#and could be putting themselves in danger

[winchesterdreamgirl88]

Birthday Confessions

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: It's Dean's birthday and the reader throws him a party:)

Word Count: 1000

Warnings: None

A/n: In honor of Dean's birthday here's a little imagine I wanted to write. Hope you guys like it:)

It had been another grueling hunt, but that was nothing new for you, Sam, and Dean. You'd been living and hunting with the Winchester brothers for what felt like ages now, becoming part of the strange family they’d built for themselves. It wasn’t always easy—life on the road, constantly fighting monsters and demons—but there was an unspoken bond between the three of you. The kind of friendship that made everything a little more bearable.

The unspoken part, though, was the secret that you and Dean had been carrying around. Both of you had developed feelings for the other, but neither of you had said a word about it. You were friends, and it felt like risking that closeness would be dangerous. So, you kept things buried, hiding the soft glances and lingering touches that neither of you could quite explain.

But then, Dean’s birthday was coming up, and you had the perfect plan in mind. You knew he hated making a big deal about it, but you wanted to do something special. Sam, ever the planner, was all in.

“Dean is not going to see this coming,” Sam said with a mischievous grin when you shared your idea. You’d been secretly organizing everything: decorating the bunker, ordering food, and even planning a little surprise cake. It was going to be perfect, and you hoped it would be enough to make Dean smile, maybe even get him to forget about the weight of the world for just a little while.

Dean came in late that evening, looking more tired than usual. He had just finished dealing with some local creatures—nothing too major, but enough to drain him. When he entered the main room of the bunker, he froze.

“What is all this?” he asked, his tone half-surprised, half-amused.

You were standing by the large table you’d set up, trying to hide your excitement. “Happy birthday, you big lug,” you said, trying to sound casual, though your heart was hammering in your chest.

Dean blinked, his lips curling into a smile as he took in the decorations—banners, balloons, a few cheesy “Happy Birthday” signs that Sam had insisted on. There were pizzas on the table and a homemade cake that you had definitely put your heart into making.

“No way…” Dean chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck in disbelief. “You actually threw me a party?”

Sam, leaning against the wall with a smug grin, shrugged. “What can I say? We know you’re too stubborn to admit you like a good celebration.”

Dean shook his head, smiling like he didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or impressed. “You guys are nuts.”

You all spent the evening together—eating, drinking, and playing a few rounds of cards. For a few hours, there were no monsters, no demons, just the three of you enjoying each other’s company. It felt normal. It felt like home. But as the night wore on, the laughter faded, and soon enough, it was just you and Dean left in the room.

He was sitting on the couch, his beer in hand, looking at the cake you had carefully decorated. You took a deep breath, unsure of what to say. The weight of everything—of how you’d never told him how you felt, of how he might never feel the same way—hung in the air like a cloud.

“Hey, Dean,” you started, hesitating. “I’m really glad you liked it. I wanted to do something special for you.”

He looked over at you, his eyes softening. “You didn’t have to do all this, you know. But... I appreciate it. A lot. It’s been a long time since anyone’s thrown me a birthday party.”

You nodded, your throat tight. It felt like the right moment to say what had been building up inside of you for so long. “Yeah, well… I think you deserve it. You do a lot for everyone else, and you don’t always get the credit for it.”

Dean’s smile faltered, and he looked at you more seriously. “I don’t need credit. But… thanks.”

You bit your lip, unsure how to continue. But before you could second-guess yourself, you blurted it out. “I like you, Dean.”

His eyes widened in surprise, and for a second, everything went quiet. The words hung between you like a delicate thread, both of you too scared to say anything else. But Dean didn’t look away. Instead, he looked at you like he was searching for something—something he’d known but hadn’t been able to admit.

“I like you too,” he said quietly, his voice low and almost hesitant.

For a long moment, you both just sat there, the weight of the unspoken finally lifted. Dean put his beer down on the table, his expression softening, and then he reached out, his fingers gently brushing against your hand.

“I didn’t want to mess things up,” he admitted. “This… whatever this is between us.”

You smiled softly, your heart swelling with relief. “Yeah. Me neither.”

And then, before either of you could second-guess it, you closed the space between you, your lips meeting in a kiss that felt both exhilarating and familiar. It was slow, lingering, like you both had been waiting for this moment for so long. When you finally pulled back, you could feel the warmth of the moment in your chest.

Dean grinned, a little shy now, but there was a new light in his eyes. “Well, that’s one hell of a birthday gift.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I guess I can’t top that, huh?”

“Not unless you’ve got another surprise up your sleeve,” Dean said with a smirk, his hand still resting near yours.

“I think that was the best surprise I could give,” you replied, your heart full as you leaned back into the couch beside him.

And for the first time, you both knew it wasn’t just about hunting or surviving anymore. It was about being together—no longer hiding behind the walls you’d built around each other.

It was finally real.

[jscrawls]

Widows rest

My take on a Black widow! Reader x Batman and Batfam but with a slight twist, reader doesn't know the Bats but they seem to know them...

Warning: contains avengers infinity war spoilers, black widow spoilers, brief mentions of violence, hospitals, poor writing, possible ooc,

Part 5. Bat-man?

The next few days are a drag, constant visits from the man and his gaggle of kids between tests and physical therapy. You're getting better about dropping silverware having to rely on what little information trickles in from the visits and the staff, you've found out more about Gotham City, apparently you're in New Jersey? The city happens to have a thriving elite community and just so happens to have the highest crime rate in the country. Great. you've started telling yourself It's like a mission you and nat went on nineteen years ago, you pretended you were a couple looking to adopt so you could get close to the adoption agencies lead chairman who was running a crime syndicate with the children.

The air here smells, you'd convinced a nurse to bring you outside after days of asking, claiming you wanted fresh air. they'd hesitated and hmmed and hawed and delayed enough that you were convinced you were held in a hydra facility rather than a hospital, but then they relented. under the condition that you stayed in a wheelchair so as not to stress your muscles, the two security guards that followed you were a bit much. now as you look around you think the nurse just didn't want you breathing in the smog.

It's dark enough out, the glow of skyscraper lights gives you enough of a view to tell you that you're actually in a city and not in some secure faculty in the mountains. Police sirens wail from multiple directions down below and ambulances occasionally careen into the lot and you even faintly hear the occasional shout, this place is surprisingly normal despite the situation you're in. ignoring the men watching you you lean towards the edge of your seat and glance down at the streets, there aren't a lot of people out, strange.

Glancing down at your lap you're reminded of your sticky situation, you're stuck in an injured and weak body that doesn't feel like yours, and you apparently have a family. At this point you've started to accept that whatever you are isn't your earth. Speaking of you can see a lit up billboard in the distance with his face on it, your eyes narrow as you study the airbrushed looking sign. “Wayne enterprises” it doesn't surprise you that it's named after him, he seems more and more like Stark the more you hear about him.

The shuffling of feet behind you alerts you, the security guards are leaving, the hair on the back of your neck stands. you don't have to look behind you to know there's a new party watching. Damn this city and it's fucking vigilantes.

A hand lands on the handle of your wheelchair, you swing your elbow, nearly catching a covered face before they hastily block and slide in front of you as they push you back into your seat. And then they…. Squat down? Hands up placatingly as they put themselves in your line of sight.

“easy, you're not in danger.”

The voice is deep, forcedly so. Apparently a huge fan of the color black. The ears on the mask nearly make you laugh, this must be the bat-man red Robin and the staff's talked about.

“What is it with you people creeping up on me, I'm starting to feel targeted.” You spit out as you cross your arms and lean back in the wheelchair, you're subtly thinking about whether you could kick him hard enough to shove him off the roof. He looks sturdy, it'd be difficult from the chair.

He doesn't react, just lowers his hands once he's sure you're not gonna swing at him out of fear. “I'm sorry for scaring you, you're not targeted by the heroes i promise, i just wanted to fill you in on the trial. Your attackers been found guilty today.”

That catches your attention, attacker? Everyone had been walking on glass around you, tiptoeing around the subject of how you supposedly wound up in the hospital here. “….. Tell me more.”

🔹🔹🔹

The man sits on the ledge in front of you, one knee pulled to his chest with his elbow resting on it. Somehow you'd wound up with the cape in your lap as a blanket was Thor's cape detachable? he's…chattier than you thought he'd be, the mask thing hides much of his face so it's hard to read him but he sends to have warmed up to you quickly while telling you the story.

“…so at what point did the ‘fear gas’ happen? Before or after i got butstocked in the head?”

“After, the young Wayne boy covered your face with a handkerchief but you'd already been dosed. You're lucky it didn't do worse, some people don't recover from a two hit combo like that.” he looks away, glancing down at the street for a moment.

“The young…. Damian right? I met him yesterday…or should i say i was reintroduced to him?”

Tilting your head back you sigh, putting on an air of tired incredulity, not that it's entirely fake. At least you're getting some concrete information now, attacked at some charity event with your ‘family’, some Mafia type guys got too aggressive with the youngest two and you tried to jump in, ending up with a metal butstock to the temple and got hit with some kind of hallucinogenic gas? You'll worry over the specifics later.

“Yes…i believe that's his name. How do you…feel about that? Meeting children you don't remember. A family That's strangers to you…” he shifts, stretching his leg out and leaning forward with both elbows on his knees, his attention solely on you.

You hum, thinking the question through as you glance at distant skyscrapers for a moment. What would an amnesiac say?

“…it's strange, imagine an adult stranger calling you dad or mom, i don't know anything about those people, their stories, their interests, and the billionaire husband thing…i don't even know if I'm some…arm candy trophy spouse or what that situation is like.”

The hero nods slowly, his hands clasping together and interlocking as he studies you.

“…. I'll say that, Bruce Wayne seemed genuinely distraught, when you were being wheeled out of the gala….i don't know him that well, but i think he genuinely cares about you and respects your marriage. He was willing to ditch the bachelor life for you after all, so maybe there's genuine connection there?”

“we'll see about that.” You shrug, shivering slightly despite the cape in your lap. It's cold up here this late at night.

“Let's get you back inside, you're immunocompromised enough as is right now.” He stands, striding closer and grabbing the handles of your wheelchair and turning you away from the edge of the building.

🔹🔹🔹

By the time Bruce makes it back to the cave it's nearly three, the engine rumbles idly as he sits in the front seat lost in thought. They were…. Different again, just like Tim said. Though they seemed more genuine to him, more open about how they're feeling. It makes sense, he tells himself. They were suddenly thrust into a life they don't remember, of course they're struggling. The whole family is.

He cuts the engine and climbs out of the batmobile, he was gonna do more work tonight…. He just couldn't stop himself once they started talking, the plastic smile off their face, the relief in their body language, How they looked with his cape wrapped around them. He walks past the training areas and the med bay, finding the bat computer chair isn't empty.

“Tim?” He pulls his cowl off as he approaches, running a hand through his tousled hair.

“B, you're early.” He hardly looks up, energy drink and cola cans decorate the desk around him like some frat boys dorm decorations, Tim's eyes are glued to the screens, going over toxicology reports.

“Not that early, i was…busy. anything new?” Bruce leans over to get a look at the screens, his right elbow resting on the back of the desk chair.

“did you know that some studies suggest that gingko biloba, one of the oldest living tree species, may be very beneficial to people with memory issues including short term memory and dementia and Alzheimer's?” Tim rattles off like he practiced his lines, only briefly glancing away from the screens in front of him to glance up at Bruce with what Bruce can only guess is an attempt to look reassuring.

“That's interesting…. Still nothing on the fear gas. I take it?”

Tim sags, wiping a hand over his (bloodshot) eyes as he goes back to scrolling. “No. It's just regular old fear gas it seems. LSD, epinephrine, PCP and fear toxin.”

Bruce straightens up and sighs, running a hand through his hair again. “Well…good work chum. At least we know for sure what we're looking at here.” He pats Tim's shoulder heavily and turns to leave the cave to trudge up to his office, but hesitates for a second. “Tim?”

Tim perks up slightly, swiveling in the chair to face Bruce. “Hmm?”

“Go to bed.”

🔹🔹🔹

Taglist: @cxcilla @mercuryathens @dind1n @redsakura101 @ninihrtss @let-me-dance @ladykamos @one-piecelover

[vigilante-3073]

Impossible Choice

James Wilson x Pregnant Female Reader

Summary: If it came down to it, who would you save? Mother or child?

TW: Angst, blood, problematic birth, emergency surgery, difficult decisions, medical proxy, House being House.

James Wilson and Y/N had been married for almost two years before they discovered that Y/N was pregnant. They were over the moon and had been incredibly excited to welcome their baby girl.

Y/N had gone into labor at twenty-two weeks pregnant, Wilson rushed her to the hospital in the middle of the night. Y/N was admitted to the Labor & Delivery unit at Princeton-Plainsboro and got into a private room rather quickly.

Wilson stayed by her side, offering support as the hospital staff struggled to stop her labor. Y/N was put on a few different medications, but nothing seemed to be working. They also gave her a dose of corticosteroids in hopes that it would help the baby's lungs to develop.

Y/N's labor was not stopping and her water suddenly broke at two o'clock in the morning. It was discovered that she was seven centimeters dilated and the delivery of their baby was imminent.

Y/N began to panic, tears gathering in her eyes as the couple grappled with the idea that they could lose their baby.

Wilson tried to be optimistic although he knew that the odds were not exactly in their favor. Wilson coached her through the steadily intensifying contractions, staying by her side and offering support.

The NICU was notified and were ready to take the baby after delivery. Y/N was fully dilated by three o'clock in the morning and staff were preparing themselves to deliver the baby.

A Doctor made his way into the room, sitting at the end of the bed, "I'm Doctor Ramirez and I'm going to be delivering your baby today. I know this wasn't what you were expecting, but we're going to take good care of you, alright?" He questioned.

Y/N nodded with a sniffle, gripping onto Wilson's hand as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"With your next contraction, I want you to push, okay?" Doctor Ramirez instructed.

Y/N grimaced as the contraction started, she squeezed Wilson's hand as she began to push. The nurse counted for her as the contraction continued, instructing her to rest between them.

Y/N pushed three times before the air in the room suddenly shifted. Wilson was a doctor, but the sheer amount of blood that began pouring onto the floor made him squeamish. Y/N cried out in pain suddenly, latching onto his hand as she sobbed.

"Call a code and get me an OR," The Doctor instructed quickly.

"What's going on?" Wilson asked.

One of the nurses called a code overhead while another nurse rushed out of the room to make an urgent call to the operating room. The machines began to beep as the baby's heart rate decreased dangerously.

"What's happening?" Wilson repeated desperately.

"James," Y/N mumbled, the color suddenly draining from her face before she lost consciousness.

"Y/N? Y/N!" Wilson called, cupping her cheeks and trying to wake her up.

Staff began to flood into the room, they moved around quickly as they gathered supplies and rushed to get her out of the room.

The Doctor approached Wilson as they wheeled Y/N's bed out into the hallway. His scrubs were saturated in her blood, "I think she may have had a placental abruption. I won't know how severe things are until I get in there. I do have to ask, if we need to make a choice, do you want us to focus on saving the mother or the baby?" Doctor Ramirez asked.

"What? I-I have to choose?" Wilson asked shakily, eyes glossing over with tears.

"I just need to know in case we have to make a snap decision," The Doctor explained.

"Save her... Save Y/N," Wilson stated.

Doctor Ramirez nodded, "I need you to stay closeby in case you have to make any decisions as her medical proxy, okay?" The Doctor questioned, Wilson nodded.

"I'm not leaving," He assured.

The Doctor rushed out of the room, Wilson looked down at the pool of blood on the linoleum floor before quickly following after him.

Wilson could feel tears gathering in his eyes as he rushed through the hallways. Y/N's blood marked the floor of the hallway, making bile rise in his throat as he realized how severe this really was.

Y/N was bleeding out and their baby was in distress, unlikely to survive beyond delivery. He told them to save her, the decision weighed heavily on him, but he was forced to make it. Wilson ducked into the bathroom, rushing into one of the stalls before falling to his knees and throwing up.

Wilson flushed the toilet and washed out his mouth, tears rolled down his cheeks. He exited the bathroom and continued on down the hallway to the operating room. Wilson stopped outside the door, pulling his phone from his pocket with shaking hands.

Wilson dialed a phone number before holding the phone up to his ear, he paced back and forth across the floor as the line rang. Wilson ran a hand through his hair, pausing when the person picked up.

"Y/N went into labor and they couldn't stop it. She's having a placental abruption and I think she's going to die. Can you come?" Wilson asked shakily.

...

House made his way through the hospital, quickly locating Wilson in his seat outside the operating room. Cuddy sat next to him, rubbing a hand over his back as she offered words of support.

"Why aren't either of you in there?" House asked, Cuddy shot him a pointed look.

"Do you even know what they're doing to her?" House questioned.

Wilson looked up at him with red, watery eyes, "It's bad, House," He mumbled.

House walked by them and into the operating room, he took the elevator up to the theater and looked down at the operation occurring below.

He held out his cane and pressed the intercom button on the wall, "What's happening?" House questioned.

The Doctor looked up, "Severe placental abruption, we lost her twice so far but have been able to get her back," Doctor Ramirez said.

"And the baby?" House asked.

"I'm not optimistic for either of them... It's a mess, House. Her platelets are practically on the floor, bleeding won't stop. Baby is being coded, but there's been nothing yet," Doctor Ramirez said.

House lowered his cane, making his way down and back out into the hallway. Wilson looked up at his friend with wide eyes, "Is she going to be okay?" Wilson asked.

"Her platelets are nonexistent, she just keeps bleeding. They're transfusing packed cells and platelets, but it could go either way. Baby is out and NICU has them, but nothing yet," House said.

Wilson dropped his head into his hands, shoulders shaking as he sobbed.

"It's not your fault," Cuddy assured.

"What isn't?" House asked.

"He asked me which one to save... I told him to save her," Wilson mumbled.

"He was an idiot to even ask that question. A placental abruption doesn't require you to make a choice. But even if it did, you picked your wife. You'd be stupid to tell him otherwise," House said.

"Everything happened so fast. There was so much blood and then they just took her... I can't lose her," Wilson hiccuped.

"Don't think about that right now. She'll pull through," Cuddy said, rubbing her hand over his back.

...

Wilson had been sitting outside of the OR with Cuddy and House for hours. Cameron, Chase and Foreman had come up in search of their boss. He dismissed them, telling them that he wouldn't be taking a case for the day.

The three young doctors decided to join them in the sitting area, offering silent support to Wilson in his time of need.

Another few hours went by without any word from the Doctor. Wilson was exhausted and felt physically sick as the silence stretched on. He couldn't bear to think about what his life would be like without Y/N.

Wilson twisted his wedding band around his finger nervously as he stared off into space. He almost didn't notice the Doctor step out of the OR, "Wilson?" He called gently.

Wilson looked up, standing from his seat and turning to face the man. He felt nauseous as he waited to hear the worst news of his entire life.

"Your wife is alive. We've moved her into the recovery area and a nurse will be by to collect you when she wakes up. It was really touch and go, but she's going to be fine," Doctor Ramirez said.

Wilson let out a shaky sigh, "She's okay?" He mumbled, the Doctor nodded.

"What about the baby?" Wilson asked.

"She's up in the NICU. Her lungs are still underdeveloped and she'll need to be on a ventilator for a while. It's a very delicate situation, but mother and daughter are both fighters," Doctor Ramirez said.

Wilson let out a relieved sigh, running a hand through his hair as he turned to his friends. Cuddy stepped forward and hugged him, he wrapped his arms around her as he began to sob.

Cameron smiled softly as she watched the interaction, Wilson pulled away from the hug, "Congratulations," Cameron said softly.

"Yeah, congrats," Chase said, Foreman nodded.

"Thank you... Thank you all for being here. I don't know what I would've done without you," Wilson said.

"Do you want me to head up and check on the baby while you stay with Y/N?" Cuddy asked.

"That would be great, thank you," He nodded.

"I'll call you if anything changes," Cuddy assured, rushing off to the NICU.

"Congratulations on the baby," Cameron said, giving Wilson a quick hug before she left.

"You're gonna be the best dad around," Chase said, giving him a pat on the back.

"Tell Y/N that we're all glad she's okay and will be thinking of her and the baby," Foreman said, Wilson nodded. The three young doctors left and Wilson began to walk to the recovery area with House.

"So, you're a dad now, huh?" House questioned.

Wilson nodded, "Looks that way," He said.

"That Doctor should never have asked you to choose between them," House said.

Wilson gulped, "Yeah," He mumbled.

"You made the right choice... She would've had a better chance at survival than the baby anyway," House said, Wilson nodded.

They entered into the recovery area, Wilson made a beeline for Y/N's bed. He looked her over, taking her hand in his and bushing his thumb over her knuckles.

She was incredibly pale from the blood loss, still sedated and no doubt receiving heavy pain medications.

He lifted his other hand, resting his palm on the top of her head. Wilson leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead, he settled into the chair beside her bed. House dragged over a stool, sitting down on the other side of the bed.

"You don't have to stay," Wilson said.

"I know," House replied simply.

[kradogsrats]

Oh! I think about this a lot, though I'm not really sure why besides that how people make decisions about children is inherently kind of interesting to me.

The Aaravos situation is unusual in that there's a relatively short timeline attached to it—they aren't putting off having children until some nebulous future time when there might finally not be some kind of crisis somewhere, they're putting it off for seven years, at which point they will be... all of 25 years old, which is generally considered to be a much better time to have a baby than 19 or 20. I've read stuff in other fandoms where the decision of whether to have a child during a time of threatened world crisis becomes about weighing the risks of the child growing up without one or both parents, or growing up in a dangerous and war-torn environment, or not growing up at all against the risk that the world will simply never be sufficiently safe. With a definite finality of "within ten years, either we have stopped Aaravos for good or the world has ended"... they might as well wait, which may or may not be bittersweet depending on how badly they want to get started.

(One thing that's interestingly vague about this setting is what/when is considered to be "adulthood." That's a number that has been pushed later and later in modern times, which is not a bad thing! However, looking at the characters themselves—Rayla is functionally a child soldier at 15, and Soren is already an officer in the Crownguard at 18, meaning he probably joined and was expected to be ready to die for his king at 16 or earlier. Callum being High Mage to Ezran makes sense, but is also literally putting a teenager in a government cabinet position. What makes all of that slightly less weird is that culturally, here in real world USAmerica and/or Canada, we have essentially added an entire new stage of non-adult life after 18, during which you are expected to figure out a career trajectory of some kind. When you remove the expectation of higher education from the question, "I have already launched my lifelong career at 16" works a little better. At that point, "I will start a family at 20-21" also sounds less insane because they've already been operating as an adult for several years.)

Anyway what I think would be really interesting about the whole question is the competing influences on both sides—Janai and Amaya explicitly get married during Karim's rebellion because she's "done putting off the good things for fear of the bad," and I think Ethari and Runaan would have a thought or two about waiting for the time to be "right" versus valuing yourselves and your family. Bringing a child into the world is obviously a bit different from getting married, but I think the "don't let the evil in the world dictate when you can seize joy" philosophy could still apply.

On the other hand, you have the personal experiences of Callum, Rayla, and Ezran with having absent parents. Callum lost his father as a young child, then his mother not long after, and was raised by his stepfather. Ezran never had a mother in his life, and lost his father, as well. One set of Rayla's parents left to defend the world and never came back. I think they'd all have some Big Feelings about those things—most obviously Rayla's parents, as the obvious closest analogue to their situation, but also like... it's at least kind of implied that Sarai and Damian had a child despite both of them knowing that he would likely not live to see that child grow up. I think it's unlikely that Callum doesn't feel Some Kind Of Way about that. Parental loss/abandonment trauma affects basically every character in this entire story, and while they all deal with it a bit differently... they all gotta deal with it.

(And of course, if you want to get extra angsty—what happens if suddenly OOPS ALL PREGNANT? What if it's in year one post-s7 versus year six post-s7? Do they keep the baby? Do they let Aaravos prevent them from keeping a child who is otherwise wanted? I feel like that's a much harder choice than whether to start trying for one.)

Rayllum, 10 babies and Xadian family planning

I’m trying to post the next chapter of Dark Alternative, but AO3 is very wonky, so you’re going to be subjected to my rambling thoughts on my new WIP for Work in Progress Wednesday.

So, over my vacation, I’ve been plagued by post-season 7 fanfic ideas. Short fics, obviously. No more than three chapters, as usual.

What’s got me intrigued right now, is how the continent of Xadia, or at least, a select group of people, will manage with living with the knowledge that Aaravos, in some form, is coming back in seven years. How would that affect politics and society, as well as the individual characters and the choices they make knowing that?

The regular folks would struggle to miss that whole eternal darkness and dead creatures thing that happened, but what do they know about exactly what went down?

And what do they know about what’s to come?

You know me, I’m a Rayllum person, so pretty much any fic of mine is a Rayllum fic, and this current idea is focused on how this particular threat affects the next stage of their lives.

Without a doubt, when we last saw Rayllum they were totally committed to each other and are fully ride or die… but how would that devotion relate to their future, in particular, the subject of children?

Now, I’m an angster in my deep dark heart, so while I’m sure many people could conceive of a fic where Rayllum are secure in their ability to defeat Aaravos come round two, that ain’t where my brain was ever going to go.

Rayllum are in love and clearly want a future together. Callum was openly planning a quaint little one in the Silvergrove before they were rudely interrupted by the whole end of the world dealio.

So, where does that leave them now (in my angsty reality anyway)?

In their youth, they both leaned into their more paranoid natures (Rayla leaving without Callum in TTM and Callum getting physical with Soren in season 4), and while they’ve both grown and matured since then, would such a threat as the world ending be enough to bring that paranoia right on back?

Which leaves me with my current fic planning conundrum.

Assuming Rayllum decided to forego the whole having kids thing until Aaravos is imprisoned again, how likely is it that they could plan when to have a family.

I’ve seen people say that the world of The Dragon Prince is in a medieval setting, and so people had children younger then, which, aside from not being the entire story, doesn’t feel like it really applies to a world with magic and dragons, a world that lacks the sexism and gender roles that are also associated with medieval times or other more grounded works set then.

Additionally, looking at canon, I think it could be reasonably argued that some form of birth control is readily available in the setting. In fact, I think it’s likely multiple forms of birth control exist in the world of The Dragon Prince.

From humans to elves, we don’t see large families normally associated with the inability to plan a family via the use of effective birth control. The “largest” family we see are the Sunfire monarchs, with three children. Viren and Lissa had two children only. Sarai may well have had more children had she lived, but Rayla’s parents spent multiple years at the Storm Spire and she remained an only child.

I can’t imagine there’s much in the way of entertainment at the Storm Spire either. Sure, they could abstain or get creative, but oof, hasn’t enough been asked of them?

Even looking at prior generations, we do not see large families. Given the closeness in ages of the siblings we know of, it also seems unlikely to me that children were lost in childbirth or to childhood illnesses.

To me, it seems far more likely that family planning is active in Xadia and would be a tool Callum and Rayla could exercise.

Clearly, no birth control is infallible (or I guess it can be, magic and all) and I assume Miyana’s twins were unplanned.

Personally, I head canon Rayla herself was an oopsie baby in order to further explain the complications of her parents being called away to join the Dragon Guard.

Where am I going with this? I don’t even know anymore.

I suppose, to me, it’s not a foregone conclusion that in seven years Rayllum would have a kid (or indeed multiple). The setting of the world doesn’t imply that it’s particularly difficult to prevent pregnancy. In fact, the small families imply to me that family planning is a cultural norm among elves and humans.

Faced with the imminent threat of Aaravos’ return, would Rayllum plan to start a family? Certainly, people put off having children for far lesser reasons.

We also don’t know how using dark magic, even in that limited capacity, has affected Callum and the potential for him to get possessed again. It was clearly enough to physically mark him, but does that go deeper?

Would imprisoning Aaravos once again result in an inevitable possession?

Not great when Dad gets taken over and abandons the family.

Or worse, Mum has to take him out.

Angsty though!

As usual, I’ll be doing my own thing in my fics, but I’m interested to see where Arc 3 goes with this (optimistically assuming we get it). There are a lot of factors at play to explain why we might see a lot of the characters in a state of stasis. Seven years isn’t that long when you’re facing the world ending, after all. Particularly when you’re likely to play a very active part in trying to stop that returning apocalypse.

So, which way to go? I see the angst potential in both.

On one hand, you’ve got the pain and desperation of protecting your kid from a returned Aaravos, or perhaps worse, a possessed Dad.

But on the other, you’ve got two people who likely want to take the next steps in their lives, but feel the pressure of a ticking bomb haunting them and potentially preventing them from moving forward.

Either way, bring on the pain.

[aquafresca24]

Slow It Down

I was listening to Slow It Down by Charlie Puth and the lyrics wormed themselves into my brain and all I could think of was Johnny so now this exists.

This got away from me a bit and I'm not even sure it's about the song anymore buttttttt uuhhhhh... 4.9k words later we have this

Johnny x f!reader // mdni // p in v sex // smut and fluff yippeee //

He was just supposed to be a simple one night stand. A body to provide a little warmth and a little fun for the night and then be someone you would never have to see again. He didn’t seem to agree though. He had attached himself to you like a leech, wormed his way into your brain and that’s exactly why you’re still sharing a bed three days later.

Your friend was throwing a little birthday party at one of the local pubs and admittedly, you had a few too many drinks. How couldn’t you? It was the first time you had seen her in months after becoming swamped with your new job. The stress from your packed schedule was reason enough to drink, but having a good time with her was a must. She was awfully persuasive, making you take a shot after every song she deemed was her favorite.

After a quick trip to the bathroom to fix yourself up you made your way back to the dance floor. Finally feeling perfectly fuzzy around the edges, you were confident enough to let go and dance in whatever way the music led you too. Surrounded by your friends you found it easy to feel the music, your hips swayed, hands in the air, running the tips of your fingers through your hair. The alcohol buzzing through your system leading you to close your eyes and just experience the beat.

It wasn’t long until you felt a presence behind you. Assuming it was one of your friends, your drunk addled brain led you to step back to dance against them. You were slightly startled when hands found your waist, their rough calloused fingers gently settled on the exposed skin your body suit provided.

“Gonnae give a man ideas dancin’ here like tha,” his breath hit the shell of your ear as he spoke. His deep scottish brogue made your skin tingle. As you tuned your upper half you were met with a dangerously charming smirk and blue eyes that reminded you of the deepest parts of the ocean.

You swallowed, trying to fight the blush creeping up on your cheeks. He was alarmingly handsome, and from the way he seemed to look at you he was also deeply interested. Perhaps some extra stress relief was in the cards for you tonight.

Instead of replying you simply went back to dancing. He grunted quietly as your ass worked itself against his front. 

You danced like that for a while and he swayed to the music with you. His hands moved themselves from their firm hold on your hips to be wrapped loosely around your waist.

When the song ended he let you go, freeing you to turn around fully. You did so with a bit of a sway, now able to look at him fully. You caught sight of his broad shoulders first, the way his black shirt hugged his muscles. Eyes tracing up to the way his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, then to his face.

His eyes were making their own way up to your face, he had clearly taken his time looking you over just as you did with him. The corners of his lips quirked up into a slight smirk as he caught you paying attention to his features.

“Ye dance like tha’ on every lad ye meet?” he leaned down towards you, tilting his head as he spoke. He had to raise his voice over the music and chatter around you.

If it wasn’t for the alcohol in your system you weren’t sure you would’ve responded. Hell, if you hadn’t drank tonight you wouldn’t be on the dance floor at all. But with this handsome man paying you attention and your confidence spiking you figured you would see how far you could get with him.

“Only the pretty ones,” you return his smirk, pulling some of your hair behind your ear as if it would help you hear him better.

His eyes fluttered before widening a fraction, his smirk softening into a smile. He held out a hand, putting the other behind his neck as if he had been reduced to nothing but a nervous boy.

“Ah’m Johnny by the way,” he said almost too quietly for you to hear. You knew that he paused to wait for you to give yours, but you had a better idea in mind.

“I’ll give you mine if you get me a drink,” you responded with a slight glint of mischief in your eyes. You set your hand in his, moreso holding it as opposed to going for a shake.

You couldn’t hear, but you could tell from the way his shoulders bobbed that you got a chuckle out of him. 

“Cheeky lass,” he shook his head and tightened his grip on your hand before walking off towards the bar with you in tow.

As you walked you realized that this was the first time in a long time that you felt some sense of control. With how crazy your work schedule had gotten, life had been slipping away for a while. This felt nice, oddly calming. You could finally get some sense of relief, and you were also excited from this man who already seemed to be wrapped around your finger.

He walked you up to the bar, finding a spot that had just enough room for the two of you to squeeze in. He flagged down a bartender who’s eyebrows raised and finished off making a drink before heading over to the two of you.

“Ah’ll take whatever lite ye have on tap and for miss…” he trailed off, looking to you for your answer.

Your eyes locked with Johnny. You finally gave him your name, then you turned your gaze to the bartender. “I’ll take a martini, dirty, please,” you gave the bartender a smile before your eyes were brought back to Johnny’s.

He said your name back to you, testing the way it sounded coming from his own vocal cords. “Dirty, aye?” he chuckled at the way you rolled your eyes.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to do that,” you gave him a small, genuine smile. “You buy drinks for girls often?”

He turned around to rest his back against the bar. “Only the pretty ones,” he said and gave you the same cocky smirk you gave him, earning a snicker from you and a slight blush.

You couldn’t help but find yourself joining him in leaning against the bar. You looked out and watched the crowd, landing on your friends and seeing how they didn’t even seem to notice your absence. You’re not sure when he managed to move his arm around you, but it was there now, gently tugging you towards his chest. You obliged, talking a half step closer to him and leaning into his side.

Once your drinks came you stood like that for a while, taking genuine interest in each other’s lives. You learned that he was on leave from the military, that he was on some elite task force or whatever that meant. He learned about how you were burnt out from work, barely having time to yourself. It was nice, having a genuine conversation with someone outside of work or your parents on the phone.

“Ach, gotta be getting ye tae bed here soon then, huh?” He asked with a teasing head tilt.

You smacked his chest playfully before setting your empty drink on the table. He gave you an opening to ask for what you wanted, and who were you to deny yourself?

You hummed, keeping your eyes on the dance floor before you, “No, too lonely in my bed all by myself,” you uttered with a shrug.

There was a rumble in his chest, you could feel it against your shoulder. His head dipped down, forehead resting against your temple, his nose brushing your cheekbone.

“Ah’d be more than willing tae keep ye company. Cannae have ye getting cold all alone under yer wee covers.”

His response made your breath stumble over itself in your throat. You shifted against the bar, turning to face him, bringing your face close enough that you could see the small freckles on his face and the way his eyes were half lidded while looking at you. Well, they weren’t looking you in your eyes, they were trained on your lips.

“Gonna kiss me, Johnny?” You whispered, part of you was almost nervous to see what he would do. He was practically  frozen in time after you asked and you were wondering if he was just going to ignore you and move on or pin you to the bar and consume you whole.

He settled somewhere in the middle, leaning forward that last bit to slot his lips against yours. A quiet grow came from his throat as he took your face in his hand, you could tell by the way his fingers were trembling he was holding back.

You placed one hand on his neck and the other on his bicep before working your lips against his. He shifted forward, pressing you ever so slightly into the bar behind you. The move caused a slight moan to slip out of you, parting your lips just enough for him to slide his tongue past your teeth to get a taste.

Suddenly, he pulled his head back, watching the way your eyes slowly opened as you pouted from his sudden absence.

“Easy lass, go let yer friends know yer headin’ out and then meet me by the door, yeah? Gotta close out my tab.”

You nodded and quickly slipped through the sea of bodies to find your friends right where you left them. You told them your situation, quickly kissing cheeks and hugging before making your way off of the floor as quickly as you could because they started cheering something about you getting laid.

You spotted his mohawk by the door and made your way to him. He held the door open for you as you exited, letting his hand come to rest on the small of your back and guide you out.

“Ye drive?” he asked, turning his head towards you.

You shook your head, “No, took an uber.”

With a nod he switched directions, leading you to the passenger door of a navy blue truck. The color reminded you of the way his eyes shifted when you asked him if he was going to kiss you. Thinking back to that moment made your face warm and your core even warmer.

He opened the door for you, helping you up into the truck. As he slid into the driver's seat he plugged his phone in and handed it to you. “Throw the directions tae yer bed in there for me lass,” he said as he turned his headlights on and started the truck.

You put your address into the GPS and chatted with him on the short drive back to your house. If this wasn’t a one night stand you would think you were with a man you were dating, he made you feel so calm and content.

When you pointed out your place he pulled off to the side and put the truck in park. He got out and opened your door for you, helping you out. 

Right after he shut the car door he leaned down once more, pressing his lips to yours with a bit more fervor this time. You took a step back, letting him press you fully to the side of the car. He was certainly not holding back now, his lips moved on yours like you were a meal set to be devoured. His hands found your waist, kneading the flesh beneath his hands as he dipped his tongue in for a taste once more.

You felt like you were going to melt into a puddle right here on the street. It didn’t help that you could feel his hardening cock through his jeans, straining against the fabric as he slotted a knee between your legs.

The sudden pressure made you jerk a bit, a shaky moan escaping your mouth and being fed right into his own. He hummed against your lips, pressing his knee just a little harder against your weeping core before stepping back and pulling a whine from you.

“Sorry, couldnae help myself. So fuckin’ addicting,” he said before licking his lips, trying to remind himself of the taste he just removed himself from.

You slipped your hand into his, leading him down the path to your house. As you fumbled with the keys to the door he leaned down to whisper in your ear, “‘m willin’ tae bet yer pussy’s gonna be just as addicting.” His hand bunched the back of your body suit in his fist before releasing you as you finally got the door open.

You both shuffled in, and you were just able to get the door shut and locked before he was on you again.

Lips were pressed against one another, hands were balled in fabric and hair, and you were sure your body was buzzing enough to be recognized as an electric current.

“Bedroom… is… straight down… mm… the hall” you managed to mutter between increasingly sloppy kisses.

He wasted no time, picking you up by your hips and wrapping your legs around his waist. You pressed hot, wet, opened mouthed kisses down his jaw to his neck. You could have sworn you heard him whine at the sensation.

“Fuckin’ hell lass,” he grunted as he pushed your bedroom door open, walking over to the bed and dropping you down on it unceremoniously.

After your back hit the bed he stripped himself of his shirt. You watched with anticipation as every inch of skin was revealed to you. Corded muscle stacked on top of corded muscle graced your gaze as you explored him with your eyes. His skin was littered with big and small scars. A story for another time you figured, you had business to attend to.

He moved to take off your leggings before pausing and waiting for permission. You nodded and he made quick work of them, slipping them off before hooking his fingers into your flats and pulling them off too. You worked on the buttons of the body suit, quickly undoing them so he could help you pull it off.

He muttered a quiet string of curses as he saw you, clad in nothing but a bra and your panties. His hands found his belt, and as he worked on his pants you got your bra unclasped and tossed to some foreign part of the room. He crawled onto the bed, joining you as you both lay there and nothing but your underwear. The outline of his cock was well pronounced, making itself known against the fabric.

“Not just a pretty face, gorgeous fuckin’ body too. Holy hell,” he mumbled as he returned your kisses from earlier, making a wet trail from your neck down to your pert breasts.

Johnny took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue around it. With the other hand he massaged your other breast, making sure they each got their own love. You watched him with rapt attention, your back slowly arching itself off of the mattress as you thread your hand through the hairs of his mohawk. He moaned when you tightened your grip on the locks after he sucked particularly hard.

He hummed as he made his way down your body, treating it as if you were his personal goddess to be worshipped.

When he was met with the fabric of your panties he looked up at you. “Let me taste her, lass. Ah’m dyin’ tae ken.”

“Please,” you all but whined.

He hooked his fingers under the garment, pulling it down quickly but making sure not to rip it.

“Pretty, pretty pussy,” he murmured, seeming to be saying it to himself more than he was saying it to you.

He shifted himself on the bed, bringing your legs up over his shoulders before licking a slow, languid strip up your slit. Your gasp was like music to his ears and he simply needed to hear more. 

Suctioning himself to your clit he started slowly by gently swirling his tongue against it before working you up to where he wanted you. With only a few seconds of this slow teasing and a needy whine from you he moved back to your slit. He prodded your slicked hole first before dipping in for a taste. The sounds that escaped both of you at the feeling were straight out of a porno.

“Holy fuck, Johnny!” you cried as you brought your fingers to his hair once more. He hummed against you before bringing his thumb to your clit, massaging it in tight circles while he worked his tongue against you.

You didn’t have the capacity to be embarrassed about the fact you were already so close. Every single one of his movements sent burst after burst of pleasure through you that you couldn’t focus on anything else.

He pressed a finger against your folds just below where his tongue was working so diligently. “Please bonnie, need tae feel ye cum on my fingers. Ah need tae taste yer sweet cum, bonnie please,” he begged.

How could you deny him when he begged so nicely. He slowly pressed his finger into you, and after a slight curl that coil in your stomach tensed and then snapped, sending you into a cry of pleasure as your orgasm rammed into you.

A few moments of pure, white hot bliss passed by before you had realized he was kissing you again. He was consuming your moans just as you thought he might have consumed you against the bar.

You weren’t sure when he got his boxers off, but you could feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh.

“Please,” you whined against his lips. You wrapped your hands behind his neck, locking your legs around his hips as the head of his cock moved to notch itself at your entrance.

“Please what?” he whispered.

“Please, Johnny, want you to fuck me, please,” you pleaded as you managed to pry your eyes open.

You were met with his darkened blues, the ones that matched the shade of his truck.

With a slight motion forward he pressed into you, introducing a burning stretch that quickly turned to pure pleasure. He worked his way inside you, taking it slow and waiting for you to give him the okay to feed you more.

When he was halfway in his head dipped to your shoulder. “Steamin’ jesus, bonnie. This pretty cunt o’ yer’s is gonna kill me.” And with that he jolted forward, bottoming out and grinding himself against your clit.

“John-Johnny holy shit!” you cried as he hummed against your skin. He pressed a kiss to your neck as he waited for you to adjust after suddenly becoming so full. “Need you to move Johnny. Fuck… please,” you begged.

And Johnny did not disappoint. His body trembled much like how it did when he first kissed you, he was holding back again. You felt as his restraint left him when he moved to kiss you. He began to thrust quickly, a stark contrast to all of his slow movements from before.

The thrusts started shallow at first, he wanted to make sure you were properly adjusted before he gave fully into his own needs. It didn’t take long for his thrusts to become longer and more purposeful.

The sounds he was making in your ear as he rested his forehead against your temple were a combination of low grunts and growls with near needy whines. You met him with your own moans, he was pulling them out of you like a thread gets pulled from its spool.

His thrusts quickly became sloppy and he whined in your ear, “Can Ah cum in ye, please? This cunt’s too good Ah can’t-”

“Yes!” you all but yelled, “I’m on the pill, fuck, yes.” The words came out quick as his thrusts became borderline forceful after your confirmation.

His hips stuttered as he let out a long stream of curses and random mutterings you couldn’t quite pick out due to his grunting. His hips met yours and he stopped, you could feel him twitch in you as he spilled himself within your gooey walls.

“Johnny, Johnny f-fuck!” you cried out as you too were tumbled off the edge partly from his pleasure alone and partly from the way the blunt head of his cock slammed against your walls.

Johnny slowly lowered himself down onto you, bracing himself on shaky elbows so as to not crush you. As you slowly came down from your high you gently ran your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp idly. He let out a contented hum, the sound was almost purr-like.

The both of you laid there, in blissed out silence for minutes, just enjoying the warmth of another person for as long as you could. You felt him move, opening your eyes to watch him shift back onto his knees and slide out of you with a slick sound.

“Where can Ah find a towel for ye?” he whispered quietly, as if he would startle you by speaking at a normal volume.

You pointed to a closet across the room. “Top shelf,” you murmured before sitting up slightly.

He came back across the room, gently cleaning you with a towel before tossing it somewhere near your hamper. “Ah’ll get it in the mornin’,” he hummed before pulling back your covers and tucking you both in.

He nestled himself right behind you, wrapping an arm around your midsection. You almost wanted to beg him not to leave tomorrow, to stay with you for a while, but honestly neither of you were in the position to sustain something longer than tonight. With that thought creeping itself into your head you shut your eyes, basking in his warmth while you could.

~~~

When you woke to your alarm the next morning the bed was empty, save for you. You leaned up to find all of the clothes that were haphazardly tossed around last night were all cleaned up and in the hamper. With a sigh you tossed your legs over the side of the bed and got up to start your day, the soreness from your shenanigans last night not lost on you.

As you made your way into the kitchen you saw him there, hip notched against the counter and drinking coffee.

His eyes lit up as you came in. “Ah made ye coffee.” He slid a mug across the counter towards you. “Oh, an’ Ah made ye some eggs an’ toast!” He spun around, grabbing a plate and setting it in front of you.

“Johnny, this-”

He cut you off with a wave of his hand. “What, ye think Ah’m just gonna leave ye cold and alone in yer bed? No’ the type of lad Ah am Ah’m afraid,” he said with a wink.

Shaking your head with an almost amazed smile on your face you walked over to the food and coffee. You tried both, and while they were nothing special, the thought alone warmed your heart.

Johnny got closer to you as you ate, eventually settling behind you, caging you against the counter. He rested his chin against your shoulder, watching you eat your food. The food he made you.

As you finished he peppered feather light kisses against your neck. They were cute at first, but you had to start getting ready for work… and he had to go, you couldn’t open up to something that isn’t set up to succeed in the first place.

You tilted your head, pinning it to your chin and nudging his head out of the way. His hands were already gripping the hem of your shirt. He was primed to go again.

You pulled away a bit, turning around in his arms. “Johnny, we can’t”

His brows furrowed and his head tilted to the side like a curious dog, “Why no’?”

“Because I have to go to work, and this-”

He cut you off once again before you had the chance to deny him, “Ah’ll drive ye tae work. That way Ah can pick ye up after.”

The second you went to protest he leaned down, trapping your lips in a searing kiss, one that momentarily made you forget why you were even protesting in the first place.

He hummed, running a hand through your hair before releasing you. “Go on, get ready. Ah’ll get the truck all warmed up.” With that, he pressed a kiss to your temple and walked out the door with his keys.

You met Johnny by the door after you got ready and he held out your jacket for you to slip into. Without a word you let him help you into it before he ushered you out to his truck.

~~~

True to his word he drove you both to work and was waiting outside to pick you up once you were done. He was sweet, syrupy sweet, and you weren’t sure how to feel about it. There was no way in hell you would be able to make something like this work with him being in the military, you’re not sure you could handle that. So why the hell were you sitting in his passenger seat coming up with scenarios in your head about dating a  guy you had met not even 24 hours ago?

You were quiet, emotionally distant while in the car with him. This whole predicament was a can of worms you didn’t want to open.

He pulled off to the side out in front of your house again and led you to your door. You turned to look at him after you got it open. “Look, Johnny, I appreciate you doing all of this for me, I really do. But I’m not so sure-”

God. At this point you should honestly start preparing yourself for this. He cut you off once again for the third time today. Once again it was with his lips covering yours. He quickly hoisted you up, shutting your door with his heel before walking you over to your couch.

Setting you down on the plush cushions he broke the seal of your lips with a content growl. He kissed down your jaw before dropping to his knees, slotting himself between your legs without much resistance. 

“Been thinkin’ about this pretty little cunt all day, bonnie. Need tae taste ye again,” he said without breaking eye contact with your covered mound. He made quick work of the buttons of your slacks, pulling them down past your knees and letting gravity do the rest of the work.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t thinking about last night all day at work, and as much as you wanted to stop him, to stop this before it became something unmanageable, you couldn’t find it in you to get him to quit.

Johnny hummed at the sight of your dampened panties and he dove right in…

After some reciprocated affection you found yourselves bundled up under a blanket on your couch, eating take out and watching some old comedy movie. You were wrapped up in his arms, barely paying attention to the movie as your mind replayed his grunts and moans over and over again in your head from when you sucked him off earlier. Some deep down part of you thought this was nice, that this was something worth holding on to.

~~~

Johnny picked you up from work once again the next day, insisting that you came over to see his place. Reluctantly, you obliged, packing yourself an overnight bag and leaving it in his truck.

When he brought you to his place it was quite quant. Little sections of memorabilia and trinkets that you could only assume came from his missions. His kitchen was a little cluttered, but you figured he hadn’t been spending much time here over the last two days so who were you to judge?

You got into bed with him, cuddling under the covers until your cuddles became heated touches, then turned into you making out. You sat, straddling his hips as your lips worked with each other in unison. Johnny let out quiet sounds of rugged pleasure as your tongue explored his mouth, making sure to map out every section. He sucked idly on your tongue as his hands found the curve of your ass. Roughly massaging the flesh as his tongue made its way past yours and infiltrated your mouth.

After a while of making out he pulled back. Your lips felt puffy and they buzzed with your pulse. He looked into your eyes and gave you a cheeky grin. “Need tae shower.” He shrugged, sliding you off of him.

“Okay,” you said quietly, confused by his sudden decision to shower right this second.

You sat there for a moment as he got up and started undressing, you figured now was a decent time to tell him that this all should probably stop, that you two shouldn’t continue this fun escapade you’ve both been on the past two days. 

Taking a breath, you opened your mouth, and right as you were about to speak he filled the silence, not giving you the chance to speak, “Ye gonna join me? Too lonely in my shower all by myself,” he said with a shit eating grin.

Okay… maybe you could find a way to make this work after all.

~~~

Uhhhhhhhhmmm yeah so there’s my thoughts for the day

[lucagray813]

Knock 'Em Dead - Epilogue

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,800

Characters: Wukong, Macaque

Relationships: Wukong & Macaque (Could be interpreted as Shadowpeach)

Summary: Wukong and Macaque have a heart to heart. It goes about as well as you might expect.

CW: Alcohol, swearing, references to MCD and violence

Link to AO3 Version

Chapter Navigation: First | Prev

----

The cellar door was open and, combined with that gift of a glass of wine, it felt like an invitation. An invitation to what he didn't actually know but there was no turning back now. Macaque would have heard the moment he started heading in this direction - walking away would have him branded as a coward or worse.

He walked in to find Macaque lounging in a setup that definitely wasn't usually here - two comfortable looking chairs with a small table between them hosting a bottle of peach wine and an empty wine glass.

Macaque acknowledged him with a raise of the glass in his hand and a nod towards the empty chair.

He cautiously made his way over and picked up the open wine bottle before frowning slightly at it, "How much have you had?"

Macaque shrugged, "Like half a bottle."

Wukong poured the last of the wine and raised an eyebrow at him when it only filled half the glass.

Macaque just rolled his eyes and pulled a new bottle from the small collection on the floor. Shadows easily removed the cork before he handed the bottle over to him, "Thought I'd wait and see if I was getting a drinking buddy before going all out."

Drinking themselves to oblivion did sound far better than a sober, dire attempt to talk about what had just happened so he topped up his glass, drained it and then refilled it before putting the bottle down.

It was Macaque's turn to raise an eyebrow but he thankfully said nothing as Wukong took his seat, wine in hand, trying to determine how brave he felt.

He sighed heavily before asking, "Why'd you tell MK?"

Macaque shrugged, "He asked."

He scowled, "Cut the shit, Macaque. You don't do anything unless it benefits you so why'd you do it? What are you getting out of this?"

Macaque's eyes flashed dangerously for a moment but he clearly made a conscious decision to bite back whatever vitriol he wanted to spit and instead laughed cruelly, "You know, Wukong, I've read that little book of yours, the story of how you came to be China's darling and, I get it, a life as long as yours isn't easy to summarise - you've got to focus on what's important, right? But could you imagine my surprise when I realised that I didn't fall into that category? That I wasn't important enough to be so much as mentioned in the story of your life?"

Adamantly, he denied, "That's not why you're not in the book! I- You-"

As he struggled to get the words past his teeth, Macaque sneered, "Then what was it, Wukong? Did I just not fit in with your heroic narrative? Would my inclusion have made you look bad? Was that enough reason to let me be forgotten?"

"No! It wasn't like that! I didn't-!" He cut himself off with a frustrated sound before taking a steadying breath and trying again, "Look, I didn't write the book, ok? It was mostly based on Shā Wùjìng and my master's journals and on hearsay. You didn't get a mention because-"

He grit his teeth as he forced himself to admit, "When I got out from the mountain I was too angry to talk about you to anyone and then- and then after I couldn't bring myself to talk about you because I... I just couldn't, alright? The others had their own reasons for not wanting the world to know about what happened on the Journey. That's why you're not mentioned. Not because you weren't important. Macaque, you have to know how much I regret what happened that day, how much I've always regretted it."

He would never be able to put into words the neverending grief that he'd experienced after Macaque's death and unfortunately he hadn't drank nearly enough to even try, his wariness of the Macaque that existed in the present enough to stop him totally bearing his heart and soul.

Macaque's response was underwhelming. He just sighed, sat back in his chair and had another sip from his glass before commenting, "Yeah, I heard the sob story you fed MK. I suppose I should be honoured my death was a monumental enough occasion for the horse to be moved to take action - you know it must have been bad if Áo Liè actually felt compelled to do something."

Disbelief and anger made themselves known in his tone, "That's all you have to say? I'm trying to have a genuine conversation with you about what happened and your response is to insult my friend?"

Macaque continued to act unaffected, "Oh, I could say more, trust me. But what's the point? I already know how this "genuine conversation" is going to go."

That gave him a moment of pause, "... You Listened?"

Macaque had always been pretty reserved about using his Listening as it left him vulnerable for the duration he used it and his Future Hearing, in particular, wasn't one hundred percent foolproof. But that didn't mean he couldn't or wouldn't use it if he thought the payout was worth the risk.

Macaque scoffed, "As if I had time between talking to MK and listening to him interrogate you."

He still wasn't ruling out that Macaque had manipulated the situation somehow - he could have Listened well before talking to MK and orchestrated this whole thing - but he decided to take him at face value for the moment and see where that took this conversation.

Knowing Macaque though, probably nowhere good.

He crossed his arms, "Yeah, thanks for that. Nice of you to give yourself the upper hand - don't suppose you'd care to tell me exactly what you told MK?"

Macaque's grin was petty, "Sorry, only one show per day and you missed it. Such a shame. Though I'm not sure you would have been a fan."

No, he definitely wouldn't have been but if they were finally addressing what had happened then he wanted them to be on a level playing field.

With a frustrated sigh, he sat back, "I don't want to play these pointless games, Macaque. If we're talking about this, then let's talk about it."

Macaque regarded him for a long moment before quietly chuckling to himself and when he addressed him there was a slightly manic look in his eyes, "Alright then, Wukong, let's cut right to the chase, shall we? You regret what you did? Good. You should. But I don't regret what I did."

His voice came out as a hoarse whisper, "What?"

Macaque made a show of reconsidering, "No, wait, actually I do have a couple of regrets. Getting caught? Very disappointing oversight on my part. And the monk? What I wouldn't give to go back and make sure he suffered like he had truly deserved."

The wine glass in his hand never stood a chance but the shards of glass barely even registered as he slammed his hand down on the arm of the chair and gripped it as if it could hold him back from lunging forward, "For as long as he lived, he never fully recovered from what you did to him! He didn't deserve the torture you put him through!"

He didn't know exactly what Macaque had done to him, but he knew what he was capable of and just the thought of it was enough to have his nails digging into the arms of the chair, the whole thing threatening to crumble under his anguish and fury.

Macaque wasn't intimidated by his show of anger and drawled, "Well, that's a matter of perspective, isn't it? Would you like to hear what kind of person your master was from my perspective?"

He didn't but unfortunately he was going to have to if they wanted to make any progress and Macaque took his hostile silence for the go ahead it reluctantly was.

Macaque took a long drink before telling him with conviction, "Your master was a cold and indifferent man, that switched between viewing you as a burden and a tool at his disposal. He cared nothing about who or what you were and yet he expected you to obey him without question. He was a man undeserving of your love and devotion. And if that changed, it only changed because of my intervention."

He resisted the urge to lash out in response to his self-importance as well as his shallow understanding of the situation and his master's character. However wrong or hurtful Macaque's words though he knew he had to hear them through to the end, so through gritted teeth he bit out, "Explain."

Gesturing to his ears, Macaque responded, "Obviously, I couldn't Listen to every second of the years you spent with him before I found you that day, there could well have been fleeting moments of civility that you let yourself believe was something more that I missed but I Heard his disregard for you and I Heard how he punished you."

There was no denying that the earlier years with his master had been difficult and painful. Supposed opposites forced together, they struggled to understand one another and that led to more conflicts than he would care to admit but he didn't blame his master for not always listening to him or for being heavy-handed in his retaliation.

His master had been young and mortal and thrust into a perilous journey with a dangerous, morally grey and bad-tempered demon that could kill him in an instant. Could you blame him for being a little on edge or for being unsure of how best to handle every situation?

And while he had initially been the unwilling muscle for this operation, his master had always treated him as his student. And even if he'd had no idea how to be a teacher to someone like him, he, ultimately, had never given up on him.

Even in those early years, when quite frankly, Wukong had neither wanted to or believed there was any need to change his ways.

But he knew that sort of nuance meant nothing to Macaque, just as it meant nothing to himself at the time and how it would have meant nothing to him if he and Macaque's positions had been reversed.

He could hear the undercurrent of fury in Macaque's voice as he continued, "But even if I hadn't Heard all I had, the way you pathetically latched onto any hint that he actually cared about you when I was the one wearing his face would have been enough to seal his fate."

He wasn't ready to face that ugly truth just yet and so he took hold of the embers fanned by that statement and glowered, "You mean when you lied to me? When you manipulated me?"

Macaque laughed incredulously, "Oh, of course, how fucking vile of me to listen to you, to treat you as if you're feelings mattered! Not once did I ever even tell you that you were in the wrong! Or that you had to forgive me!"

Despite the truth of it, he still growled, "That doesn't make it right! And it doesn't change the fact that your ultimate plan was to get me out of the picture long enough for you to torture an innocent man for information he didn't have!"

Macaque's eyes were filled with venom, "And whose fault was that, Wukong? Did you really fucking expect me to just go home, to sit patiently and wait for you? After everything I'd Heard? After all the time you'd already been gone? What choice did you give me but to take matters into my own hands?"

He knew now that it had been stupid to believe that Macaque would ever have listened to him back then. And even half-crazed from his time under the mountain, he should have known that.

And moreso, if he put himself in the mindset of pre-Journey Wukong and thought about Macaque's actions then they were entirely justifiable. Maybe a touch crueler and calculated than he personally would have gone with but hey, everyone had their own style.

That sort of violence was normal, especially against an outsider who had wronged you and your own. It wasn't considered bad and it wasn't considered wrong.

He obviously knew better now but it had been a lesson hard earned, and one that required a fourteen year journey, with a dedicated teacher at that. But both then and, arguably, now Macaque hadn't been given that same chance to grow or learn the error of his ways. Could he truly blame him for what he'd done?

And as twisted and terrible as what Macaque had done was, Wukong couldn't ignore the fact that he'd done it out of love and loyalty.

And when he'd responded in kind, with the single minded desire to avenge his master, he'd declared to the world that those feelings weren't returned.

That they belonged to another.

And the worst thing was, that he had meant it.

All the fight left him, and shakily he responded, "You're right... You responded how any demon would have. How I would've. How I did."

He desperately wanted to tell him that he hadn't meant for things to end the way they had, to go as far as he did, but the truth was Macaque had been dead the moment Wukong had seen what he'd done to his master.

Regret didn't feel a strong enough word for how he'd felt afterwards but Macaque's death had been no accident.

He took a breath before offering, "Look, there's not a single thing I don't regret about what happened. Our reunion after the mountain, how I- how I responded to what you'd done. I understand why you did what you did, that doesn't make it right but... I can understand why you don't regret it and I... I don't blame you for that."

Macaque sneered at his sincerity, "Oh, you understand, do you? You understand what it is to dedicate your life to someone and be told it's not enough? You understand how it feels to have the person you love most only return those feelings when you're wearing the face of the human who abused him?"

Macaque was on his feet, the glass that had been in his hand now shattered on the ground. His eyes glowed violet as he lunged forward and dug his nails into the arms of Wukong's chair, "You know what it's like to spend centuries suffering in the Dìyù? You know what it's like to crawl out of your grave with a gaping hole in your skull? Do you!?"

His stomach turned at the gruesome imagery.

Beyond the fact that the Lady Bone Demon had been involved he knew nothing about how Macaque had been resurrected. He should have known that twisted witch would have made it as agonising a process as possible.

He fought to keep control of his expression however, even without the alcohol, there was no telling what would make the situation worse and Macaque's teeth were already dangerously close to his face.

He was sure the undercurrent of turbulent emotion could be heard as he quietly responded though, "No. Of course, I don't."

Macaque's eyes flicked over his face, his breath coming out in unsteady bursts before he let out a gutteral growl and raised a fist that went right through the back of the chair, deliberately missing Wukong's face.

Wukong could only watch as he turned away, his tail thrashing furiously behind him.

He knew that the true depths of Macaque's suffering would always be beyond his comprehension. In the same way that no words could ever communicate the maddening agony of his isolation under the mountain, he knew that no matter how willing he was to listen, he would never truly understand all that Macaque had been through.

Despite that, there was an overwhelming urge to do the impossible and somehow make amends, to somehow make all of this right.

Macaque stood with his back to him and with a wavering voice said, "You didn't even bring me home."

Sick with shame, he still tried to explain, "I was going to! Your magic- I couldn't move you until it- I promise you, I was going to bring you home. But the- the Lady Bone Demon got to you first and I-"

"When?"

"What?"

Through gritted teeth he heard Macaque clarify, "When were you planning to bring me home? When was the last time you even went to visit my grave?"

He swallowed thickly, his tongue felt like lead and the ensuing silence said it all.

Macaque's laugh was a bitter, tortured thing, "I really didn't mean anything to you, did I?"

Wukong hunched over himself, his forehead leaning against clasped hands, "Macaque, I didn't..."

Macaque turned around sharply, "Didn't what, Wukong? Didn't think you'd ever have to see me again? Didn't think you'd have to face up to what you'd done?"

Of course, he hadn't thought he'd ever see Macaque again. Of course, he'd never thought he'd ever be in this situation.

While his guilt had seen him haunted by visions of Macaque, he'd never believed he would actually rise from the dead. Wished for it, on occasion, maybe but had never conceived an enemy of his could, or would, go to such lengths to torture him.

And yet, still he responded emphatically, "No! I- I mean I didn't mean to leave you there! Or to go so long between visits. It just... hurt to be there. To remember what happened."

Macaque's grin was unhinged, "And that's excellent why I'm here now, Wukong! To make sure you never forget, to make sure you never know peace for what you did!"

A part of him believed that it was no less than he deserved.

But he hadn't forgotten his master's teachings, or his responsibility to MK, and he knew that drowning in self-loathing and guilt would benefit no-one.

And even if he did accept such a punishment - what kind of life was that for Macaque? Consumed by hatred and pain and obsession? He deserved better than that. At the very least, he deserved the same opportunity he'd had to change and grow.

He was no more irredeemable than Wukong had been, of that he was sure.

In fact, he'd already seen the signs that he was capable of better.

He couldn't fully rule out that Macaque was playing some sort of long game but he'd gone above and beyond during the calamity involving Azure and they'd been cohabiting the island with relative civility for months since. They'd even successfully collaborated on MK's training recently.

He wanted that to mean something.

He didn't dare hope for a relationship of any kind to be rekindled from the ashes but they could have some semblance of peace if they both wanted it, if they both dedicated themselves to achieving it.

But peace was clearly the last thing on Macaque's mind right now. The alcohol no doubt adding fuel to the agonising fire that always burned within him.

Now wasn't the right time to tell Macaque that he wanted to help him work through this. There might never be a right time to tell him that to be honest - he could already envision the offence taken at suggesting he could "fix" him.

So, taking a steadying breath, he responded, "I can't ever expect to be forgiven for how I wronged you but I won't run from the consequences. I deserve to know the full extent of the suffering I caused you and you're right, I deserve to never forget it."

In hindsight, there was no way this evening ended well, no matter what he'd said just now, but still he was caught off guard by Macaque's furious scream as he brought a shelf full of bottles crashing to the floor.

He sat frozen as Macaque viciously spat, "You're so fucking pathetic! The old you, the real you, wouldn't just roll over and let someone else tell him what he deserved! He would have killed anyone that fucking dared! He never would have just sat there and accepted his fate!"

It wasn't the first time Macaque had brought up the "real" him and he was sure it wouldn't be the last.

He resolved himself as he stood up, and Macaque's suddenly wary expression at the action spoke volumes. Firmly, he retaliated, "Is that really what you want? The "old" me? The one that never listened to you? The one that responded to everything he didn't like with violence?"

Macaque took a step back as he took a step forward, "You want me to be the me that didn't hesitate to kill the only person that had loved him unconditionally? Because we both know how that will end."

He held Macaque's gaze unflinchingly until the terror he was met with became too much for him.

His expression softened, "But I'm not that person anymore, Macaque. I'll never be him again. I'm going to listen to you. I'm going to treat you with the regard you deserve. And the only reason I would ever cross that line again was because I was given no other choice."

He wished he could promise that he would never be the one to cut his second life short but if it was a choice between him and MK...

Then he would do what he had to.

Macaque seemed to find his reassurance just as terrifying as his reminder of what he'd once been capable of and Wukong wasn't at all surprised that he sank through a shadow portal seconds later and fled.

He stood for a moment and stared at the spot Macaque had been before sighing and rubbing at the back of his neck.

Well, that could have gone worse...?

They hadn't devolved into violence, at least.

He looked around at the mess on the floor and the damage to the chair he'd been sitting on.

Well, mostly anyway.

Normally, he would have a clone tidy it all up but the weight of everything that had happened had him rolling up his sleeves with little complaint.

He didn't doubt that this had been only the first in a long line of difficult and messy conversations that would be needed to try and move past everything that had happened. And he knew he was going to need every scrap of wisdom, patience and tact he possessed if he wanted to help Macaque find a semblance of peace.

But right now, he willed himself to focus only on cleaning up the mess right in front of him, to allow his heart and soul a moment of respite before they were overwhelmed with the grief and guilt of everything he had learnt.

--End--

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[shuggymaniac]

A continuation from this Imagine story AU

((Warning: this continuation has dark and disturbing themes to some please read with caution))

{Buggy’s POV}

He was scared, no… that’s putting it lightly. when Buggy found himself in a cage surrounded by other strangers who were in the same situation as him, he was terrified sh*tless.

He wanted to go back home, he wanted to cry and scream, but he stopped himself, well as best as a child can do when they are imprisoned, because he was sure that his Captain and the rest of the crew will find him and take him far away and back on the ship.

So imagine his growing fear when he was placed on the staged with many nobles looking at him as if he was one of the wonders of the world. But he didn’t let it get to him, he showed them all that he is not to be taken lightly, and that was by fighting the announcer and biting him, which made some nobles laugh others were afraid. But what made the room grow silence is when the announcer introduced Buggy as part of the Roger pirate, and Buggy screaming….

“Of course I am! And when my captain comes to save me he will burn this place to the ground with all of you in it!”

The announcer called a few workers to hold Buggy down and muzzle him because his deceleration scared the nobles. Except for one who found the boy really entertaining. When they started the auction only one noble raised the bet and to everyone’s surprise it the the Figarland’s only heir.

Shamrock Figarland.

The reason why he bought Buggy was because he was bored of children his age, they didn’t want to play fun games only order the servants to act the games for them, and he couldn’t hurt the other kids when they disrespected him, because in the end they were still nobles too. So when he saw Buggy, a boy his age, who claims to be part of one of the strongest pirates crew, and he isn’t scared to speak his mind and act his impulses, he decided then and there that Buggy shall be his new person toy Playmate.

The branding was hell Buggy got shot and slashed before but burned with an hot iron and not given any medicine to ease the pain was hell. He cried and screamed by the handlers told him to be quiet or his new masters would kill him. So Buggy swallowed his tears.

Buggy wasn’t a stupid kid, he was smart and he new that right now he was in a very dangerous situation that could lead him to be killed, according to the stories Gaban told him about celestial dragons is that they don’t care about anyone but themselves, that if they walked the street and heard someone cough they have the right to kill that person with the excuse that they cough offended them. So imagine what would happen to Buggy if he cursed that this red haired boy. Buggy would die the worst death possible.

But it was difficult for Buggy to hold his tongue because this spoiled brat seems to have it in him to push all of buggy’s buttons.

He would ask about Buggy’s pirate life as if he was no longer a pirate, or demand him to tell stories of his adventures and the islands he saw and finally he would tease Buggy the most by talk about his red nose. There were few times where he would slip and curse the boy out loud but thankfully he has bad hearing so Buggy would pretend that he said nothing.

Shamrock didn’t have bad hearing, he could hear every muttered insult that Buggy threw at him but he wasn’t offended that much to punish his new slave, at least not yet. Because from what his father told him if he doesn’t remind them of their place they would retaliate. But the red haired boy wasn’t ready to force Buggy to hide this part of him and make him act like all the mindless servants around here who’d comply to every order.

They were boring but Buggy wasn’t.

He still made Buggy serve him by ordering him to clean up his room or organize his study, which surprised Shamrock of how organized and tidy Buggy was, which only gave him the excuse to tease him further by saying how he can’t be a pirate with such manners. And that would trigger Buggy to brag about how he was raised by this man called Rayleigh who taught him how to clean and that cleanliness was important.

With time Shamrock realized he liked when Buggy bragged about himself, but not when he bragged about other people. He didn’t like how Buggy still spoke about how his captain Roger would find him and take him away. He can’t do that because Shamrock bought Buggy fair and square he has the papers to prove it but who is he kidding they were pirate they don’t care about the legal things they only care about stealing and he will make sure that Roger won’t steal Buggy away.

Shamrock realized that not only did he not like it when buggy talked about other people proudly but also when other people looked at him. During the play date which his father forces him to go to to make connections with young heirs like himself, they would have one look at Buggy show excitement about his unique appearance and then offer to by him from him.

He didn’t like that one bit Buggy was his. So he forced Buggy to wear clothes that showed the branding on his back that showed the family symbol. Forcing Buggy to remove his beanie and that is when Shamrock realized that he never saw Buggy’s hair. It was pretty, he would find himself thinking and then add it to the list of things he can use to tease Buggy with to gain a reaction.

Buggy would sleep in his room because he is tired of waiting for him to come from the slaves room, Buggy would shower regularly because he will not have his favorite toy playmate stink up the room especially while they are playing one of those games of the people like “wrestling” or “hide and seek”. Buggy would be wearing clothes that not only showed the family symbol but also clothes that matched Shamrock to show that Buggy belonged to him even further.

But doing all that was not enough he need to have Buggy more to himself. He cut him off from any other slave that tried to make friends with him, he looked him up in his personal chamber when he would go to family or personal meetings, to ensure Buggy doesn’t wander off.

And during one night, where Buggy yet again was forced to tell a story of his life as a pirate, did he realized it was the spark in Buggy’s that bothered him, that spark that shown every time Buggy spoke of Roger or any other pirate of his ship. The spark of hope of escaping him. It angered Shamrock and he decided that he needed to get rid of two things, Buggy’s hope of escaping and Buggy’s love for the sea.

The first thing was Buggy love for the sea, he needed Buggy to forget ever sailing again. And so when he learned about devil fruits and their ability to take away a person’s ability to swim he immediately needed one. That when he goes to another auction house and find it half destroyed when asked who did it the owner told his father that it was the Roger pirates and Shamrocks blood ran cold. Because at that moment he realized that Buggy was right, that he was indeed part of the Roger pirates and they are looking for him. But he will never give him buggy because again he was His.

((Reminder, they are still children in this part, so imagine Shamrock being the “mine” type of kid))

He buys a fruit not caring what it does and finds away to trick Buggy to eat it and then blame Buggy by saying how it was his own fault for eating it never revealing that it was his plan all along. And then emphasizes how Buggy can’t be a pirate anymore because he can’t swim, that the sea will rejects him and hate him, and Buggy being a young kid he believes it because he never met a pirate with a devil fruit power and none of the Roger pirates had devil fruits, which leads him to crying, and that awakens something in Shamrock.

He never saw Buggy cry, he was always this energetic and impulsive boy he shouldn’t cry, he should have fought back telling Shamrock that he was a liar that it doesn’t matter and he was still a pirate but Buggy didn’t do any of that, he just cried. And Shamrock didn’t know what to do, he just decided to sit beside Buggy and watch him as he covered his face and cried. It bothered him to see the blue haired boy cry but the thought that those tears were caused by the realization that he can’t sail away anymore brought him satisfaction.

Now to deal with the Roger pirates, it was been a years since Buggy became Shamrock’s slave and he can’t imagine a life without him anymore.

So using Buggy’s stories and the only piece of clothes that Buggy refused to give away, even protected it with his own body Shamrock made a plan but he needed his father’s help. He disguised his intentions by telling his father that this plan would stop the pirates from wrecking havoc and they would deemed heros in the eyes of the nobles. So the plan was to plant the beanie somewhere obvious in anew slave market that are sure would catch the pirates attention and make it seem that the boy is no more. That way they would stop attacking the nobles slave market and the marines would have a chance to catch in such vulnerable state.

But the problem is Buggy refused to let go of the beanie he guarded it like a hawk and when Shamrock tried snatch it away from Buggy the look of pure hate he got made him let go of the beanie followed by an unconscious apology. He didn’t like that, no he didn’t like that look at all, buggy looked at him angrily before but never with such pure hate. He didn’t like that look. So change of plan.

Buggy will come with them to the slave market and when the plan is in motion he would make it seem that Buggy dropped his hat and then drag him away with the excuse that there was no time. But it was as if fate itself is agreeing with Shamrock’s right to keep Buggy as his own because something happened.

Whole he and Buggy were exploring the market him and Buggy got separated temporarily and when he realized that Buggy was gone he found him in a cell being whipped by some celestial dragon. And that made Shamrock see red. How dare he hurt was was his! How dare this person whose family was below the fingarland touch what was obviously their property since the family symbol was in display, how dare he hurt His Buggy.

If he had his sword he would probably kill the man as he stands but he only could yell at him as he berates the noble of how dare he damage their family’s property. He was still a child so the celestial dragon didn’t take him seriously until his father, Saint Figarland Garling, showed himself and decided to have a proper talk about respect among ranks.

Shamrock didn’t care about that he wanted to see Buggy and it took him a while to realize that his beanie was not with him when asked about it Buggy told him how the celestial dragon tried to buy a little girl from her mother but Buggy stepped in and stopped him by making him fall and help the mother and daughter escape but he knew they couldn’t escape long so he decided to give the little girl his beanie because it reminded him of himself when he first came in as a slave and told them to escape before the guards caught him and took him away.

“I really loved that hat… but…I it was made for a pirate… and I’m… I”

Buggy fought back tears and he grew speechless only to be startled when Shamrock hugged him. Buggy was surprised and tried to fight Back but feeling his hold tighten buggy hesitantly hugged back thinking that they boy tried comforting him, but if Buggy could see the sinister smile that blasted on the red haired boy’s face he would think that, because the reason why Shamrock hugged Buggy was out of joy since his second step was almost done to make Buggy his.

The final blow to Buggy’s fragile hope of being saved by His captain came when Buggy was 15 years old. Unlike the other slaves Buggy had many privileges of being the favorite some of them in access to food and water, access to the library and he can wear fine clothes. And the other servants knew that and they never cross Buggy because the last person did died horribly for defying Shamrock’s favorite slave. There are some servants that Buggy won over with his Charm and kindness since he would share his privileges with some of them when he can.

And Shamrock didn’t mind as much, because at least Buggy had company when the red hair has to leave his home for days because his responsibilities grew with him, he needed to meet nobles, make a good reputation for himself and practice swordsmenship with his father so he barely had time to meet Buggy but when he did he would drag him to his room where he would demand him talk of every detail of what he did when Shamrock wasn’t around before he would fall asleep cuddling Buggy as if he was his favorite teddy bear.

That wasn’t the only thing that Changed, because of Buggy’s devil fruit ability he gave him an upgraded collar that marked his location at any time or place, had some small shocks that punish Buggy if he did or said something wrong, mostly to please his father and show that he isn’t too kind. And lastly Buggy collar has special sea stone that is activated at the push of a button to stop Buggy’s abilities, which Shamrock would leave it on when he is far away because he was still afraid that Buggy would still try to escape.

((Trigger warning: SH))

So imagine his shock when one day he got the news that Buggy went insane and locked himself in the bathroom and when opened it that found him covered in blood and half dead. Shamrock ran so fast to the infirmary where he found the doctors that are assigned for slaves appointing on Buggy and he screamed at them demanding the family personal doctor to do it instead. And the sight of Buggy scared him, he was pale, the cut on his forearms were deep and groesome and judging from the small cut around his neck he probably tried to slit his throat but was too weak to do so.

When Buggy became stable Shamrock demanded answers and the servants had none, only that Buggy was reading the newspaper and the suddenly started screaming and cursing before running away, when he saw the paper he read it. Roger was declared the king of the pirates and then retired from pirating and how the marines are looking for him. Shamrock was relived that he doesn’t have to worry about Roger anymore but why was Buggy so upset that he would try to take his own life.

When Buggy woke up he was disoriented and was babbling incoherent things, but then Shamrock understood that Buggy felt betrayed.

“He sailed the sea….. he sailed the entire grand line without me… h… He told me that we would do it together…. That I will draw the maps and discover and new world..he.. hehehehe… HAHAHAHAHA!!! F*CKING LIAR!!! He let me to rot here!! A fucking slave to some spoiled brat!! Hehehe! He never cared about me, everything he told me was bullshit, every promise, every speech, was all lies!!”

Again Shamrock held Buggy close, he hugged him as Buggy continued hitting him focusing the blame on him. But Shamrock wasn’t smiling he had a look of pure fear, because he almost lost Buggy, Buggy was almost no more. He was so broken from his captain and crew’s betrayal, the people he saw as family, that he wanted to end his life. And as Buggy fell asleep in his arms after tiring himself and from the medication he took. Shamrock swore to himself that he will never let Buggy take his life again even if he had to tie his hands and break his feet as long as buggy will continue to love by his side Shamrock will be content.

That is when the young red hair realized that this obsession for Buggy ran deeper than that of master and servants, he wanted Buggy to be close to him, like how a married couple do.

After Buggy had came to terms with his new conditions fully, that he will never go back to the sea, how he is now stuck as a slave forever he decided to use his title as a favorite and demand materials from Shamrock in order to make new clothes for his vision, he could have told Buggy that he can employ people for that but he looked to watch Buggy measure his own body and try in finished pieces of clothing but he was most enchanted when Buggy would try to put make up, the red color on his lips or the dark liner on his eyes made the young master experience new things…adult things.

When Buggy finally revealed his new goal he reveled himself as the court jester. How he will use his devil fruit ability and already talent with weapons to make shows to entertain people. Buggy knows that he doesn’t need to show his worth to stay because his master was to “attached” to let him go. But Buggy refused as he doesn’t want to set back and watch people come and go, especially at parties where his only job was to refill Shamrock’s cup or bring him food, which the red hair would get an earful of how he shouldn’t ask him personally that he had other servants but Shamrock insists that his drink and food taste better when Buggy gives it to him. Further teasing him.

The Buggy was a hit, the nobles adored the famous jester of the Figarland family, they would even ask Garling to host parties where Buggy was the center of attention. Which Shamrock hated so much.

Yes he loves to see Buggy preform, he loves to see his proud smile when he succeeds in a trick, but he doesn’t like the sounds of cheers that followed. He doesn’t like how the room felt crowded with everyone around. These tricks and acts were shown to him before anyone else! They were supposed to be for his eyes only! What drove him over the edge is when he overheard several noble family compliment Buggy’s beauty and saying suggestive things.

On that night not only did Shamrock decide that Buggy shall no longer preform in front of of anyone but himself but also decided that Buggy will be his lover. Which Buggy opposed too, all this time he thought what they had was simple friendship. But Shamrock manipulated Buggy’s thoughts and insecurities telling him how no one could care for him like he does how it was his love that allowed him to live such a lavish life and how he will make sure that Buggy will continue to live happily if he gave himself and his love to Shamrock…..

Or else he would have to look elsewhere….

The last part terrified Buggy as he doesn’t want to be abandoned again. So he reluctantly accepts to be Shamrock’s lover.

Everyone who knew the heir of the Figarland family personally would tell you how you should never disrespect his favorite jester. Don’t look at the jester for too long, or you’ll have your eyes plugged out. Don’t talk to the jester directly and if you did make sure you’re being respectful, because if you didn’t your tongue will be burned before they cut it out. Don’t compliment the jester too much because the the heir will be driven by jealousy and just kill you in the spot. All in all if the jester was in the same room as you make sure that you don’t upset him in anyway possible because it will be not only you but also everyone else you love life on the line.

Shamrock would take Buggy everywhere he goes. Meetings, training, eating, sleeping. Buggy would never leave his side and in the rare occasion where he has to leave Buggy he would appoint guard to watch over him so that Buggy can roam the palace freely without fear of anyone harming him or himself.

And he was content, well, if you made his father stop nagging him about taking a wife already, he would be content.

He did offer to marry Buggy but his father not only was pissed at his suggestion but also pointed out that he needs an heir that is connected by blood. Shamrock did some research and he found a devil user that could change a person’s gender, even if they were a pirate he could pay them to change Buggy’s gender so he can be able to bear him a family heir. Or he could just kill the devil fruit user search for the respawned fruit and force a servant to eat it so he can turn buggy from female to male on command.

Of course Buggy got pissed at him and threatened him to make his life a living hell if he tried to do such thing with him. But Sahmrock already decided, it would be best to keep Buggy by his side.

But he didn’t push it.

Like before he will take his time, find a way to manipulate Buggy’s thoughts so that in the end it would be his blue haired lover would come to him offering him as a spouse and future parent of their child.

And so he decided to travel and try gather informations about the pirate with the devil fruit and who better to ask than other high nobles and marines. Whom he can find them mostly in slave markets.

Life was perfect….

Until him and Buggy come a cross a person who had the same face as him but with a scare ordering him to release Buggy.

No, this was unacceptable

[battlefrankies]

totally completely absolutely normal about how marco's role in every conflict so far is to tank and deflect attacks from horrendously strong enemies to protect his people. at marineford it was whitebeard from kizaru, luffy and jinbei as they're fleeing from akainu, and he had to be actively ordered to stand down while whitebeard faced off against teach cause pops didn't even need to turn his head to know marco was rushing to his defense

into wano, where he got stabbed a couple times as he sent robin and brook away so he could bring zoro up to the roof to join luffy, took an andon from king to protect zoro while he was recovering even though he was already completely out of stamina, and a bolo breath to the face because nami went to face down kaido

he's constantly traveling to help others, taking damage for others, stepping in to make sure his allies are safe. in every appearance (including the one where he's shown as town doctor of sphinx) marco is acting in service to others. and the only times in this 1000+ chapter series where someone puts themselves between marco and danger, who steps up to alleviate some of his work, is when shanks interrupts the war at marineford

arranges funerals for whitebeard and ace and all their other casualties

and when he gave marco a lift back to sphinx.

izou has a cute moment with him in wano as well, but that kinda proves the point. marco is rarely protected by others-- when he is, it's by people who've known him for a very long time and who care deeply about him.

the only two times marco has ever had cause to thank someone, it was because shanks went out of his way to help him. and that's not an easy thing to do, because marco's a powerful, well-established and capable pirate. there are next to no other people in the world who have the power to render actual assistance to him. but again and again, shanks comes through for him in a way that no other character is able to.

and part of it is, i'm sure, how often and how much marco helps luffy, who shanks can't personally do anything for because of their promise. luffy can't grow strong if shanks solves all his problems for him. but shanks, whose most important most inviolable policy is that he won't forgive anyone who hurts his friends, sees marco repeatedly put himself on the line to help luffy. shanks is literally one of the great powers of the world. it is nearly fucking impossible for someone to be able to help shanks to any extent, but marco does it by taking care of his friend in his stead.

they have such a steady, secure friendship that's lasted decades even if they weren't able to spend all that much time in close proximity and shanks is such a playful little shit with him, there probably aren't many people left in the world who see him beyond his status and his power. what do you mean no one is insane about this.

[randomizer971]

Wakfu The Great Wave - Chapter 12

Hic sunt dracones...

... and beware of spoilers, amphibians, Trypophobia and overuse of gif.

Me, watching some NPC blame Yugo & his people for the "sins of the Mother" for the nth time :

Grougalorasalar is so out of line in this chapter! Even that luscious hair and those defined abs don't blind me to his faults!

The audacity of Rasalar to imply those artefacts don't belong to Yugo, Adamaï and co. I'll admit that the Eliasphere and Eliacube are from the Mechasms (stolen, given, rented or whatever the current canon says) but the DOFUS ?! The Dofus Eliatropes are literally those kids' spawn points ! What are they supposed to do when their siblings are still incubating?

Here's your daily reminder that Yugo is living his best Explicit Married Life with his baby siblings stuck on his chest and at least two of them will remember all they could perceive from their Dofus once they're out... but who's judging?

Rasalar has no mercy. Everyone is catching strays today! Let Qilby rest in peace, he's back in his Dofus now. That reptile is so rude! Did he even know any other Dofus Eliatrope to talk about this family like that? I would have loved to see a verbal battle between Qilby and Rasalar. The sass would have been 📈📈

My, this dragon really said "I hate you and your entire bloodline" in 10k words or more. He had been preparing his diss track since Ogrest spat out his Dofus. You know Mewing Lizard was just waiting for Yugo to grow up just to trash him without being accused of bullying kids. Bro had so much resentment toward Yugo and the eliatropes, you'd think he'd taken lessons from Oropo, the poster boy for daddy issues. Is it Rasalar's Euphoria era or something? Was his name Lamar all along ?

In all fairness, it makes sense for a Twelvian to be so against the eliatropes being on the planet. These artefacts and some Eliatropes caused chaos all over the World of Twelve for centuries. Yugo's edgy alter ego had some involvement in Ogrest's Chaos and Nox's vain project to use the Eliacube. Then, there was the whole mess with the necromes and now, it's almost confirmed that Goddess Eliatrope had a hand in the death(?) of all the Twelvian gods. Not that they were much involved to begin with, apart from creating half-gods. How very Olympian of them!

I might get hate for this but, the Twelvian rulers were right to demand the Eliatropes and all their inventions leave the World of Twelve (Seasons 2 and 4).

The monarchs had more to lose keeping the Eliatropes on the planet. Ignoring the more peculiar concerns like where to put all those kids (back when there were thousands of them in S2), who would pay for all this and such, national security would have been the top argument to kick the Eliatropes out. The Twelvian Council had "proof" that the Eliatropes were a threat to the local population, and that was without knowing Oropo's origins and his involvement in Ogrest's Chaos. As rulers, they are accountable for the lives of thousands (current and future generations). Their duty would call for those rulers to deal with the problem asap. Because, if they didn't, the population would be sure to remind them of said duty (riots, vigilantism, civil unrest, coup...).

Apart from late King Oakheart, the monarchs had no deep involvement with the Eliatropes, no positive interaction not tainted by a bad first impression. All they knew was that their respective kingdoms were put in danger because some "wakfu-powered alien children" and their "long-lost, overbearing, self-righteous and possibly unstable" Goddess Mother had decided to crash-land there and open the door to the Necrome menace.

Since the Eliatropes cannot leave the planet without draining it of Wakfu (Season 2, Qilby), keeping the artefacts out of reach from both the Eliatropes themselves and the Twelvians would be the next best thing. It seems Rasalar might be justifying his actions with this thought.

HOWEVER, I disagree with the idea of giving away the Eliatrope collectables to Rasalar. So far, no one has proven worthy of properly using the Elia-artefacts or even keeping them safe.

On one hand, the Twelvians are easily manipulated or tempted into misusing any powerful artefact like they already did with the Primordial Dofus, the Eliacube or Shushu weapons (e.g. Nox, Ogrest, Toross on his planet, Pinpin and other Shushu Guardians). The Primordial Dragons and their Guardians would lose these items, like they often do with their own Dofus (Grougalorasalar & his siblings). Master Joris helped in hiding those treasures away (OAVs) but failed because of Oropo's brotherhood. Regardless, he is currently the ambassador of Bonta, whose queen dislikes Eliatropes. What would he do, should the Bonta queen and queen consort command him to hand over the items?

On the other hand, the Eliatropes, the rightful owners of most if not all these Eliatrope collectables, don't have the cleanest track record either. Qilby is out of commission for some time, but nothing says for sure he won't try to use the Eliacube again, even with his last-minute "redeeming arc". With some Eliatropes living among a population with mixed opinions about them, who is to say one of the Eliatropes won't turn into the next Qilby, Oropo or Bouillon in a few years or in a few generations?

Adamai seems to have good decision-making skills but most of it lies with his fear - fear of losing control, of making the wrong decision. He is so unsure that he'd rather not act because he also fears what Yugo would do with the powerful items (e.g. OAVs and Season 3).

Yugo is...Yugo. He has matured a lot since Season 1, but, he mostly thinks with his heart. From this, he would act on what he believes is right, while pushing aside the very real and often negative consequences of his choices and actions. He is a brave warrior and overall a kind person...but his very dichotomic view on right and wrong could make him a questionable ruler when political acumen is preferred over sheer might.

Right now, Yugo is still reeling from his confrontation with Oropo and the fight against the Necromes. With the tasks of caring for two kingdoms, maybe we'll see him make those hard decisions. However, as he is now, I cannot imagine Yugo not using the Eliasphere & Eliacube to try and "be a hero", if push comes to shove. The webtoon made that PG-13 plot armour disappear, opening the door to not only some Yumalia fun but potentially to explicit death and gore. This means that, in the webtoon, Yugo with his current mindset could try to "save everyone" only to fail miserably.

Yet, the webtoon has just begun. There is still time for some kind of evolution for his character development. Although, given the title "The Great Wave" and the state of the world in Waven, I'm not holding my breath.

As long as he doesn't end up alone on a planet destroyed by his own hubris, Yugo is good to go!

What I don't understand is…why now? It's been months (?) since the Battle against the necromes. Why does Rasalar want to talk, scheme and let out his grievances now that everything is relatively quiet? Is it because it took time to reunite all the Primordial Dofus? Was he spying on Yugo and the others to gauge their strength before attacking? Was he on his training arc to master the Primordial Dofus before confronting the Eliatrope twins?

Rasalar demanding those Eliatrope limited edition items be like

The audacity of this walking crocodile bag! Who does he think he is ? I know Spicy Lizard didn't just demand those sacred Elia-McGuffins! I know the genius who lost his Dofus, not once but twice, didn't just ask the Eliatrope artefacts and even added a tight deadline and a menacing debt collector (goth queen Julith 🖤).

That guy?! Who would give anything so dangerous to the very dragon who couldn't keep his Dofus safe from fusing with a baby (Maître Joris) and later could only watch as a crying toddler (Ogrest) gobbled the egg down? Be for real !

And now Rasalar is threatening people ?! This guy needs to disappear TODAY ! I'm saying this as a totally unbiased person who has no favourite at all. If this dried-up reptile hurts my beloved child Amalia or little Grougal and Chibi !

One too many people have been talking big just because they got some Kinder eggs stuck on their back !

How are they so loud, when they look like this?!

Tell me this is not what dark!Adamaï, Toross and Rasalar looked like? Embarrassing!

On a side note, Rasalar sacrificed all these villagers to revive The Butcher of Brakmar only to use her as his Uber driver?

Heretic!

Anyway, as usual, the art is fantastic and the pace is great. All those cameos from the animated seasons, making me all teary-eyed and stuff. My boy Nox ! 😭😭😭

I'm looking forward to this new wave of drama! Hopefully, more character development will come for the non-Iop cast. 😒

*End of my rambling*

[mikimakiboo]

The Favorite Uncle

I know I'm supposed to work on both the Bitty fic and the next Time Travelers chapter but shhhhht I wanted to write some Dream x Killer first because I just noticed I never wrote about it so I had to fix that

This a sort of part two to A Second Chance ! Featuring Driller ( Dream x Killer ship ), I say sort of because it's more of a short story taking place after the events than a real follow up, but anyway !

Short summary: Dream and Killer are competing with each other to be Moroz's favorite uncle, it ends up in a very close tie

Tw: suggestive but nothing too explicit or nsfw

Killer was on the couch, watching the little kid play with some wooden construction blocks on the coffee table in front of him. Moroz, Nightmare and Error's kid, he had turned five years old a few months ago, who would have thought the two most dangerous skeletons in the multiverse would have such an angel of a son together ? Killer really liked this kid, they all did, and he very much wanted his little nephew - because they all considered themselves his uncles - to like him too. He wanted to be somewhat special to him, he didn't know if it was because it was the first time in years that a child wasn't afraid of him, or because it was his boss's - his friend's - kid, or even because it was something new again, something new but not destructive, something new that wouldn't keep him up at night with his soul aching with guilt, the only thing he was sure of was that he loved this kid so much.

But there was an obstacle: Dream. Him and Nightmare had made peace when he was still pregnant, and Dream really did his best to improve himself and gain his brother's trust again, Killer had to admit he came from far but did great progress. But, he was Moroz's biological uncle, often came to visit them, and never arrived without a gift for either the child or his brother. Killer knew it was stupid of him to feel irritated by that, after all Nightmare was more than happy to have reconnected with his twin and Moroz was happy to see his uncle, but Killer had that hovering, displeasing, thought that Moroz might prefer his biological uncle over him. He kept repeating that he didn't have a favorite, he loved all of his five uncles the same, but Killer couldn't help but feel behind Dream. He knew who Dream was after all, he knew he could get anyone to love him if he wanted to, so what guaranteed him he wouldn't soon be the favorite uncle ? Killer couldn't stand that thought, even more when Dream gained the right to babysit three years ago and his anxiety doubled.

And so a rivalry began between them, a harmless one, that consisted mainly on spoiling their nephew more than the other would. It was a little war that they had been taking very seriously. No one got in the way, seeing how the two weren't hurting anyone, how Moroz was simply happy to spend time with them, and how they both seemed to slowly start to consider it as a game more than a fight, because upping each other was fun, but Killer soon started to make some well placed teases, to which Dream never hesitated to answer with more teasy remarks. Ironically, they started to know each other better with their rivalry, to lower their guard when around the other, they couldn't say they trusted each other, but there wasn't any animosity in their interactions anymore, they weren't scared to mess a little with the other from time to time.

Dream wasn't as insufferable as Killer first thought, but still, hearing his name so often in Moroz's mouth was rather annoying. Was he that special that the kid loved staying at his place so much ? What was Dream doing that he wasn't ? He didn't like the thought of missing something, not when it had to do with his nephew. He got up from the couch.

- Hey 'Roz, I'm gonna go pay a little visit to someone, you stay here and be good, kay ?

Moroz looked up at him, a red cube in his hand, and nodded before turning his attention back to his construction, putting the cube on top of a yellow one. If there was any problem, his other uncles weren't far and his parents were on the floor just above. Killer smiled at him before teleporting away.

He appeared in a small house, decorated in a way that made it look warm and welcoming, much different than the castle, even if the warmth improved with the arrival of the baby. Killer heard noise from the kitchen and went straight to it, knowing where it was as it wasn't the first time he came here. He sat at the table.

Dream was cleaning the counter of his kitchen, his dishes were drying on the side of the sink. He turned around to grab a dishcloth and almost dropped it when he jumped, surprised by the newcomer sitting at his table, staring at him with a sharp smile and empty sockets. Killer. Since when was he watching him ?

- Will you ever learn to knock before entering ?

Dream complained, turning to his counter to resume drying it. It wasn't the first time Killer intruded in his house, he often payed him visits, at first to warn him not to try anything against Nightmare or the baby, then to "make sure he wasn't plotting", and finally to annoy him as a past time activity.

- Why would I ? Scaring you is way funnier.

Killer replied, satisfied to have succeeded once again in surprising him.

- Why are you here ? Dream asked, ignoring the mockery.

- Can't I just pay you a visit because I missed you ? Killer joked again.

- As if you would ever miss me. Dream huffed.

Killer didn't reply right away, looking at the guardian taking the dishes one by one to dry them off with the cloth and pile them on the now clean counter.

- You're not special. He finally said.

- I'm sorry ? Dream turned, confused.

Killer didn't move, his head resting on his fist with his elbow on the table, he was still smiling, but Dream could tell he was irritated.

- I said you're not special.

- I heard you. Dream cut him. But I never said I was special.

Killer straightened his back.

- The kid seems to really like you. He keeps talking about the stuff you two do and how cool you are.

Dream arched a brow.

- And ? You've got a problem with him liking his uncle ? He asked as he resumed drying the dishes. Or maybe you're here for advice ?

Killer's smile twitched.

- I don't need your advice, Star Boy.

- Well you sound like you do, why would you be here then ?

Killer stood up, slamming a hand on the table.

- I do not need advice !

Dream put his cloth on the side, grabbing the plates to put them back in the cabinet.

- Really ? Then why are you here ? Are you scared he might like me more than you ?

Dream smiled, knowing what string to pull to get a reaction out of the murderer. It always worked.

- You think I'm scared ? I'm not scared, if anything you should be the one who's scared. Killer replied through gritted teeth.

Dream turned to look at him, a faint smile on his face. Killer hated that stupid smile, like he knew something but didn't want to say it. Dream had changed a lot since the truce with his brother, his behavior changed, and some new facets of his personality were showing. Being mischievous was one of them, and Killer couldn't decide if he hated or liked it, given that he always fell into his traps.

- Scared of what ?

- Scared of me.

Dream chuckled.

- I'm not scared of you. But I scare you.

Killer took a few steps closer as Dream put his back against his counter, crossing his arms as he looked at the taller skeleton, smiling.

- You do not scare me. You think you can intimidate me ? Please, I've fought you countless times, I know your weaknesses, you're no match for me.

Dream's smile only widened as Killer approached.

- Why are you smiling ? You think I would hold back just because you made peace with your brother ?

- I know you wouldn't. But I also know that you're not dumb, you know it wasn't what I meant.

Killer stopped in front of him. Dream didn't stop smiling, and the intensity in his gaze told Killer that he really wasn't afraid. He knew he wouldn't start a fight, they hadn't fought in years, Dream knew they were past that, he didn't have to worry. If really Killer was pissed, he would leave, he knew better than fighting his boss's brother when they established a truce.

- I am not scared of you. In any way.

Dream tilted his head.

- You think so ?

Killer frowned. He didn't like this conversation, where Dream was slowly guiding him. He came here to tell him he wasn't special, that he should give up trying to be the best, he didn't intend on losing control like that. He got closer again.

- Why would you think I'm scared of you ? You think just because you're my boss's brother you're above me ? Think you could hurt me ?

- I don't. He tilted his head the other way. You're not necessarily scared of me, but I make you afraid, that you can't deny.

Killer slammed his fists on the counter, on each side of Dream. He didn't flinch.

- I'm not afraid !

- Then why are you so defensive ? He asked with the same calm tone he used since the start.

- I...

Killer didn't know what to say, staying right in front of him, so close to him, as Dream was looking so sure of himself, so confident, while Killer was only losing his composure. What was Dream doing to him ? It wasn't because of his aura, it couldn't be, it didn't work on him, his soul was too damaged to be affected by Dream's aura, and yet he felt so... vulnerable. He never felt vulnerable in front of Dream before, if anything, it would normally have been the contrary.

- I am stronger than you...

- I know. Dream bent forward, a little closer.

Killer looked at him, his fists shaking on the counter.

- I.. am not scared of you...

- Then what are you afraid of ? He whispered.

What was he afraid of ? He wasn't afraid of anything, he certainly wasn't afraid of Dream, but his fists were shaking and he could feel his breath fasten. Why was he so nervous ? He shouldn't be nervous. He was the one who came here, he was the one who had something to say. He just had to tell Dream he would never take his place and leave, why was he still here ? He just had to warn him, to remind him he wasn't special, that he wouldn't be the favorite uncle, that he wouldn't erase him. Did Dream want to erase him ? If he did, would Moroz let him ? Would Moroz prefer Dream over him ?

- I don't... want to be behind... he shakily admitted.

- Is that what you're afraid of ? Being left behind ?

Dream looked at him, his soft gaze planted in Killer's empty sockets, his face so close to his. There wasn't mockery in his tone, he wasn't playing with him, he wasn't tricking him. Killer stared back, shaking slightly, why was he so weak ? Whow did Dream make him look so easy to read ? He was supposed to be a constant enigma, even his friends couldn't quite tell what was happening in his head sometimes, and yet Dream seemed to put his finger on every little secret he had. How did he do that ? How did he manage to pierce through his layers with such ease ?

- I... have been a tool for so long... I want to be special.. for someone... really special...

All he wanted was to be someone's special person, sure he had his friends in the castle, but Error had Nightmare, Nightmare had Error, Dust and Horror were practically if not already dating, Cross had his best friend Epic... the only one Killer could have been special to was Moroz, and he tried so hard to be, to make him happy, be present... and Dream was so nice, so sweet, so bright, how could he ever hate him ? How could Moroz not prefer him ? He was everything Killer wasn't, and he couldn't help but fear he would take his place...

- That's what I wanted to hear...

Dream murmured, and with that he put a hand on Killer's shoulder, and closed the small distance between their lips...

It was soft, soft and warm, unexpected, but not unpleasant. Killer didn't move at first, not fully believing what he was living, but when Dream drew back he put a hand on his hip, bringing him closer once again to take a new taste of his lips.

When they looked at each other, Dream smiled.

- I'm not looking to take your place, it has never been my intention, you don't have to be afraid about that.. he gently caressed his cheek, looking at the faint gray eyelight in Killer's right socket, you are one very unique person, I don't think I have ever met someone even remotely like you before.. you're very special.. so very interesting.. I would love to know more about you..

Oh how Killer liked hearing those words, feeling this delicate touch, feeling Dream's body pressed against his... without thinking, he wrapped his second arm around the guardian's waist, and kissed him again, bending over on the counter, Dream bending with him as he passed his arms around his neck. He only drew back to catch his breath, staying close.

- Maybe you're not that bad either...

Dream chuckled, biting his lip as he felt Killer's hand start to caress his side, and with one look, they both knew how they would spend the rest of their day...

Their little war seemed to cease after that day, and even though nobody was supposed to know why, they all noticed that Killer seemed less anxious, calmer, and Dream and him were bad at hiding their hickeys, and what a coincidence that they always appeared after Killer's little visits to a "friend's house"...

They found it amusing, they were all expecting it, and Killer seemed happy. Why wouldn't he be ? Dream made him feel special, he had seen him in ways that nobody else ever saw him, he knew how to read him but never used it to harm him, truly, Killer felt more peaceful with him, more vulnerable, but it was a type of vulnerability that he could get used to...

And Moroz was very happy to get to do activities with his two uncles at the same time.

[nthspecialll]

this is just to branch off of one of the last asks; but while I do completely agree Arthur and John were groomed (in the nonsexual sense ofc), i cant help but think that whether Hosea or Dutch never found them at all, they would still end up as criminals, arguably worse? Arthur already had the influence of his bio dad that died as a criminal, and I doubt he was making his living on the streets lawfully. John even mentions his first kill being really young at a campfire interaction (I believe he said 8 or 11? I honestly cant quite remember the specific age), and then it is said he was getting lynched for petty stealing when Dutch found him.

again, this isn't to say what Hosea and Dutch did was right by any means! When you find vulnerable children on the street your first reaction shouldn't be bringing them into your dangerous life of crime, like if they truly wanted to help, I'm sure a church, orphanage, or ranch couldn't have been that hard to find. but I'm also pretty sure neither of the boys were on a good path in the first place (one could argue actually indulging them on this horrible path is even more fucked up, as they were grown men and could have seen the bigger picture, in contrast to literal traumatized children with nowhere to go!). hell, even Tilly was already in a life of crime. but this is all to say, I'm sure at these ages, they all would have had plenty of time to turn their ways around.

I guess I'm just writing this to get your input! :0 I fear sometimes I try to see two sides of an argument and accidentally lean too much the other way, so just wanted to see what others thought on the subject lol

Well if Dutch hadn't been there for John he would have been dead, simple as that seeing as he literally saved him from the noose. Also it was when he was 11 he killed someone.

As for with Arthur, it is hard to say. A orphanage could have come in, but I fear he wouldn't have stayed there for long. Young Arthur was a very angry person who likely did not listen to a lot of people. And while the orphanages or churches might have wanted to help him I don't exactly see how they would be able to put themselves in a respected position to help him become the kind man we know today.

Likely Arthur would run off, he had already lived on the streets and prior to that he lived with a distant father, he isn't used to having someone control him, hold a hand over him and that is a big change, and we know that young Arthur when fustrated tended to give in to the anger.

So short answer, Arthur might have gotten help however I doubt he would take it, John would be dead.

[peace-hunter]

While in battle what do the primes mostly do? Just sit N watch

yeah kinda!

unfortunately they're very limited on what they can actually do beyond giving some advice when required, which is a source of frustration for everyone involved. being forced to stand on the sidelines without being able to physically help out rapidly becomes one of their least favorite things about being bound to the matrix.

the first time Optimus gets badly hurt during battle and they realize there's absolutely nothing they can do about it is,,, Rough.

they do get to become Optimus' second (thirteenth?) pair of eyes though. literally nothing happens around him without them seeing it. he very quickly gets a reputation for having crazy reflexes and it's really hard to catch him off-guard but it's because he has thirteen ghosts following him around at all times and they're hyper-aware of anything that gets close to OP.

there's a learning curve of how much they can chime in during battle without distracting OP and making things worse, but they get the hang of it eventually. and OP learns to trust them implicitly too, following their warnings with no hesitation, which saves his life more times than he can count.

it is a little freaky for everyone around him, but they kinda get used to it. things are already so goddamn weird around here anyway.

[louisisalarrie]

no one fucking helped him and that keeps just repeating in my head

[girlnadian]

i really do think people mistake kens occasional rudeness for a level of vengefulness or violence that she straight up doesnt have. and if you watch the debunk videos i can see how it happens, because she comes across as kind of a bully, but i feel like that only really happens if its prompted in some way. and even then its never really angry, its just petty. ken hates liars and cheats and frauds and people who are obtuse on purpose, but ken also doesnt hate, really. in most situations, ones involving people she cares about even a little, ken has always been very awkward and startlingly pessimistic

proton is the best example of this, but even in watos 100 days, ken is the one who Gives Up. they dont even go a week before entirely fucking off and seemingly disappearing forever. and i think its really interesting: that ken gives up. shes very, very smart, but as soon as she cant find an immediate solution, or its outside her area of expertise, or shes put in a situation where the solution isnt a technical, logical one, she stops trying. she retreats first during fights. shes good at acting, but she also doesnt really understand people and why they do or want the things they do. she wont take solutions where someone gets hurt, and if someone has to be hurt it should be her, and if thats not an option then theres no solution. and she gives up

ken can be a menace, they play around and they tease and etc. but ken being mean has only ever really applied to the specific niche where shes very passionate and she knows people are doing things wrong On Purpose, or shes been directly challenged in some way. otherwise shes jist kind of a little nerd

[moongothic]

You know I wasn't going to post about this, but the more I think about it the more it drives me up the walls

So when Luffy and co release Crocodile from jail, it's specifically under the threat that if Crocodile tries anything funny, well, Iva-chan has a trick up their sleeve to put Crocodile back in-line.

So what the fuck was that actually about? What is Crocodile's secret weakness? I'm specifically looking at the way this is phrased in the manga, because the anime's added dialogue kinda messes with what's implied here. But what Iva specifically says is that Ivankov in particular holds the key to one of Crocodile's weaknesses, but they'll stay quiet about it as long as Crocodile behaves himself ("Vataashi wa koitsu no yowami wo hitotsu nigitteru", a very clunky but literal translation could be "One of his weaknesses is within my grasp". The way Viz translated the line is a bit different so I'm not bothering with getting a cap of the panel, you wouldn't be able to tell how these lines were phrased in Japanese based on Viz's translations anyways) (The dialogue Toei added was Crocodile furiously shouting at Iva-chan, telling them to not say anything and Iva-chan reminding Croc to watch his tone or else they'll reveal Croc's past to everyone. A lot of people don't remember this was in-fact added by Toei, hence I wanted to clarify/remind what happened in this scene originally)

And now. Obviously. When Oda went out of his way to introduce a brand new character whose entire personality is being queer and their power is giving people magic HRT. And then like five chapters later re-introduces Crocodile. And tells us that these two have Secret Beef. And never proceeds to fucking tell us what the hell that was about. Yes, the natural conclusion one would come to would be that Crocodile is stealth trans. That is basic, good storytelling. You (re)introduce two characters, tell us they have beef, one has a very specific ability; you're supposed to connect these dots in your mind. So that now, if Oda revealed to us tomorrow that Crocodile was canonically trans, it would not surprise anyone because it's already been set-up in the story, by this very scene. It's a logical conclusion.

But. I'm becoming more and more convinced that Iva-chan's blackmail might actually not be about Crocodile being trans.

Like the general fandom assumption for the past 15 years has been that Crocodile's stealth trans, but we actually don't know he's stealth. He could be openly trans, and between that being a borderline requirement for Crocodad to be real (since he would've been a Shichibukai for years before Luffy was even born) and the possibility that his earring could specifically be a gay earring, like. Yeah. Crocodile could be openly trans. If Crocodile's perfectly happy to let the whole world know he's gay, then him being trans shouldn't have to be a secret either. We the readers could just be unaware of it because it wasn't relevant information to us, and his transition would be old ass news in-universe and not worth bringing up.

And thus, if Crocodile isn't stealth, then Iva-chan can't blackmail him by threatening to out him, becaus he can't be outted.

Now for a while I did considder that Iva-chan could've been actually threatening to detransition Crocodile if he tried anything funny. Surely he would hate that, so much so that he might not have wanted to even hear Ivankov suggest it. But thinking about it. Unless Iva-chan can use Armanent Haki or get Crocodile moisturized, they shouldn't be able to hit Crocodile actually. Like Croc's Logia makes him impossible to hit unless he specifically allowed himself to be touched. So even if Iva-chan tried to surprise attack Crocodile with Estrogen, Croc should just turn to sand automatically, the attack should not land.

Meaning Iva-chan shouldn't be able to detransition Crocodile against his will, at least not without Haki and we don't know if they can use it, so that can't be Crocodile's weakness either.

And so we have to ask the question. What the fuck is that weakness then that Ivankov mentioned?

All we really know is that Crocodile doesn't want this weakness to be brought up, it's a secret. And for all we know Iva-chan might be the only person in the world who knows about it.

And I just. Like.

There is one weakness, kind of a universal one that many people could have, one that has been brought up time-and-time again post-timeskip, one that has become more and more relevant in the story, especially now at the begining of the Final Saga.

A secret weakness.

If pregnancy is what cracked Crocodile's egg and he transitioned immidiately/soon after giving birth, then it's entirely plausible Iva-chan could know Crocodile had a secret child. And surely he'd want nothing more than for his child to be safe, not end up in trouble because of him. And Ivankov most certainly could put that child in danger, especially now that Crocodile was officially no longer on the World Government's side, there'd be no protection for the baby. All Ivankov had to do was leak the information out, that Sir Crocodile had a child, and anybody who had beef with him could get their revenge by attempting to find the child.

Like I'm just saying. This could line up nicely, actually

[thenixkat]

The average snake seeing a human, "Ohhh I'm not fucking with you..."