forward, just a little. His lips are soft, bottom lip chapped a little more than the top but it is warm and it feels like a first and thousandth at the same time, like unlocking the door to a house you know you’ll spend the rest of your life in. Your mind floats farther and farther away, in some place of impossible happiness that can’t quite believe that this is real.

A soft cry from somewhere to your left brings you back to earth. You pull away at the same time he does, glancing at the backseat. Right. The kittens. You glance at Vernon, whose mouth is still a little open, eyes wide and flustered. It makes you want to kiss him all over again but you settle for laughing.

“I guess we should go inside,” he says, leaning away from you though he doesn’t turn his back yet.

“We should get them settled,” you say, glancing at the carrier again.

Vernon nods, opening his door and grabbing the heavy box, pausing by the entrance to the building to wait for you to grab the carrier. Silence falls again as you ride the elevator up but you’re more than familiar with it.

It doesn’t take long to settle Pinky and the kittens, not when Vernon already had a room set up for them. He figures there’s been enough stress for the day and they should get some peace and space to relax, so you stretch out on the couch, taking your usual corner. Vernon sits next to you, the inch of space separating you feeling like a mile.

Vernon glances at you, chewing on his lip before asking, “You’ll stay?”

“Always.”

The grin that splits his face has you swooning all over again, so when he throws an arm over your shoulder, leaning into your side, your brain fully stops functioning. You have to will thoughts into existence, which is silly because it’s Vernon and he’s done this a million times. But when you tuck your head onto his shoulder and he kisses the top of this head, you know everything is different. And exactly how you want it.

“You’re definitely going to adopt Fried,” you say.

His laughter bounces you. “No way.”

“It’s Fried or Muffin. You can’t handle their cuteness, I saw you baby talking at them.”

“I'll stay strong.”

“What if I want a kitten?”

Vernon doesn’t hesitate. “Egg is pretty cute.”

“Sucker.”

“Only for you.”

thank you for reading <3

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suzukiblu · 1 year ago

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Day fourteen of fic NaNoWriMo; obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

Kon comes back before Tim has finished having his internal crisis and immediately makes it worse, because as it turns out the clothes fit and he looks extremely good in cashmere.

And extremely good in skinny jeans.

Oh no, Tim thinks with no small amount of dread. A flash of self-consciousness slips across Kon's face, and then he puts on a confident smirk and strikes one of those stupid teen-magazine poses, which he unfortunately makes look very good despite, again, how stupid it is.

Tim is so far gone, isn’t he.

“What do you think, man? Is it my color?” Kon asks, smoothing a broad flat palm down over the chest of his sweater. Tim, very desperately, wants to be the person doing that.

Jesus Christ, no one should be allowed to look like this in cold blood. Especially not in an outfit thrown together in four minutes and fifty-nine seconds. But of course Kon would, the asshole.

“We should style your hair differently too,” Tim says, trying not to choke and die on how hot this stupid fucking bastard looks in stupid fucking cashmere.

“Why?” Kon asks, looking puzzled.

“You'd be amazed how different changing your hair up can make you look,” Tim says. And also he desperately wants Kon to let him change his hair for weird, weird reasons that he doesn't want to examine very closely right now.

Later. He'll examine them later.

Privately.

“Uh, okay,” Kon says, and does in fact let Tim dig out his hair gel and a comb and re-style his hair. Tim tries not to obsess over having Kon’s hair in his hands and just slicks it back off his face with a little of the gel because that’s the most efficient option, although then he’s reminded of the Kool-Aid incident and Kon standing in front of him in the base in his soaking wet skin-tight suit and raking his rainbow-dripping hair back out of his bright, bright eyes and–

Later.

Tim is in so much trouble here, he thinks in resignation, and then wonders both why he decided to re-style Kon’s hair himself and why Kon just let him. Why the hell did either of them let that happen?

He steps back, trying not to think weird things like how Kon probably would’ve tasted like black cherry Kool-Aid and wondering what he might taste like now, and then a much, much worse thing happens to him, because then he meets Kon’s eyes again and realizes Kon just let him dress and style him. Just–everything but his boots, Tim picked out. Gave to him or did for him. That pettable sweater and the tight, fitted jeans and the slicked-back hair all out of the way of those bright, bright eyes and–

Fuck, Tim thinks with far, far too much feeling.

“There we go,” he says, then reaches out for the shopping bag in Kon’s hand. “Jacket and glasses in here?”

“Uh, yeah,” Kon says, blinking at him as he lets him take the bag in apparent bewilderment. It occurs to Tim that Kon has probably literally never had someone else carry something for him unless it was something exceptionally fragile or difficult to operate, but he’s committed now and also it’s not like it’s heavy anyway, so . . . yeah, he’s committed now.

Anyway, having super-strength doesn’t mean Kon has to carry everything. Especially when the bag barely weighs a thing anyway. Tim can swing around Gotham one-armed while carrying a panicking civilian; a shopping bag with a leather jacket and a couple of accessories in it is not exactly an imposition.

And, well . . . this is a date, technically. So why wouldn't he carry Kon's bag?

Aside from the doomed effort that is mapping heteronormativity onto a non-heteronormative situation and possibly making Kon feel emasculated or awkward or potentially coming on too strong and–

Kon reddens, just a little, then grins brightly at him. Tim forgets literally every single thought in his head, which is actually a very impressive feat because Tim is usually thinking several layers of thoughts and they're always annoyingly complicated. This situation is more “head empty, stomach doing quadruple-backflips”, though.

Kon grinning is bad enough when he's not doing it at him, though.

Tim should've better prepared himself for this, but in his defense, in what possible world would he have been able to predict this situation? Really? What possible one?

“Smoothie time?” Kon asks.

“Smoothie time,” Tim agrees, because anything else would require the capacity to actually think straight and that's going to take a few minutes.

They head across the courtyard towards the smoothie shop. Tim does not succeed in regaining the capacity to think straight because Kon continues to be wearing clothes he bought for him. Clothes he bought and picked out for him, specifically.

That is . . . a whole thing, apparently. Apparently that's a thing. Suddenly Tim has to reexamine the way he felt every time he gave Steph a Bat-gadget and wish he'd thought to examine those feelings sooner.

Like much, much sooner.

Tim orders a basic blackberry smoothie that has maybe four ingredients in it, counting the yogurt and almond milk base. Kon orders some ridiculous flavor monstrosity with basically every tropical fruit on the menu, which is the least Gothamite option he could've gone for but therefore not particularly surprising. There's guava in it. Tim doesn't even know what guava tastes like. He's not even sure he'd know what one looked like, if Poison Ivy wasn't a thing. Like–why would he, after all?

Tim pays, obviously. Kon gets a little bit of an odd look on his face again, but doesn’t say anything about it. Well–he thanks him, but nothing else. Tim considers that a good sign, or at least a good start.

The smoothies come in clear plastic cups, and Tim's is a uniform purple with darker flecks here and there in it. Kon's, on the other hand, looks like a sunrise with a swirly straw stuck in it, because of course it does. Tim doesn’t know what else he should’ve expected, really.

“Do you think they could’ve fit a few more islands in there?” he asks wryly. “Maybe a peninsula or two?”

“I mean, it could use some päpipi, probably,” Kon says before taking a sip. Tim has no idea what that is, but is distracted pretending not to pay attention to his mouth. It probably doesn’t work, but Kon’s not always the most observant guy, so it’s . . . fine, probably? Hopefully? “Wanna try it?”

“I’m good, thanks,” Tim says, because he cannot possibly handle even the implication of putting his mouth on something Kon has put his mouth on. Like, ever.

Ever.

“You sure?” Kon asks, grinning slyly around his straw at him. “It’s pretty tasty.”

Tim is a very, very weak man.

“Maybe just a sip,” he says.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #young just us #young justice #rinfic #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon #long post

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doodoodinklefart · 4 months ago

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okAYYYY so ive been planning this au for literally forever and i couldnt get white diamond satoru and black sapphire suguru out of my head... ive seen a couple other hnk x jjk aus floating around but i wanted to take a crack at it!! i'll just explain these three + the setting for now cuz theres a bunch of other shit brewing in my head LOLOL honestly hnk and jjk are pretty different themes-wise i feel so i couldnt rlly help changing a lot abt the world LMAO

in this au its not just a couple gems in the school, there's a bit more of a society and structure outside of it. there are still the three major "clans" though maybe more like major cliffs?? lol?? that the gems are formed in that produce a much higher frequency of strong, high quality gems. i imagine that before the idea of working together (modern jujutsu society) had come about, gems fought to have control of these spots to assure that they would have those to protect them from lunarians (aka curses we're playing a bit fast and loose here). while there were many attempts to merge the clans, the fighting was more a waste of time if anything, so they stayed separate. jujutsu high in this au would probably just be the school, a set of gems that are trained to always be ready to dispatch lunarians and protect tengen (who is the prayer machine here), who has basically been dormant.

and THATS where we get to white diamond. i wanna say while diamonds are p common irl, its rare here for there to be a fully formed diamond lustrous that actually has inclusions. while there have been extremely strong lustrous born from the gojo cliff, white diamond is the first diamond in several centuries, filling a vacancy after others had been taken away to the moon. not only that, he's got special eyes too!! im thinking he can see sunspots from far away, or maybe can tell artificial gems from real ones, like being able to see their inclusions or something. probably both!! either way he has to wear special blackout glasses during the day. his eyes are really reflective so he can work at night too, but that often leaves him restless.

white diamond—in his mind at least—is untouchable, and really it may as well be true. due to the combat training that he's gone through and his hardness of 10, he has never sustained so much as a scratch. he had a tendency to break all of his sparring partners back home, and thus he feels he's hit a brick wall with his training, and that the only things that will come close to putting up a challenge are likely lunarians. he doesn't really care much for weaker gems at this point, and is eager to finally fight lunarians for once. eventually, he is sent off to the school to begin what he would call "actually worthwhile" training.

black sapphire, on the other hand, was born practically from nowhere, in a unremarkable place with little more than himself and a few other older gems that were around to help shape him. with a hardness of 9, he was the strongest among them and—after his first dangerous encounter with lunarians—he realized he had an obligation to protect the rest of them. his strength often leaves him feelings alienated, as he normally ends up working alone for fear of other being taken away. i wanna figure out how to incorporate his ct better but for now ill just keep thinking about it. for now, it was probably his strength that got his scouted and sent to the school.

boulder opal, or just opal, is in training as a doctor at the school, and shows extreme promise. her lax attitude reveals none of her medical prowess, especially when it comes to gems with missing pieces. she has a particularly good eye for finding missing shards, or finding pieces that she can replace missing shards with. there's nothing she can do if their inclusions reject the replacement, however. maybe she has a way of resonating with the other's inclusions to speed healing up on bigger points of damage?? idk ill figure it out

ANYWAYYY this is getting super long so i'll end this shortly BUT!!! basically, white diamond, with black sapphire (who he calls saph), and opal are all training under yaga sensei (idk what kind of gem he would be yet LOL). diamond, at first, sees opal and saph as weak, but quickly realizes they have their own feats. saph in particular is the first lustrous that has ever made sparring fun, because while he's less durable his combat skills make up for it tenfold. maybe black sapphire is the first to ever leave a break on white diamond who knows... opal is probably always having to put the two back together. theyve never lost to a lunarian before, and have certainly never come close to being taken to the moon. these two are the strongest together, and each finally feel like they have a place to belong.

alsooo..... they do get a mission to escort a "star plasma vessel" of sorts. tengen slowly erodes over the years and needs a compatible lustrous to replace their missing pieces. boleite (riko) happens to be that gem, and diamond and saph need to escort her.... lmaoaoao now i have to design riko, toji and kuroi...

#hnk x jjk au #that will be the tag for all this i guess LOL #i do plan to design yuji and the rest!! and explain all of the rest of my thoughts #i rlly wanna get into the changes ive had to make to lunarians and their relation to tengen and gems.. its way different from hnk i cant li #either way im super excited to flesh out more of this!! sorry its so long what the hell #honestly im particularly excited to explore admirabilis mahito lolol...#also i didnt know where to put this but maybe yaga makes cursed corpses out of discarded gem pieces LOL #geto suguru #gojo satoru #shoko ieiri #sashisu #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanart #jujutsu kaisen crossover #houseki no kuni #houseki no kuni fanart #hnk #hnk fanart #land of the lustrous

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stevieharringtonwifeguy · 2 years ago

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i keep thinking about my changeling steve au that i posted about here like. What About His Parents

this ended up so long i put it on ao3 too, you can read it here

like steves known he’s a changeling for a few months now, and in that time his parents still haven’t come home. he hasn’t really thought about it, except during his weekly scheduled 3am identity crisis. eddie’s told him that based on what he knows about changelings (just from old stories and things, neither he nor wayne have ever actually met one, which makes him kind of useless as a guru but like. points for trying), their human parents usually have a human baby that gets replaced and they don’t notice until the kid grows up Wrong. honestly, it figures that his parents just never got around to noticing.

at least that’s what he thinks. but one day, he’s walking past his dad’s office, struggling to carry a huge pile of laundry bc he put it off too long and ended up having to wash like literally every piece of clothing he owns. and a tshirt slips right as he passes the door. he reaches out for it on instinct, brushes his hand against the handle, and it hurts. hurts so bad he drops his laundry, instinctively drawing his hand in to cradle the pain. did he overestimate his strength again? he’s been doing that a lot lately, kind of embarrassing to break his hand or something punching a doorknob by accident. but then he looks at his hand, and he doesn’t have the kind of mark he’d expect from just whacking it really hard. it’s red and shiny, like a burn in the exact shape of the doorknob

it’s an iron burn. none of the other knobs in the house are iron.

honestly of all the restrictions placed on him now that he’s become Fully Fae, he thought the iron sensitivity would come up more often. turns out not much is made of iron anymore. all the other doorknobs he’s touched have been aluminum or brass or something. so far the whole ‘needing to be invited in to places’ has been way more annoying. the kids don’t know about the whole fae thing yet and also have no manners, so he’s been doing a lot of loitering outside their open doors until their parents notice and politely invite him in.

he looks at the doorknob again. it doesn’t look like iron. it looks like all the other knobs in the house, sort of light and shiny. he brings his hand near it again, and he can feel the heat coming off it before his skin even touches the metal.

he’s not allowed in his dad’s office. it’s one of the few rules his parents ever enforced, his dad glaring at him if steve happened to be in the hall when he opened the door, like he thought steve would try to make a run into the room in the three seconds of open door time he was given. steve could take a hint, even as a kid.

now though, there’s something prickling at the base of his skull, that new sense he has for something being wrong screaming at him that it’s certainly odd that the one room in the house that he’s not allowed to enter is also the one room in the house with a door he can’t physically touch.

he does what any reasonable fairy would do. abandons his gigantic pile of laundry on the floor and runs downstairs to call a witch.

eddie shows up about five minutes earlier than he reasonably should have, which probably wasn’t magic but instead him fucking flooring it the entire way to steve’s house. he’s got a big messenger bag over his shoulder, and he pulls a smaller bag out of it and displays the bunch of weird bent pins inside with a conspiratorial eyebrow wiggle

‘i have literally always been looking for an excuse to use these. you’re my hero, stevie.’

steve snorts and leads eddie upstairs. the witch kindly doesn’t mention the laundry strewn all over the hallway, just kicks a pair of (clean!!!!) boxers out of the way and kneels down in front of the door, inspecting the knob closely.

‘it doesn’t look like iron.’

‘tell that to my hand, man. i spent the entire time you were driving over here running my hand under cold water and it still fucking hurts.’

eddie hums, absentmindedly grabbing steve’s hand as he continues to squint at the knob. he runs his thumb over the burn mark and the pain is instantly gone.

steve looks at his hand. it’s totally fine, no mark at all. ‘thanks,’ he says, and eddie shoots him a little smile over his shoulder before turning back to the door.

‘no magic on it,’ he mutters. he brings a nail up and scratches lightly at the knob. the silver of it flakes a little, exposing something darker underneath. it’s painted. iron painted to look like the aluminum of the other knobs in the house. steve and eddie exchange frowns.

eddie quickly grabs his picks, shoves them into the lock and wiggling them around for a bit. like a while. steve’s about to tease him for his apparent lack in any actual criminal ability when something clicks, and eddie turns the door handle with a whoop. the door swings open, and eddie sniffs for a minute, like alarm magic has a scent component or something, before shrugging and rushing in.

and steve goes to follow. well, he tries. when he lifts his foot to cross the threshold of the room, something physically stops him. it’s like a strong wind is coming out of the room, blowing back his leg anytime it gets too close. eddie looks back at him in confusion, before his eyes land on something on the doorjamb and his face falls into something cold. steve follows his line of sight and his heart stops for a second.

there’s a small horseshoe nailed to the doorjamb.

until now, steve realises he’d been hoping there was a reasonable explanation for the iron handle. maybe when they were building the house the store ran out of aluminum ones so his dad just got an iron one because it looked the most similar, something like that. but there’s no reason for the horseshoe. no reason except that someone wanted to keep fae out of this room. which means whoever put it there knew fae entering this room was a risk.

his parents fucking knew what he was. they just never said or did anything about it. nothing except block off this room.

eddie shifts a little in the middle of the room. ‘steve?’ he asks. his voice is soft, hesitant, like he’s trying not to spook a wild animal. ‘are you okay?’

steve wrenches his eyes away from the horseshoe, focusses on his feet. when he catches a glimpse of his clenched fists by his hips, he realises he’s glowing again, sparks dancing up and down his veins and lighting him up from the inside like a human lava lamp. well, not so human. that’s the problem.

he takes a deep breath to get his magic under control before he accidentally lights something on fire. looks up to eddie, still standing in the middle of the office like he doesn’t know what to do. ‘he’s hiding something in here. find it.’

part of steve, the human part, feels bad for ordering his friend around like that. but eddie just nods with determination, rooting around in his bag for something.

‘i’m not sensing any secrecy charms or alarms or anything in here, which means i can use...’ he takes a travel mug out of the bag and brandishes it with a flourish. ‘this!’

steve snorts. ‘a cup of coffee?’

eddie rolls his eyes, shaking the mug for a second and then opening it to check on the contents. ‘it’s a brewed spell. it shows hidden things.’

‘and you put it in a travel mug?’

‘oh i’m sorry, i was running a little low on fuckin’. crystal flasks. what the hell else was i supposed to put it in?’

‘i just thought with your whole... satanist metalhead deal you’d be a little more dedicated to the witchy aesthetic.’

eddie huffs, grumbles something that sounds suspiciously like i’ll show you witchy aesthetic, before upending the travel mug onto the floor.

what comes out isn’t really liquid, more like the soupy fog that comes out of a fog machine, except it’s a pleasant sage green colour. the fog quickly covers the whole room, before seeming to pool in two areas: one under the desk and another over the little throw rug in the middle of the room.

‘okay, we got two hidden things, which one are we checking out first?’

steve considers. ‘the desk one is probably just boring shit. pictures of his mistress, or, i dunno, evidence of tax fraud or something. try the rug.’

eddie nods decisively, throwing back the rug and inspecting the wooden floorboards until he finds one that seems a little loose. he pulls it back with a bit of a grunt, and immediately sticks his hand down there and starts rummaging around like he wouldn’t start screaming bloody murder the second a spider touched his hand. after a moment, he makes a triumphant sound, and pulls out a book.

it looks old, maybe a hundred years or so, and steve has the fleeting thought that if nancy found out his dad had been keeping a fragile antique book under the floorboards, she’d probably rip him that new one she’s been threatening since steve brought her to a family dinner and his dad called her ‘lower middle class’ like it was a bad thing.

‘it’s a grimoire,’ eddie says, sitting cross-legged on the floor and gently opening the book. at steve’s confused silence, he adds, ‘a spellbook. sort of. looks like this one isn’t a witch’s grimoire, it’s mostly human magic, judging by the table of contents.’

‘i thought regular humans couldn’t do magic.’

‘they can’t do like, spells. but there’s little stuff, especially when it comes to dealing with other creatures. like, uh,’ a pained look crosses his face as he inclines his head to the horseshoe still denying steve entry. ‘the horseshoe. technically magic. if they’d just hung it for like, decoration, it wouldn’t keep you out. there’s gotta be intent behind it.’

steve huffs, glaring at the horseshoe. ‘so what, they figured out i was a changeling and they got a whole book to figure out how to herd me like a sheep?’

eddie winces at steve’s tone, but hey, who can blame him. this is a lot. ‘maybe. there’s a lot of stuff about fae in here. descriptions of types, etiquette stuff, protections- oh shit.’

steve snaps his head back to eddie, who’s currently staring at the book like a spider’s just crawled out of the binding. then he seems to gather himself, muttering furiously under his breath as he flips through the pages, no more care shown for the book’s antiquity. ‘what is it?’

eddie settles on a page towards the back of the book, reading through with a furious look on his face. he gets up, walks over to steve still standing helplessly in the doorway, and thrusts the book towards him. steve looks down.

the words are a little hard to read, handwritten with spidery loops and the ink a little faded, but steve eventually gets the gist.

it’s instructions for summoning a changeling child.

steve, stupid, forgiving steve, thinks for a moment that this isn’t so bad. maybe his parents couldn’t have biological kids or something and this seemed like their only option. weird to not just adopt a human child, but whatever. and then he reads the paragraph extolling the virtues of having a changeling in the house- how they bring good luck, how they have a nose for finding treasures, and he realises no. his parents never wanted a kid (like he didn’t already know that), they wanted a superpowered pet. the final nail in the coffin is when he reads that the summoning process involves a human child, too. they’d had their own kid at one point, biologically or adopted, and they’d traded them in for a newer, more exciting model probably without a second thought.

and then they’d abandoned the newer model too.

steve barely even realises when he sets the book on fire, the glow that’s been simmering under his skin since he first saw the horseshoe spilling out from his fingertips in a shower of sparks. eddie doesn’t even really react, just calmly bats the flaming book out of steve’s hands and uses one of the sweaters littering the ground to smother the fire. he doesn’t mention the way the lights are flickering, pulsing light so strongly they’re in danger of blowing out. just softly wraps his arms around steve’s torso, murmuring gentle words into the crook of his neck as he strokes his hair.

the first tears that fall from steve’s eyes dissolve into harmless sparks of light against eddie’s shoulder. eddie doesn’t seem to mind, just keeps stroking steve’s hair as he whispers that it’s okay, eddie’s there, eddie’s got him.

steve doesn’t know how long they stand there like that. when he pulls back to wipe his eyes, his light-tears are still hanging in the air around them like an asteroid belt made of hundreds of little still fireflies. eddie pokes one. it glows brighter.

rubbing his face, steve sighs, waves the lights away with a motion of his hand. eddie looks put out for a second, before catching the determined look in steve’s eye and watching him warily.

‘what are you going to do?’ he asks, a little apprehensively.

‘i’m going to call my dad,’ steve replies, stalking off towards the stairs before eddie can even get out a strangled ‘okay?’

steve’s already punched in the number for his dad’s office by the time eddie catches up. his secretary picks up, asks who’s calling, and steve musters all the charm he can to try and convince her to put him through. she usually doesn’t, apologetically explains that his dad’s in a meeting, or out of the office, or swamped with work, or a hundred other excuses, but that she’ll tell him steve called and he’ll get back to him as soon as possible. he never does. steve’s not sure if she knows that; the guilt in her voice could just as easily be because she’s sleeping with him and feels bad for ruining their ‘perfect family’.

either way, steve’s not taking chances. he’s never tried to magically charm someone over the phone before, doesn’t even do it much in person either, it feels skeevy (although he has gotten out of a suspicious amount of detentions, even before he fully came into his magic. whoops.). but wouldn’t you know, this time she says he’s called at the perfect time, his dad’s just got out of a meeting and she’s sure he’d be thrilled to hear from his loving son. steve has to physically bite back a cutting remark as she puts him through.

for all his rage, steve doesn’t really remember much of this conversation. he talks like he’s in a fugue state, his brain packing everything away into some dark corner of his mind the second after it’s said, focussing instead on the way eddie’s face gets steadily more distressed where he can see it out of the corner of his eye.

he knows he asks his dad to come home so they can talk about something important. he knows his dad scoffs, tells him he can’t possibly come home right now and steve can’t possibly have anything to say that’s so important he can’t say it over the phone. knows he tells his dad he found the book under the floorboards. knows the silence on the other end of the phone is so loud it’s deafening.

the rest of it is fuzzy. honestly, it probably goes exactly how he expected it was going to go. there’s some yelling, some accusations, his dad calls him a disappointment once or ten times. and at the end of it his dad tells him if he’s going to be so ungrateful he can pack his bags and get out of the house the real harringtons are paying for.

eddie hangs up the phone for him when he hears that. hard not to hear it, the way harrington sr. is screaming through the phoneline. if steve tried hard enough, he could probably still hear him yelling all the way from indianapolis, and he probably wouldn’t even need to use magic.

they stand in silence for a moment. steve staring at the phone, eddie staring at steve. and then steve feels an itch under his skin.

he’s no longer welcome in this house.

he’s got a couple minutes before the nausea sets in, probably, so he books it upstairs to fit as much of his shit in his sports bag as he can fit. it’s mainly clothes. god knows he doesn’t give a shit about any of the things his parents- no, mr. and mrs. harrington- picked out for his perfect boy’s room. there’s the walkie, a couple gifts from the kids. that’s it.

and then he’s out, stumbling a little over the threshold when the magic finally locks in and physically boots him from the house. eddie’s following behind, frantically grabbing his bag and his jacket as he shouts for steve’s attention.

‘what, you’re just gonna leave? immediately? you can take more time to get your stuff-’

‘no,’ steve says, the word ripping itself from his throat, short and harsh. ‘‘no i can’t actually. don’t have an invitation.’

and isn’t that look on eddie’s face heartbreaking. steve doesn’t want to cry out here- it’s a little early for firefly season and the lights would get too much attention. so he throws his bags in the backseat of the beamer, gets in the driver’s seat, and just. sits for a second.

eddie gets in next to him, gives him a gentle look. ‘are you alright?’

steve snorts, giving eddie a side-eye.

‘yeah, okay, fair,’ eddie replies with a weak huff of a laugh. ‘you got a plan?’

shit. no he didn’t, actually. ‘i mean, worst comes to worst, i guess i could sleep in a tree? i just figured out how to get in one, pretty good timing, huh?’

eddie looks at him like he’s grown a second head. not impossible, but steve thinks he’d notice. ‘sleep in a tree? what the hell does that mean?’

steve shrugs. ‘like, just climb inside. it’s kinda like putting on a jacket, really, but like. 360 degrees. could probably only do that to sleep, though, i haven’t really figured out how to not like, become the tree. And trees don’t really do anything, so it just makes me sleepy.’

eddie continues to stare at him a second before he shakes his head dramatically, like a dog getting out of a bath. steve huffs a laugh despite himself. ‘whatever, don’t sleep in a tree man, that’s crazy. you can stay at mine, if you want.’

‘what?’

eddie shrugs. ‘i mean, it’s no 360 degree jacket, but it’s nice. lots of amenities that trees don’t offer: shower, stove, tv, et cetera.’

‘that’s-’ that’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever offered him. eddie’s looked out for him since he came into his magic, and they’re friends, yeah, but this is... so much. he’s been to eddie’s place, knows he doesn’t have a lot of space, but he’s still offering to share it with steve, so easily it’s like it’s not even a question whether he’s welcome. steve can’t accept. ‘what about wayne?’

eddie just snorts. ‘dude, excepting, like, me being his nephew/adopted son whom he loves dearly, he likes you like. way better than me. you’re the little sports son he never had. frankly if he found out you’d been kicked out and i didn’t offer to give you a place to stay he’d probably kick me out. well, no he wouldn’t. but he would give me that ‘im not mad im just disappointed’ look and that sucks too.’

‘you’d do that?’ and steve hates how small his voice sounds right now. he’s had a day.

but eddie just looks at him with those big, gentle eyes of his. says ‘of course’ like there’s no other response he could give. so steve smiles. thanks him softly, and drives them to the munson trailer. neither of them mention the firefly-tears that fill the car like fairy lights strung from the ceiling.

and they get to the trailer. eddie offers steve his bed, and they argue good-naturedly about it until they both give up and settle in together, eddie petting steve’s hair as they cuddle in a way that’s probably not all that platonic, but neither of them seem to care. it’s nice. soft.

it’s ruined a bit when eddie sits bolt upright with a ‘shit! my van’s still in loch nora!’ but the way they both laugh so hard they can’t breathe is nice too.

steve’s only been here for a few hours, and he’s already never felt more at home.

and here’s the tags! this is literally the first time anyone has asked me to tag them for more, thank you for making me feel like a celebrity lol

@fairytalesreality @swimmingbirdrunningrock

#a couple other people expressed interest in reading more but didnt specifically ask for a tag so. sorry if u wanted one didnt wanna spam #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fae!steve au #stranger things #my fics

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sunsetmaidenwrites · 1 month ago

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Hi!

A no pressure ask game to make the tags less depressing lol.

Rules: Share a snippet from whatever you’re currently working on, and then tag 5 people.

Fun! I love doing these. Thank you for thinking of me @jemgirl86 !

I'm currently 'interviewing' movies to do au's of after I finish "Kindergarten Tracker"--which means I've watched several movies and jotted down scenes and dialogue as I try to decide which one to do next. The following snippet is from one of the contenders.

No pressure tagging @questinwitchface @siancore @cobrafantasies @exbex @thatmexisaurusrex (If anyone else wants to do it, consider yourself tagged or shoot me a message and I'll add you in!)

*****

“That’s my couch. That’s my coffee table," the other man practically growled. Bucky watched one muscular arm sweep outward as if he was on The--freakin’—Price is Right. The stranger’s expression turned grim, dark eyes narrowing dangerously. “Wait. Is that a ring? On my coffee table? The hell, man? You left a ring on my coffee table? Unbelievable! Have you never heard of a coaster? Or a trash can for that matter?” He glanced around, throwing both hands up in the most adorable fit of pique Bucky had ever seen. Weird, because he did not want to find anything about this obnoxious guy adorable right now. He didn’t get a chance to examine the feeling as the man rattled on. “You know what? I don’t care who you are or what you’re going through. You’re gonna clean this mess up. Breaking in here. Leaving rings on other people’s property. You’re not crazy, you’re rude as hell, that’s what you are. Well, not here. Not today. I don’t think so. And before you even think about arguing, I can take you, so don’t.”

“You? Take me? Please,” Bucky scoffed, tempted to roll his sleeves up and go. Though this whole exchange had been amusing in the most bizarre of ways, he was officially over it and ready for this asshole to get out of his apartment.

“Yeah, I can. I mean look at you.”

“What do you mean,” he scowled, extending his fingers to do air quotation marks. “Look at me. I’m wiry. I have wiry strength. Just because I’m not all big and buff and rippling-”

“Wait, so now I’m big and buff and what was that last one? Rippling?”

Why did he look so amused? It annoyed Bucky how amused he looked. “What?”

“No, nothing. That’s just good to know, that you find me, rippling. That’s a good adjective. Rippling.”

His haughty expression was doing nothing for Bucky’s pissy mood. “Oh, come on! That’s not what I meant. Quit putting words in my mouth.”

“Those are literally the words that were already in your mouth. Verbatim.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t mean it like that. Like you’re hot or something. All I meant was appearances can be deceiving. I’m cut. Stronger than I look.”

“Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t. Doesn’t matter either way, really.” The other man shrugged like an asshole. “All that beer, I bet your reflexes are shit right now.”

“Quit making me sound like an alcoholic!”

“You literally smell like a brewery. What’s that scent you’re wearing? Oh, Cheetos and ale, got it.”

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sambucky fic #sam wilson x bucky barnes #sunsetmaidenwrites #my fic #answers #fic ideas #tag games #my writing #sambucky fanfic

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zirobitches · 1 year ago

Text

One Piece: Soulmate AU pt. 2

Always in this twilight - Sir Crocodile x GN!Reader

here's pt. 1

Summary: In a world where soulmates are incapable of harming each other, you just found out your captain is your soulmate because he attempted to kill you. Sadness ensues

Tags: angst no comfort, Original characters bc I needed a crew for Croc, no beta we die like Roger, reader is former's Roger pirate raised alongside Shanks & Buggy, also reader is a former slave, the Vice Admiral is Sakazuki but it is not formally mentioned, Tom's Workers are the best

word count : almost 5600. damn.

Notice: this is not a croc/reader centric plot!!!! if you wanted to make out with croc im sorry this aint it. hop over to my ao3 if you want spoilers for this universes timeline: ao3 - im sorry in advance

You evade the Navy and Crocodile for a while into the night.

Back when you had helped your crew settle into the hotel you all had noticed some individuals dressed in robes and masks - some sort of festival they had going on in Water 7.

May as well participate.

You manage to swipe a black robe and nondescript mask from a local vendor. Normally you would have paid, but you had a feeling that the Navy may have spread word to locals to keep an eye out for you.

Even with your new disguise you still didn’t feel at ease walking through the canals, so you went up.

Up the levels of Water 7 towards the top. You found a fire escape that allowed you to get to the rooftop of some hotel. You stopped and took off your mask for a moment; there were no buildings nearby taller than yours, so you felt as though no one would see you.

A warm gentle breeze brushed against your face. The view of the city at night was wondrous- warm lights glowed all across the spire city, gently illuminating the pale buildings, the midnight blue sky filled with stars and the dark seas blended with the sky on the horizon. The sight would have put a smile on your face if you could have seen it in a better situation. You replace your mask and keep moving, hopping from building to building. There was no final destination in mind, just wandering atop the city. The only thing on your mind was to keep running. Thinking about anything else would make you distracted; distractions could get you in hot water.

But you couldn’t forget your crew. They were in danger - Crocodile wanted to take them to fight Whitebeard. To be killed by Whitebeard.

You and Crocodile had planned for the crew to stay in Water 7 for three nights. You weren’t sure if that was still his plan, but it’s not as though the Marines were going to chase him out of Water 7.

You stood at the top of a building overlooking a large square, one of the first open spaces you’ve seen in Water 7 that isn’t by the shore or occupied by multiple canals. You observed the space watching as some locals walked through going about their day.

Running errands, taking leisurely strolls, leaving their day job.

Why did you choose this life?

You could have settled down - Dressrosa was always your favorite place if you ever ‘retired’ like you joked you would.

A quaint, beautiful kingdom with a fair ruler. Fairies and flowers. It’s literally the place of your dreams, the kind you dreamed of when you ran out of reasons to keep going, back when you were in chains.

Why did you stay on the seas after Roger left?

Because you loved being a pirate?

Or because you didn’t have the strength to live alone?

A voice takes you out of your contemplation. Your eyes that had been gazing upon the locals' little lives now locked onto a silhouette you could never mistake.

Crocodile had entered the square.

And he carried something in his arms.

How you had tried to run away from your captain and ended up running into him anyway made you feel stupid. Without a doubt, it was odd that Croc was in the middle of Water 7. There should have been no inclination that you went this direction. So what was he doing here?

Crocodile was calling out to a group of Marines in the square that you hadn’t noticed. Even from your high vantage point you recognized the same Vice Admiral from before among them. Your position made it hard to make out what they were saying, so as quickly and quietly as you could, you jumped onto the lower building next to yours.

It was dark enough that with your black robe you shouldn’t be easily seen. By the time you had yourself better positioned, Crocodile had met in the middle of the square with the Marines. During your move, Marines had closed off the square, forcing local residents to evacuate the premises. God forbid they acknowledge their cooperation with pirates.

But then from your new vantage point you finally saw what your captain was carrying.

It was a dead body.

It was certainly not the first time you had seen him kill someone - and you knew he had killed this person because of their desiccated corpse; dried out in his signature fashion.

But it was the first time you had seen him carry a body so tenderly.

And the first time you had seen a dead body wear your clothes.

“I found them.” Crocodile’s deep voice clearly reached your ears. A chill went down your spine at his implication.

The body was supposed to be you. At closer inspection, the body he had had a similar skin tone and hair color as yours - if you had been dried out maybe. You’re not sure how he planned to explain the change of clothes - the body wore some clothes you had planned to wear during your stay here and had brought to the hotel.

But then again, Marines weren’t very clever.

Your captain dropped the corpse at their feet. Some of them backed away in disgust as parts of the corpse crumbled away at the impact. The Vice Admiral simply looked down with disdain.

“You were supposed to bring them in alive. No pirate affiliated with Gold Roger should be allowed to evade proper judgment.” The Vice Admiral’s words were laced with poison. You could feel his hatred from your hiding place.

Your hands clenched at his mention of the Roger pirates. Your old crew weren’t bad people - you had encountered plenty of truly evil pirates, and the crew of the Oro Jackson were far from evil.

Crocodile ignored the Vice Admiral. “You got what you wanted in the end though. A dead Roger pirate, courtesy of your new Pirate Warlord. Put that in the papers and you’ll have a field day with the celebrations. They might even give you a medal.”

You flinched at memories stirred up by the newspaper comment. For the past three years since Roger’s death you’ve seen some of your former crewmates names end up in the paper - articles about their capture and subsequent execution. Crocodile was very aware of your history, of how close you were to your old crew.

He had seen your sorrow once when you happened to be in a civil town when the news of one such loss hit the papers. How you had struggled to hold back tears while civilians laughed and celebrated ‘one less dangerous pirate’. How you shut yourself away that night. How you kept your distance from your new crew for weeks after.

And now here you two were.

Still the older Marine was not pleased. “I’m surprised you killed your first mate. Aren’t you pirates supposed to have a code that prevents you from doing so? How am I supposed to know this is actually their body?” The Vice Admiral did have a good point. A mummified corpse was hard to identify, it could be anyone. Apparently the Marines were more clever than you gave them credit for.

But before Crocodile could defend himself, there was a small commotion at one end of the square.

“Hey, no civilians allowed!” A marine was blocking someone from entering. A familiar someone. You felt your heart sink like a stone.

It was Tink.

Tink, one of the four that was part of Croc’s crew before you joined. Tink, the Neverland pirates' loyal shipwright. Tink, who was so young, a teenager that you had grown to see like your little sister.

She shouldn’t be a pirate. And she shouldn’t be here now.

“Let me through! That’s my captain!” She cried out. Crocodile looked back at her. You saw him clench his jaw - in anger? Or in dread?

You knew Crocodile was always more gentle with Tink. She was the kid of the crew, everyone loved her. And now she was caught in the middle of negotiations with him and the Navy. And she was about to see a dead body that was supposed to be you.

“Tink,” you whispered, unable to keep the words inside. “Tink, please go. It can’t be you, anyone but you, please.”

But Crocodile was in need of someone who could back his claim that the dead body was yours.

You didn’t know if he had told the crew about what had happened - his acceptance of the Warlord title, his offering you to the Navy, about you two being…

You two being-

He didn’t tell them. Sir Crocodile would certainly have taken this burden alone. He always kept secrets from you, and this was not something he would have shared with them. There was a possibility he ran into the crew when he went to retrieve your clothes from the hotel. But you imagined he snuck in and out - being able to turn into sand made things like that a breeze.

So in short, Tink was about to walk into this square surrounded by Marines, see a corpse that could only have been killed by Crocodile, dressed in your clothes.

You were frozen in place as you watched Crocodile beckon Tink towards him.

It felt like an out of body experience. Maybe you had died. Maybe he did kill you and this was your soul punished to not be able to do anything but stand by and watch your family fall apart again.

She walked past the Marines to him - gods, she looked so small from this height. Tink has never looked younger in your eyes than she did now.

Tink paused.

She had finally caught sight of the body on the ground.

A whisper of your name passed her lips.

You had to cover your mouth to hide the sob that threatened to escape.

A louder question of your name now. Then she ran past Crocodile who stood motionless. He didn’t watch.

Tink fell to her knees beside the body. Her eyes ran up and down and then carefully, so very carefully, touched the arm of the body. It fell apart in her hands.

She gasped a sob out, then started crying fully. She kept reaching out to grab the body - your body - but would then flinch back in fear of it crumbling away. Tink ended up wrapping her arms around herself to prevent from touching ‘you’ and just wailed.

This clear display of grief seemed to satisfy the Vice Admiral.

“Hmmm. I knew you wanted this title badly Sir Crocodile, but I’m still surprised at how far you were willing to go.” Crocodile still had not turned to face Tink and the body and had instead pulled out one of his cigars and set it alight. The smoke hid his face from your sight.

Tink’s grief stuttered in response to the Marine’s words.

“W-What?” She looked up at the Vice Admiral who only met her tear stained face with contempt and a small smirk. Tink then turned her head to Crocodile, who had finally mustered the decency to face what he had done.

“Captain, it can’t be true.” Her voice, broken though it was, still carried through the square. You saw some of the Marines forming the barricade uncomfortably shifting in place. Some just stared at the ground.

“Did you do this?” It could not have been clearer that it was his handiwork, but you understood denial very well. It was a strange feeling to see grief from the outside like this.

“Did you really kill our first mate? After everything?” She cried up at him, still on her knees on the ground, but now she sat in between your body and him as though she was trying to prevent him from getting closer to you.

“And for what?! A fucking title? A little more power?” Tink was yelling now, screaming even with tears and snot still running down her face.

“They loved you more than anyone else on our ship!”

You gasped at that, tears freely falling now behind your mask, hands tight against it to prevent the crowd below from hearing. You never thought your admiration was noticeable - hell, you hadn’t even fully realized you were in love with Crocodile till today.

But Tink did. The crew had known.

The force of Tink’s words hit Crocodile the hardest. He flinched back at Tink’s scream, a small step back as though she had actually hit him.

“They would have given you the world! Why couldn’t that have been enough?”

“Why aren’t we enough for you?”

These last gut wrenching words seemed to drain Tink’s strength. She fully fell to the ground now, head to the ground, entire body shaking with her grief.

Crocodile could do nothing but stand and stare at the mess at his feet.

Through your tears you noticed movement near where Tink had entered the square. You looked, and let out a quiet sob.

It was the crew. Not the whole crew, but your original crew.

There were four people who accompanied Crocodile before you: Tink the child shipwright, Diat the purple-haired helmsman, Kalmia the mute sharpshooter, and Rutako the fishman navigator. It was an odd crew to begin with, a group of individuals you would not have assumed were related in any fashion, but quickly grew to see their friendship.

You grew to love them.

They were the first family you found outside of the Roger pirates, and you had wanted to run from them. Wanted to run so if things fell apart as they did in front of you now, you wouldn’t have to feel the pain.

Was that really just last night you had wished for that?

Now all you want is to run to them.

But you had just been declared dead - Crocodile has gone and killed a random civilian to fake your death. If you ran out now you could prevent him from becoming a Warlord. Rejoin with your crew. It's not as though Crocodile could kill you - but the Marines could.

To reveal Crocodile’s deception would be to risk the safety of everyone you loved. It would begin an instant fight to the death, one your crew was heavily outnumbered for. No party would walk away without losses.

As it stands now, the only thing that will be hurt tonight would be the Neverland pirates. The crew would certainly fall apart with you, their beloved first mate, dead; killed by your own captain no less. Maybe this is how your crew would be saved from Whitebeard. As foolish as Sir Crocodile may be, even he surely wouldn’t fight Whitebeard without an entire crew to back him.

And this was your chance to escape. Leave it all behind, get rid of all attachments so you could never feel this pain again.

You watch as your original crew find Tink and the body. Watch as Rutako gently takes Tink into his arms. Watch as Diat starts to interrogate his captain for answers. Watch as Kalmia tries to keep their composure since they know the danger of being surrounded by the Navy, but still notice the way they begin to shake.

Diat was furious. “I’m not an idiot Captain, it is clear as day that you did this, but I just can’t figure why in the hell you would kill your own first mate.”

Crocodile is now appearing unfazed by it all, seemingly detached from the world around him. “They were going to try a mutiny in response to my new title as Warlord. They were the one who instigated a fight between us. I had no choice in the matter: it was me or them.”

Tink, who had been crying into Rutako’s shoulder, looked up at this. “That Marine said you killed them, in order to become a Warlord!”

The Vice Admiral who had been watching the scene as if it was normal to him, snorted at Tink’s call out. But Crocodile continued to back his lie. “They were going to betray me because I’ve already accepted that title. And now they are dead. There’s no way to change what’s been done.” He fixed Tink with an icy glare.

“Now get over it.”

Diat would never let anyone talk to your crew like that, not even Crocodile. You had seen him angry before, but now he was truly incensed. “They were our family! How fucking dare you tell us that!”

During all this commotion, a couple Marines walk up and begin to carry away the body. Rutako attempts to stop them, but guns are drawn on him in response. Diat points to the corpse. “Look at what you did to them. Look, you bastard! And now you’re letting them be taken by the Navy? You know what the Navy did to them! And to the people they loved!”

You can only watch as Diat finally also breaks down. “They belonged with us! Us, damnit!” Finally Kalmia interferes, setting a hand on Diat’s shoulder to pull him back. Kalmia guides him to where Tink and Rutako sat, regrouping the four of them.

Of course Sir Crocodile couldn’t allow them to grieve in peace for even a minute. “Listen up. From here on out things will be different. If I’m going to achieve my goals I need a loyal crew, not people who try to stab me in the back at the slightest thing.”

The four look up, still crying but managing to glare at their captain as well. He continues anyway, “However, if you are only going to follow me out of fear that I’ll kill you as well then I have no want for you. I need unwavering loyalty if I’m to rule the seas. This is your one chance to leave my crew without any consequence.”

The four are startled - and you as well. Mercy, after such cruelty? This was out of character for your captain, but you think you understood why.

You’re very familiar with cutting off the people you love because you love them.

They seem at a loss for an immediate response, but the Vice Admiral finally chimes in again. “Can you pirates figure out your problems elsewhere? I have better things to do tonight than listen to you all whine about some criminal getting what they deserve.”

The crew is clearly set off by this, words yelled immediately, but Crocodile steps between them and the Marine. “It’s time to go. Get up,” he commands to his crew who slowly and begrudgingly listen to him. The five walk out of the square in single file, Crocodile taking up the rear.

As they pass through the Navy barricade, Crocodile pauses, then turns and takes a glance in your direction. You duck back before he sees you, and take that as your cue to leave before anyone else notices your presence.

You don’t know how long you wandered. You recall wandering down the city, back to the shoreline. You found a small, dimly lit corner you deemed good enough for sitting in, and plopped yourself down. The adrenaline had worn off and the tears of the day had left you an empty shell of exhaustion.

You had only meant to close your eyes for a moment, have a chance to catch your breath, but you fell unconscious.

Eventually the early morning sun wakes you. It is the dawn of a new day, and you have no idea what you are going to do. Your body and heart still ache and your head pounds from dehydration.

You keep thinking about Tink and Diat.

Kalmia and Rutako.

Shanks and Buggy.

Rayleigh.

Crocodile.

The vivre cards.

That finally clicks. You can't let anyone else find those. Ditching your clothes on the ship would've been fine, but you can't leave the vivre cards. If Crocodile wants to turn in Roger pirates he has a whole free list to steal, one that'll lead him straight to them.

You have to get back to your ship.

Head pounding and vision fading temporarily as you stand, you try to orient yourself. Based on the sun’s position, you are on the north eastern side of Water 7. If you remember correctly, and if the ship hasn't been moved, your ship should be on the north western side. So not too far, but still not as close as you'd like.

So with a dry mouth and your disguise from last night still on, you make your way to your ship.

You find it docked where you left it. Sails tied up, anchored down, in pristine condition. And hopefully, empty.

You still didn't know what happened after your crewmates left the square last night. If any of the crew was still intact. If they were still alive.

When the ship docks most of the crew are typically thrilled to sleep in some fancy hotel with their own beds, but after the events of last night some may have left the hotel to stay on the ship.

The only way to find out was to look. You walked up the plank to the deck.

It was empty. Just as you had left it. No one at the crow’s nest, no one at the bow.

Then you went below deck to the cabins. No snores were behind any doors, and no sounds of pots and pans from the kitchen.

You finally arrived at your quarters and quietly opened your door.

There, on your bed, was a curled up tiny Tink.

You immediately went still, freezing every muscle, holding your breath.

She was out cold.

You slowly walked towards her. She clutched your pillow, burying her face into it. Short blonde hair stuck up on her head, tussled from her slumber. You wanted to reach out and fix it, but you had your priorities.

You walked to your dresser. Middle drawer, back left side, under some old t-shirts. The vivre box.

You grabbed it then began to quietly look around your old room. You spotted an old backpack of yours. You decided to take just a couple things, not too much so Tink wouldn't notice, but a couple old things that wouldn't be missed.

A couple of those old shirts, some pants that hadn't been worn in a while. Other little mementos and old knick knacks.

You paused after almost filling the bag and stared at a sword hanging by your door. It was your main weapon, gifted to you by the man who taught you to use it.

It was one of the few things you still had from your time on the Oro Jackson after Roger left.

You grabbed it, hoped Tink wasn't planning on taking it as a keepsake, and holstered it.

While doing a last sweep for things as Tink slept, you paused in front of your mirror. It was the first time you had looked at yourself wearing the mask since you grabbed it. The cloak hid your body entirely. You would never have recognized yourself.

In the mirror you notice it. It had been hanging around your neck for so long you hardly noticed its presence, its absence was more noticeable to you - it had been there that long. A necklace that matched ones around the necks of the other original five crewmates. A chain that hung a ring, a ring far too big for anyones hands. Except for your captains.

Years ago there had been a challenge to steal one of your captains rings. You at first claimed it was a stupid endeavor. Then when Diat showed off the ring he snagged, your old competitive streak came back. You managed to sneak one off Croc’s hands - no one was sure how you managed it, not even yourself. Then Kalmia got one, then Rutako, and finally, Tink. You all had succeeded and ended up keeping them as mementos. It became a symbol of the “first five” as other crewmates like to call you. Crocodile never asked for them back.

Now you stared at it hanging from your neck. Your hand clutched it, the cool metal burning your palm now. You wanted to tear it off, maybe leave it with Tink. But then you turned to look at her, still asleep on your bunk.

The rings no longer belonged to the captain. They belonged to you.

But you couldn’t leave your crew like this. You needed a way to say goodbye to your family.

You left your room, quietly closing the door behind you. You snuck into the captain's office - also empty - and grabbed a blank paper and pen. A letter would work. A letter that allowed you to say goodbye to your crew and warn them about battling Whitebeard.

After trying to compose your thoughts, and a couple discarded drafts, you ended up with this:

Dear Tink,

If you are reading this it means I have left the crew. I am sorry that it happened like this, but I simply cannot stand by Sir Crocodile any longer if this is the path he has chosen. I imagine my departure may cause some of the crew to want to leave as well, but do not be mistaken, I have no aspirations of being a captain myself.

This letter is a goodbye and a warning. The captain believes he can defeat Whitebeard. Apparently that’s part of his deal as a Warlord with the Navy. Let me clear: he has no chance of winning. Please don’t let him drag you and the rest of the crew to their deaths; it will be a massacre of the Neverland Pirates. whitebeard and my Captain Roger were lifelong rivals, I witnessed several of their battles last days on end. Whitebeard is the strongest man alive, with a fleet to match. Sir Crocodile has become delusional. If you hope to keep this letter at all, best not to tell him I said that.

If you ever reach the New World you might find me in Dressrosa. I’m not sure if I ever told you about it, but it is one of my favorite kingdoms I’ve ever been to. I believe it will be a nice retirement home for an old pirate such as myself.

I wish I had the courage to say goodbye to you and the others in person, but the truth of the matter is, I am a coward. I run when I get attached so others cannot hurt me. I understand the irony of hurting the ones I care about, but unfortunately this is my true nature.

I love you Tink. Thank you for being my family the past few years.

Your former first mate,

And then you signed your name on the letter with a shaky hand. It’s hard to write legibly with watery eyes.

You felt bad for not leaving a note for the others, but you knew that Tink would need this the most. You walked to Tink’s usual sleeping quarters, folded up the paper and stuck it under her pillow with just a corner peeking out with the hope she will find it.

And then, for the last time in your life, you walked off of Crocodile’s ship.

You wandered back into the streets of Water 7. You had taken your wallet from the ship as well - thanks to your years on the ship, you were pretty well off financially.

You found a street vendor in a market and grabbed something for breakfast. Eating in public didn't feel right especially with your crew still in town, so you scaled the buildings once again. Eating with a rooftop view was fun. Watching the city wake up and come to life.

You remembered visiting here before as a kid on the Oro Jackson. Apparently the man who built your ship lived on Water 7. He was a large fishman by the name of Tom.

You wondered if he still lived there.

As you pondered your situation with empty exhaustion, you noticed a news coo fly overhead. 24 hours ago it was the newspaper that started you on the path of your fabricated demise and subsequent departure from the crew.

Time to test your luck again.

You waved the bird down and it landed on the ledge in front of you. You aren't very good with animals, but if you've ever seen a bird look shocked, this was it.

You handed it the fee for the paper and it apprehensively handed you a copy, then took off with haste.

Confused, you open the paper. Then you understood the bird's reaction.

On the front of the paper was Crocodile’s face and your own. It announced the official instatement of Crocodile was one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea, and your death as a former Roger’s Pirate.

Your apathy disappeared as it all sunk in again.

Sitting on the roof, you cried as you ate your food because you knew: you were alone and no one except the man you loved and the man who tried to kill you knew you were alive.

After a couple hours of walking through town and asking locals, you found Tom’s Workers.

During your search you learned that Tom was in hot water for building the Oro Jackson and he was now building a… water train? For the government. You knew this meant he may no longer have any sympathy for Roger and his old crew, but you had no other friends in Water 7, and no plausible means of leaving. Not when your face was in the morning’s paper, announcing your death to the world.

You stood on a nearby building, the roofs of Water 7 your new temporary home, and watched the workers from a distance. Tom is hard to miss - a giant yellow fishman, hoisting and tossing heavy materials as though they were light as a feather. Working alongside him was a tall teenage boy with dark purple hair who kept yelling at a younger boy with bright blue hair.

Their quarrels only made Tom laugh, mixed in with the occasional reminder to keep on task.

You didn't really understand what they were building or how it would work, but watching them made you feel as though you were watching a scene from your childhood.

It made you miss your brothers.

You waited till nightfall to approach them. The boys had left around sunset when an older woman came by to tell them to go have dinner. You followed them at a distance and planned to wait for at least two more hours, hoping the boys would go to sleep, so you could have the chance to talk to Tom alone. But only ten minutes passed when the door opened.

You hopped back from where you had been loitering, trying to hide from the light that poured from the doorway. However the woman who opened the door only looked amused.

“Tom says to come join us for dinner.”

You stood in the shadow for a minute trying to process what she said. But knowing you were going to approach them anyways, you gave up hiding and stepped into the light.

“I don't mean to intrude. I just hoped to ask Tom for a favor.”

The woman smiled and waved you in. “Why don’t you ask him over a warm meal?”

You walked inside. It was a small space, clearly the living space of shipwrights with papers, drafts and other craftsmans things scattered about. Tom and the boys sat around a dinner table, the boys giving you an odd look - you figured your mask and robes would lift eyebrows. The woman also noticed you made no motion to take off your disguise.

“It’ll be hard to eat with a mask on.” She smiled, still trying to coerce you to the table.

“Thank you, but I already ate.” You replied, choosing to awkwardly stand in the entryway instead.

“Kokoro’s food isn’t that great but it’s warm!” The blue haired boy piped up, a goofy grin on his face. His smartass comment however earned him a smack on the back of the head by the older boy who sat beside him.

“Franky, you can’t say things like that! Have you no respect for adults?” The purple haired boy reprimanded him.

“That’s enough you two, we have a guest.” Kokoro interjected, seemingly unfazed by Franky’s insult to her cooking. “Even if you aren't hungry, you can sit beside me as they finish if you’d like.” She turned to you as she rejoined the table offering the seat next to her.

You looked at the table; Tom took up the majority of one side with Kokoro next to him, and the boys sat across from them. You would end up sitting at the end of the table Between Kokoro and Franky. You cast a glance around the home and found no other space you could possibly stay in instead as you waited, so you ended up taking her offer at the table.

Dinner resumed as it had been before you joined. The boys bickered, but both would go silent to listen as Tom told stories. He had several, all about ships he had built or pirates he had encountered. The older boy, Iceberg, would discuss schematics and plans with Tom for projects beside the Sea Train. The younger boy Franky pulled out his own plans for small warships - meant to bring down Sea Kings apparently.

Kokoro just seemed to enjoy some booze and the company at the table.

Eventually, after some odd looks from Iceberg and invasive questions from Franky, the boys went to bed, Kokoro and Tom sending them off. Kokoro ended up leaving as well, and then it was you and Tom.

“Kokoro mentioned you wanted a favor from me? Just know I’m awfully busy with the Sea Train and I don’t have time for much else.” Tom had a friendly demeanor, but you could tell your insistence on hiding your appearance from them had bothered him.

You glanced at the door to the boys’ room. “Is it okay if we stepped outside? I think it may be best to leave others out of my problems if possible.”

Tom again seemed to question what was going on, but he stepped outside anyway. A couple yards from the house you handed him this morning’s paper. You braced yourself, then asked him, “How do you feel about the news of another Roger Pirates dying?”

Tom bristled, “Look, I’ve been welcoming but I have to know who you are. If you’re another CP agent I’ve told you I-” But before he could finish you pulled off your mask.

Tom froze.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Tom. I didn’t want to come here and endanger you and your family but I’m out of options. If there’s anything you know about a way I can escape Water 7 I would be grateful.” You rambled, trying to explain you knew his situation and that you could pay him for just a schedule, someway he might know of that could help you sneak off this island, but you didn’t quite finish your thoughts.

Tom reached out to you, and you flinched, preparing for the worst. Instead, he crouched down to eye level and rested the hand on your shoulder. His eyes were sad, mouth pressed into a hard line.

“If there’s anything I can do for one of Roger’s kids, I will do it without hesitation.”

You crumpled beneath the weight of his words. The smile that stretched across Tom’s face gave you the same feeling when Roger smiled at you after he told you you were no longer a slave.

For the first time since you got to Water 7, you felt safe.

More Notes: tysm for reading!! never expected so many people to want a continuation - i knew this is where it would go when i wrote pt 1, but im sure this is a surprise for some of you. i really appreciate comments and might write a non-canon compliant au of this soulmates fic - MAYBE, do not expect anything. also i cant write smut so it would just be fluff/ angst w comfort kind of thing. get dicked down by croc elsewhere

ily all, ty again - Ziro(Bitches)

#one piece #sir crocodile #crocodile x reader #crocodile one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece x reader #soulmate au #zirowrites #x reader

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dreamsy990 · 18 days ago

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some pretty rough and bad sketches for some designs for a persona au? i also doodled a couple others but they need more cleanups than these guys do. which granted they still need a lot of cleanup. uhhhh notes under the cut for some stuff

i have the least to say about trucy. um i think her design needs the least touchups and thats only partially because drawing her was really easy with her canon design already being somewhat within the realm of persona designs. her arcana is the magician (obviously) and her persona is hermes !! idk why but it felt very fitting for her immediately. idk it might be a combination of both epics take on hermes being very silly and trucy acting as a sort of messenger sometimes to give people fake evidence. its ok guys it wasnt her fault shes literally a kid. honestly shes the only one ive decided on a persona for dfvgfedf. as for role in the party i think shed be garbage with physical stuff but have a very high magic stat because. magician !! as for what magic uhhh ill put a hesitant curse or wind. she could be either of those really.

athena i think would be the navigator. i just think it makes sense for her with her whole thing being about psychology and the general nature of palaces it seems fitting shed have that role. but while i think shed fill a similar role to futaba in being a navigator i think she would absolutely still be a party member because i cant imagine athena NOT being a party member. let the girl kill!!! i think shed mostly do physical damage and her magic type would be psychic obviously. i realize this is a haru ass build but whatever. also her arcana is strength. i considered some others but like come on shes strength. also while i was trying to come up with a persona for her i briefly realized i could just. take a pre existing persona and change their arcana TO strength instead of just working with personas that are already strength. and i was thinking of maybe giving her aphrodite? because i COMPLETELY forgot sex was a thing and was like "yeah aphrodite is about love and emotion and athenas got a lot of emphasis placed on her ability to hear others emotions and shes a psychologist so thats fitting also i cant give her athena as a persona obviously and ares isnt too fitting for her either but i remember hearing aphrodite at one point did have some association to war like athena and ares? and i was like YES aphrodite is a great choice. then i remembered the sex part and was like oh hm maybe not? but i might give her aphrodite anyways i just hope people like. get the actual reason why i think she should have aphrodite and dont just assume things. unfortunately i hate her design soooo much here i need to redo it or find some good inspiration

and nahyuta hasnt actually changed uh. much at all since my initial sketches for this au like a year ago. his arcana is the hierophant and his persona is uh. i havent actually decided yet sorry. lmk if yall have any good ideas though!! i do have a rough idea for his moveset, because i think he should have bless magic (because of course, maybe you could mix in some curse too for funsies but im worried about stepping on akechis toes too much with nahyuta dfvbgfd) obviously, and i think he could also be support. i dont think hed be much of a healer but have things like stat buffs and debuffs instead? so things like matarukaja and elec break for example. also for a vague concept of his role in the story, i think he might have a similar role to akechi, albeit probably not a villain really? my idea is that hed be working on his own in the metaverse, and eventually joins the main party because they share similar goals and its safer to work with others in the metaverse anyways. but hes probably slow to actually become part of the group in terms of like. being friends with them fbfrerfg. thats also why his design is sort of different in color palette from everyone else? all the others very mainly feature black in their designs while hes mostly white and gold. i think itd be cool for him to get a costume change at some point to fit in with them better, maybe make his scarf black? idk. also completely accidental but in my rough apollo sketches i gave him a similarish scarf and i think thats a funny similarity. i think nahyuta and apollo would hate each others guts. idk im trying to make designs cohesive like again you cant see it here but i tried to have trucy and apollo share a lot of design elements and i accidentally gave apollo and nahyuta similar scarfs and all the gang has black on their designs etc etc. im trying to make connections but im not all that good at character design so. its a struggle. but we stay silly.

ok thats it ummmmmm. idk. im bad at art but i hopeee you like them.

#doodles #ace attorney #not persona tagging this #trucy wright #athena cykes #nahyuta sahdmadhi #au

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kakesuki · 4 months ago

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Have to share my new skk obsession after watching the haikyu movie. So, new haikyu AU with our favorite duo, the double black. Little headcanons about their overall positions!

Firstly, I am convinced that Chuuya would be the main attacker. Obviously given his size we would think more of a libero, and I have no doubt that Chuuya could receive without too much difficulty because buddy is solid; with strong arms in addition to being fast, but no. The man is, in the manga, used to destroy adversaries against whom no one can do anything, when the situation degenerates; like an attacker, an ace, who will demolish the block of three in front of him because he has the fucking physical strength to do it. To just slam the ball against their arms and make them crack anyway. For me he would also jump super high, but that's because I go with the mentality of "in his work he literally controls gravity" so for me even when adapting it in a universe without powers I always have to note that. Chuuya would therefore be a complete player with remarkable physical abilities who could provide both defense and attack (even if his strong point remains attack, once again I take his abilities into account in bsd and adapt. In the manga he is very complete and he is an adversary with remarkable power and techniques, literally the PM's best martial artist.) but the fact that he loses his temper quickly will perhaps do him a disservice.

Otherwise to make up for it there is the our bandage on two legs, Dazai. And here too I would say that it is rather obvious. Already because Dazai in the work never really attacks himself, he makes sure to get others to do it for him and manages to make the enemy suffer without having to fight himself (typically a passer. ) but also because it is precisely the role of the “tactician” who calculates everything and reacts. The one who touches the ball the most but also someone who must open the way for the attackers. Physically he doesn't have the strength to demolish block's like Chuuya, even more because I genuinely imagine him to have a poor physical health, and so they complement each other. (I could also have put Dazai as a libero, since it is the role which cushions/removes the power of enemy attacks thanks to his receptions but that aside the role does not suit him at all. He was born to be a passer .)

#bsd #Haikyu au #Volleyball au #bungou stray dogs #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #They would totally fuck in the locker room #Their team would be unstoppable #Mori as the coach #Haikyu is killing me ugh #I would kill to see them reunite to break the Russian team.

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factual-fantasy · 2 years ago

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I has 30 asks! :}}

@chickenmilk120

@cherrycreamfairy

The only thing that mattered to me in that trailer was Mario saying “I’m not afraid, I’ll do anything for my brother.” Their brotherhood is the only thing giving me hope for this movie-

That, and the blue shelled koopa troopa’s are interesting..

@sqirtle

The idea I had in mind is that they were magically transported to the Mario universe some how, where they ended up in the middle of a forest. They kind’a wandered for a while before finding the Mushroom kingdom. This was right after Peach was captured.

I was thinking that the toad people let them in to help them and later witnessed Mario using a fire flower. That’s when they knew these two were the hero's of legend and their quest began :0

Yes! They don’t have enough food to go around so they try to avoid waking anyone else up. That, and the fact that that Spy and Pyro don’t carry anything particularly useful to them. Nothing worth risking being seen by the camera at least.

In my AU at least, there is no Glamrock Ballora. Its just the main Glamrocks we’ve already seen. The original Ballora did exist though. :0

As for the tiger guy and mermaid gal? They are not in my AU either..

JSOKDFSLDFKMTHANK YOUUU

Not only would he not care and do it again, but he would attack Mario because he is in pain. He would take advantage of his vulnerability.

@bungerpogger

The plans I had for Luigi is that he dies to a Goomba. BUT WAIT HANG ON- THAT’S NOT FUNNY- The Goomba’s in my AU are real monsters. Luigi gets bitten by one and his entire leg gets shredded. Then the venom from the Goomba slowly makes Luigi rot from the inside out.

He rapidly begins to deteriorate over the span of a few days. Eventually he looses all his strength and is just laying on his death bed.

Mario is holding his hand and keeps telling him he’s going to be fine. Everything's gonna be okay, Luigi’s going to get better everything will be fine-

Luigi’s hand goes limp.

...

And then he gets revived by the 1-UP he had absorbed a couple of days ago. All better! :D

@genericstudios

Thank youuu!!! :DDD

I don’t take commissions or straight up “Hey draw this thing for me” stuff. Buuut, the other stuff sounds like it could be fun :}

@network-warrior-01

I think if a little kid came in and didn’t mess with anything and was just scared and crying. I feel like King Boo would show mercy and have his Boos kind’a guide them back out of the forest.

If its some bratty little kid well... I cant say he’d be patient with them.

@burgycreeper405-blog

I’m on desktop. If you click this little doo-dad here?

And then this one?

You can put literally as many pictures as you want. Its never stopped me and said there was too many images. Same thing with the orange photo option. When I fill up the 10 slots I just click the little grey camera and keep adding more drawings-

Yeah I remember trolls. Never saw world tour but I always intended to- here’s to hoping trolls 3 turns out good!

@ajthekingtheking

JSADNCTHANK YOUUUUAAAAAAA

I have! Such a bizarre game concept has no right to have such good animation and interesting (to me) character design-

XD My body is basically just grey and black goop. I can have as many arms as I want! I’ve just found having a 3rd arm to be rather convenient recently.

@crazy-scary-crazy

Thank you for understanding <:} It means a lot that even if some people don’t get it, they can still see my perspective and respect my boundaries.

@dongpuncher-666

The 1-UP has to be consumed before dying. So it wouldn’t work if you just shoved it down their throats after they died-

Also it works instantaneously. It could be literally 5 seconds before they’re about to bleed out, as soon as the mushroom makes contact with them, their body absorbs it and its energy is fully prepared to be consumed.

Also thank you! I’m glad to hear you like my content! :DDD

I’m not familiar with that character, so I didn’t write him into the AU.. <:/

@caronaro-flipaclip

OH MY GOSH I LOVE SPONGEBOB LITERALLY MY FAVORITE CHILDHOOD SHOW--

Bowser wants Peach’s land. Because it is healthy and fruitful. But he has never be able to take it because Daisy and Peach’s kingdoms stand together. Its 2 kingdoms against 1.

But somehow he managed to kidnap Peach. Not sure how he did it but this meant he had the upper hand. He threatened to harm or even kill Peach if they didn’t surrender their land to Bowser.

Its right after this all starts that the Mario brothers show up and end up rescuing her.

Thank you! I’m glad you like my work! :DD But so far nah... I mostly just came back to goof around with the Octo-dads for a bit. Not much work being done on my Octonauts AUs...

When Foxy was reactivated he only went out of the basement for that first night. And Freddy guided him through blind spots in the cameras.

After that first night Foxy never left the basement. Neither did Bonnie. So Vanessa never saw Foxy and doesn’t know they’ve both been reactivated.

@multifandom-traveler

XD You can like what ever you want man! You’re never too old to enjoy your old comfort shows.

Also thank you! I’m glad you like it! :DD

aaaa thank you!!

Also its okay. Internets gonna internet. There’s always gonna be people who disrespect you for no reason. 🤷‍♂️

@livinwa

snffle.... t-tnk u

Awe you’re too kind, Thank you!

I have not :0 I’ve heard good things about it though!

@dumbfishiesparadise

Wow really? :0 That’s nuts!

@scrumpitouscollectorpuppy

Man, that’s an unfortunate way to find me. But its cool that you did! Also AAAA thank you!!! I’m glad you like my artwork!! :DD

#my response #super mario bros #fnaf security breach #bibi and jangles

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hevexns-realm · 1 month ago

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Actually, imagine a scenario where Nazo got heavily injured, to the point he can't use his regeneration power for a while, and he needs to be taken care of.

(That's a little comfort thing for me, heh-)

You got it breaddo!

(Btw, this isn’t officially cannon in my AU, just here to comfort my friend with softness and little giggles!)

After the fight with Iris’ dad, all three of them were pretty badly injured, Nazo getting the worst of it. He wasn’t dead, but a lot of broken ribs and deep scars from the king’s lightning bolts, not to mention his chest piece being overcharged with electricity.

They all needed to be put under care by the divine priestess of mephiles (one of his favorites); they all were cared for the best of the ability.

Seelkadoom recovered quickest, as he didn’t get struck by lightning. Let’s just say that the staff was amped up by a lot when he found out how badly Iris and Nazo got hurt. That way everything was in order when they got home.

While staff did chores, seelka stayed in the hospital to keep an eye on the others. Nazo was practically in a coma, going in and out of consciousness for several days at a time, while Iris was in physical therapy for her injuries.

When Nazo finally got under Eggman’s care, he was given a new chest-piece. It’s basically the same thing as his old piece, just built with more advanced technology and given more electricity immunity. This in turn made his recovery easier and faster.

Once Iris finished her physical examinations, she and seelkadoom had visited nazo a lot. It usually consisted of cuddling, tears, and a lot of anxiety on all sides. It was goin to take nazo months to recover, but at least her dad won’t be bothering them anymore.

Once Nazo got home, a small celebration was held for their victory against a literal god, and it was honestly the most hard-earned victory, but yet the most satisfying one. Lots of ambrosia and wine was drank that night, and everyone got a helluva good sleep.

For months there was nothing but hanging around in bed cuddling and kissing, rambling, bringing up old memories, and a lot of therapy between the three of them! It honestly helped them bond more as a throuple!

But it didn’t come without nightmares and trauma. Iris and Nazo have nightmares of death often, whether it’s of Nazo getting electrocuted to death, or Iris having to watch her loved ones dying, begging for her to help them. Seelka has nightmares about the times Nazo fades in and out of consciousness, how one time he called out to seelka and Iris before he passed out again. This was the wake up call that the nurses needed to get Nazo to Eggman, because there was no medical reason for him to be doing this.

It took everyone a couple of months of constant cuddles and rest to fully recover, but now it’s time to slowly get their strength back. So they all decide to train together! After all, they’re supposed to be strong villains!

They all partook in different kinds of battle practice. Iris was particularly dance fighting, full of agility, elegance, and pinpoint hitting. Seelka was more based on his chaos abilities and stamina, while Nazo was a mix of everything. Seelka’s the most rigorous of the three, while Iris’ takes the longest to finish. Especially since dance fighting tends to need at least one partner to use against.

But sadly, none of them are safe from the shenanigans that soon followed this decision.

Nazo and seelka are naturally competitive, so they always challenge each other to see who can do their routines faster, who can climb up the rock wall fastest, who can lift more, etc.

This is only amplified by Iris cheering them both on with her flirts, stroking their egos even worse than usual!

And she’s not much better than them either, because she’s currently the fastest record holder for fastest wall-climber out of the three of them!

Then of course the flirty and sassy shenanigans when one of the boys offer to help her out with dance fighting. That’s in a whole other league of its own! 👀 0v<

Moots:

@hunniegl4zed @thebreadmeower

#headcanons #nazo the hedgehog #alternate universe #nazo #sonic the hedgehog #nazo unleashed #seelkadoom the hedgehog #seelkadoom #sonic oc #au #polyamourous #i love nazseelk and their poly relationship with iris y’all have no damn clue

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colorfullyminded · 5 months ago

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Omg I LOVE your pinescone stories they give me life :3 I have a few questions is you don’t mind

What is your favorite pinescone head cannon?

What is your favorite au?

Which one’s your least?

I saw that you used to write parapines is that still a ship that you write about or will is forever be in your heart?

In a zombie apocalypse how do you think the Pines family including Wendy and Soos etc (+ Wirt & Greg) would go about it? Who would survive?

That’s all the questions I have for now :3

((Thank you so much! I'm so glad you enjoy my writing! It means the world to me. And yes, please feel free to ask any question you have.))

1. My number 1 headcanon is that they are equals-- that even with their strengths and weaknesses, their differences, they both value each other so dearly; to the point you almost forget that they're a crossover ship because of how much these two complete each other. And by that I mean, the two look at each other like the other is the moon and the stars. If these two aren't hopelessly in love and amazed by their partner, I don't want it! I hate when Wirt is forced to be in the back, or is made weaker and more cowardly by the narrative; I hate the concept of Wirt being just a pretty face for Dipper to save, or that anything Wirt can do-- Dipper does better. I don't mind Dipper saving Wirt, I don't mind Wirt being cautious or uncertain, or even afraid-- but I love when Wirt gets to be heroic too (because he is). I love seeing him excel at the things he's good at, and I think he brings strategy to the team dynamic that is not utilized enough; Wirt is the guy who's going to notice Dipper's blindspots and point them out to better strengthen the plan. I love when they both get to be sassy; their personalities would give them such good banter to bounce off each other. They are both adorable, dorky, emotional, but also very hotheaded and stubborn characters. There are few ships where I feel like any direction you go is canonical because of how multifaceted they are as characters (that's not to say I agree or like all of directions, but I can at least acknowledge why that decision was made). Wirt doesn't always have to be the one held up by sticky tape! Out of all the bad end friends-- Wirt is the only one I've see that canonically did not fall for a demon's trick. He never got posessed, he never made a deal, he wasn't tricked--if anything, he actually called the bluff of said Demon (something that Dipper failed the first time) when he was like 14 years old. I want to see more of that in my pinescone. The idea that Wirt would be so easily tricked by Bill just doesn't sit right with me. It never has.

Another headcanon I'm more in favor of: Dipper can cook (I know a lot of people have headcanoned him as the bad cook between him and Mabel, and between him and Wirt-- but he's literally the guy who follows steps and checklist-- what do you mean he doesn't know how to use a cookbook?

If anything, Mabel is the wildcard who can either make something really delicious....or put you in the hospital for food poisoning. You'll notice in my more recent fics the...monstrosities Mabel has loving created in the kitchen, and that she's even been banned from one kitchen before.

So yeah, Dipper can cook, Wirt can cook--and I love the idea of these two cooking together. I have others, but some are a little more risque, and this is already going to be a long ask, so I won't write everything down-- but here are two of my big headcanons (One was more a rant, apologies). 2. My favorite au, I don't wanna sound pretentious, but most Pinescone Au's I enjoy are the ones I've made for myself-- I have a lot of ideas, and so I think up a lot of situations with these dorks, though most are just free floating in my brain right now. Eventually I want to write them all down, but that may take some time. The closest Pinescone au that I enjoy that isn't mine is a mix of monsterfalls/Musume. Basically where Wirt is a human and he falls in love with Deerper-- and the two have to navigate that kind of relationship while certain laws and societal norms want to dissaude them from forming an interspecial relationship (even though in monsterfalls, most people became monsters from other means, rather than just being born monsters) Either way, the idea of Deerper snuggling up to a human Wirt and flirting through Cervitaur mating rituals is so fucking cute-- and I have wanted to write a small series story for that au. Also, just a shout out, but I enjoy @clubsheartsspades Pinescone meet-weirds! Those are such fun aus-- they've made for some of my personal favorite oneshots!

Also, even though they just started, I'm really enjoying that Au where the two start off on the wrong foot in "Horrible First Impressions" by Philia. I want those two to fuck nasty make out in their creative writing class! The tension is so good, and I can't wait to see the turning point where frustration becomes affection. 3. My least favorite au might be more clear-- as you'll notice a lack of two specific....villains in most of my fiction. Basically, Dead Ends Friends, but specifically Murder Husbands is on my low list of au's. To me, Bill and Beast are defeated; I rather the story revolve around Dipper and Wirt facing new challenges and deadly foes-- not the same one's they took care of as children. I don't mind if people like using Bill or Beast (they're great, entertaining villains, I get why people love them). I even love a lot of the art that involves Bipper and Weast; it's amazing art as usual. But I don't consider either aus to be Pinescone-- as it's just Bill and The Beast inhabiting their bodies. I'd enjoy it more if I could see glimpses of Dipper and Wirt in some moments, where they're allowed to take comfort and fall in love before their bodies are once more puppeted by the demons. If the story is just beast and bill doing fucked up things in their host-- with no shift to the real people underneath-- then It's not really what I want to read. I don't mind possession stories, or one being controlled-- I don't mind some darker content (Proxxy is an old Pinescone fic that is still very sexy and fucked-- and it involves Bill possessing Wirt... but the thing is, Wirt doesn't just take a back seat; his thoughts are still being shown to the audience. We still get to know what he's thinking and feeling, even when he has no control over his body). That kind of shit, now that I love. But again, Bill and Beast are NOT Dipper and Wirt to me.

4. Parapines has a soft spot in my heart, but I have moved on from the ship entirely. I made a joke about it once:

(Which again, it's just a joke but it does feel like thousands of years have passed). In all seriousness, I don't think I'll be coming back to the Parapines fandom. I think I once wanted to do a fic where Dipper and Wirt broke up, and for the summer, Dipper started dating Norman, before making up with Wirt again, as a kind of farewell, final sendoff to my old ship. I never finished it, but who knows, I still have the rough draft. I have a lot of WIPS I keep just in case I wanna come back and finish (you'd be surprised how many of my fics were wips for years before I posted them to ao3). 5. In a zombie apocalypse? They all would. We saw the pines family + Wendy and Soos survive a demon apocolypse, I think they can take on a zombie apocalypse as well. Wirt and Greg would be more beat up and worse for wear, but I imagine they could hold their own, until they met up with the Pines Family (though I had one zombie au but that's a different story). Now if they were all separated, or at least how would they stand on their own? Here's what I think (I'll try not to get too graphic): Dipper- Either survives/ Holds out for a long time, but would likely sacrifice himself to save someone he loves--Zombied Mabel- Either Survives/ (If Dipper dies) she would lose hope and probably fall prey to a bite--Zombied Soos- Zombied Stan- Survives / (If both twins Zombied) he would lose hope and be zombied next Ford- Survives Wendy- Survives Pacifica- Zombied Wirt- Would try to hold out if protecting Greg, though may also take his and Greg's life to spare them both. (Self Inflicted). Greg- (If he's young) Zombied without Wirt/ possibly mercy killed by Wirt (if he's an adult): Survives, though heavily traumatized. Maybe having lost a limb to stop a bite from spreading. ((Thank you so much for the ask, I appreciated this so much! Wow this was a lot and I'm so happy <3 I love receiving asks about these two!))

#Pinescone #Thanks for the ask #Ask me #Dipper Pines #Wirt OTGW #Gravity Falls #Over the Garden Wall #I love answering these #I love answering Pinescone questions so much!#Wirt #EAT YOUR DIRT!

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