#and forever owe somebody something

[rokurookajima]

waking up ready to cry but also .. with a cruel angel’s thesis stuck in my head lol

[love-songs-for-emma]

just remembered that if the doctor didn't send rose back to pete's world while she was making it clear that she chooses the doctor and will always choose the doctor over everyone and everything then she wouldnt have gotten two more doses of void particles all over her (trip to pete's world and back) and she wouldn't have been pulled just that much harder than him when they were closing the gap between worlds and slipped off. how much do you think the doctor agonizes over this? because it's been a decade for me and im still in pain

[rioromanoffroses]

"Isn't she gorgeous?"

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Requested

Warnings: 18+ content, breast sucking, fingering (R receiving), orgasm denial, strap-on use (R receiving), cock-sucking, vaginal sex, degrading, praising, profanity

Summary: Your husband, Steve Rogers, has been romantically and sexually starving you ever since he became an Avenger. After borrowing money from notorious crime leader, Natasha Romanoff, she breaks into your house to get what she's owed. However, when she finds you, his gorgeous wife innocently asleep next to him, you catch her interest and her plans change instantly.

Pairings: top dom!Natasha Romanoff x bottom sub!reader, Steve Rogers x Reader (nothing romantic or sexual happens)

Trigger Warnings: blood, gun wound, reference to implied SA (blink and you'll miss it).

“Y/n?” you nearly sent the plate in your hand flying to the floor, dropping it into the washing bowl before spinning around to see your husband in the doorway. You shook your head, sure that your eyes were deceiving you. He was never here even when he promised, never mind three weeks early. 

“Steve,” you said, drying your hands and rushing over to him but before you could pull him into a hug, he caught a hold of your shoulders to stop you. His touch sent a stab of pain into your chest and you were snapped back to reality, falling away from the lingers of a past moment you had momentarily forgotten wasn’t your present. You straightened your figure and took a step back, looking up at the man that had once been the light of your life, a guide in the darkness, someone special to share all the good with but now, he could’ve been a stranger.

You had been married for three years, together for five and the first few years would be the most treasured moments of your life. But ever since he had become an Avenger, it had consumed his sole purpose. 

Steve was always out fighting, carving his mark, making the world proud of his heroism while you stayed at home doing chores and completing mindless activities to pass the time. There was once a time where you could’ve sworn you saw Universes in his eyes. Now, his skin had been drained of colour and his eyes were rimmed with red as if he were a ghost that was forever cursed to haunt his loved ones. “What are you doing here?” you quizzed.

“I’m sorry," he said, bowing his head, “I’ve got into a bit of trouble, I wanted to make sure you were safe.” You frowned. 

“What trouble?” you questioned, “is there a villain after you? Can’t the Avengers help you?” You didn’t even bother hiding the bitterness in my voice. They were clearly everything he ever needed, what use were you to him? He sighed.

“Not exactly,” he said, “we should probably sit down.” You followed him into the dining room with caution in your steps, not taking your eyes off him. The walls were a fading, off-white, elaborate flowers twisted between leaves and detailed patterns, wooden panelling running along across the bottom. The light fixture in the centre was brass with three upturned light bulbs, the dining tables and chairs a polished rosewood. Steve had wanted the room like this because it reminded him of his Grandmother. It was awkward to clean and there was always a build of dust in here. You took a seat opposite him.

“What’s going on?” you said. He scratched the back of his neck.

“I know what you’re going to think but… alright I’ll just tell you. I took out a loan from someone a bit dodgy and I haven’t quite paid them back.” You raised an eyebrow.

“What’s ‘haven’t quite’ supposed to mean?” you said, raising your voice. 

“I haven’t paid them back, okay?” he exclaimed, “look, all I wanted to do was buy you a new house, I wanted to make you happy since you hate this one so much. I don’t see anything wrong with wanting to spoil my girl.” Generosity – the easiest attainable remedy for guilt.

“Well, I see something wrong with borrowing money you can’t pay back, especially from somebody that can put you and other people in danger,” you said, pushing yourself onto your feet, “what were you thinking Steve?” He slammed his fists onto the table and you jumped, your heart thumping against your ribcage.

“Listen, I thought I would have the money by now. It’s not my fault I can’t see into the future, you know I wouldn’t have even thought about it if I knew.” You closed your eyes, exhaling a long breath, trying to keep your composure. There were a hundred things you wanted to say to him right now but it wasn’t worth it. You either lived in peace or chaos; either way, nothing changed. 

“I thought I knew a lot of things about you but they turned out to all be wrong,” you said, “so I don’t know anymore. Nothing you do surprises me.” You stormed back into the kitchen, not wanting him to waste anymore of your time. You had dishes to do and by now, the water would’ve gone cold. 

“Y/n, come on. You haven’t seen me in three months and this is how you’re going to treat me?”

“I have dishes to do,” you said, picking up the plate you had dropped before, polishing it until it shone in the dim light peeking through the curtains, “someone has to keep the house clean.” And clearly, it wasn’t going to him. You felt a firm hand on my shoulder and all the muscles in your body tensed.

“I know you’re mad at me.” You scoffed. Mad wasn’t the right word – it was an array of messy emotions tangled together that had been fraying for years. There was more than just anger here, that was just an old friend that had withered and grown back into something much more cruel now. “Just please… let me make it up to you. I could die on a mission one day you know, you never know when one of these moments could be our last.” He had tried guilt tripping you before – it was a simple yet effective way of shifting blame onto the other person to ease your conscience. These games were getting so predictable. 

“And I’d be the last one to know,” you said, “maybe if I was lucky, I’d see it on the news.” You placed the last plate on the drying rack, emptying the washing-up bowl before walking away to leave him standing in the kitchen, alone. 

..........................................................................

You had avoided Steve as if he were the plague for the rest of the evening, only tolerating him in the same room as you when you went to give him his dinner. If you were nothing but his little housewife, you may as well play the part and poke it in his face. While you were getting ready for bed, you had paused by his chest of drawers, remembering the divorce papers you had hidden beneath the shirts he had outgrown or didn’t like anymore. Most of them had been bought by you and you could recall a memory with your husband in every single one. Maybe another day.

You couldn’t sleep but you kept your eyes tight shut when you heard him enter and move around the bedroom. Why didn’t you just sleep in the living room?, you thought as he slipped under the covers beside you. You figured he’d probably leave before you were awake so in his mind, you wouldn't even know. Dickhead. You didn’t know how much time had passed but you must’ve fallen asleep because the next thing you see is blinding white.

“Steve, turn the lights off…” You let out a scream when a gunshot sounded through the room, colliding with your husband’s cry of pain. Your eyes flew open and immediately fell on the figure standing at the end of your bed, her ravishing, blood-soaked hair curled onto her shoulder, her eyes glittering with shattered pieces of jade. Your heart seemed to freeze in your chest. Natasha Romanoff – the most notorious leader of crime in the world. And she was here, in your bedroom. 

You turned to Steve and let out a strangled sob, the sight of scarlet soaking into the bed sheets making you dizzy. You heard the click of heels behind you and Natasha took a fistful of your nightgown before you could even process what was happening, pulling you away from him as if you were a mere feather. You screamed again and if it wasn’t for her strong grip on you, you would’ve collapsed to the ground.

She waited until you were steady enough to stand on your own two feet, gripping your hips and pulling you flush against her body. She was wearing a dress that emphasised all her curves and showcased most of her skin, your body flooding with dread. This woman was able to shoot Captain America without any protective clothing like it was nothing. There was no way out of this situation. We were doomed. I felt something hard in her crotch area, confused as to why she was carrying such a bulky item in her pockets.

“Leave her alone,” Steve whispered, his voice faint and overshadowed by anguish. 

“Get on the floor and don’t say another word unless I ask you a question or she’ll have to watch you die,” she snapped, “neither of us want that to happen, do we?” With resentment, he hobbled away from the bed, stumbling over to the wall and sliding himself down it, his hand clutched to the gun wound in his stomach. “Good.” She ran a finger down your cheek before beginning to trace your features, her head tilted to the side. “You didn’t tell anyone you had a wife, Rogers. Isn’t she gorgeous?” You shivered in her hold, her voice low and seductive. “What’s your name, pretty?”

“Y-Y/n,” you trembled, wishing you could strangle the butterflies in your stomach that her touch had provoked. This was insanity – she had just shot your husband and she was threatening to murder him yet she was making you nervous, in a romantic way. God, if only Natasha wasn’t so beautiful, this would be a whole lot easier. 

“Y/n Rogers?” she said, giving you a fake pout, “that doesn’t sound very nice, does it? Y/n Romanoff has a much nicer ring to it.” A crease formed between your eyebrows. What the hell was she implying? “Rogers, I’m willing to strike up a deal with you. But first, I’m going to fuck your wife until the only name she’ll remember is mine.” His eyes widened in horror and you let out a cry. 

“Natasha, that’s assault. You can’t,” Steve said. She smirked.

“Oh there won’t be any need for that,” she said, “it won’t take much for her to beg me for more.” She pushed you down onto the bed and straddled your lap, a pool of wetness already forming between your legs. This was so fucked up. “Give me consent and I’ll make you feel so good baby, better than you’ve ever felt. All you have to do is say the word.” 

You considered all your options but it didn’t take you long to decide since you only had two. You either let Natasha fuck you or you watched Steve die. You could treat it like a one night stand, you thought. You had never experienced one yourself but you’d read it in books so surely you would be able to do it.

Though you knew deep down, part of you wanted this. You were desperately touch starved and the thought of Natasha fucking you made you groan, heat rushing to your cheeks as the sound escape your mouth. You nodded and she gripped your jaw.

“Words bitch.”

“Yes,” you said, looking away from her in shame but she forced you to look back at her.

“Good girl,” Natasha said, lowering herself onto you and colliding her lips with yours, setting all your nerves alight. Her lips felt like velvet against your own, melting against you and setting a slow pace, letting you get used to the sensation. You couldn’t remember the last time Steve had kissed you, never mind like this. 

When your hand moved to her chest, she knew she’d won and she began kissing you with more passion, her teeth sinking into your bottom lip. You gasped and she took the opportunity to slip her tongue between the gap in your teeth. You didn’t even bother fighting against her, wanting Natasha to take full control and use you however she pleased. 

She separated your lips and began kissing your neck, her teeth ruthless against your skin as she began to mark you, leaving a trail of garnet blotches that would be seen by everyone. “Tell him how much you like this.” As much as you wished it wasn’t true, you were very much enjoying this. It was a terrible thing to admit to your husband but you had to remind yourself that his life was at stake here.

“I love it, I love being marked by you,” you said, “please don’t stop.” She pulled away when she reached your chest, reaching down and taking hold of your nightgown. 

“Can I take this off angel?”

“Please,” you said, ignoring that Steve was in the same room as you. You wanted this, you needed this, you hadn’t had sex in so long. Too long. She lifted herself off your waist for a few moments so she could discard you of your nightgown before continuing her path down your chest, stopping right before she reached your breasts. 

“So beautiful,” Natasha said before taking one of your nipples between her fingers and rolling it, earning her your loudest groan yet. She began to fondle the other roughly and the pain was soon replaced with pleasure that went straight in between your legs. You were a moaning mess beneath her, your forehead glistening with sweat and your breaths loud and sharp. “Listen to that, Rogers. Does she make these sweet, sweet noises for you? Do you Y/n? Tell me.”

“No,” I said, “only for you.” She tutted.

“Oh sweetheart, he doesn’t deserve you,” she said, “it’s okay, I’m going to take care of you now.” She ran her hands down your stomach and attached her mouth to your hardened nipple, your mind unable to decide what to concentrate on. She slipped her fingers beneath your panties and began snapping it against your skin, causing you to start bucking your hips into her. 

“I need you,” you said. You expected her to make you wait but her expression softened as she began sliding your panties down your legs, throwing them in Steve’s direction. “Look how she ruined them for me. If you weren’t so neglectful, this could’ve been you, Rogers. Don’t you ever forget that.” You gasped as the palm of her hand pressed against your cunt, brushing against your swollen clint. “So wet.”

“Natasha, please…”

“Beg,” she said, running her fingers through your folds and collecting your arousal, “let him hear you.”

“Please Natasha,” you said, “I need you to fuck me so bad. I need you inside of me, please make me cum.” Your words made her groan and you whimpered as you felt her push two fingers inside of you, giving you only a few seconds to adjust before she began thrusting in and out of you at a quickened pace. You felt a burning sting, grabbing her wrist to try and slow her down. “Nat, it’s too much, it hurts.” 

“What do you mean sweetie? Does he have a small cock?” There was a cruel glint in her eye when the realisation dawned on her. “He hasn’t fucked you in a longtime has he? How long has it been?” You were struggling to form coherent sentences at this point.

“Six months,” you admitted. He visited so little and he was always exhausted when he did, hardly even giving you any affection, never mind fulfilling your physical needs. You had shamefully been trying to fuck yourself for over a year now but you were either too embarrassed to keep at it for long or you were eventually forced to give up, too inexperienced to make yourself cum. You had never used more than one finger so you weren’t used to the stretch at all.

“You’re telling me your husband had access to this cunt anytime he wanted but he chose not to fuck you for half a year?” What a waste of such a perfect pussy,” she said, “shh, it’s okay, it’ll feel so good in a minute.” As if to prove her point, porn-worthy moans began to spill from your mouth as you were drowned in overwhelming bliss. She knew she had found that one spot inside of you when your noises became more intense and more wetness gushed from your entrance, the squelches of your arousal echoing around the room. You took fistfuls of the duvet beneath you in your hands, your walls began to clench around her fingers. But just before you reached your high, Natasha slipped her fingers out of you.

“No,” you cried, “I was so close.” She placed a kiss on your forehead.

“Not just yet,” she said, “I want you to cum on my cock.” You blinked up at her in confusion, not understanding what she meant. Was she perhaps intersex? “Get on your knees.” You scrambled to obey her command, your thighs glistening with white and she smirked. “Such an obedient thing. Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.” You did so without hesitation and she lifted up her dress and threw it on the floor, leaving her in a lacey bra and boxers. Your eyes fell onto her breasts that were full and sat perfectly, wondering how they’d feel in your hands and in your mouth. You were too distracted to pay attention to Natasha pulling down her boxers until a large, red strapon sprung into your face.

You were sheltered and didn’t have many friends so your knowledge on how two women had sex was low. You had accidentally come across some brief information about strapons while scrolling through social media, closing the app immediately and uninstalling it. You had never told anyone you liked women so any mentions of the topic made you panic and run in the opposite direction. Natasha noticed your hesitation.

“It’s just like sucking a cock,” she said, “you’ve done that, right?” You shook your head. Steve  was a very traditional man so you’d never done anything outside of the very basics. You had always wanted to explore more interesting options but you were too ashamed to ask or discuss any of your preferences with him. “God, so vanilla. Once I show you what you’ve been missing you’ll never want to go back. Do you want to try симпатичный (pretty)?” Her Russian Nickname for you sent a lustful thrum through your body despite the words being foreign and unknown to you. You knew there was only one correct answer to her question but you liked being able to show Natasha how much you desired to follow her orders.

“I’d love to try,” you said, “anything to please you.”

“Good girl,” she husked, nudging your mouth with the strap-on. Her other hand dug into your shoulder as she pushed it inside of your gaping mouth, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

Natasha kept going even when you started choking, tears slipping from your eyes and smearing your makeup. The sight of you, a perfect housewife she had ruined and made a mess of, only made her thrust the toy into your mouth faster, desperately turned on. When she was satisfied that you’d wet it enough, she pulled out, showing enough mercy to let you catch your breath. “You’re already such a good cock-sucker.” She ran her thumb over your plump lips. “Aren’t you glad I put these lips to good use, hmm?”

“Yes,” you gasped, “thank you Natasha.” She placed a kiss on your forehead.

“So polite. Get on all fours and look at your husband.” You hesitated a little this time, suddenly remembering Steve’s presence. You turned around and followed her commands, your gaze meeting with his. Steve’s pupils were drowned in pain and clouded his emotions so you couldn’t identify them, blood still gushing from his gun wound. 

“Natasha, I think he’s going to die,” I said, “his stomach…” She looked over and saw that he was on the verge of passing out, his blood loss now critical. 

“I fear you’re right,” she said, “I thought we’d have more time with him, shame. Don’t worry милый (darling), he’ll be alright soon.” You heard footsteps thundering up the stairs before the door was flung open and several men dressed head to toe in black burst into the bedroom. You wondered how she had summoned them so quickly but you were too horny to dwell on the thought for long. 

You tried to cover your exposed body, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden but Natasha slapped your hands away. “They won’t look my angel, they wouldn’t even dare. Don’t let them distract you.” You felt something prodding your entrance and you whimpered.

“Please,” you breathed as she circled your entrance with the toy, collecting your arousal. 

“You’re somehow even wetter,” she cooed, “did you really love your face being fucked that much?” Before you could answer she began to push the tip inside, your soaked walls showing no resistance. She didn’t give you anytime to get used to the stretch, pulling out before slamming back into you seconds later. The pain only lasted a few moments before it dissolved into pure pleasure as Natasha pounded into you like a wild animal. You arched your bark, the dirtiest sounds you had ever produced spilling from your mouth and echoing through the room. You somehow managed to lift an arm and point it towards Steve’s shirt drawer.  

“There’s divorce paper,” you strung together between gasps, “in that drawer. I already signed them.” The men followed your finger and moved towards them, aimlessly throwing Steve’s shirts onto the floor. You saw a pang of hurt in Steve’s expression but you didn’t care. He should’ve seen this coming and even if he didn’t, it was his fault anyway.

As the divorce papers and Steve were dragged away, you moved your hips in rhythm with Natasha’s to try and get the strap-on deeper into you, every brush against your walls sending electricity through your body. She gripped your hips, encouraging your movements, grunting each time you slammed back against her. Your groans changed when she found your g-spot again and after that, she made sure to keep hitting it, a knot beginning to tighten in your stomach for the second time that night.

“I need to cum,” you said, “can I this time, please?”

“Such a slut,” she said, “soak my dick baby. Go on.” You screamed her name as you released all over her cock, stars blinding your eyes as your body shook with bliss, each new wave stronger than the last. After the longest orgasm of your life, you finally finished cumming, liquid staining your thighs. But Natasha didn’t stop, moving her hands up to your ass and massaging your cheeks. 

“Natasha, I’ve already cummed,” you said, expecting her to finally pull out but instead, she tutted.

“We’re not finished yet,” she said, “If I wanted to, I could have you cumming all over this cock all night. We’re done when I say we are. You are all mine after all, gorgeous.” After the initial discomfort faded away, you were soaring back up to cloud nine, ready to do whatever Natasha wanted.

“Of course,” you said, “I’m all yours now.”

[chbvalentine]

4. SOMETHIN’ STUPID

song #4 of sometimes (a leo valdez x daughter of dionysus smau)

NOTE! i don’t know if I mentioned this in previous chapters, but y/n is female / uses she/her pronouns. also, there’s some writing in this chapter, so don’t skip past it!

Leo sat on his bed, waiting very impatiently for his friends to arrive. His palms were sweaty and his throat seemed to close up at the mere thought of confessing, but it hurt even worse when he pictured you dating somebody else. Why was he so nervous?! He had asked out plenty of girls before.

Although, none of them had ever said yes, but that was just a minor detail. Also, he had never been in love with any of them, and none of them had been his best friend for years. Whatever. Not important. The point was, he was practically a pro at talking to girls, so this shouldn’t stress him out at all. The sweat trickling down his forehead was probably the result of confidence, or something along those lines. 

“Leoooo! Open uppp!” The familiar voice of Percy echoed from outside the cabin as his fist repeatedly knocked on the door. Leo quickly jumped up, opening the door to reveal his three friends, all eager to help. He smiled, pausing momentarily, although it didn’t last long.

“C’mon! What are you doing just standing there?! We have a confession to write! Go, go!” Percy ushered himself in, Jason and Frank following behind. They immediately got to work, pulling out some paper and pens and brainstorming what to write. 

After what felt like forever, the final copy was written neatly on a piece of clean notebook paper and was sitting pretty on Leo’s desk, next to all of the scrapped versions that had been crumpled into paper balls. 

“Ow!” Leo yelped as Jason brushed his curls, trying to get him looking sharp for his grand declaration. “You can’t do that when my hair is dry!”

“Right, right. Sorry. I don’t really know how to do this,” Jason replied sheepishly, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.

“Let me see the brush!” Percy shouted, snatching it out of the blond boy’s hands. “Annabeth taught me how to work with hair like his. Leo, you just continue practicing your speech.”

He nodded and continued quietly reciting the clever lines, trying to get every word perfect. He was sitting in a chair in front of a floor-length mirror, with the three boys hovering behind him and fixing his appearance. Finally, Percy spoke up.

“We’re almost done. Text her and ask her to meet up in around ten minutes.”

Leo picked up his phone, opening your contact and sending a simple message while the boys peered over his shoulder to watch your responses. 

“Oh, gods. I’m so sorry,” Jason broke the silence after reading your replies. Everyone just stared at the phone, absolutely gobsmacked. He had been too late. 

Tears welled up in Leo’s eyes as he looked up from the phone for the first time in minutes, staring at the speech that lay on his desk, practically mocking him. He swallowed his sadness back, trying to lighten the situation as if it didn’t just shatter his heart. 

“It’s no big deal! Hahaha, no biggie. There are plenty of other girls that love the bad boy supreme! All da ladies luv Leo, right?” He attempted to joke, frantically shoving the letter into his desk while the boys just stared with pity. 

“I don’t really care for her that much anyways! It’s fine! Everything’s fine!” Leo continued, throwing away the rough drafts and clearing away any evidence of his feelings. No one knew how to respond to his lies, so they remained silent as he freaked out.

“Okay then, fun hanging out with you guys! Bye!” The boys sent him confused glances as he practically shoved them out, tears beginning to flow down his cheeks as he smiled emptily.

“Wait-“ Frank started, but Leo was already shutting the door. The three stood on the porch awkwardly, wondering what the hell they should do. After a minute, they hesitantly walked away, coming to the conclusion that he needed some space for a minute. 

Gods, Leo hated himself right now. And he hated Cameron even more.

-

TAGLIST (comment on any post in this series asking to join if you want to be added!): @eclipse-777 , @thebestsetter ,

TRACKLIST // NEXT

[tathrin]

Oh no help, why is my brain suddenly full of an RAF (or RFC) AU where Legolas is a pilot who gets the nickname “Greenleaf” because of how lightly and acrobatically he flies (and also he should probably be Irish or Scottish so the Brits can be derisive about his “more dangerous and less wise” people hmm? ooh or Indian! doesn’t really matter as long as he wears a lot of green so the nickname makes sense lmao) while Gimli was too short for the army but is a fucking amazing mechanic and basically single-handedly responsible for how amazing this unit’s planes are and how no matter how wrecked their planes are if they can get them back to base at all he can fix them, and Legolas fell in love basically the first time he saw Gimli work his miracles with that wrench and Gimli is not in love thank you, he is very very annoyed by this chipper pilot who keeps getting holes shot in his fucking wings and he definitely doesn’t like him at all and certainly doesn’t go out of his way to tinker with Legolas’s plane all the time and make sure it’s the absolute best machine in the air oh no nope definitely not dammit and he certainly doesn’t fret every time Legolas flies off into battle or comes back with his engine smoking again that fucker oh how Gimli loathes him! until one day he finally hops out of a just-barely-landed-successfully plane that is literally on fire Legolas what the fuck you idiot and oh and he stumbles what’s wrong oh no is he hurt oh no and Gimli runs over to help him up and instead they kiss right on the runway oh fuck—!

And the whole unit has been taking bets on this forever, so Commander Strider has to come break up the fistfight between Éowyn-who-definitely-isn’t-using-her-brother’s-ID-and-the-whole-unit-doesn’t-know-she’s-secretly-a-girl-NOPE and Boromir over who now owes whom money before Boromir’s little brother, the only one in the unit who hasn’t figured out that Éowyn is a girl yet, does something stupid trying to stop his brother fighting with “the fellow” he definitely doesn’t have a crush on Boromir please—!

Strider is so tired. He didn’t sign-up for herding idiots in love, he’s just trying to win the damn war, do you lads MIND???

Lord Mithrandir is sitting in his office watching the show from the window and laughing so hard, he fucking loves his deranged pilots so much. He has pulled  so many blatant cover-ups for their hijinks, and everybody in high command knows that he’s tossing aside regulations left and right, but his units are the most successful pilots in the damn skies so nobody can do anything about it dammit. (He’s also definitely in cahoots with General Galadriel, who pulls his ass out of the fire every damn time somebody tries to bestow some kind of reprimand or punishment, and who gets regular “briefings” about his pilots that absolutely aren’t just gossip in disguise, and which she certainly doesn’t pass along to her granddaughter who’s engaged to Commander Strider, who definitely isn’t royalty in disguise, nope nope and also nope.)

[violettduchess]

A/N: This won the poll and it was such fun to write 💜

Clavis x Reader

Prompt: Kissing While Laughing

WC: ~560

“Where do you think you’re going? It’s about to pour!”

“Ack, Jin! My goodness, you scared me. I wanted to bathe and wash my hair but realized I don’t have any more soap. I was hoping to hurry into town and buy some quickly before it starts raining.”

“Look, the first drops are already falling. C’mon. I’ve got something you can have. Clavis gave it to me a few months ago for my birthday but I’ve never even opened it.”

“Really? Aw, you’re a lifesaver! Thank you so much!"

Half an hour later

“CLAVIS!!!!!”

“I’m here, sweet wife, but I thought you said you wanted a moment’s peace in order to— Oh......Oh my……”

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

“Me? I-my goodness, that certainly is……a look.”

“I borrowed the shampoo you gave Jin for his birthday and now I look like this!!!”

“You did what? Oh….oh....oh dear, my sweet lamb, my darling. W-why would you do that?”

“Clavis, stop giggling! This isn’t funny. LOOK AT MY HAIR!”

“I-It’s a most fetching shade of……what can we call it? Sunset? Marigold?”

“Clavis! IT’S BRIGHT ORANGE!! I look terrible….."

“Oh no, no my sweetheart. Don't sob. Come here, come to me. That’s right. Let your fantastic husband offer you the sweet comfort of his embrace and–ow!”

“WHY WOULD YOU GIVE THIS TO JIN?!”

“Because it's funny! Don’t tell me the notion of that ladies man suddenly having hair the color of an orangutan isn't funny!”

“I LOOK LIKE AN ORANGUTAN?!”

“No, no my dearest one. No, you don’t. Come, let’s sit on the bed. That’s right, here’s a tissue. Come here, my love. Right here, let me hold you close. Ahhhh, isn't that better?”

....Sniffle....

“Now, let’s wipe away those pesky tears from your angelic face. While it certainly is a change….I can assure you, the color will fade in a few days.”

....Sniffle.... “Promise?”

“Yes, my sweet lamb. I made it myself. I know it will. Now.......come here, Mrs. Lelouch, and let me kiss you.”

“I look like a carrot," you whisper sorrowfully, barely able to get the word "carrot" out.

Clavis bursts into soft laughter, cupping your sweet but oh so glum face in his hands, gently wiping away the last stray teardrops.

“You are a most ravishing carrot.” He presses a kiss to the corner of your eye, cradling your cheek in his palm.

“I’m a pumpkin.” But your voice is wavering with the threat of laughter, a shadow of a smile on your lips.

“You are absolutely the most alluring pumpkin that has ever existed.” His mouth is by your ear, his teeth playfully nipping at your earlobe.

“I’m a clownfish.” You can't hold back anymore and your voice breaks with laughter on the word "clownfish."

His laughter intertwines with yours, creating the melody of a happy couple. He nuzzles your damp but still extremely orange hair. “You are the most attractive, beguiling clownfish in the whole sea.”

“Oh, Clavis.” You can’t stop giggling as you shake your head. He leans forward, pressing kiss after kiss to your lips.

“My beautiful sweet potato,” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours. “My exotic tangerine.” With a gentle push you fall back onto the bed and he is above you, a tender hand brushing the bright locks away from your face, his golden eyes aglow with affection.

“My darling, my sweetheart….let me show you how very much I adore you, always and forever, no matter what color your hair may be.”

Taglist 🧡 @bellerose-arcana @alexxavicry @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @queengiuliettafirstlady

@redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @olivermorningstar @writingwhimsey

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@whitelittlebunny @chi-the-idiot @bubblexly

[another-goblin]

How Aventurine would process their relationship. Just some fun options to explore. I do ship them, but it will work with them being just friends. (I wrote "just friends" and realized that it would probably be the first time for both of them to have an actual friend, so there is no "just" here.)

1. I can see him possessing enough emotional intelligence to realize what's going on and allow himself to accept Ratio's care and reciprocate his feelings. It's quite a nice and comforting option to explore. It can happen immediately after 2.1 or slowly, with them continuing to work together or hanging out from time to time. It's nice to see that like 95% of all the post-2.1 arts of them are examples of this (it doesn't mean that I don't love the remaining 5% btw).

He might also see it as a giant gamble. ("For the first time in my adult life I allow myself to be so emotionally vulnerable, opening myself to get really hurt, but the risk is worth it.")

2. He said something about only seeing friends as tools. I think he often uses his charm and wits to win people over, to make them act in his interests, to make them think that they actually like him. As a kind of subconscious self-defense mechanism, he would convince himself that Ratio only acts this way according to his own cunning manipulations and should be discarded after he'd outlived his usefulness. (cue angst)

3. Psychological problems. There is a whole sad collection to choose from, all deep-seated and subconcious. Mistaking Ratio's care for pity and getting offended by it. Feeling like he's not worthy of love. "I suffered alone my whole life, where have you been all this time, now it's too late, I don't need you anymore". And countless others. There's no way he's ever going to therapy, so they'll have to sort it out by themselves.

4. The most delicious option (and by that I mean SUFFERING *looks at two previous options* that is, MORE SUFFERING). A big part of his survivor's guilt is the supersticious idea that he owes his luck to his family's death. The only people he ever cared about and who ever cared about him died because of it. Being close to somebody means danger to them.

He knows that Ratio wouldn't accept his superstition based concerns. So the only way to save him is to hurt him emotionally to drive him away. 

But. What if Aventurine overcomes it and discards all these supersticious concerns (as he should). They get closer. And then Ratio does get hurt. It's serious, like, he's in the hospital, he lost an arm, something like that.

Imagine Aventurine's panic: "I brought it on him, I couldn't protect him, the only way to save him from worse is to leave him forever, immediately." And Ratio, recovering from a devastating injury, the first time in his life when he needs (and expects) support - he's abandoned.

It would probably crush his underlying philosophy of doing big good things for humanity (the way he cured that terrible disease, resolved the universal energy crisis, and is currently spreading education because he thinks that humanity is worthy of it). I mean, it's easy to care about humanity from afar, detached from it. It's much harder when your first attempt at a personal relationship ends in devatating pain.

[paperstorm]

Thanks for the tags @strandnreyes @ironheartwriter @heartstringsduet @orchidscript and @tommy-kinard-buckley!

“Benson,” Carlos says, tucking his phone between his ear and shoulder and glancing guiltily back towards the bedroom. He tucks himself into the corner by the refrigerator, speaking in as low a voice as he can manage without outright whispering. “Cooper Benson.”

“Okay.” The clacking of a keyboard fills the silence for a moment and then Lexi asks, “What did he do?”

Carlos presses his lips together. He wishes he could do this outside, but TK will hear the sound of the door opening and closing. It isn’t exactly quiet as it slides along metallic tracks. Wincing slightly as guilt settles on his shoulders, Carlos replies, “I’m not sure. Maybe nothing.”

“Who is he?”

“Can you just run it?”

“No, actually, I can’t, not without knowing what you’re up to,” Lexi answers with a snort. “Are you running secret detective missions on your own again? You know the brass isn’t going to keep looking the other way forever, especially if you start going over people’s heads. Men tend to get their panties in a bunch over shit like that.”

“Not this time,” Carlos answers honestly. He lets out a slow breath and lifts his head, holding the phone with his right hand and pinching the bridge of his nose with his left. “He’s just … a guy TK has been hanging out with. I don’t even think he did anything, I just need to make sure.”

There’s a pause, and Carlos knows it’s coming before it does and has his defensive hackles up before Lexi even asks, “You think TK’s stepping out on - ”

“No,” Carlos interrupts, too loud, and then softer, repeats it. “Lex, can you please just run it? And get me his phone number, if you can? I’ll owe you one.”

“Alright,” Lexi agrees, despite the skepticism still in her voice. “What kind of a grown man is named Cooper anyway? Is he a Labradoodle?”

Carlos bites the inside of his cheek to stifle a laugh. “I guess he wasn’t a grown man when somebody named him.”

“Tragic,” she quips, and then promises to text him when she has any information.

Carlos makes sure the ringer is off on his phone and sets it on the countertop next to him. He rubs his hands over his face, digging his fingertips into tired eyes. He’s itching to cross the space between him and TK and climb back into bed with him, drag TK into his arms and hold him whether TK wants it or not. He doesn’t do that, and he won’t, but he wants to.

For a moment Carlos wonders if he’s ever been more scared than he was of the blank look on TK’s face an hour ago, but then his brain helpfully supplies all the other times he’s seen that expression drain the life out of the man that he loves. TK shuts down when things are really bad, Carlos knows that both from experience and from the fact that Gwyn - who knew TK better than Carlos did back then - confirmed it. There are layers to his upset, stages of his pain, but the part where everything turns off and he goes blank and empty is the worst of them and Carlos has never, he’s realizing now with a horrible twist in his stomach, known what to do when that happens.

He tries, with every inch of strength he has left, to keep from concluding that means he isn’t up to the task of loving TK the way he deserves to be loved.

His phone lights up and catches Carlos’s eye. He scoops it off the counter and quickly scans the text from his partner, letting him know the background came up clean and providing Cooper’s number. Carlos presses into it with his thumb, selecting the option to call and bringing the device back to his ear before he can chicken out.

“Hello?”

Carlos clears his throat. He tries to straddle the line between speaking softly enough that TK won’t hear him in case he’s turned his music off, and not speaking so softly that Cooper will think something is weird. “Is this Cooper?”

“Yeah, who’s this?”

“It’s Carlos. Uh, TK Strand’s boyfriend.”

“Oh! Hey, man!” Cooper says, suddenly cheerful as he’d been the other day when he’d seemed genuinely pleased to meet Carlos. Embarrassment heats Carlos’s cheeks as he remembers the way he’d acted.

“Hey.”

“What’s up?”

“Are you, uh, busy? Right now? Like, tonight?” Carlos holds the phone away from his face and rolls his eyes at himself. He doesn’t know how to do this, and he’s aware wording it that way almost certainly sounds like he’s making a proposition that he definitely isn’t making. “Sorry, not …”

“Is TK okay?” Cooper asks in a wary voice, and Carlos internally thanks God the man understands why he’s calling.

“No. I mean - yes, he’s safe and everything,” Carlos prefaces, forgetting just for a moment what not okay looks like in their world. “He’s just … he had a really bad day. And he skipped -”

“The meeting, yeah,” Cooper finishes with a sigh. “Shit. He texted to say he wasn’t coming, I should’ve pushed him harder on why.”

“Yeah.” Carlos winces, but pushes through his discomfort and forces himself to ask, “If you’re not doing anything, could you maybe come over? I think he needs … you.”

It still hurts. It hurts to think, it hurts to say, it hurts to accept. Carlos still wants more than anything to be able to snap his fingers and take every scrap of TK’s pain away, and it still makes him feel smaller than a bug on the hot pavement to admit that he can’t do that. But just a fraction of the tension in his shoulders does seem to dissolve away now that he’s said it out loud, and he tries to make himself see that as progress.

“I live pretty close to you guys, I’ll be there in maybe 20,” Cooper says.

“Are you sure?” Carlos checks, the manners his mother instilled from childhood reminding him not to put anyone out.

“This is what we do. My old sponsor used to drop everything when I needed her, and one day TK will be solid enough in his recovery that he’ll do this for someone else. We help each other, pay it forward.”

“Okay,” Carlos replies, trying to feel as confident about it as he hopes he sounds.

Tagging @theghostofashton @birdclowns @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut

@carlos-in-glasses @actual-sleeping-beauty @thisbuildinghasfeelings @herefortarlos @heartstringduet

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@never-blooms @sanjuwrites @orchidscript @jesuisici33 @kiwichaeng

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@just-inside-her @firstprince-history-huh @captain-gillian @tellmegoodbye @anactualcaseofthetruth @ironheartwriter

Want to be added or removed from the list? Lmk

[ckret2]

To be honest, it seems so impossible to picture billford actually happening right now. I trust you! But it's hard to envision the path ahead.

I'm not gonna lie the reason it took me months & months to commit to taking the fic that route is because I didn't want to go "no yeah I'm doing this" until I was sure I did have a path, and it is hard to envision lmfao. It's a very twisty and very narrow path that they're only gonna just barely squeeze through.

Without giving any spoilers, as far as I see it, any reconciliation between Ford & Bill—platonic or romantic—requires three things:

a reason for Ford to stop fearing Bill

a reason for Ford to stop hating Bill

a reason for Ford to like Bill.

We don't need anything on Bill's side, he's all prepared to like Ford as soon as Ford likes him. All he has to do is, y'know, give Ford all of those reasons.

#3 is the easiest one! Ford already has reasons to like Bill: they're all of the reasons he used to like Bill. He's an alien with infinite knowledge. That's great. But Bill could give Ford a million reasons to like him and they won't do a bit of good as long as Ford hates him. If you stab someone in the gut and give them a flower, you stabbed them in the gut. If you stab someone in the gut and give them an entire field of flowers, you still stabbed them in the gut. It's actually more insulting to get flowers than it would've been to just get stabbed. Gotta do something about the stabbing.

#1 was also pretty easy to figure out. All it takes is trapping Bill in a scenario where he's forced to demonstrate he no longer wants to kill the Pines, in a way that makes it impossible to think that it could have been an act or a lie. Easy.

#2 is the only hard part. Ford has a lot of very good reasons to hate Bill forever. Why would he even want to stop hating Bill? And that's the key:

4. a reason for Ford to WANT to stop hating Bill

The hardest and MOST IMPORTANT part. A reason for Ford to go, fine. One last shot. If you want me to think anything is different, then show me—and no more chances to slip up. He can still hate Bill at this point! Bill still has to climb that mountain. But now Ford's simply standing at the top of the mountain glaring at Bill with his arms crossed, waiting to see if he can make it to the top, rather than using a long stick to shove Bill back down every time he gets close.

Let's talk about redemption arcs!

There's a thing I believe about redemption arcs and redemption in general, which is that saying "they shouldn't get a second chance unless they deserve it" is impossible. "Deserve it" means they're good now, "deserve it" means they've already done the work to improve themselves and make amends for what they did wrong. But in the real world, somebody needs to give you a second chance BEFORE you deserve it in order to have space to work on yourself and become worthy of it.

That doesn't mean Ford, of all people, owes Bill a second chance. He was never gonna be the first to offer Bill a hand. He couldn't be, he shouldn't be. And nobody owes Bill a second chance—but in order for it to be possible for Bill to have a redemption arc at all, SOMEBODY had to give him one anyway. The whole fic is the result of people extending a hand to Bill so that he can become worthy of the help he was offered. He wouldn't be alive if the Axolotl hadn't given him a second chance. He'd still be curled up in the corner of the attic day after day waiting to die if Mabel hadn't given him a second chance. Over and over he's gonna get chances he doesn't deserve, from people who have no reason to offer them, when he regrets nothing, when he's apologized for nothing—and that's what will save him.

SOMEBODY ELSE had to offer Bill an unconditional second chance first. But—once Ford has seen that Bill might have potential—he can, if he wants, offer Bill a limited, conditional second chance. I just have to get him to want to.

After that it's smooth sailing. Get the two of them as far as "okay we can attempt having a positive relationship again" and past that it really doesn't matter what kind of positive relationship it is, platonic, romantic, sexual, whatever. "Do you think they might wanna bone or not?" is a much less important and much less difficult question than "What would it take for Ford to stop despising the triangle who ruined his life?"

Personally, I want 'em to make out nasty style. But that's far and away the least important part of this whole arc, because it was important to me that that not be a motivating factor in their reconciliation. Like I've said, I'm deliberately playing on hard mode here, and "I'm kinda sorta motivated to forgive him because I'm attracted to him" is a cheat I'm not allowing. I'm too ace to tolerate that kind of plot unless it's in a story about the frustrating folly of desire. The attraction can only come after reconciliation; and it also won't prevent them from continuing to have the kind of ongoing issues you'd expect out of two guys with a long history of heartless betrayal and murder attempts.

[dayas]

73 with Rivusa🌚

73. “Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

This has been in my drafts forever (sorry beloved) but here we go!

—

Riven always looked forward to a good shower after a workout. Sparring with the other Specialists was quite taxing, and though he truly enjoyed it, he also enjoyed the blistering heat and steam that came from a proper cleaning afterwards. He opened the door to his room and shucked off his shirt, all prepared to leave out when he noticed a rather unusual sight. Musa wasn’t the sort to drop her clothes and slip into somebody else’s sheets. Yet, there she was, looking deliciously scandalized, a pretty crimson painting her cheeks. Riven looked her up and down, a rakish smirk on his face as he asked, “Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

Ever defensive, she snapped back, “Of course there’s a reason. It’s attached to a really long story, and I’m not in the mood to tell it right now.”

Riven laughed, “You definitely look like you’re in the mood for something else.”

He ducked when a pillow came flying at him, which only caused him to laugh even louder.

“Will you just please turn around so I can leave?”

“Are you going to explain yourself?”

Musa crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

“Riven.”

“Musa.”

After what felt like a small eternity, he sighed.

“Fine,” Riven relented. “But I’m getting this story out of you one way or another.” He caught her eye roll as he turned around.

“Close your eyes,” Musa called out.

“What? Why?”

“You know why.”

He shrugged — she had him there. Riven closed his eyes, grinning at the sound of Musa’s feet hitting the ground and flying out of the room. She’d taken his sheet with him. He was owed a new one, and he would come to collect, eventually. But first, Riven headed off towards his bathroom. After all of that, he definitely needed a shower.

[jessource]

prompts:　spotify on repeat.

“ i want to say all bad things end. ” “ can you get it in your brain i’m not playing your games this time. ” “ don’t tell me you need me now. ” “ if it feels like a trap, you’re already in one. ” “ i don’t know why i am the way i am. ” “ all of this for what? ” “ at least i had the decency to keep my nights out of sight. ” “ we can’t be friends. ” “ maybe we could’ve been friends, if i met you in another life. ” “ i’ll love you like you need me too. ” “ when i’m back in (city), i feel it. ” “ it's not worth crying 'bout the things you can't erase. ” “ if i’m gonna be drunk, might as well be drunk in love. ” “ you’re a waste of time. ” “ nobody lives forever. ” “ i didn’t think you’d understand me. ” “ usually, i'm fucked up, anxious, too much. ” “ i’m done being yours. ” “ it’s just not fair of him to make me feel this way. ” “ the truth is bulletproof, there’s no fooling you. ” “ i’d rather be tied to someone, even if they’re wrong. ” “ you don't feel remorse, you don't feel the effects. ” “ i can’t lie to it the same way i lie to you. ” “ if i was brave and noble like you i’d have the nerve to just stop stringing' you along. ” “ i guess i’ll never ever know, now that we don’t talk. ” “ i lay in your arms and pretend that it's love. ” “ never take advice from somebody who’s falling apart. ” “ you cling to your papers and pens, wait until you like me again. ” “ we don’t know how to accept we’re just a product of a chance. ” “ if a man talks shit, then i owe him nothing. ” “ oh, you're so vicious. loved me, then pretend you didn’t. ” “ don't say that i’ve been acting different. i'm nothing if i’m not consistent. ” “ nothing happened in the way i wanted. ” “ there’s something in the static, think i’ve been having revelations. ” “ what do you tell your friends? ” “ you search in every model's bed for something greater. ” “ i don’t regret it one bit, ‘cause he had it coming. ” “ we like grabbing onto anything to feel like we’re important. ” “ i was secondary to everything, i’ve never been so insignificant. ” “ you fit every stereotype. ” “ why’s there a pit in my gut in the shape of you? ” “ you’ll always be a setback. ” “ i never saw him and we never kissed. ” “ your talk is cheap. all you do is leave. ” “ we’re all gonna die, decompose into daffodils and dandelions. ” “ i could have sworn you were heaven-sent. ” “ you made heartbreak look elegant, abused me with intelligence. ” “ nothing in the world belongs to me, but my love, mine all mine. ” “ i know you said that we’re not talking, but i miss you, i’m sorry. ” “ you grew your hair long. ”

[nethhiri]

Siren Charms: Chapter 15

Zoro x Siren!Reader

Warnings: blood

Murky Waters

The entire ship was awoken by a bloodcurdling scream the next morning. Usopp stood in front of the aquarium, shaking, as the rest of the Straw Hats ran in. A few gasped and covered their mouths. The water in it was murky red and there was not a single fish to be seen. There was, however, a dark shape in the center, slowly moving towards the glass. Your front half came into view, face up. Your mouth was open and your eyes were closed. It looked like you were a floating half of a body. 

"Oh my god. She's dead!" 

"Is there a shark?!"

You floated closer to the glass until there was a soft bonk as your forehead connected with it. Your eyes flew open, causing more screams, including from yourself. Everyone looked upside-down to you, and not just because you were hungover. You spun yourself around to be facing them and your tail came into view. It seemed neither Robin, Franky, nor Zoro had told anyone about yesterday's discovery, because everyone who was not them was pointing and yelling. You pressed your hands on the glass and waved. It was difficult to hear, but you heard someone distinctly say the 'm' word.

"Not. A. Mermaid." You poked the glass with every word. The water distorted your voice, but you made sure they understood. You looked around. "How do I get out?"

"How did you get in!?" Nami yelled. 

Sanji gleefully skipped off to the hatch that led from the deck to the aquarium. "I'm coming, darling!" 

There was a rectangle of light that revealed itself several minutes later and you swam to it. You poked your head through and then pulled the rest of your body out. You slapped the hatch closed with your tail and rolled on your back, groaning. Your stomach was killing you, from the drinking or from the one or two fish you ate, you didn't know. You must have sniffed out the fish when you were near-drunk.

"Holy shit," Nami's mouth hung open. 

The rest of the gang was similarly surprised by the sight. You were a lot bigger than a mermaid would be proportionally, your tail was longer and your fins were bigger. The black scales glittered in the sunlight in a way that made them look like thousands of small rainbows, something that was not visible in the murky water.

"I think somebody ate all your fish." You said nonchalantly. "Probably that mermaid girl."

"Yeah, somebody." Usopp eyed you. "You have something there." He pointed at the side of his mouth. 

You reached up and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, brushing away a scale that was not your own. "I might have had one."

"My darling Ether should be able to eat whatever she desires." Sanji dramatically put the back of his hand on his forehead. "Though it pains me deeply to think she was so hungry, she ate unseasoned, raw fish." 

"I'm pretty sure it wasn't me." It definitely was, but you couldn't actually remember. 

"Do you know how long it took to get that many fish?" Usopp whined. "It's going to take forever to get more. What if we run out of food and have to resort to eating each other!?"

"I call Zoro," you said way too quickly. "I mean I'll help get more fish. Even though it for sure wasn't me." Everybody was staring. "What?! He has the most meat." 

Luffy had his fingers in an L-shape, resting on his chin. "You have a point."

"Hah?! Look at her she's way bigger than me." Zoro pointed at you. 

"Only sometimes!" 

"We could be the first people to try siren sashimi," Robin mused.

"When you put it that way, I bet we could sell it for a fortune," Nami was lost in a daydream. 

"Nobody has to eat anybody. It'll be a cinch to catch more." Franky piped up. "Check it out. While you guys were arguing over who to eat first, I made this crazy awesome winch with a giant net. We plop it in the water, Ether can chase fish into it, we pull it up, and whammo-blammo we got a buffet, baby! Wa-OW!" 

"Wonderful idea, Franky," Robin patted him on the arm. 

"That sure was fast," Usopp commented.

Hachi and Camie, who were asleep in their own ship, still tethered to Sunny, heard the commotion and came on deck. They were both wide-eyed when they saw you, and Camie moved behind Hachi, along with her starfish. 

"Ah... You guys didn't mention you had a siren on the crew." Hachi might have been more wary had he known. He couldn't tell just from looking at you now. You sort of resembled one of those exotic, deep-sea mermaid types. He had seen you yesterday with wings though, and could put it all together. 

"I thought they were made-up!" Camie hid further behind the fish-man. "They used to tell us as kids that if we misbehaved, they would leave us in the middle of nowhere for the sirens to eat."

You snickered at that. 

"You don't have to worry about that now. She's probably pretty full from eating our entire aquarium's worth of fish," Usopp grumbled.

"I told you already. That probably wasn't me!" You slapped the deck with your tail, causing Camie to flinch. 

The plan was explained to everyone, and Camie and Hachi were enlisted to help as well. You decided to wait until dusk, when the fish were more active. In the meantime, you were guilted into helping clean the aquarium of bones and other debris, while the water was changed. You hugged your tail when you were done, floating around aimlessly, stomach still killing you. It was around mid-afternoon when you heard clinking, rousing you from a half-asleep state. You turned to see Zoro taking a bottle from the bar outside the aquarium. He saw you watching and walked over, opening whatever his drink of choice was on the way. 

"Hey."

You swam closer to him, bringing yourself eye to eye. 

He stared at his drink a minute before looking, not directly at you, but sort of past you, so he didn't have to meet your eye. "I, uh, didn't mean to hurt your feelings yesterday." He ran a hand through his hair and scratched the back of his head. "I'm, uh, glad you took it out on the fish instead of eating me. Since apparently, um, I'm your first choice." 

You looked him up and down. "I didn't take you for the apologizing type." 

"I'm a nice guy!" Zoro paused. "I guess you haven't really gotten to see that though since I've been keeping my distance."

"And if you had gotten to know me, you would see there's no- barely any reason to keep your distance." 

Zoro grunted and took a drink. 

"Guess we have to get to know each other, huh?" You winked at him. 

Zoro choked the sip down and mumbled a goodbye, leaving abruptly. 

Sheesh. Normally your flirting made people stick around. Actually your feelings may have been more hurt by him running away just now, than by his words yesterday. You went to the hatch and pulled yourself out on deck. It wasn't comfortable to move across wood in this form. You positioned yourself to roll towards the railing. Then from there, it was easy to pull yourself up and over, diving into the water. Your goggles and mask were snuggly on your head, acting as a headband. You only used them in combat for the most part. You didn't need the mask to breathe or the goggles to see, they just aided those things when you were moving very high, very deeply, or very quickly. 

You passed time swimming around at a leisurely pace. When the fish started to become more active, you started rounding them up, chasing them towards the ship. The sun was sinking below the horizon and the sky was gradually darkening. Hachi and Camie did the same as you from flanking sides. Only when the winch started to whine with the weight of their catch, did they stop. Franky was able to craft it in a way where the fish were deposited directly into the aquarium through the hatch. 

"We only lost a day to stocking up, thanks to this one," Nami tilted her head in your direction, "but we're still making good time."

"I don't know what you're talking about," you retorted, not-so-subtly pointing at Camie. You were on deck with your tail curled under you, observing the fish be dumped into the tank. 

"I'm startin to think maybe I ate the fish," Luffy mused.

"No, Luffy. You didn't." Nami rolled her eyes. 

The nap from earlier prevented you from finding rest that night. You had shed your tail before dinner and were walking on deck without purpose, every so often looking up at the stars. Sometimes when you were on your own, you would float on your back and watch the sky. Your eyes caught the lights of the crow's nest. Maybe you could lay on the roof of it and you would eventually fall asleep. You figured Zoro was up there since the lights were on, so you grabbed a bottle of booze to bring up to him as a token of good will. You knocked on the hatch and invited yourself in. You could have flown up but you didn't want to waste your energy on wings just to get to the roof. 

"Hi. Brought ya something." You set the bottle by Zoro, who was cleaning his swords. Then you headed towards the top hatch. 

"Thanks." He didn't look up from what he was doing. 

You went to the roof and laid out, thinking about your time with the Straw Hats so far. It hadn't been that long, and you had been apprehensive at first, but you did like being with them. It was weird to have people that did things for you and it was weirder for you to do things for them, but it felt nice. You weren't sure how much time had passed when you heard the hatch open. 

"Uh, hey, Ether." Zoro pointed to the sword around your waist. "Do you want me to do yours?"

"Hm? Do what?"

"Clean your sword."

"Why does it need to be cleaned? It's in the ocean all the time."

A vein popped out on Zoro's forehead. "Are you saying you don't clean it AND it's in salt water all the time?" You didn't answer him. "Come on." He disappeared down the hatch.

You followed him and handed over your sword. You sat next to him on the bench.

"It's actually not that bad."

"Yeah cuz the ocean water cleans it." 

Zoro shot you a look. 

"I'm only teasing. Jeez you take swords seriously."

"I have to if I'm gonna be the world's greatest swordsman." 

You watched him as he worked with your blade, making sure to clean between each of its joints. "You're the only swordsman I've ever met, so you're already the greatest to me." He cursed under his breath and stuck his finger in his mouth. That wasn't even meant to be flirtatious and he turned pink. You were only stating facts. Then the grin on your face faltered when you smelled the sweet iron of blood.

Next

Tag list: @bbnbhm

[fredricwertham]

Bruce is so obsessed with self sufficiency, I think he understands me on that he’s never had one thing—not one thing! not ever!—that he doesn’t owe to somebody else. That wasn’t inherited from somebody who’s already put the work in. But at the same time, his primary authority figure has been his employee from the time he was a small boy. He doesn’t know what it means to only have something that could be taken away by somebody else. He’s in debt, every single minute of his life, forever, but that debt can never be called in because there’s nobody to pay.

[wormstacheangel]

Day 2: Pumpkin Patch

Run. Run. Run. 

Dean's lungs hurt with every step he took. He felt as if he was going to pass out, throw up, and then his heart was going to jump out of his chest like a cartoon. All in that order.

But he couldn’t slow down. He needed to save his own ass from getting sacrificed—he really needs to stop using himself as bait—as well as the poor son of a bitch they left in here with him. Dean barely saw the dude but he knew one of them was getting nailed in the cornfield—not in the cool sexy way—and the other in the pumpkin patch. 

He wished they had given him the pumpkin patch because running for his life through a fucking cornfield during the midnight hour sure wasn’t his idea of fun. 

He had a spell ready to kill these tiny Gods but they had to be together and where ever the sacrificial guy was, the Pumpkin King was sure to follow. Unless he was eaten already then Dean was screwed. 

 He wasn’t sure if he was even running in the right direction, the cornfield felt never-ending, but then he tripped into a clearing. Rolling behind some hay and bumping heads with somebody.

“Ow!” Dean hissed. Not because of the head bump but because someone just punched him hard on the shoulder. The dude looked like he was ready to do it again, winding up his arm and wide blue eyes looking extra crazy under the moonlight.

“Stop! Stop! Stop. Hey….buddy?” Dean grabbed the dude's fist and quickly pinned it behind him. “You got kidnapped and left for dead in this field for a monster to kill you?”

The man quickly nodded, knocking Dean backward and pinning him underneath his body. Dean looked up, surprised but in awe of this beautiful man. 

“I had a bad morning.” The handsome stranger said. A voice so smooth and deep it made Dean want to sigh dreamily at him, but he needed to not be killed first. 

“Tell me about it.” Dean tried to charm his way out of this one but a loud scream of something otherworldly brought his attention back to reality. “Sorry let me introduce myself,” The man raised a brow at him but Dean felt the body weight on top of him become lighter. “I’m Dean and I know how to kill these bitches.”

“Oh?” They heard footsteps come closer and Castiel looked around before they both quickly crawled toward the cornfield. They lay low and held their breath for what felt like forever. 

Eventually, the footsteps got further and further away and they crawled their way back to where they met. Backs against the stack of hay and eyes facing forward towards the cornfield. 

“Cas.” The man whispered to Dean after they both finally caught their breath. “And I don’t know how I got here. But I want to go home. Alive. Preferably.”

“Well, Cas,” Dean held his hand out for Cas to take for a shake but Cas kept their grip. Dean could feel their pulse race between their palms and didn’t pull back either. Instead, he gave Cas’s hand a little squeeze of reassurance, meeting those wide eyes filled with terror but determination—probably a bad combination. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Cas smiled, it was small but Dean wanted to see more of it. “Thank you, Dean.”

Oh. 

Oh no. The sacrifice is cute.

[yourheartonfire]

“You have to get out of here,” the civilian said urgently, their frightened eyes wide and white in the shadows of the back hallway. 

The vigilante pinned them by the shoulders up against the dark paneling, and was rewarded with a gasp and a chiming of jewelry. When the vigilante had known the civilian they’d been all practical shoes and flannel shirts, hair always a little in need of a haircut. Now they were dressed and coiffed to the nines, gem-studded gold roped around their neck and wrists like it was going out of style.

“What,” the vigilante hissed, “are you doing with them?”

The civilian shot a nervous look to the open doorway and the party noises from beyond, where the villain was holding court in the trendiest club. It wouldn’t be long before they came looking for their date. 

“It’s not - I don’t have time to explain,” the civilian whispered back. They wriggled, trying to brush the vigilante’s hands away. “And even I did, I don’t owe you anything, let alone an explanation! You’re the one who left.”

“For your protection!” the vigilante snapped back without thinking. The civilian jolted under their hands and those eyes, so terribly open, looked straight into the vigilante’s gaze. Once again the vigilante felt that dizzying vertigo, that temptation to forget everything else and just let themselves fall forever...

“I never asked you,” the civilian said slowly, “for protection. I never needed protection.”

“Oh, you absolutely did.” The vigilante edged a finger around the collar of their borrowed evening finery. Why was it so damn hot in here? “Clearly you still do. What the hell are you playing at?”

The civilian pressed their hands to their face. “Whatever you think you’re up to, this is not the night. The mayor is here, and the chief of police. You start something tonight, you’re not going to get thrown out with a few bruises - you’re going to jail with a new set of powerful enemies.”

“I am capable of doing more than starting fist fights,” the vigilante breathed out. “Listen. Please. I know you think I take stupid risks, but every risk I’ve ever taken is nothing compared to dating [villain] just to get close to them.”

The civilian lifted a shoulder in another chime of jewelry, eyes dangerously bright. “Maybe I’m in love. Maybe I’m just that shallow.”

“You despise them,” the vigilante said without hesitation. “I could tell that from across the room. And if I could tell that, somebody else is going to be able to tell that too. You need to drop this and get the hell out of this city.”

The civilian gave them another wounded gaze like a sniper bullet. The vigilante ducked their head away just in time to dodge.

“You lost the right to express your opinion to me when you decided to break my heart, apparently for my own good,” they said coolly. “I thought we were partners in this, but you’ve made it clear we’re not. So I’m handling [villain] my way, and if you’re not going to help, then leave. It’s what you’re good at.”

And on that vastly unfair accusation, the civilian swept back out into the club with a tinkling little laugh. The vigilante dropped their head against the wall and cursed, wondering how once again they'd managed to make a bad situation worse.

[coraniaid]

Of all of Buffy’s (many) retcons, I think the one I’m most conflicted about is the introduction of the Watcher’s Council in Season 3.  

That this is indeed a retcon – and not just the show gradually revealing something it had always secretly factored into its world-building – is, I think, pretty hard to dispute.  We’ve known of Watchers other than Giles for a while – Kendra’s Watcher Sam Zabuto is named but unseen in Season 2’s What’s My Line?, and Buffy’s original Watcher is seen but unnamed during the flashbacks in the same season’s Becoming – but it’s only in Season 3’s Faith, Hope & Trick that we start to be told that these other Watchers have any sort of internal structure of leadership, let alone one that sidelines Giles himself.  And the (retroactive) existence of the Council raises obvious questions (How did Kendra and her Watcher not know Sunnydale already had a Slayer?  Why was Giles not told that another Slayer had been called?  What do all the Watchers who don’t have a Slayer to train actually do all day?) that the show is rather typically uninterested in answering.

On the one hand, I think this retcon has some potential – Quentin Travers in particular is quietly one of the show’s better human villains –  and I’d stand by what I’ve said in the past about the show not really utilizing the Council enough after Season 3.  They show up a few more times, of course, but one gets the impression the writers grew pretty tired of the concept and found it pretty limiting from a story-telling perspective.  Notably Buffy herself insists that “there’s no all-knowing council” in Season 7’s Selfless (and this is before the Council gets blown up).  

After Season 3, the Council primarily exists to occasionally show up to try to kill Faith (or Buffy in Faith’s body) and otherwise stand around being pompous and useless in the face of any actual supernatural threat.  I do kind of wish the show had done more with the idea than this.  As it is, the Council is one of those many parts of Buffy’s worldbuilding that seems to have a position in the fandom that is not quite proportional to the relative lack of attention it is given by canon. 

On the other hand, the mere existence of the Council does slightly odd things to Giles’s established backstory.  In particular, he goes from being somebody a lot like Buffy – somebody who was told at a young age he had a destiny which he had no choice but to comply with – to … well, having an employer.  Having a job, the very thing we’re repeatedly told that Slaying isn’t for Buffy.  And unlike Buffy, Giles even gets paid, at least if Season 5’s Checkpoint is to be believed. This makes Giles a little less sympathetic than I think he was intended to be in the first two seasons.

Yet equally -- and in the opposite direction -- the Council as a concept tends to be used – both by the writers and the wider fandom – to represent the more negative aspects of the idea of a Watcher, often in a way that means pretending that those same aspects aren’t present in Buffy’s own Watcher.  

The most blatant example of this, I think, is the way that, in Checkpoint, Giles’s own complicity in Season 3’s Cruciamentum is handwaved away, with Buffy reacting to news that the Council are heading to Sunnydale by telling Giles: “I don’t trust them … they put me through that test” [emphasis added].  I mean, you just have to watch Helpless to realize that this is a very odd spin on the events of that episode (did Quentin Travers drug Buffy?  Did he lie to her face about it afterwards?  Did he listen to her dismay at the prospect of losing her powers forever and say nothing?).

And we often see this selective criticism of the concept of Watchers in the wider fandom too, particularly when it comes to Buffy’s temporary new Watcher Wesley Wyndam-Pryce.  I mean: yes, obviously, Wesley seems pretty clueless about the reality of life on a Hellmouth and blatantly owes his selection as Watcher to nepotism.  But that was true of Season 1 Giles as well.  

In rewatching that first season especially Giles often seems incredibly ill-prepared for the task at hand.  It takes him weeks to work out who Angel is (something Kendra manages in seconds, because – she tells us – “I read about him”).  He frequently gets the dates of important prophecies wrong (in Never Kill A Boy On The First Date), or is wrongly dismissive of his Slayer’s intuitions (in The Pack, in The Puppet Show), he reacts to the discovery of new supernatural threats and dangers with a slightly inappropriate level of academic glee (“Witchcraft … it’s classic!” in Witch, in response to the news that a student has been blinded and almost killed), he is somewhat hostile to perspectives and attitudes other than his own (Buffy’s attempts to join the cheerleading squad in Witch again, for example, or his arguments with Jenny Calendar in I Robot, You Jane).  

These are all very like the ways in which Wesley himself is shown to behave, especially in his attempts to micromanage his Slayers and in his misplaced confidence that Balthazar is definitely dead.  And this isn’t a coincidence.  I think it’s a very intentional writing choice.  This similarity is the reason why the show introduces Wesley: he is very clearly meant to be a (version of) a younger Giles.  (Note, in particular, the way they unconsciously mirror each other’s glasses-cleaning routine in Bad Girls.)

And as for nepotism, well.  The first Watcher other than Giles the show talks about isn’t either of the examples I gave above.  It’s Giles’s own father.   In Season 1’s Never Kill A Boy On The First Date, Giles tells Buffy:

“I was ten years old when my father told me I was destined to be a Watcher.  He was one [...] and I was to be next.”

Later, in Season 2, we find out that Giles dropped out of Oxford and abandoned his preparations to become a Watcher, dabbled with using magic and summoning demons for personal gain, and ended up getting a man killed.  And yet, despite this, he somehow manages to go back to Oxford, graduate, and become a Watcher.  How do you explain that level of special treatment if not nepotism?  Do the Council pull strings to get Buffy back into college after she drops out?  Did they turn a blind eye to Gwendolyn Post’s misuse of magic? Do they seem relaxed about Faith's role in a man's accidental death?

(This is, I think, largely unintenional on the part of the writers. There is a significant difference between the original Season 1 idea of Giles -- somebody who was compelled to be a Watcher from the age of ten because his father was one and he doesn't get a choice in the matter -- compared to the later (implied) Season 3/Season 5 idea of a Giles who got a (paying) job as a Watcher because his father was one but is, in fact, ultimately replacable and can be -- and eventually is -- fired from or rehired to do this job.)

And note that I don’t think any of this makes Giles a bad character (or even a bad person, if you care about that sort of thing): he has to be flawed, or Buffy would have far fewer problems and far less agency of her own and the show simply wouldn’t work.  He gets better at acting as a mentor to Buffy over time (well, until he doesn’t).  He obviously does care a lot about Buffy’s well-being, right from the beginning, even if this affection is shaped and constrained by his own upbringing and the fact he believes himself responsible for the fact she will very likely be killed in the pursuit of the Calling he has trained her for.  They do both have destinies, but Buffy’s destiny is to die and Giles’s destiny is to watch.

But it’s very odd to see, for example, people convincing themselves that the Council sending Wesley to Sunnydale, despite his inexperience – and apparently for no better reason than because his father is a big deal and the Slayer he’d be monitoring already managed to get her first Watcher killed and nobody more senior wants the job – represents some big change in how the Council operate (well, retroactively operate, that is, if we agree to pretend they existed in Season 1).  

This has to be why they sent Giles himself, doesn’t it?  He can’t have been their first choice if they were picking on merit and experience.  If he was, why do they so regularly keep him in the dark?  The difference is, of course, is that the audience finds Wesley very irritating and he is treated by the show as an antagonist, or at least a nuisance, but we are already predisposed to like Giles (and yes, to be clear, I do like Giles).  And in Season 1, the audience is just as ignorant of the show’s later worldbuilding as Giles is, so his omissions and errors seem less obvious.  It’s only after the show starts building up the idea of the Whirlwind as a huge deal (in Checkpoint, again, we see that there are Watchers who wrote whole theses on them), that Giles not having the first clue who Angelus or Spike were until after Buffy met them starts to seem a little weird.

But the fact that the Watcher’s Council is written to exaggerate the problems with the concept of a Watcher shouldn’t mean that we retroactively pretend those problems didn’t exist before then, or that Giles is somehow blameless or unaffected by them.  And I think it’s a shame that both the writers and the fandom often act as though it does.  Those flaws and contradictions are what makes Giles interesting!

(Actually, while I'm on the subject I guess I'll admit I'm still a little irritated years later by the fact that the hosts of Buffering watched Revelations and somehow decided that, of the two people claiming to be Watchers in this episode, it was Gwendolyn Post who was the face of the patriarchy.  Because, sure, Rupert Giles is a man who works for a largely male-dominated and centuries old organization, an organization that has traditionally given itself the job of telling young woman what to do, and canonically he only has this job because his father had it before him, and none of these things apply to Gwendolyn Post at all -- she isn't even a real Watcher anymore -- but ... uh.  Well, we like Giles and she's kind of rude to him, so I guess none of that matters and words don’t mean anything.  The patriarchy only benefits people we don’t like, doesn’t it?

After all, that nice Mr Giles can’t possibly be a representative of the patriarchy.  Why, he’s Buffy’s Dad!)