#anyway the Some Reason is boredom and need of sleep

[bugsoda]

someone take this device away from me i am much too tired to be dignified. pay this buffoon no mind.

[dxmoness]

─────── NEW ROMANTICS.

✩ ིྀ ! WE'RE ALL BORED, WE'RE ALL SO TIRED OF EVERYTHING ! •˙ ⌗

𓂃  ࣪ c. henituse + boredom has its own solutions ˖ 𖦹

“this is so boring.” cale groans as he fiddles with the piece of parchment in his hand. his eyes linger towards the female who was indulged in reading something about mystics, that he could have sworn she said was a stupid book that was nonfactual yet still read with an engrossed desire.

“Oi. Earth to name, i am in dire need of some affectionate company over here.” he seemed sarcastic in saying it, but in his heart he really did. the female did not move an inch, immediately realizing the depth of her reading he decides to take a different approach or entertainment and just simply admires her from where he is.

he sighs deeply before he buries his face in the books and sleeps. only now did name notice him, a small smile flickered on her delicate lips as she looks for something he could lay his head on that wasn't a hardbound book.

she takes off her own coat, not at all minding the freezing frostbite of air she felt as she folds it up and places it under his head, slipping off the book and replacing it in a quick motion.

proud of her work, she made the decision to return to her book. before she could, cale’s hand shot out and kissed her soft fingers. his lips grazing on her knuckles brought more than enough colour to her pale skin.

embarrassed as she was, she gave him a playful swat and left. leaving a chuckling cale behind.

✩ ིྀ ! HEARTBREAK IS OUR NATIONAL ANTHEM, WE SING IT PROUDLY ! •˙ ⌗

𓂃  ࣪ j. agriche + how to get away from political marriage ˖ 𖦹

for some reason, her best friend jeremy had the sudden idea to meet her in the woods in secret and she hasn't the foggiest idea why.

but like the good friend she is, she went anyway. she enters the quiet midst of the forest. her eyes look warily around her, noticing a whine of a horse she follow the direction of the sound.

she finds jeremy, sitting on his horse. his blue eyes seem to shine when he sees her. he slides off and takes her hand, kissing it gently.

“lovely to see you've come, my beautiful lady.” you could swear it almost sounded sincere, but that is simply uncertain due to jeremy being an agriche by heart.

“yes, yes. what's the meaning of this?” she responds, her response seemed to make him flinch.

“i’ve upset you, my lady. that was not my intention.” jeremy murmured. “but let's get straight to the point, i'm here to let you in on one or my schemes.” he could tell this peaked her fragile line of interest. “i need you to be my pretty mistress.”

“what?!” she is stunned to say the least. and she had every right to be.

he gave a small smile to her outburst. “my father wants me in a political marriage and i do not like the woman i’ve been paired up with.” “so you're asking me to helo you break here heart?” name asks and he nods. “are you insane? sign me in.” she grins and jeremy chuckles, patting her head.

in the end, the fake relationship for heartbreak turned to a real one that they consummated quickly.

✩ ིྀ ! PLEASE TAKE MY HAND AND PLEASE TAKE ME DANCING ! •˙ ⌗

𓂃  ࣪ h. niccolo + a dance with the marquis ˖ 𖦹

it all went by so fast, the marquis spoke with her and a moment later took her to dance. his fingers intertwined with hers, his arm on her waist. the two of them swayed gracefully on the dance floor.

their dance seemed to catch everyone's attention as everyone seemed mesmerized. it ie understandable. even she is. the marquis is beautiful, breathtaking. words could not describe his elegance, his looks. he is an angel that descended from heaven.

and to be dancing with him? that is a high honour for her. she is absolutely in awe. also quite panicky. she didn't want to do any wrong, especially not with him as her partner.

he suddenly carried her and spun her around moving her down, they spin and twirl for ages. when they finish, he guides her to the quieter parts of the party. his eye filled with love and admiration as he kisses her on the hand.

“thank you dearest. it was a lovely time to dance with you.” hie voice is soft, gentle, soothing... his purple eyes is fixated on her own. his hand slipe and caresses her cheek. “you look ravishing, my lady.”

this brought a flush of colour on her cheeks. “thank you..”

“no problem.” he smiles and kisses her cheek so suddenly. “please excuse me now, lovely. i’ll see you again sometime, yes?” he asks, and she nods.

✦. ⊹ ˚ dedicated to @bertry3 !! gift no.2

guests — @lombxrdi , @achy-boo ,

@crownxie , @histxricaldrama ,

@yevene , @nyrwve , @hikamins : ˚⊹ ᰔ

────────────────────

© dxmoness. do not copy,

take inspo or translate my

work! none of the chars i

write for are mine unless

stated!

[silverskye13]

So, the thing about being damseled, Welsknight is rapidly realizing, is you don't really have to be a damsel to do it. Or have it done to you, that is. Being damseled isn't really a gender thing, like all the old knights tales would have him believe. He doesn't have to have long blonde hair, or a princess dress. He doesn't have to make deals with obscure fae gods or spirits, doesn't have to know how to weave golden thread. Heck, he doesn't even have to be locked in a tower. Damseling -- that is, the state of being a damsel in distress -- is a much broader scoped state of being. It's not so much a trope or a role, and more of... An essence. A vibe. If one can be trapped and helpless and in need of a knight in shining armor to save the day, one can in fact be damseled just fine without any of the key fairytale hallmarks.

How does Welsknight know all this? Well, because he's managed to damsel himself, of course.

Welsknight is trapped. He should have known better. Well? Should he have known better? Eh. Even if he should have, he definitely shouldn't have expected to. He's new to Vault Hunting.

Iskall and Stress made it sound so easy. Yeah! Just go find a vault, gear up, don't be afraid to run for your life. Nothing can go wrong if you're careful. Beware the curses and traps and tripwires. Don't eat anything growing on the walls. Fight. Survive. Win! They do it all the time, with their adventuring teams and alone. Whatever suits their fancy. Just don't anger the gods and do run screaming if something way beyond your skill level wanders into the room. Cowardice? Nonsense! Vaults aren't duels, they're thrills. Thrills that sometimes glean cool treasure, and treasure, while awesome, can't challenge your honor and isn't worth your life. So go, kill some monsters, have fun, run when you need to. It's low-high stakes, choose your own adventuring at its finest!

And Wels is a knight errant, alright? He's slain dragons. And withers. And, yes, rescued a few damsels. He's good at what he does. So when he and Iskall went for some drinks at a local tavern, and Welsknight whined that he was getting bored of escorting mining parties and killing oversized lizards for neglectful nobles, well, Iskall had smiled and pointed him to the Vaultlands. And Welsknight, bored and stupid in his boredom, had decided raiding vaults was a great idea.

"If I get out of this," Welsknight vows in his most solemn, oath-binding knight's voice, "I am going to punch Iskall right in his grinning, stupid face."

He is barricading a door with anything he can find, all while the screams and shrieks of some persistent undead challenge his fervor from the other side. The undead here are different than they are outside the Vaults. The slow, lumbering, hollow things that amble blindly around deep caves and unstable mines don't hold a candle to these creatures. These are malevolent undead, things that seem to hate Welsknight personally, inhabited by the dreams of sleeping gods that were, probably, sealed in these Vaults for a freaking reason. He's pretty sure one of them is jibbering with the voice of his dead brother, which is, honestly, demonic scales of unfairness. And he would know demonic unfairness. Welsknight has fought exactly one demon, and while he certainly isn't an expert, he knows more about how much they cheat and torment than he had ever wanted to know. And anyway, how is he supposed to kill that kind of malevolence in the undead? He's not! For heaven's sake, he's faced fae with less personal malevolence, and the fae court is the most petty place on earth!

Welsknight kicks his barricade with an armored boot, making sure it'll hold. The stack of pilfered detritus shakes but stands firm. Somewhere in that lot is his broken sword, barring the door shut. The blade shattered in four pieces when he was tackled by some wight-creature, not because the creature was that strong, but because he'd just used it to fight some sort of corrosive slime, and really, the fact that living acid slime exists in the Vaults is unfair, and something Iskall really should've warned him about. At least it hadn't gotten on his armor.

Welsknight backs away from the barred door, listening to the angry screams of what lay beyond it. There's a lot of name-calling going on. "Come to your death, coward!" And "Brother please! Help me! Don't let it take me!" And "Sleep with us forever knight! Aren't you tired?" Screech and groan through the air as though the door and barricade aren't there to muffle it. There's hysterical cackling as well, which is kind of typical. He can't tell if the loudness of the noise is supernatural, or if it means there's another entrance to the room he hasn't noticed yet. As unsettling as the supernatural option is, he kind of prefers that right now. Weaponless and exhausted, he's not sure how well he'll manage if the undead just start pouring in from a side door somewhere.

Welsknight blinks, and belatedly realizes he's blinking back tears. His hands shake as he wipes them away. Yeah, okay, maybe the screaming-with-the-voice-of-his-dead-brother thing was getting to him more than he thought it would. He's a knight, not an iron golem. He still has feelings. He tries to be detached and gentle about it. He knows what fear is. The first time he fought a dragon, he cried. He cried a lot, actually. After it was dead he lay on the ground sobbing for a good hour, which had been terribly inconvenient at the time, since it had broken one of his ribs. Terror kind of just, does that to him -- makes him cry. He learned a long time ago not to be ashamed of it, no matter how badly timed it could be.

"Right," Welsknight croaks into the room around him. "Cry about it later. Escape now."

It's not a big room that he's trapped himself in. It has the trappings of an ancient hall, with some newness to it, indicating he isn't the first adventurer to stumble in here. Rotting boxes and chests are tumbled against a collapsed wall, the smell of damp rot wafting off them. One has candles and two plates on it, someone's makeshift dining set up, and there's the scorched remains of a campfire. It looks pathetic compared to the massive columns and reliefs it sits beneath. Maybe this place was a temple? It sure seems kind of temple-y, but Welsknight has yet to encounter an altar to any Vault Gods -- which is probably good. Iskall had mentioned those were guarded by scary creatures, and if "malevolent undead who steal the voices of your loved ones from your memories to torment you while they devour your flesh" hadn't registered on Iskall's "scary creatures to warn Wels about" index, he really, really doesn't want to know what insane creatures might guard the altar chambers of the Vault Gods.

"Probably like, undulating tentacle demons with acid breath," Welsknight mutters out loud as he meanders the chamber, searching for something useful. "Or maybe the Gods themselves just come down and use you as a hackey sack until you prove your worth or die. That sounds about right."

The cold stone walls make no comment, which is probably for the best, since given current trends, they would probably talk back with the voice of his disapproving parents, or maybe the old knight he'd been squired to, which would really start straining his already stressed out psyche right about now.

He can still hear his brother's voice calling to him through the door.

For as impressive as the room is, there really isn't much in here of use. The boxes from the old expedition have let the moisture in the room in. There's old, indecipherable food inside that is now mostly black sludge. The candles might be useful if he had anything resembling a tinderbox to light them with. Everything else in here is far older, and mostly carved stone too heavy to pilfer. This place has obviously been picked over before. No relics are on the walls. The one chest he finds that is (probably) older than the boxes contains only a single glorious cobweb as a prize. Welsknight has just about submitted to his fate to die in obscurity in a random Vault somewhere, when he encounters a corpse. It is not reanimated dead, though he does give it a few good kicks to make sure it doesn't feel like crawling to life and talking with ominous voices.

"Well, at least the ambient necromancy going on in here has limits," Welsknight sighs, squatting down on the balls of his feet to pick the corpse over. "Well, friend, I don't suppose you've got anything helpful on you?"

Their chainmail is rusted, their features, save for a few whisps of black-brown hair, are decayed away. He manages to find a coin purse with some woefully old looking coins -- so the chances of some other adventuring party stumbling to his rescue are quite small then. He picks up a shield from them that, though dry rotted, looks like it could block one or two more hits before giving up the ghost. On their back is a scabbard so rusted, it looks like the sword might be fused inside. Welsknight grimaces, then shrugs and concedes that even a brittle sword is better than none. Still, it doesn't make prying the sword belt off the old bones any more pleasant. There's a lot of brittle cracking, and a lot of wincing on Welsknight's part, before he finally manages to get it free.

"Sorry friend, but I think I need this a little more than you do."

The skull rocks a bit on the floor as it settles, but otherwise doesn't seem to care. The sockets aren't even facing his direction. Welsknight takes that as his sign that he isn't horribly cursed... Or at least no more so than when he first got trapped in here. Welsknight rubs at the blade, trying to see how much of the rust is superficial. A bit chips off beneath his fingernail, revealing bright silver beneath.

"A silver scabbard?" Welsknight raised his eyebrows at the corpse, "Well, weren't you a glamorous fellow?"

Welsknight grimaces and, taking ahold of the hilt, draws the sword. It pulls a lot easier than he thought it would. The rust holds it for a moment, and then smoothly releases, revealing bright steel underneath. The sword unsheathes with a ringing hiss.

"--ON'T SHEATH THE SWORD YOU IDIOT!"

The scream is right by his ear. Welsknight lets out a startled yelp and turns to face the voice, tripping over his feet and landing in an inglorious heap on the floor.

Standing in front of him is a knight garbed in black armor, a fiery plume rippling from his helm. His back is facing Welsknight, and he stands with his shoulders hunched, one arm reaching forward like he's trying to stop someone. The knight takes a step back, surprised, then rocks on his heels.

"Oh." He says, then looks down at the skeleton by his feet. "Oh."

He stares at the skeleton for a long moment, shrugs, and then gives the skull a hard kick, sending it clattering off across the room. "Serves you right, you asshole!"

Welsknight is crying again. He can't help it. He's scared and overwhelmed, and this knight is so, so terribly familiar. From the armor to the way he stands, to his voice. And when the knight turns to face him finally, the face is familiar too.

"Hels?" Welsknight whispers.

Helsknight, his definitely-dead brother, looks down at him with uncomprehending eyes. Then he scowls, "Nope. Sorry."

"I-- but--"

"I am the Spirit of the Sword," Helsknight cuts him off, rolling his eyes petulantly. "I serve the wielder of my blade, loyal in death, as I wasn't in -- blablabla. I take the form of the protector, the guardian, the comforting, and yes, I'm used to the whole "oh you look just like my dead loved one" thing. So let's skip the unnecessary angst, okay?"

A particularly loud shriek from the ghouls outside echoes shrilly through the room before Welsknight can even attempt to gather his response. Helsknight spins to face the barred door and takes a threatening step towards it.

"Oh would you SHUT UP? We're in the middle of something!"

The sounds behind the door fall abruptly silent. Welsknight stares in bafflement, feeling just confused enough to stop crying. The Spirit Of The Sword That Looks Just Like His Dead Brother offers a hand to him.

"Come on, get up." He says as he pulls Welsknight to his feet roughly, and then gives him a long, appraising look. "Well, you look like you might know how to swing my sword, so there's something at least."

"I'm-- I'm a knight errant," Welsknight tells him, trying to recover some of his senses. "What-- are you another trick of this terrible place?" Anger starts to bubble underneath everything else he's feeling, and his fists clench. "I'm tired of the stupid mind games and the trickery, and everything screaming like Hels and---!"

Helsknight holds up his hands, looking something between annoyed and appeasing. "Aye, yes, I understand. My last wielder did die in this Vault. No I'm not a demon, or an evil spirit -- unless you intend to use my sword for evil, in which case, I'm evil by proxy." Helsknight ushered to himself. "The enchantment in the blade turns me into something you're familiar with. Whoever I am, I don't have his memories or his mannerisms--" his lip curls in something like disgust as he adjusts his breastplate, "--or his taste in armor. Really, what's wrong with some nice high mobility chainmail? Or leather? Leather is amazing! It's quiet and doesn't feel like I'm carrying a whole damn armory around."

Welsknight screwed his eyes shut and breathed. Alright. Alright. He's okay. He can deal with this. He can-- well at least he can ignore the specter of his brother following him around for as long as it takes to get out of this Vault. But when he gets out ohhh, oh Iskall owes him six pints at the nearest tavern and a damn good explanation.

"Sword Spirit," Welsknight asks after another set of calming breaths, "can you fight?"

Helsknight looks down at his hip where a sword is sheathed. He draws it, tests its weight and shrugs. "I'd be a poor sword spirit if I couldn't."

"Alright then," Welsknight picks up the magical sword from where he'd dropped it and walks towards the barred door. "Let's get out of here, then."

Well, there is one good thing about being damseled at least, Welsknight thinks bitterly as Helsknight begins moving the debris. Someone always sends you a knight in shining armor.

[ahollowgrave]

Friend, I know you did not reblog the 22 Dawntrail ask game! So I would like to humbly request more Selenite lore in the near future. Also, what do you think Odette and Selenite would think of each other?

(Teehee after they sent this I DID reblog the dawntrail ask game mentioned. Like a scamp.)

Man, Selenite is still so new she is truly just rolling right along in the rock tumbler! So while I have some ideas many of them are subject to change. Since her first appearance here I’ve already made some changes to her looks and more will probably come! And since S9 as a whole is still so new with limited lore I imagine bits and pieces of her will change as we play more of this expansion. Such is the life of an RP character, tbh, especially an AU version of an RP character!

I have another ask for how Selenite’s readings work, so I’ll save her work for that one.

Anyway:

Her full name is Selenite, friends call her Nite. Does she have a surname??? Probably. Not that you need to know it. 

She doesn’t wear a regulator anymore. Like many of her fellow citizens, Selenite wore a regulator from a young age. It wasn’t until the loss of her parent and the gnawing feeling of missing someone important -- and a few frank conversations -- that she removed it. She’ll never get the memories of her parent back but she hopes to honor them by feeling any fresh grief. 

Selenite’s parent was probably None’s S9 shard. Details pending. 

Unlike Odette, Nite is 100% alive! Wow! A normal heartbeat and body temperature!

She’s def had some augmentations done! Probably out of boredom. I imagine boredom is a big problem in S9.

The one I’m 100% sold on is her hair not being…. Fully hair anymore. To emulate Odette’s hair’s iridescent sheen, Selenite has fiber optic lights woven throughout that emit a low glow. Practical? No. Cool? Very. 

Also since I keep trimming Odette’s hair I think Selenite gets to have the long fantasy hair. You understand. 

The other one is her eyes. Odette can see souls/ghosts/spirits out of one eye and I think Nite could as well (this is from their shared ancient) but maybe had her eyes removed in favor of optics upgrades. IDK!! I just think…. Cool eyes. You underSTAND!!!

I hesitate about these only because she doesn’t wear a regulator and I feel like they are def tied to regulator usage, but this is why she’s in the rock tumbler. Maybe she got them before she took off the regulator and they still work just maybe… not as well. Much to think about!!

Nite makes a lot of her choices based on Boredom. It's not her greatest trait!!! but it's fine.

She sleeps a lot -- almost like she’s sleeping for two. Always tired. As a result, she’s always got an energy drink in her hand and she’s usually looking for additional stimulants. 

Personality wise she is just so chill. She’s too tired to be worked up, man. 

Another reason she’s on the very fringes of a lot of groups like Oblivian, she doesn’t have the passion to join something like that fully but she supports in ways she can. Like convincing people death isn’t that bad, isn’t that scary. 

Chill but also prone to pranks and jokes. Big fan of teeheeheeing over here. She loves a bit.

She’s only left S9 twice and nearly died both times, without her regulator, so she does NOT leave the city anymore. For all her talk about death not being scary it is very much very scary but that’s okay, she just doesn’t talk about those trips. No worries, haha!

Beautiful fat lesbian <3

I do not think she and Odette will ever meet. Maybe in the background of each other's shots or something, so to speak. That said I do love a what if!!!

I think they'd get along great. I think they'd fit together so well they were long lost twins. Not without hurdles, of course. Nite is freaked out by the ashkin thing, Odette is freaked out by Nite's freak out because are you serious? Mostly I think it's a lot of bickering. They'd change each other for good.

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

"Difficult to please"

"Focalors with a reader that can switch bodies"

Characters: Focalors x gn!reader

warnings: none

a/n: The obvious things right away: I've never written for Focalors before nor do we have much information about her yet, so I wrote her mostly from my gut feeling after seeing her in the Fountaine trailer.

Anyway, I love Furina as you might have guessed by me changing my theme for her. She's such a little gremlin and her design is so beautiful. I can't wait to see her and how she changes (well, hopefully somewhat to the better at least) in the story.

I’m going to use “Focalors” and “Furina” interchangeably, since I’m 99.99% sure they’re the same person, but hey, if Hoyoverse somehow pulls a huge twist on us and I get it wrong it would also be kinda funny.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Focalors

To say that you were nothing more than a glorified babysitter for Fountaine’s Archon would have been a massive understatement. Once a young law student aspiring to one day become a judge, it didn’t take you long in your position as lawyer to attract the attention of your archon. Not in the “have a vision and beat up the bad guys” kind of way, however. Instead the weird clients you represented never failed to deliver her a somewhat entertaining spectacle, causing the Chief Justice to “volunteer” you as the Archon’s advisor… a role that, while sounding nice, de facto only had the responsibility of keeping her entertained enough to not sully any more court hearings than necessary with her cries of boredom.

When you found out about your powers to switch bodies, you knew better than to tell anyone other than your closest companions… especially Furina. While she got away with her attitude in her own body, you didn’t even want to fathom how many friends she’d be able to alienate or from how many shops she’d get you banned from if she did the same while running around in yours.

However, all of your hard work of keeping it a secret eventually turned out to be futile, as the Archon would eventually figure it out one way or another. After all, the reason she got so little done was not for a lack of ability, she simply didn’t care about most cases and delegated them to whatever judge crossed her path first, but when you began acting a bit stiff around her, the challenge of figuring the reason out was more than enough to keep her on your case.

If it weren’t for the fact that a small voice in your head worried about where to start a new life after having your entire image destroyed by the one currently occupying your body, you would have found the day in your Archon’s body amazing, you got to attend as many court cases as you wanted without anyone batting as much as an eye, got to have your first experiences as a judge and even didn’t have to pay for any of the most delicious food and drinks Fountaine got to offer. The stares you received from the other officials, probably wondering what could have happened for their notoriously difficult Archon to have such a good day, were a bit much at some times, but it was not like you were complaining.

“I want to change back!”, Focalors demanded the moment she stepped into her office, swinging the door behind her shut with as much force as she could muster and not even wincing in the slightest at how loud it was. Beelining towards the couch as she let herself fall onto it, letting out a groan of annoyance loud enough to make any bird sleeping outside fall out of its nest.

“Can’t handle being asked out all the time?”, you tried to crack a joke, knowing all too well that answering earnestly would only earn you a bored sigh.

“Ha!”, Furina let out a loud laugh before turning her face towards you. “Remind me to make you my court jester the next time we are in need of one”, she stated sarcastically before looking back at the ceiling. For your and Fountaine’s sakes however, you decided to disregard her order and to not to remind her of how she had just fired the last one for “being boring”.

“Aren’t you humans supposed to have interesting lives? What happened to ‘live every day like it's your last one’? Or is doing *this* what you all desire??”, she asked while extending her arms and wildly signaling into the air.

“What did you do all day?”, you asked, trying to sound as casual as possible even though your mind was starting to panic about what you might be greeted with tomorrow. But instead of answering your question, your Archon ignored you and continued to complain about how boring your life was, causing you to start worrying even more.

“I bet you loved this day, watching boring court cases, getting any food you desired for free, being asked for your opinion… eugh”, she let out yet another groan, making you wonder how easy it was for her to read you.

“Furina.”

“Anyway, I want my body back. So give it to me”, she continued to ignore you as she stated her earlier demand once again.

“What did you do while in my body, Furina?”, you asked one last time, grabbing both of her shoulders to force eye contact with her.

“You’ll probably have some explaining to do. I honestly want to see it all play out, it’s going to be the most entertainment I’ve had in months”, she answered off-handedly, causing you to bury your face in your palms as she continued on as if nothing happened.

“I’ll make you a judge as compensation, it’ll be a win-win. You’ll get to do what you always wanted to do and I may get one or two interesting hearings out of it”, Furina stated before pulling your hands away from your face and placing her forehead on yours, prompting the two of you to finally change bodies.

Yet, her offer caused you to feel even more conflicted than you already were. Finally, it was your time to let out a groan.

“That’s Nepotism.”

“I don’t care”, she responded bluntly, forcing you to use all your self control not to fall into the deep pit of hopelessness for your nation currently seeming to open in front of you. “Didn’t you want to become a judge?”

“Yes, but I want to earn it!”

What followed were a couple of seconds of silence before Furina turned around, walked over to a different couch, sat down, let out a long sigh and spoke a sentence so laced with irony that you didn’t know whether to cry or laugh at it.

“Fine. Geez, you’re so difficult to please.”

[panic-in-the-multiverse]

Sleep Little Angel, Sleep

Pairings: Castiel x Winchester!teen!reader

Imagine: you can’t sleep but Castiel is there to help

Warnings: angst?, sleep deprivation, mention of depression, mention of possession by a demon (not really), I think there’s one mention of the f-word, idk what else, mention of y/n if that’s a warning I have no clue if I’m honest

A/N just a short comfort fic for all you sleep deprived supernatural fans out there *cough* me *cough*, writing this actually helped me sleep so + to that I guess, bc this is kinda how it have been for me lately except I don’t have a Castiel to help me sleep. Which is why I haven’t posted/written anything in a while :) anyway hope you guys like it bc idk really and I hope you all have a good sleep tonight <3

As usual I put it down as teen reader but the reader can be older and Cas might be a bit OOC

You layed in bed, staring up at the ceiling, but at the same time nothing in particular. The sound of silence filled your ears and the occasional cars that drove past outside the window was a refreshing sound. Your tired eyes dropped but you couldn’t in any way sleep. It was for some unknown reason impossible.

For once your head was empty of thoughts. Nothing ran through your head. You didn’t have the constant race between hundreds of thoughts competing to be heard the most. Everything was silent.

The other people in the bunker were quiet, not even a sound from your brothers was heard, and they often stayed up longer than you did. It was too quiet. The cars only came one by one each hour or so in the unhealthy times of the night.

Sometimes you thought you were possessed by some demon making you feel this way, but you were pretty sure a demon possessing you would be more fun than the boredom of the night was giving you.

The tiredness that went through your whole body did nothing to help. You were exhausted, but still you couldn’t bring yourself to sleep. It wasn’t intentional, you’d tried to sleep many times, but nothing seemed to ever work. So instead you continued to stare up at your sealing, there wasn’t much else to do at this time anyway.

It took another three hours, before you completely gave up. Turning on your side you checked the watch. Two in the morning. You didn’t entirely know how you could function by now, you hadn’t slept in three days, except for the one nap you accidentally took in the car while Dean drove to the store to pick up some pie if you remembered correctly. But that was days ago, maybe it had been more than three days ago, you didn’t quite know. The only thing you knew was that you were bored to death, sleep deprived and probably in one of your depressive episodes. But you could never be sure about the depression, it always lingered around the corner waiting to strike you down.

You wanted to go up and maybe take a night snack but it would wake your brothers up and you knew it wouldn’t help either. So you stayed in your laying position, still staring at the apparently interesting sealing. You noticed some new shapes that you swore hadn’t been there before, but maybe you notice more things the more you watch something. It was like when you watched a movie for the hundredth time and noticed something new. Except it would be more exciting to watch a movie than your sealing.

A few hours later, or maybe it was just a few minutes a flapping of wings was heard. Your eyes were still unmovable from tracing every dent and dusted corners of your sealing. It was most probably an angel who’d appeared in your room, and you couldn’t care less of who, if you were honest, maybe you could get an excuse to get up and do something exciting. However it turned out to be your favorite angel.

“Y/N, you need to sleep” Castiel’s voice rang out making you look at him, it was strange to hear something break the silence. Your irritated eyes were a bit glossy from not sleeping and Castiel noticed that the dark bags under your eyes were more prominent than ever. He and your brothers knew of your problem with sleeping but it seemed you never tried to get help from them, or to even get some of those sleeping pills. You’d always shrug it off saying you were fine, that you weren’t tired, or for those occasional days you told them you were tired they’d make sure you slept in the car, but those rarely happened anymore. Castiel had sensed your tiredness, and when he’d have to save you from a vampire he knew he needed to help you, but you had shut him out. The angel didn’t want to force you to sleep but if that was what it took to make sure you were sleeping and taking care of yourself he would.

“I know Cas, I just, I can’t” you paused before your voice cracked a bit at your next words “I’m so fucking tired Cas, I, I don’t know what to do”

Castiel walked closer to your bed until he was right next to it. A bit uncharacteristically of him he bent down and tilted his head while he took in your appearance from a closer view. “Let me help you” his blue eyes stared into yours and you closed your eyes for a second, which caused a new wave of tiredness to crash through you.

“Will you stay here” why you asked you weren’t quite sure, but you did anyway and got a nod from your favorite angel. You knew what he meant by helping you. You’d seen him do it to Dean a lot of times, but you had never brought yourself to ask Cas to do it on you. It felt strange and wrong, but at the moment you didn’t care, you were too exhausted. Sleep would be your only release and nothing in you seemed to be willing to give it to you. Maybe that’s why you wanted him to stay, so that he could protect you when you were in a deep sleep that you wouldn’t wake up from in a while. So that he could wake you if anything went wrong.

“I will stay, I promise, I’ll be right beside you when you wake up” with that you gave him a nod and he gently put two of his fingers on your forehead. It didn’t take long for sleep to take over you. Exhaustion and tiredness took over your whole being in one sweep and your eyes closed. You could finally get your release from the life you lived. You could finally rest for a while, You would for once not be exhausted when you woke up.

However before you fell asleep you heard Castiel softly murmur in a whisper “Sleep little angel for nothing will come your way tonight, sleep and dream of sweet dreams”

True to his word Castiel stayed by your side, he made sure no nightmares came your way, and you slept peacefully for the first time in a while. You slept for the first time in a while, and Cas woved he wouldn’t let it go further than this again. He would protect his baby angel if it so was the last thing he did, and to make sure you slept was only one part of it.

[deliciouskeys]

Cozy Corner Domaystic prompt #12: Sourdough starter

Hughie, Homelander. 1.5k. Gen (sorry guys, not this time). Crack. I maintain this counts as a domestic fic but ymmv.

It was only going to be for 48 hours, Butcher said. As if having to host Homelander in his apartment for a couple of days was a reasonable request in any universe, something that was going to be easy. Hell, he didn’t even manage to have complete control over a washed up porn junkie like Lamplighter. How the hell was he going to manage keeping Homelander entertained enough that he won’t get inspired to leave?

It was a simple enough deal. Homelander would get Ryan if he stayed out of Vought Tower for a crucial 48 hours. Butcher never explained what he was going to do with Vought Tower, but Hughie has the feeling this is going to be an explosives kind of gig. The man isn’t all that subtle. With him it’s explosives, machine guns, or, rarely, the occasional verbal negotiation. Usually coupled with threats of violence anyway. He’s creative in the improv, not the planning stage, and maybe that’s why there’s no grand plan. How Mallory convinced Butcher to execute this plan, and how they decided that dangling Ryan would be enough to persuade Homelander to stay away from Vought Tower, Hughie doesn’t know. Frankly, he has his doubts that if Butcher decides to stage a fifth of November type of event, Homelander won’t bolt out the window and come to his employer’s rescue. Not like Hughie can do anything to stop him. He doesn’t even know what Butcher has planned. But what else is new? He was charged with the babysitting, and everything else is on a “need to know” basis.

“You’ll sleep better if you don’t know the details, lad,” Butcher said, winking, and Hughie objected that no, no he wouldn’t, at ALL, after hearing that kind of reassurance but he knew his objections were going in one ear and out the other. Homelander likely knows more details than he does, and that feels insulting. Hughie wonders if they’ll get to a point in these 48 hours where Homelander would explain it to him out of sheer cabin fever boredom. Right now he’s behaving quite normally- eerily normally, Hughie might say. He’s been planted on the couch for hours, not requesting anything even though Hughie tries to be a good host and offer things periodically. Maybe the supe doesn’t even eat or drink. Homelander just watches Vought News at a slightly obnoxious volume, and takes a slightly suspicious number of bathroom breaks, especially for a supe who may not need water to survive, for all Hughie knows. Hughie goes in to the bathroom just to check if something has been rearranged in that room or if there’s a secret phone Butcher hooked up in there, or maybe a portal to Narnia. He can find nothing remarkable. At one point, and against his better judgment, Hughie creeps closer to the bathroom door while Homelander is in there, to try and overhear if he’s doing some kind of communication, maybe to Vought, right under Hughie’s nose. If he was texting it’d be silent anyway. All Hughie can make out is something that sounds suspiciously like very short moans of effort or pain. Was he listening to Homelander straining to take a shit, right now? Is this what his life has become? Hughie feels the blood drain from his face when it dawns on him that Homelander might be seated on the toilet facing the door and might be staring right him.

“What’re you doing, Hugh?” A gruff voice from inside the small room, echoing off the tiles, right on cue.

“Uh… you okay in there?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be okay.”

“Just- just checking. Sorry, didn’t mean to… well, never mind.”

Hughie staggers back into the living room, trying to will the color back into his face.

Homelander walks out, after running the faucet, Hughie notes thankfully. He wonders if Homelander even takes his gloves off in the bathroom or just washes them like skin.

“You think I’m gonna bolt out of your tiny bathroom window? Trust me, I wouldn’t leave out that way if I had a mind to leave.”

“But… you’re staying because Butcher promised you Ryan?” Hughie just can’t help himself and wants to verify.

“Yeah. And if he has any plans to renege on that, trust me that I’ll take you as first hostage. Butcher seems oddly fond of you. Not to mention our resident blond ditz.”

Hughie thanks his lucky stars that Annie bailed out of keeping him company during this sit-in, just on principle. She would be escalating the situation right now. Hughie sighs. “Not sure Butcher will care about me as much as you expect.”

“Oh he’ll care. He talks a big game about not caring about anyone, but I’ve seen how he talks to you at HQ.”

“Wait, you … you know our HQ?”

Homelander rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t need X-ray vision to know. Vought Analytics has it bugged.”

“Wait, seriously?” Hughie blanches.

“Yeah, what do you think? I’m telling you because you’re all are so pathetic it’s just not a fair fight at all. Consider it charity.”

And yet you’re sitting here waiting for Butcher to decide to hand over Ryan to you, Hughie thinks. “Wait, so… do they have my place bugged too?!”

Homelander takes a cursory look around. “No. Nope, don’t see or hear anything. You’re just not consequential enough, I guess.”

I’m pretty high up in the FBSA! Hughie’s brain protests, but thankfully he keeps his mouth shut.

“So…. does it seem to you like I’m going to the bathroom a lot?” Homelander suddenly asks, and Hughie shakes his head in disbelief.

“What?”

“You asked if I was having trouble. Did you think I was going a lot?”

“Uh…” Hughie can feel sweat that’s broken out earlier start to actually trickle down his back. He tries not to think about the fact that Homelander might be able to see this. “I just… yeah I guess I thought so, but we all have days. Drink a lot of water, need to go more often, right?….” Now he’s just babbling nonsense, and laughing weakly at nothing funny, but in his defense it’s a nonsensical question that he’s answering.

“Sure,” Homelander says in a strange tone and turns back to the TV but looks like he’s lost in thought.

“Can I- get you something? I might start making dinner soon, and I don’t know what your preferences are. We can order in or—“

“Do you have milk?” Homelander interrupts him, sounding strangely urgent.

“Uh… yeah, yeah, I think so, it’s just…”

Homelander brushes past him to go into the kitchen and Hughie trails off.

Great, now he’s actually acting strange. Should he be alerting Butcher? It’s not like he can even say much. He has a code word that basically means ‘come quick, Homelander is in process of killing me,” but nothing less dire than that. He’s not about to start describing that Homelander’s acting weird about the bathroom when the supe will hear him even if he travels over to a different a borough.

“WHAT THE FUCK???!”

Hughie’s entire spinal column gets tense as he hears that voice and then glass breaking somewhere outside. He cautiously approaches the kitchen and just sees Homelander standing there, breathing hard and looking angry.

“W-what happened?”

“YOU FUCKING TELL ME. You had some milk in a jar or whatever it was, but when I cracked it open it smelled like the vilest shit on earth!”

Hughie looks around, thinks for a moment, then buries his face in his palm, not knowing if he’s going to laugh or cry, and worrying that either reaction is going to earn him a lasering.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS IT, HUGH? You trying to poison me or something? Heard I like milk?”

“What? No… no… wait where is it…”

“I chucked it out the window! Don’t tell me you needed that, it smelled about forty days expired!”

“It’s…”

“WHAT.”

“It’s not milk. It’s … a sourdough starter. Fren- um a friend gave it to me. To make bread. It’s not milk at all.”

“Fucking vile,” Homelander says, but a bit more quietly, and a bit more defensively, realizing the error may have been his. “Don’t just leave that out on the counter.” He throws the fridge door open violently enough that Hughie is nervous that he might tear it off the hinges, but he finds the real milk, inspects it very suspiciously, uncaps and smells it. If Hughie is being honest, he’d probably not going to drink this milk after seeing Homelander sniff it cautiously, from a distance, then bury his nose into the opening to huff it, way more deeply than anyone in their right mind should.

“1% huh.”

“Uh… yeah, Anni- we like the 1%.”

Homelander eyes him up and down critically. “You can probably afford to grade up. But your girlfriend, yeah, stick to the 1%.”

Hughie sighs and shakes his head ever so slightly, trying not to process what his charge is saying. Homelander walks past him back into the living room, back to being glued to Vought News. At least he’s not watching porn. And it looks like Hughie won’t have to worry about making sure to throw out that 1% jug after all, as Homelander drains what is most of a quart in about fifteen minutes.

(AO3 link)

[thunderon]

alright more pre-crash yellowjackets thoughts! this time: shitty high school jobs they had! (i worked 5 different shitty minimum wage jobs between the ages of 15-18 and have thought about the concept with more gravity than it deserves sorry)

shauna: was a tutor during the school year for literally every subject. she was the only reason jeff and randy passed their junior year. even though she could use the money, shauna never charged any of her teammates if they needed some help. when school was out during the summers, she had a seasonal job at the concession stand at the local concert venue. pretty easy money and she liked listening to the bands play

jackie: unemployed. being the coolest girl in school is a full time job, after all! note: tried to get a job with shauna at the concession stand. it was a complete and utter disaster. she lasted a week, and only made it that long because of how much shauna covered for her. after that didn’t pan out, when shauna worked weekends, jackie would always buy a concert ticket… just to hang out by the concession stand and talk with shauna for the whole show

nat: her first job was working at the local pizza parlor. was employed there for 6 months until it got shut down because, as it turns out, the whole thing was a money laundering front for the mob (which explains why nat never got fired despite being actually kinda bad at making pizzas). after that, she goes to work the 6pm-midnight shift at the grimiest gas station in wiskayok. except for the occasional stick up, it was a quiet job where no one bothered her and she could buy her own cigarettes. however she was constantly sleep-deprived having to get up for school in the mornings. definitely created energy drink concoctions that would send most people into cardiac arrest. van and the other yellowjackets would always stop by to see her on shifts and nat always gives them free slurpees

van: started working at the movie theater in the mall when she was 14 (the owner needed the help and did not ask enough questions). van is the rare sort of person that is absolutely beloved by both customers and her fellow employees and no one was surprised when she became a manager. she has the best customer service and will help out all the other employees with whatever they need. to this day she still holds the record for most Employee of the Month awards. also i just know van was the ultimate hookup and snuck her friends into shows and definitely took home the leftover popcorn after her shift. if she knew nat was on shift at the gas station, she’d stop by on her way home and give her some

taissa: never worked during the school year because she took way too many classes and extracurriculars (she was a 3-sport athlete: cross country in the fall, basketball in the winter, soccer in the spring. also did debate team AND student gov). her parents actually tried to talk her out of getting a summer job, but taissa has never relaxed a day in her life. she took a job at a clothing store in the mall and claimed she chose it for the employee discounts. the fact the store was located in the same mall as the movie theater was unrelated to anything whatsoever (tho taissa and van’s break schedules coincidentally always lined up and they’d hang out and go to the arcade where they’d have competitions… loser had to buy the winner food from the food court afterwards).

anyways tai would have been a perfect employee… if she didn’t have the world’s worst customer service (“for the fifth and final time, i am not going to give you a goddamned refund if you don’t have the RECEIPT and if you try putting that ugly ass blouse in my face again i will shove it up your-”) …had to have routine talks with HR throughout her tenure there. her manager gently suggested therapy, once.

lottie: didn’t need the money but definitely got a job out of boredom. decided to lifeguard as a summer job. it was basically getting paid to tan and tell kids to stop running. she had a sixth sense for when it’s about to start storming. her coworkers stopped questioning it after a few months and now when lottie says to get everyone out of the pool, they get everyone out of the pool. from lifeguarding lottie actually learned enough about pool maintenance to do the work and check the chemical balances on the pool at her own house. her father thinks the whole thing is ridiculous, her mother thinks it’s nice she has a hobby

laura lee: didn’t work a paid job but volunteered. she played piano for the local church services and on weekdays she worked evenings at the local food bank. if she sees anyone from school show up, it stays between her and God. she has managed to rope each of the yellowjackets into volunteering with her at least once

mari: worked at a local restaurant. tried to be a waitress, but on her very first day she got three different customer complaints about her attitude and so the owner put her in the kitchen where she became a linecook. she had more healthcode violations in her 1.5 years of working there than every other employee combined. the manager fired her on a weekly basis but she always just showed up to work the next day like nothing happened and the boss always took her back because mari is the best damn linecook he ever had

akilah: she’s a baby and was too young to work an actual job but definitely did babysitting (mostly for family). definitely was the kid-whisperer. had plans to work at library once she turned 16

misty: volunteered at the local retirement home and developed a love-hate relationship with an 85yo named Ethel (and by love-hate i mean: misty loved ethel, ethel hated misty)

[ladyantiheroine]

From Bludhaven, With Love

Summary: Late one night, Selina gets a call from Gotham City. Read on AO3.

Pairing: Selina Kyle x Bruce Wayne

Warnings: Explicit sexual content.

Word Count: 4.1k words

Tags: Phone sex, mutual masturbation, voice kink, sweet/hot, set after the movie

Selina returned home just before it started to rain. After dragging her weary body up the rickety stairs past the broken elevator, she let her apartment door shut and lock behind her. All noises were muffled, and she let out a long, airy sigh.

It had been a long day. A long day of scoping out the city, looking for new targets. She came to Bludhaven hoping to con some hedge-fund types, but it seemed like all the rich guys had taken their money and fled further from Gotham, which meant there were fewer opportunities for her. 

So far, she’d been getting extra cash from guys she’d scam at bars when she wasn’t working her regular job. It was a trick she learned while working at the Iceberg Lounge. Get them drunk enough to not remember anything, but sober enough to sign a check. It was all cheap tricks, but it was all the city had to offer her since she showed up.

Selina rested her back against the door and rubbed her face. Between her new day job and trying to find some thrills, Bludhaven was draining her, both with exhaustion and boredom. She needed some sleep.

Her apartment was dark and cold this time of night. Spring was getting close, but the chills of winter were still lingering behind. She didn’t bother turning on any lights as she sauntered toward her bedroom.

In her room, Selina changed out of her day clothes and into her pajamas, which were really just a dark hoodie and cotton shorts. Her apartment was still a haphazard mess from her sudden move. Clothes were scattered around, groceries still sat in their plastic bags. She was still settling in, but all of that could wait until tomorrow.

Selina set her phone down on the bedside table and then collapsed onto the bed. Her warm, soft duvet caught her and she let her back sink into the thick mattress. Her new apartment wasn’t the fanciest place, but she got a great deal on the bed. She wanted to burrow inside it like a hare into its den.

Outside, the drizzle turned into a downpour beating against her window. Selina closed her eyes, but despite how exhausted she was, she couldn’t sleep. Ever since she got to Bludhaven, sleep had become more elusive to her. She was never great at keeping still, keeping her eyes shut, but somehow Bludhaven unsettled her more than Gotham did. Gotham was hard, but in a perverse way, it was still home.

Selina glanced at the digital clock on her bedside table. The glowing red numbers blared 2:56 AM. She sighed then turned her eyes to the ceiling and listened to the distant sounds of the city beyond her window. Bludhaven was quieter than Gotham, but the quiet did little to soothe her. As dangerous as Gotham was, its noise was familiar, like a reliable lullaby that came every night.

Selina lay still in the dark silence of her bedroom. There was hardly any light except for the faint amber glow of the streetlight beyond her window blinds. The rain was pattering harder against the window and kept the room from total silence.

She shut her eyes, ready to let sleep take her away.

And then, she heard a buzz.

The sound startled her, snapping her from her sleep and her eyes opened. She turned to see her phone alight on the table, buzzing with whoever was calling.

Selina was tempted to ignore it. Who the hell called at this ungodly hour? It wasn’t like she had many friends. At least, none that were alive and knew her number, anyway.

She closed her eyes and tried to ignore it. But something kept pricking at her head. She couldn’t remember the last time she got a call from anyone. The last person was Annika, and, well, it wasn’t for a good reason.

Selina sat up and reached for her phone. The bright screen hurt her eyes in the dark. She didn’t recognize the caller ID. It wasn’t a number she recognized from Gotham, meaning it likely wasn’t the police. Still, she couldn’t sleep, and she was just as curious as the proverbial cat of her name.

She slid her thumb across the screen to answer then brought the phone to her ear.

“Hello?” she said.

“Selina?” 

As soon as she heard her name, Selina recognized the voice. That low, gravelly, chill of a voice that spilled down her back like ice water.

Selina slowly sat up.

“Vengeance?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s me.”

It had been several months since they last spoke to each other. Several months since he escorted her to the edge of the city before she left. He frequented her thoughts and dreams, but it still felt surreal to hear him now. His voice was familiar, like the echo of a ghost from beyond the grave, and it sent a shiver across Selina’s skin.

“Hi,” she said. Her mouth scrambled for something to say. “How did you…get my number?” She let out a chuckle. “Have you been stalking me?”

“You handed me your phone during the investigation,” he said. “I saw your number on it.”

Oh right, that. Selina had tried her best to not think about the Mitchell investigation too much. The last thing she wanted was lingering thoughts about the time her best friend was killed by her father. More specifically, the voicemail of her being strangled.

“I’m sorry for looking at it,” Batman said. “I just…I thought it would be good to have on record. In case I ever needed to contact you.”

Selina wasn’t exactly sure what he would need to contact her for. The case was long over, and she hadn’t been back in Gotham to stir trouble. A part of her knew the real reason he’d memorize her number when he saw it, but she didn’t say anything. 

She pursed her lips.

“It’s fine,” she said. “I thought of leaving it to you anyway before I left. I guess I figured you wouldn’t need it.”

There was a pause on the other end. Selina could tell Batman had a response on his tongue, but he kept it between his teeth.

“Why are you calling me this late?” Selina glanced at her clock again. “It’s three in the morning.”

“I know,” Batman said. “I’m sorry to wake you.”

“You didn’t wake me. I couldn’t sleep.”

“I thought maybe you were…out.”

 Selina grinned.

“Thought I was out on the street beating up assholes?” She leaned back on her pillow, one hand behind her head and the other holding the phone to her ear. “I have to say, I’m almost flattered you’d think that.”

“What have you been doing in Bludhaven?”

Selina sighed.

“Found some work at another club,” she said. “Nothing fancy, but better than working for Oz.”

Another pause. When Bruce spoke, his voice was so soft Selina almost didn't hear him.

“And what do you really do?”

Selina smirked and fixed her eyes on the ceiling.

“You want to know if I’ve been getting into any trouble?” she asked. “Stealing from safes? Terrorizing cops? Swiping money from under rich guys’ noses?”

“Are you admitting to those things?”

“I’m not admitting anything, because a lady never tells.” Selina smiled. “I’ve been scoping the place out. Making plans. Settling in.” She raised an eyebrow. “Why do you want to know? Are you going to drive down here and arrest me?”

Selina said it as a joke, but a part of her didn’t hate the idea. She imagined the Batman riding into town on that motorcycle, showing up at her door, maybe without the cowl…

Selina’s wandering thought was interrupted by Batman’s voice.

“Bludhaven isn’t really my jurisdiction,” he said.

“Jurisdiction?” Selina teased. “I thought you were a vigilante, now you’re a cop?”

On the other end of the line, Selina could sense a small smile on Batman’s face.

“And how’s Gotham?” she asked to break the silence.

“Still flooded,” Batman said. “Bella Reál is working on repair plans.”

“I guess that’s a start. And you?”

“Hm?”

“What are you doing?”

There was a long pause. Batman wasn’t exactly the chatty type, but the way he measured his responses always made Selina’s ears prickle. She wanted to know what words he was considering before he spoke. She wanted to take needles and a board and pin down his elusive thoughts.

“What I’ve always done,” he said. “Anything I can.”

Another long pause stretched between them. Selina listened to Batman’s breath on the other end of the phone.

“Why are you calling me, baby?” Selina asked. “Why are you up this late talking to me?”

Selina listened to the sound of his breath for several minutes before he responded.

“I can’t sleep either,” he said.

“I guess that makes us both night owls.”

“I’ve been thinking about the last few months.” He let out a sigh. “And then I started thinking about you.”

Selina felt a warm trickle in her chest, one that was strange and unfamiliar. No one ever thought about her. No one ever gave her a passing thought. The only people who did were both dead.

A long stretch of radio silence passed between them, louder than the rain pattering on the window.

“Selina?” Batman said.

“Keep talking, baby,” Selina said. “I’m still here.” She crossed her ankles. “Why were you thinking about me?”

Selina heard a small sound on the other end.

“I guess I was worried,” he said.

“Worried about what?”

“I just thought when you left Gotham…you left alone for upstate very suddenly, and I…”

Batman ran out of words, which was strange even for someone as monosyllabic as him.

Selina couldn’t help it. Her face broke out into a playful grin.

“It’s okay, baby,” she said. “You can say you missed me.”

She listened for his response, but the other end was just the crackle of static.

“Baby?” Selina said. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” he said.

“Something wrong?”

“No, I just…”

Batman was never an easy man to read. In the times they spoke in person, Selina had to get close to try to pry anything from him. His eyes, his mouth, his body language. Most men she met were easy, open as a book, and happy to open wider for her. Everything Batman did seemed to hide something. Even his voice was cloaked in shadows.

“Just what, baby?” Selina said, then smirked and rolled onto her side. “It’s getting late, you can’t keep me waiting.”

Batman exhaled through the phone.

“It’s good to hear you again,” he mumbled. “It’s good to know you’re okay.”

Something warm bloomed in Selina’s chest. She parted her lips, not sure what to say. She pictured him standing in her apartment right now. A tall, cloaked figure in a mask and cape and layers of armor to protect himself.

“I wish I could see your face,” Selina said.

She meant two things by that. She wanted to see him right now, but she also wanted to see his face under that mask. It had been a question rolling around in her head longer than she cared to admit. She thought about that masked avenger she met in the city, wondering who was hiding under all that leather and metal.

“I wish I could show you,” he said.

“Are you wearing a mask now?” 

A long pause. Selina listened to the subtle shift in his breath.

“No,” he said.

Selina felt something warm rush down her body. If only she could look at him right now. His real face was just out of reach on the other side of the phone, and that thought drove her crazy. No way he’d turn his camera on and show his face. Still, there was that temptation in his voice. She could practically feel him in the room with her, yet she couldn’t imagine what he looked like under that cowl.

“So you’re home,” she said. “No crime fighting tonight?”

“No,” he said. “Just…focusing on other things.”

“Like some girl living miles away from you?”

Selina swore she could feel Batman blush on the other end, and it made her giggle. As much as he loved to put on a stoic face, Selina got around enough to know the bigger a guy’s bravado the more he had to hide.

“I just wanted to see if you made it to Bludhaven,” he said. “I wanted to know if you were safe.”

“Well, I’m in Bludhaven, and I’m perfectly safe.” Selina bit her lip. “I told you already, baby, I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can,” he said. “I just...“ His next words came out as soft as a breath. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking of you since you left.”

His voice was low like a confessional. Selina’s heart lurched against her ribcage. For a moment she wasn’t sure what to say. She never exactly made her attraction to him a secret, but it still felt strange to hear him say that to her.

“I keep thinking about everything you said to me before you left,” Batman continued. “I looked back, you know. I took my eyes off the road to watch you drive away. I thought I saw you at Mitchell’s funeral on Falcone’s arm and…it just scared me.”

This was the most Batman had said to her at once. His words were droning out in a sleepy, late-night ramble. Selina listened closely.

“I thought about when we met in the Penguin’s office,” he continued. “When you delivered those dropheads. I thought about us on that sky tower…”

That’s when his voice trailed off. Selina’s lips alighted with the memory of their moment on the roof together. The moment she asked him to help her find Kenzie, she couldn’t take it anymore and kissed him. She remembered how cold yet soft his mouth was, the prickle of his whiskers on her upper lip, the way he smelled like rainwater and leather.

Selina’s voice softened, and the corner of her lips quirked into a small smirk.

“So that’s why you called me?” she said. “Can’t get the taste of me out of your mouth?”

Batman was silent on the other end. Selina smiled and rolled onto her back again.

“No need to be embarrassed, baby,” she said. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve been thinking about you too. For a guy who doesn’t seem to get out much, you’re a pretty good kisser.”

Selina’s face flushed hot and her lips tingled remembering that kiss. The way she took his face in her hands, the way her heart and stomach bolted at the contact. Kissing was nothing new to her, but with Batman, it felt like a force she could feel in her bones.

“I wanted to kiss you,” he said. “Right before you left the city.”

“Why didn’t you?” Selina asked.

Another long pause.

“If I did, I would have left with you,” he confessed. “I knew I couldn’t make you stay in Gotham. If I kissed you, I would have followed you out of the city and never came back.”

Selina’s body surged hot and her heartbeat picked up.

“Really?” she said.

“I can’t leave Gotham,” he said. “And if you kissed me before you left, I wouldn’t have been able to stay.”

Selina felt warm all over, and she felt a particular heat creeping from between her legs. It didn’t help that Batman’s voice was like dark velvet, pouring from the phone. The back of her neck prickled and there were goosebumps along her back.

“That’s…” Selina said. “That’s sweet, Vengeance.”

“I wish we met differently,” he said. “Without the investigation, without all the mayhem. If the circumstances were different.”

“What if the circumstances were ‘different’?” she asked.

“If neither of us had been pulled away by other things. Not the Riddler, not Annika, not the investigation and GCPD.” He paused. “I know you think Gotham is hopeless. But things are changing here. You’d be surprised what can happen in this city.”

As Bruce spoke, as his voice whispered to her from miles away in the dark, Selina felt a warm, curling feeling fill her body.

“Maybe,” Selina said.

Without much thought, Selina’s hand moved slowly down her stomach and down the front of her shorts. Her fingers slipped under her underwear and over her folds. Her breath hitched as her fingertips made contact with her clit. A sound that Batman seemed to hear.

“Selina?” he said.

God, even the way he said her name made her blood rush hot.

“I’m here,” she said. Her voice came out low and breathy.

“Are you…?”

Selina paused her hand. What was she doing?

“Nothing,” she said. “I just…has anyone ever told you you have a nice voice?”

Batman’s response was a puzzled silence.

“I guess you don’t talk much,” Selina corrected herself. “It’s just that I don’t think you’ve spoken this many words to me before. And it’s quiet where I am, and…I just like listening to you.”

Selina bit her lip, wondering if maybe she said too much. She was about to pull her hand back out when Batman’s toe-curling baritone came crawling back through the phone.

“You like my voice?” he said.

He wasn’t teasing her. Nothing in his tone suggested that. But there was an enticed curiosity in his tone.

“Yeah,” Selina said. “I mean, I don’t really know what you look like, so your voice is all I have to go off of.” She chuckled. “That, and your mouth, I guess.”

Selina’s face went hot, remembering her fingers running along his jawline just below where the leather of his mask ended. She heard Batman let out a long, hot breath from his lips.

“I’ve missed your voice too,” he said. Now his voice was different, coming out in a low, breathy tone. “Keep talking, I love the sound of it.”

Selina lay completely still in bed. The darkness of her bedroom suddenly felt hotter. She couldn’t see anything, even with her eyes open, but she could hear his voice hot in her ear.

“What do you want me to say?” she asked.

“Anything,” he said. He sounded almost out of breath, like he was talking while running. “Say anything you want.”

Selina’s heart hitched when she realized what was happening. Her voice was having the same effect on him as his voice had on her.

“Vengeance,” Selina said carefully. “Where are you right now?”

It took him a second to respond.

“Home,” he said.

“Are you…lying down right now?”

She heard a small gulp from deep in his throat.

“Yes,” he whimpered.

Selina couldn’t quite believe it. All it took was her speaking to get this man groveling for her. And having that kind of power over someone like Batman sent an excited surge through her.

Selina shoved her hand down the front of her shorts again, with no hesitation this time. Her finger fumbled down into the dark until they found her opening, wet and hot. 

She pressed two fingers inside and let out a small gasp, one she was certain Batman heard.

On the other end, she could hear his measured yet desperate breathing. Batman was a man obsessed with control, but right now his grasp on it was thread-thin. Selina released a warm, sultry sound into the phone and right into his ear miles away.

“Selina,” Batman moaned.

Selina bit her lips to keep herself from keening. Her hand worked between her thighs. He sounded exquisite. The deep, thunder-like gravel of his voice, but punctuated with the high-pitched whimpers of a man coming undone.

“Baby,” Selina said. “If you keep moaning like that, you’re going to make me do something. You’ve already got my fingers in me.”

Those words sent something off in him. Batman’s breathing became louder, gruffer, his moans hungrier. Selina closed her eyes and tried not to let the phone slip from her grasp. Her fingers pressed deeper and faster over her clit, sending waves of pleasure up from between her legs. She imagined him in that pitch-black bedroom with her, hovering over her with his ungloved fingers inside her and his warm sighs in her ear.

“I wish you were here,” Selina breathed into the phone. “I want you in this bed with me.” Her voice came out in breathless wisps. “I want you on top of me. I want to be on top of you . And I want you without that damn cowl on .”

There was a feverish rush to her demands. On the other end, Selina heard every breath flush hotly from Batman’s throat. She imagined his lips parting, his Adam’s apple moving, his pale face going red. Her fingers moved quickly over her clit, the thoughts of him sending her body into a hungry surge.

“I want to show you my face too,” he said. His words fumbled thoughtlessly from his lips. “I want to show you, so I can lay on the bed, and you can ride it.”

Those words sent shock waves through Selina’s body. Her hands worked faster in her pussy. Her lips parted as she let a low moan percolate from her throat to the phone. On the other end, she heard Batman suppress a groan that came out as a grunt. She imagined him in a similar position as her, lying on his bed, with the phone in one hand and his cock in the other.

“Baby…” Selina cooed into the phone. Her voice grew higher and louder as her body started rushing hotter. “Baby…I’ve missed you so much…”

“Selina,” he whimpered. “I…need you here…I can’t stand being away from you…”

Selina’s back arched over the bed as every nerve in her body burned. His voice was so close she could practically feel him next to her, beneath her, on top of her. She could feel his body heat and his hot breath on her neck. They were miles apart but they may as well have been rolling around in that bed together.

Batman’s breathing was getting louder, growing from a groan to a whimper. Selina felt herself getting close too. Each breath from the one brought her closer to the edge.

“Tell me your name,” she said. “Tell me your real name so I can say it.”

Batman’s heavy breathing paused.

“I…”

“Vengeance, I’m so hot and I’m about to burst, tell me your fucking name so I can scream it into the phone.”

Selina wished he was there with her more than ever at that moment, so she could slap him across the face and then bite his lip.

Batman was quiet in the other line, but she could still hear his ragged breath grow more desperate as he continued to work himself. She could hear him panting in time with her.

“Tell me,” she demanded.

Her body was rising to a climax, and based on the sounds he was making, he was too.

Batman groaned on the other end.

“Bruce,” he said. “My name is Bruce.”

“Bruce,” Selina repeated. Then she repeated it again. “Bruce…” Then louder. “ Bruce… ”

His name on her lips sent him over the edge. Selina heard him shiver from the other end.

“ Selina ,” he whimpered. “Fuck…I’m gonna…”

The two of them came at the same time. Selina’s chest rose and fell with every breath as her body ricocheted into a burst of pleasure. She let herself fall apart on the bed, uncaring if her sleeping neighbors heard her. On the other end, Bruce let out a shuddering moan. Both of them were quiet for several minutes, save for their heavy breaths, sitting together in the heated silence between them.

Selina sighed then grinned.

“You really missed me, didn’t you?”

Even through the phone, Selina could sense him blush. Selina pulled her hand out from her shorts.

“So,” she said once she caught her breath. “Your name is Bruce?”

“I’m…” he said, his voice still shaking. “I didn’t…” Pause. “I’ll…I’ll call again in the morning.”

And then, he hung up. Selina lay quiet in the dark for several minutes. Batman—no, Bruce’s —voice seemed to linger in the air like a scent. After a few minutes, she set her phone aside and then curled up under the blankets. His name turned over in her head. Bruce. Where could she connect that name in Gotham? It was right at the tip of her tongue, but she was exhausted and her brain was still warm and soupy from everything that just happened.

Selina closed her eyes and pulled her duvet up to her chin. Her body felt warm and light now, and she could feel sleep finally creeping its way under her skin.

She made a note to visit Gotham again soon.

[icon-cloud]

Sleep Helps

Sometimes you wake up feeling like shit.

Includes: Sick character, Overall, pretty soft

WC: 946

Waking up, Swiss didn’t feel right. He wasn’t usually someone to stay in bed for long, aside from of course, the fun activities. There were just too many things to do, and too many people to annoy and launch himself dramatically at. Why would he stay in bed and willingly subject himself to boredom when there was something to do? 

Today felt different though. His eyes felt dry, a little crusty. It stung a little to open his eyes actually. His skin felt a little more sensitive than usual he supposed. Like it was stretched a little too much. 

Sitting up, he took a deep breath and groaned loudly, while rubbing his hand harshly on his face. Slouching forward, he pulled his arms close to his lap before doing a cursory look around his room and decided to take a shower. 

Showers usually helped. The steam opened up his nasal passage and rehydrated his eyes significantly. Plus, it always helps to just start the day clean, it felt nice and it was a good way to wake up in his mind. 

Stepping out the shower he got dressed relatively quickly and shuffled his way into the kitchen, to the coffee pot. 

Rain soon found Swiss glaring at the coffee machine, almost as if it spoke to him, and accused him of being a eunuch. Slowly, he approached before asking softly, “Hey wisp, are you alright? You’re usually up earlier than this… and more coherent.”

Squinting, Swiss turned his gaze towards Rain and replied in a scratchy voice, “The da-” his voice cut off harshly as he turned his face to cough into his elbow. Closing his eyes, Swiss angled his head to the ceiling. Methodically, he took a few shallow breaths to calm his breathing before continuing, “The damned coffee is empty, and my head hurts too much to fix it.” 

Rain winced at the multi ghouls voice. What was usually a low timbre, had morphed into a dry hoarse mockery of his usual tone. All around Swiss didn’t look like his usual, bubbly self. 

Frowning, he approached Swiss and gently grasped his arm to pull him softly, before saying, “Come on my wisp. You don’t sound too good. So, let's get you laid down and I can bring you something warm.” Looking to Swiss, he tilted his head before giving a shy smile and said, “I don’t think coffee is what you need at the time being anyway.”

Swiss didn’t protest when Rain pulled him closer. Instead, he chose to lean his head onto his current partner’s shoulder when he wrapped his arm around him, allowing the water ghoul to lead them both back to his room. 

Opening the door to his room, they shuffled to Rain’s bed. “Alright Smiles, give me a second and you can lay back down. You wanna strip down or have some PJ’s?”

Grumbling he replied hoarsely, “Skin hurts. Don't want anything.” Stiffly, he worked his way out of his short worn outfit of the day until he got to his boxers. 

Hunched awkwardly, he smiled gently to himself as he watched rain worry over the state of his bed before he whispered, “The bed is fine the way it is Lilly, lemme get in please.”

Turning to Swiss, he bit his lip softly as he observed the sick ghouls slouched figure. “Alright, yea go on and get comfortable.” Leaning against the bed, he tilted his head while he watched Swiss gingerly climb into the bed. Once he got to the center he flounced forward, sighing in relief. 

Gathering the blankets around him, he asked Rain where Aether was, frowning when the other answered displeased. “Aether was called away this morning. Apparently a different location needs a skilled Quint to help train some newly summoned. Aeth is gonna be away for a little bit.”

“Ah well, he’s always lecturing us about how we can’t always rely on him. I suppose it was bound to happen,” was the scratchy reply given by Swiss. Whining he asked in a small voice, “Can you just… I feel real crappy Lils, can you just hold me a little?” 

Squinting mirthfully, Rain snorted before saying, “Is that not the exact reason why I shouldn’t get in bed with you at the moment?” Laughing he said, “Move over ya big lump, you’re taking up all the room!”

Swiss gave him an impish grin and said, “Scuse you, I’m sick. I don’t need to move at all. You can make room.” As he said this he playfully turned his head away from Rain with a small grin, only to give a short squeal when the other began shoving him to the side.

Rain grinned down at him, causing small wrinkles to form around his eyes. Haloed by the golden light coming in through the sheer curtains of the room, he appeared to be almost celestial to Swiss. 

Unable to help himself, Swiss hooked an arm around the other's neck to gently pull him down. Settled on top of him, Swiss cupped Rain’s cheek, and nuzzled him gently before giving in to kiss Rain.

Closing his eyes, Rain smiled against the other, before turning his head and leaned into Swiss’ neck. Hugging himself against the other’s body, he pulled them both onto their sides and whispered, “Go to sleep Wisp. There’s always the chance you’ll feel better in the afternoon.”

Sighing quietly he replied, “Yea, you’re right. Thanks Rain, love you.” 

It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep. He couldn’t quite breath right, and his throat hurt, but he knew he was safe. Should anything happen he knew Rain would look after him while he slept.

[pampushky]

Creature (Both Haunted & Holy)

Vinsmoke Sanji/Reader - Chapter 18 - 6.1k

As the night brings unexpected guests to your ship, you find yourself in your worst nightmare, while Sanji realizes just how hard he’s fallen.

ao3 | series masterlist | masterlist | next part

The ruckus of the town throwing a celebration for your crew is audible from whatever tavern they’ve holed up in. You feel one of your ears twitch, when you hear another loud cry, followed by laughter. There’s no one on the pier now, yet you can smell something in the air. 

It’s not the faint scent of your pod, which hangs forever around the ship. It’s wonderful, the way they’ve all melted together to form something cohesive that almost smells unified. There are hints of rubber, tangerines, and tobacco, all mixing to form something so unique that it could only be described as the Straw Hats. 

Your sunglasses had been slipped to rest on top of your head, no longer needing the cover from the sunlight. It’s a calm night, besides the occasional rowdy shout from the town. Nothing on the ship has changed, and it still sways sleepily in the water. Part of you regrets not joining your crew, but the logical side argues that it was necessary. You didn’t like crowds, and you weren’t a people person. The fact you hadn’t fully panicked in Loguetown was a miracle, honestly. 

Quietly, you hum as you walk around the ship, not focusing on watching it so much as you are staving off your boredom until the crew comes back to sleep for the night. The storage room had been reorganized and the logs were up to date now, and more dry goods had been dropped off by a few townsfolk. 

Something had been… off, though. Their smiles were much too wide, and their greetings too excited when they realized you were a selkie. You had made a note, just out of caution, to keep the goods you had gotten all separated from the main storage until you had Sanji back here to make sure they were safe to eat. 

Sanji. You wondered what he was doing now. He had a fair amount of people hanging off of him, and you really couldn’t blame them, he was attractive, if not a bit flirtatious with most people. It wasn’t like you were committed to him, anyway, despite what Nami had pointed out to you. Or that he had a reason to commit to you, or showing interest in you.

The women and even some of the men who had been vying for his attention as he was leaving the pier certainly looked better than you did on a given day. Subconsciously, you did look down at yourself. Gray, speckled skin, dashed with pink scars. The inner skin of your thighs had lightened as you had grown, just like any other leopard seal selkie. But they certainly didn’t have the same amount of scars or bony shoulders and thin arms. But even then, with you gaining your lost weight back, and slowly having your muscle loss reversed, could you be considered beautiful?

Leopard seal selkenfolk were not meant to be beautiful. They were not ringed, harp, spotted, or ribbon selkenfolk, with delicate patterns that drew the gaze of admirers, and gentle singing voices that would put even the most fussy pup to sleep in seconds. Leopard seals were warriors and builders, the workers of the isles they inhabited, and fierce protectors of the pod. They were large, and awkward, with clashing pelt colors in seal and selken form, with eyes that were dark as night and reflected light like a predator would. 

You were not pretty. This you knew. You saw it in your teeth, made for ripping apart prey, and understood it when your claws would unsheath themselves when you hunted fish for your pod. There was no beauty in your patchy-furred seal form when you tried to bask in the sun on the deck. So why should you try at this point?

As you passed by a window, you were surprised by your reflection in it. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t seen it since your liberation, but you… just hadn’t studied it in detail. 

There were those dark eyes. No whites, only chunks of basalt with flood-water irises. Dark hair that was slowly growing back out to the length it had been before you cut it, wild as kelp and refusing to be tamed into a bun. Chapped lips and a scarred cheek, with baby fat that would never leave. Dark gray speckles splattered themselves like coal dust down your nose and around your eyes and forehead. Your chin was the same pale gray as your inner thighs, and that color trickled down your neck and chest. 

The only thing that you did like about yourself was the small white freckles that danced along your skin, cutting through the dark gray. That was not a leopard seal. That was your mother, Sion, the only trait of her ringed seal lineage you had of her. 

You were no beauty, but at least you had your mother's freckles. You could live with that. 

A creak of someone walking on wood drew your attention, snapping you from your mildly self-deprecating observation. Whoever was trying to be sneaky, they were failing, and probably depending on how dark it was to mask their failure. Unfortunately for them, you could see as clearly in the dark as though it were day, and the small group that was making their way to the Going Merry’s gangplank was not aware that they were already spotted. 

You could be nice here, and just call the ocean to knock the gangplank down, sending all five people into the water. But you wanted to know more. So you waited, hiding in the shadows as they came aboard, and searched the deck. 

“Where is she?” One man hissed, swinging his head wildly as if that would help him see any better in the dark. They were talking about you, for some reason. It didn’t help that the sounds of merriment had died down as well, making a chill run down your spine, a warble wanting to make its way past your lips.

“I don’t know! She’s probably asleep!” A second man snapped. 

A grumbled agreement fell over the group, and you carefully moved around them, watching and listening. One woman started poking at the door to the galley, trying her best to look in through the window. Clearly, these were not master thieves. 

“I can’t see her in here!” She hissed to the group and you watched as another woman, and the first man who had spoken carefully went up the stairs to look in the door, before just pushing it open. 

“She’s not in there,” The man spoke again, sighing. “Search for any doors, we still don’t want to use any light.”

“That makes this even harder!” The final person spoke, their eyes wide and frustrated. “It’s one selkie and there’s five of us, I think we can take her!”

“Do you, now?” 

Five pairs of eyes whipped towards you as you spoke and struck Tide against the deck, the trident letting out a long, low ring, and shockingly, glowing as it did so. You were no beauty, yes, but in that moment, you were utterly terrifying as you seemed to disappear into a deep, heavy fog as you charged at the closest, that same person who had so confidently said that five of them could take you. 

As if on instinct, that small part of your brain that had been picking, nay, nagging at you silently ever since your crewmates had left. Touch them with your claws, it whispered, and you agreed, free hand twitching as you brought Tide down in an arc. So you did, roaring as your claws unsheathed themselves, and your brain fogged, the thrill of the hunt making your adrenaline soar.

You thought of how you had caused frost to climb the walls back in Arlong Park and had intermittently since caused the water to change into ice and fog. It was natural, even as your claws only brushed against the person’s cheek. Their scream of pain was evidence enough for you if the sudden drop in temperature hadn’t made it clear. Before they could have a chance to recover, you brought Tide forward, slamming the flat of the points into their head, knocking them out cold.

Well done. 

“What the fuck was that?!”

“Holy shit!”

The next man charged, and you sidestepped, narrowly missing his strike. The nape of his neck– sink your claws in. 

“Frostbitten Claw! ”

There was an odd satisfaction when his entire body turned to ice, shattering when it hit the ground. The fog that had hidden you sunk low to the deck, but the temperature had dropped. You could feel it, chilling your skin, causing your breath to come out in clouds as the three remaining combatants stood in a triangle around you, unsure of who would go next. The first man to speak charged, along with a nearly identical woman, both wielding curved blades. 

“You’ll pay for that!”

Their attacks were merciless, keeping you on the defensive, as you countered against them, bits of ice and water exploding from Tide with every strike against the metal. Or was it made of ice itself? Either way, it wasn’t taking any damage, and it never warmed under your touch.

Another splash, and it gave you an idea. I could use this against them if I just get the chance to strike back, you glanced down, briefly, eyes widening. Right before the woman was going to attempt to strike upwards, the man would stumble a bit. It was consistent, too, happening with each strike. If you could get him to trip– perhaps on a chunk of his frozen ally, however grim that sounded– this fight could be over. 

“Getting tired? I’ll make sure you’ll pay for what you did to my friends! ” The woman sneered, pulling back her lips, as you continued to let yourself get backed up, waiting for your chance. She flipped the blade in her hand, making it go up, and right when she was about to hit Tide’s shaft, her partner stumbled, and fell into the arc of her attack, catching himself on her blade as she screamed, cutting into his belly. 

Quickly, you twirled your trident and brought the butt of the weapon into the woman’s face, grimacing when you heard the crunch of it making contact with her nose, before knocking her unconscious by bringing the shaft to hit the back of her head. By now, the temperature had dropped significantly around you, though you didn’t notice. 

A snowflake fell in front of the last woman, and she screamed, making for the gangplank. And oh, how your mind howled. To give chase, to remind her that it had been her group to come into your territory. Even as you charged after her, something felt wrong. Your humanity screamed for you to stop, while your instincts bayed for blood. 

What manages to yank you from your instinctual haze is a sharp pain in the back of your neck, the woman shaking in your ferocious grip, growling and baring your teeth. You don’t know what you were going to do originally, but decide it probably would be better to just toss her in the water, already frustrated by the fog that clouded your thoughts. It felt as though you were coming up from a deep dive, gasping for air as you looked around the deck. There was the shattered man and the half-frozen person. The couple who had been fighting you were slumped unconscious near the entrance to the anchor deck. It was a bloodbath, and your stomach churned. Had it really been you, who had done all that? Who had taken another person’s life?

The only thing you could hear was yourself getting sick over the side of the railing, vomiting into the ocean as you realized what you had done, calling for the water to wash away your terrible, terrible deeds until the deck was cleared.

There was still that stabbing pain in your neck, and as you brought your hand up to touch it, your fingers made contact with a hard plastic, pulling out a bright green dart. You stared down at it in horror and felt your breath hitch. That had been… what, a few minutes ago? How much time did you have left, if any at all? What had you been hit with? A low growl near your ear makes you freeze, turning to look behind you, as the last remnants of your battle are swept from the deck. 

Unwillingly, you let out a low warble, feeling terror seize your heart as a familiar shadow overtook your vision, with a sharp nose and furious eyes that you would know anywhere approaching. Only, it isn’t a shadow. It’s him, physical and real, with purple-gray skin, and greasy hair, towering over you.

Sanji cannot help but miss you, even as there is a woman practically throwing herself across him. He honestly wonders if he’s broken, because in another life, this would have been a dream, to be loved on and have all sorts of beautiful people hanging off of his very breath. But you aren’t here, and it makes him ache, fiending for you like an addict. Your gentle smile, and the delicate colors of your pretty skin, he misses you so desperately it scares him. Every part of you, he sees in someone here at the party. In the freckles of a beautifully tanned man who slides up next to him, purring praises. In the low, rumbling rasp of an older woman who plays with his hair. 

They’re not you. They don’t have your soft curves or bony joints. And though others would think those features unappealing, they’re real, and they’re human. It’s a sign you are still healing, and still growing. And that Sanji, by some miracle, is a part of that process. You trusted him to help you through that, to help your stomach readjust to a healthy diet, and to help fix the beating your body had taken in the two years of your captivity. It’s only been around three and a half months, he knows this, but he’s seen the progress you’ve already made. Sinewy muscles on your biceps and your thighs growing less plush and more cabled, along with your form filling back out, the softness of your cheeks returning to you, rather than the hollowed-out pout he had met you with. 

You were, in Sanji’s humble opinion, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He tells this to Zoro, who looks incredibly done with his shit at this point, annoyed with how he’s managed to wax poetic for long periods about how wonderful you are, sighing your name, and looking longingly at the door. 

“It’s just that…. Ott’s so wonderful,” Sanji puts his chin in his hand, his cigarette pinched between his fingers. “How could anyone ever think to do such a thing to a woman, much less a teenager… how could anyone have done that to her and not wanted to rip their eyes out of their head?”

“Because people are bad sometimes, twirly-brows.”

“I know that, mosshead! It’s just….”

Sanji thinks of how you had taken care of his cut on his hand, and the sweet words you had spoken to him. Your genuine concern for the entire crew as you watched them so carefully, healing tiny wounds and taking the night’s watch the most often.

“Will you please stop sighing dramatically? I’m going to gag if you get any more lovesick,” Zoro groans, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palm. “Grow a pair and… do the seal dating thing. I don’t fucking know, man!”

“You think I should?” Sanji is tipsy, looking at Zoro with his mouth in an ‘o’ and wide-open eyes. 

“If it gets you to shut up, then yeah,” Zoro leans back, and the chef is still looking at him. “You’d better treat her right. Don’t cheat on her, or nothin'— I’ll cut you open if you do.”

“I want to show her nothing but love,” Sanji sighs dramatically, “D’you know she doesn’t think she’s pretty?”

“How do you know that?”

“I can feel it. Like, this deep sadness,” Sanji furrows his brow, and puts his hand over his heart, trying to will himself to feel it again, just like he had the first time. “I— I dunno, it happened after last night.”

“What happened last night?” Zoro cocked an eyebrow, setting his drink down. “What’d the seal do?”

“There was this spark—” Sanji begins, only to be interrupted by a woman throwing herself across his lap, a manicured hand sweeping down his chest as she dragged him to dance. 

Zoro is even more puzzled than before, watching as Sanji tries to think of a polite way to turn down the girl, and even when it grows later, and the swordsman pretends to sleep, he’s still confused by just what Sanji meant by feeling how you had felt. Just as Zoro thinks he is about to fall asleep, he hears a distant roar. One that sounds both terrified and fearsome at the same time, and hears the townspeople start to murmur. The mayor turns to face the door, swears loudly, and has an entire change in character, harshly whispering orders to people and shoving them out the door, only sparing a loathing glare for the Straw Hats. 

There’s another roar, and this is when Zoro takes this as a sign to leave, quietly opening a window and swinging out of it, climbing the wall to get onto the roof as quickly as possible, staring down at the crowd of hundreds before they even know he’s there. 

Back on the ship, you are in a panic. 

Arlong towers over you as you back away from him. One of his giant fists slams into the deck where you had just been, destroying it and leaving a giant hole. You screech, sprinting down the deck and jumping up onto the railing to leap to the pier. The fishman follows you, with a roar of your name. The moment your feet made contact with the wooden planks of the pier, you felt the temperature lower, the ground frozen underneath you covered in ice. That shouldn’t have been possible, especially with your lack of training, but that wasn’t exactly at the forefront of your main concerns. 

Eyes blown wide, teeth bared, claws out. Tide humming dangerously in your hand, the perfect image of a leopard seal warrior, primed to attack. But here you were, standing in the center of a perfect circle, the air growing ever colder around you as Arlong stood on the deck of your ship, glaring down at you. 

So you fled. Arlong alone couldn’t move the entire ship, even if he was using fishman karate. You let out another cry, trying your best to awaken your pod mates to what was happening, but all that came out was a high, reedy warble. Please, pod, help, unsafe! Terror clouded your mind as you ran ever faster.

Arlong hurled a plank of wood into your head, roaring in fury as he missed you completely. All you wanted was to curl up in your nest, deep under a blanket, with your pod around you. You let out another cry, pleading with whatever gods were out there to take some mercy on you. 

Sea Mother, please! Your chest started to ache. How long have you been running at this point? It was getting cold, too. That certainly wouldn’t help if you were just huffing and puffing the entire time, choking on cold air as you struggled to get away. But for every corner you turned, every time you thought you had gotten away, he was always there. And now you were caught somewhere between three buildings. 

“My little selkie has left me such a wonderful trail,” Arlong purred, and you felt your stomach drop. How could you have let yourself get cornered? “Did you miss me, sweet thing?”

“Please, leave me alone,” You take another step back, looking down at the ground, trembling. And there it was. The damned trail of frost and ice, coating the cobbles of the town. Your gift, your undoing. “Please don’t touch me, please just go away–”

“I’ll be doing much, much worse,” Arlong took another step forward, and you wailed, your hands over your ears, and claws sinking into your scalp as you did so, a rush of arctic air exploding forth from you. 

Where there had once been a visage of your captor standing over you, ready to pounce, was now a wall of ice, jagged and enormous. And you were tired, so, so tired. You could only hope that your podmates would find you, as you let yourself slump, letting out a sleepy warble for Sanji as your eyes fell shut.

Sanji wakes up with a start aware of two things. The first, is that you need his help, right now, and the second, is that something is deeply, deeply wrong. Zoro is gone, as well as Nami and Luffy, and Usopp is dead asleep on a couch near him. 

Cautiously, he shakes the sniper, who lets out a groan, slapping at his hand. 

“Fuck off, Luffy… s’to early….” Usopp turns and shoves his face into the couch cushions, groaning when Sanji shakes him again, finally cracking open one of his eyes, his sleepy expression turning confused when he realizes it’s not Luffy shaking him awake, “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, but you need to get back to the ship and get it ready,” Sanji looks at the door when he hears a shout and several thuds. “I’m gonna find the rest of the crew.”

Usopp lets out a nervous sigh, and nods, making his way to a window to get out of the building. Sanji opts for the door, cracking it open to look outside, eyes widening as he looks at the carnage before him. Hundreds of people are tossed about like rag dolls, many bleeding out, dead, or groaning in pain, while down the street, he can see the unmistakable shape of his captain and swordsman being held by Nami, all looking up at the gigantic glacier that had definitely not been there when they had been lead into town. 

It’s monstrous, engulfing half the town, with a deep fog rolling off it from the drastic temperature difference. A trail of ice and frost leads the way up to it, and somewhere deep in Sanji’s head, something aches and whines. You were there. Somehow, you were there, and you had gotten involved in whatever mess this was. Sanji doesn’t know how he knows this, but he’s certain of it. He can still feel the ache, though it’s not painful. It’s like a phantom pain, nagging at the back of his mind, pulling at his heart, searching for some missing half he’s only just noticed is gone.

And then it hits him, your scent washing over him as he sprints forward towards the fog. Rotten leaves and a storm-churned sea, with a hint of blood that makes his skin prickle. He doesn’t know where you are, but he knows that he has to help you, and needs to be able to tell you how he feels. He doesn’t care that Nami shouts at him to stop, or that Ms. Wednesday is standing in shock behind his crewmates.

There’s a tug at his mind again, and through flickers of panic, he sees you, lying on the ground, sleeping. Then there’s the panic. The way your blood felt like syrup in your veins. And him. Arlong, chasing you, always just a half step ahead or behind you to never let you have a movement to think. 

“I’ll kill him,” Sanji stops for a moment, letting himself be still, heart pounding in his chest, as he calls your name, cupping his hands around his mouth as he does so. The little itch at the back of his mind flickers, and it’s like he knows exactly where you are as he takes careful steps, guided by that small tug. The fog gets deeper, and he can feel the drop in temperature. The ice path turns to snow, crunching under his shoes. 

The snow you lay in is soft, not too cold for you. It reminds you so much of the time you had spent outside as a child, watching as human sailors on the docks grumbled about the chill in the air, while selken pups were running around barefoot, unbothered by the weather. You can almost see Sion and Feann chasing your younger twin brothers, while an old friend, some red-haired man, watches with a cackle, clearly amused. 

There’s a gentle hand on your head, and you can feel the pins and needles sensation that was being healed. You only want to sleep, but the prickle against your skin gets more insistent, and the touch slightly harsher. It doesn’t hurt you, nothing even close to pain, but it instills an urgency to rise and open your eyes. 

oh my small one what has happened to you all these years ?

It’s familiar, just fuzzy enough in the back of your mind, and makes you think of the grandmother you had only heard of in stories. Sweet, loving Coth, who had left her home island of Neath to be with your grandfather. Feann’s mother, who you looked so much like, and who you had been held by only once as a newborn. But it’s not mortal, it lacks the tone and drawl that you would expect. But it’s sweet and loving.

The sweet voice hums, and you feel as though the touch travels down your face, tracing your chin. It’s warm, and it makes you whine and lean into the touch. 

your other soul searches for you pup . you must answer him my small one . 

As if on cue, you hear it, or rather, feel it first, a gentle pull that makes your eyes flutter open. The world is blurry for the first few seconds, and the touch fades. 

i will be back soon my small one . never fear that i am away from you for long . i have always been there to guide you . 

Around you is a cloud of fog, hanging low and almost hiding you completely as you sit up with a groan, your entire body aching. Everything smells of your distress, tinged with freezer burn. You shudder, feeling a stabbing pain in your ribs, as if there was a knife lodged between them. 

Somewhere to your left Sanji calls your name, loud and desperate. You groan as you try to get up, looking over to try and find him. You feel the pull again, letting out a warble to hopefully help him. Your vision blurs again as you manage to push yourself up onto one of your knees, falling onto your stomach as you do so. 

Sanji hears the crunch of snow as you fall forward, and watches as the fog puffs upwards slightly as you disturb it. He’s by your side in a second, and you let out a low whine, flinching when his hand brushes against your shoulder. 

“Are you hurt?” 

“I don’t know,” your ribcage throbs and you tuck your pelt around yourself tighter, gasping as you try to sit up again. “I– Sanji, Arlong was here, he was hunting me!”

The cook stiffens, and helps you stand, letting you lean heavily on him as you wince in pain, closing your eyes tightly as you try to take a step forward. Sanij sees how your legs wobble, and picks you up, one arm looped under your torso and the other under your legs. You let out a small squeak in shock, looking up at him. For a second, there’s a bit of fear in your eyes, before one of your hands grips his suit jacket tightly, bracing yourself against him.

“Sorry, I should have asked before I did that,” He looks around carefully, surveying the area as he starts to jog, keeping you safe in his arms, though he looks at where you hold one of your hands over your stomach. “What do you mean, by that, was it like last night?” 

“N–No, he was actually here, I could smell him, he was able to touch me,” You shudder, and unconsciously tuck yourself closer to his chest, staring at your hands, “I swear, he was right there! ”

“I believe you, I believe you, you don’t have to prove anything,” Sanji soothes, and you let out another warble, closing your eyes again. The world was getting blurry again, and it hurt to breathe.  “I should have stayed on the ship with you, I’m so sorry.”

“S’okay,” You felt exhausted, letting yourself go limp, ‘Y’here now, Ji.”

“Hey, hey, keep those pretty eyes open for me,” Sanji looks down at you and then looks back up. He can see the rest of the crew now, getting lectured by Nami. 

“Y’think my eyes are pretty?” You blink, voice slurred.

“They’re gorgeous,” He manages to laugh a bit, looking down at you with a smile despite the gravity of the situation. The crew looks up at him, a bit confused especially considering that you’re in his arms. “C’mon, we’re almost there, we’ll get back to the ship–”

“Oh gods,” You start to shake again as the crew realizes you’re the one in Sanji’s arms.

“Sanji, what’s going on?” Nami takes a step forward, looking at you with shock, before quickly pulling your pelt aside after she sees a bit of red on your shirt. “You’re– you’re bleeding, oh my gods–”

“Oh.” You look down and find that the pain in your ribs is from a shard of the glacier embedded in your torso, some of your blood frozen to it. Sanji lets out a distressed noise, unable to look away from it. “That… hah, that explains a bit.”

“I’m getting her back to the ship, now,” Sanji holds you a bit tighter, and looks at Ms. Wednesday, who looks utterly devastated by this sudden turn of events. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but he does know one thing. Something happened, and she played a part in it, and as such, is one of the reasons you’re injured. “We need to leave, there’s something seriously wrong here.”

“I can explain it all,” The woman looks shaken, looking at the glacier, and then back at you. “I’m – I’m sorry, I didn’t know this would happen … I’m so sorry.”

You scent the air, thick with confusion and anger, and Sanji holds you just a bit closer, frowning at the woman deeply as he makes his way to the Going Merry without so much as looking back, sprinting as quickly as he can without jostling you. 

“How'd you even get out there?”

“Some people ambushed me,” You lean against his chest, starting to feel tired again. “I think I killed people, Sanji. I think I killed someone.”

There’s a heavy silence as Sanji lets out a heavy breath, a bit shaken by your statement. 

“You were defending yourself,” His hands squeeze tight enough to keep you awake and you whine, flinching. “Sorry– did that hurt?”

“Everything hurts.”

“Just keep your eyes open, we’re almost home.”

“Home?” You blink sluggishly, confused. “I don’t have a home.”

“You do now,” Sanji slows as he comes to a stop near the gangplank. Usopp is rushing around the deck, as quickly as possible to get the ship ready to go. “Remember? You’re my pod, you have a wonderful pod now.” 

You let out a low hum, fighting to keep your eyes open, one of your hands falling to your wound. “I need water, I have to heal this…”

“I can do that,” Sanji jerks his head to Usopp, sharply whistling to get his attention as he rests you on a crate gently. “Watch Ott, she’s hurt–”

“I’ll be fine,” You almost fall off the crate, saved by Usopp, who’s shaking as he holds you up, swallowing thickly when he sees your wound. 

“Stay,” Sanji looks at you for a second, holding his hands up at you. “Don’t move… do not… move, Ott, I’m serious.”

“I’m fine,” You look at him with a challenging look, but stay where you sit. 

Sanji crosses the deck quickly, looking down only when he steps on a bright green dart, eyes widening as the pieces of the story all shift into place. But he doesn’t have the time to do much besides remind himself to pick it up and save it in a little baggie after you’ve been treated. He grabs a pitcher, fills it up to its brim, and rushes back out to you, relieved to find you still sitting on the crate, though you don’t look happy about it.

He sets it next to you, and as you move to sit up a bit more, he helps you, a hand on your shoulder to help you. When your handshakes, he hesitantly places his over it, and you trill weakly, leaning into him as you start to focus on the water, letting it swirl from the pitcher, and then splash across your torso, weaving its way over your skin, knitting it back together by moving the energy back and forth, back and forth. 

Some part of Sanji’s mind twitches, and it’s as though he can feel your exhaustion, silently trying to will some of his own energy to go to you. Your gaze flutters up to him, and he weaves his fingers through your own, helping to guide your hand through the motions, keeping the water moving. You wince, especially when the chunk of glacier melts away, and the hole left starts to scab over. That’s when you collapse, utterly spent, leaning heavily against the cook. He’s left feeling empty again, as though a part of his heart is missing, but you’re back on the ship, and he has you, safe and sound in his lap. 

An explosion rocks the island, so much so that the Going Merry shakes in the water. You let out a groan, and Usopp swears under his breath, going back to getting the ship ready. 

“Go help him,” You gently push on Sanji’s chest, “I’ll be right here.”

“Y’sure?” Sanji studies your face, and he doesn’t like how your eyes droop. 

“Mhm,” You delicately push yourself off his lap and prop yourself up on the crate. “I’ll be here, promise. Won’t move at all.” 

The two of them manage to get the boat nearly ready when Zoro, Nami, Luffy, and Ms. Wednesday approach the boat, the bluenette hugging herself tightly. Sanji is gathering up the pieces of the dart when the sharp smell of the drug it had contained hits him, making him recoil and drop it again, looking over at you, and at his crew as they walk up the gangplank. He doesn’t breathe in as he bags it up, holding it delicately. Some of the liquid, a bright yellow, pools in the bottom of the baggie. 

The ship pushes off, slower than usual without your aid, and Sanji makes sure to sit behind you, never taking his eyes off of Ms. Wednesday as the rest of the crew starts to look at her, one by one. Zoro takes his place beside you, only briefly making eye contact with Sanji before looking back at the woman in the center of the deck. 

You lean forward, interested, despite the pain in your torso, and then the scent hits you. Deep, deep shame, and a refusal to meet your eyes as you stand very slowly, making your way to her, and looking at the dart in her hands, realizing the part she played in your injury. 

“What did you do?” You whisper, and Zoro carefully guides you back to the crate, where Sanji has to hold onto your arm, “No– What did you do? You– what did you do to me?! ”

Luffy is the one who gets the boat to quiet down. He quietly explains, uncharacteristically serious as he does so, and you feel your world crumble slightly. 

“We’re helping her,” Luffy looks at you, and you feel your stomach sink, anxiety thrumming in your veins, “That doesn’t make you getting drugged okay, or the fact that they planned on killing all of us okay either. She’s going to make it up to us,” He looks at Vivi, who’s actively staring at you in horror, “But we can’t let a country die, Ott. We can’t just sit by and let that happen.”

Luffy doesn’t go after you when you make your way down to the girl's dorm, shrugging off any help offered by Nami or Usopp. Sanji goes to follow after you, only to have Zoro grab his shoulder, shaking his head at the cook who lets out a loud shout of ‘putain’ and storms into the galley. The deck is left in silence, with Vivi starting to cry as the crew disburses to run the ship, Karoo cuddling up beside her as the sun rises in the distance.

[chameleon221b]

*WARNING: LONG RANT ABOUT SHERLOCK

Let’s talk TGG, like… imagine you’re John. You’re an exhausted army doctor who’s been treating probably the flu all day, and you bike home or take a cab. You’re ready to eat and maybe watch some telly and crash into bed.

But no. You get home, and there are fricken gunshots ringing out. Oh my God! Is your flatmate in danger? Is he shooting someone? Yes. He is… but not someone. A wall. He’s shooting a wall which for someone reason had it coming. You’re glad Sherlock doesn’t fight to give you the gun. Maybe it’ll look up from here. Ya lock the British Army Browning L9A1 in the safe, and you realize for the millionth time that your flatmate is mad but you’ve kinda ceased to care.

Then woah! The table is a mess. You’re not cleaning that up. You’ll eat in the armchair. But eat what? That is the question. Sherlock probably didn’t cook or get takeout or shop, or even eat, but you ask him anyway. It’s a kinda rhetorical question.

Without a suspicion you open the fridge and WHAT IN THE GILES?!

You shut it quickly. You might faint. Is it PTSD? A hallucination? Real? You summon courage and yank the door open, and yes, it’s a real head. You shut the door like you’re dreaming. Like what did I just see? You forgot you’re even hungry. Sherlock acts like it’s a perfectly normal thing to do! Then you remember he’s mad and you’re kinda over it. It is what it is. You’re tired.

Then you get a rant from Sherlock who’s acting like a five-year-old because you stated literal facts, how he’s ignorant about stuff he doesn’t care about which he proves in said rant. You wrote about your first case, and the only thing he can’t argue with is the clever title.

That’s it. You’re done for tonight. Fudge it. And Sherlock even has the audacity to ask where you’re going like… You’re not even gonna explain now. The emotional intelligence translator needs a vacation.

And… woah. John didn’t even eat anymore. Imagine being him. I cannot further to can 🤦🏼‍♀️ 😂 Dude just wanted to get home and eat and then sleep. But there were gunshots, chemicals, severed heads, and a mad 5-year-old who’s insulted for an inane reason. Being Sherlock’s flatmate is hard 🤌🏻

Extra details:

That yellow spray paint can on the table from the Blind Banker is there too (and an paper file container tied with a string probably full of old case notes). Imagine in his boredom Sherlock was like, “Let’s paint a smiley face so it can annoy me because I don’t have a case”, which is probably why the wall had it coming 😂 Don’t smile at Sherlock Holmes when he’s bored, even if you’re just a bloody wall!! 🤦🏼‍♀️

Ooh, and before Sherlock mentions the Vermeer painting in the middle of the episode, you can see him reading the pamphlet about The Lost Vermeer while he’s arguing with John. Just thought it was a cool detail.

And set analysis:

And this ⬇️

Like… that table looks sus. There’s a weird yellow liquid. A bread from a bakery, the purple thing. Experiment? Or quick bite to eat while you handling literal chemicals? And then there’s a book… probably with obscure knowledge on the 100,027 different types of mold. And what is leaning against the window?

1. Big ass beaker.

2. Another beaker that contains with an umbrella and/or an old spraying device.

3. A fricken dead plant in a small clay vase in a bigger clay vase. 

4. A big weird red cup.

And

5. I think I found where the rum’s gone because what else could that bottle be other than a vintage bottle of rum with a dusty wax covering?

The set is cozy but also fricken eccentric 🤣 I can’t. It’s like Sherlock hoards random objects and/or souvenirs that only he knows why he keeps.

That’s it. That’s the rant. I’m done. I’ll eat pasta now and think about how John said, “Anything in? I’m starving.” followed by “severed head!” and Sherlock just replied, “Just tea for me thanks.” Like, “No bloody severed head for dinner, just tea.” 😁🥸😐

[typhoonvash]

// Canary Is Not Immune To Plant Bloom Headcanons

while bloom is seasonal, it can happen if around flora that are also in bloom

even if triggered by other flora, it will last a month. sorry canary.

he tries so, so hard to hide it. he.. kinda succeeds... but there are things that he can't hide.

for instance his body temperature rises significantly. enough so that if someone is sleeping next to him or touching him for whatever reason, they'd legitimately think the poor guy's deathly sick. he usually runs so, so cold.

but also usually he can't sleep. too much energy. can't sleep, won't get tired, but this leads to extreme boredom and (likely) shenanigans when he tries to do anything to get his mind off of fking/getting fked

some of this extra energy is given to his partner(s), so they also often dont feel the need for sleep. eventually they gotta though. don't mind the man with bright cyan eyes watching you from the corner of the room, it's normal.

inhuman qualities are enhanced: eyes more glowy, shows teeth more often (smiles, fangies outside lips, etc), faster, stronger, more vines, stronger glowies (harder to control when glowing also)

he um. also tends to get larger and longer when topping.

despite his Extreme Horny it's still only for people close to him. this. made blooms quite often just an inconvenience that he could deal with. having people he is involved with??? well now it's so over for him.

switches between blanketing himself in bed writhing around and pacing and going on MANY walkies. basically just keeps himself moving because it feels like his entire skin's gonna vibrate off his body.

getting what he wants does help, but the general feeling lasts a full month. it just gets weaker after a bit of a marathon. if fked daily, he feels (almost) normal every day! yay!

his taste changes from something akin to peaches (and slick) to a flowery-sweet aromatic flavor. skin, sweat, saliva, the man is practically a sprig of lavender. it may seem great, but the scent is extremely strong. can make it... difficult... to hide. in general.

while his ~*~fluids~*~ (look i'm trying not to trigger any no-no words) normally have an aphrodisiac effect, during bloom it's um. intense. we're talking like, "if you have an erection lasting longer than 4 hrs consult a doctor" levels of intense. it's fine. don't worry about it.

on the bright side, his self-healing is super jacked!

...tends to get very clingy/possessive (not in a toxic way) though. can get whiny even when partner gets up to just. go get food or something.

doesn't do the whole nest building thing. he does just like having pressure on him though—so blankievash, partner just flopping on top of him, hell, even restraints, are favorite things during the month.

because it's so dry on gunsmoke, he ends up static shocking people often. hair also stands on end (just a bit, kind of just looks like his usual hair but slightly messier)

once you get a taste, you crave more. so long as you stay near this idiot, you'll have a thirst that can't really be quenched unless... yeah.

tends to? collect things?? he'll just pick stuff up and bring it to his partner(s) as a gift. some kind of mating ritual.

look basically what i'm saying is that this man's body is a mess and keeping contained is near impossible. also, assuming they are sexually active (are also adults and are interested in sex at all), people in close enough proximity to him will just be inexplicably horny. doesn't have to be for him, isn't an impulse to fuck right then and there; it's just a. "huh weird" kind of "why am i horny this time" sensation.

all of this is by discussion only ofc. there's also the uh, whole reason for blooming, but again. that's a touchy subject and it's SUPER BY DISCUSSION ONLY BECAUSE UuuUUuuuHHh yeah. like i don't mind, but also like. idk. it's touchy. anyway if you read this i'm sorry my man is a little freak.

[silentwillowwhisperer]

Tattoo AU pt. 4

You may be wondering why Lance, Hunk, and Pidge are currently in the grocery store at 5 flipping AM.

Yeah, Lance would like the to know the answer to that, too.

Maybe it's because Pidge has the most crapped-up sleep schedule EVER and wakes up at demonic hours. That means that they call Hunk and Lance way too early in the morning out of boredom, and Hunk takes them all on spontaneous shopping trips so that he can feel productive. It's routine by now. The only reason that Lance doesn't object is because shopping always leads to baked treats.

Anyway, Hunk is walking through the aisles with Pidge in his cart and Lance standing on the edge of it. As they go past the freezer aisle, Lance sees a familiar face.

The man is at least 6 feet tall and has a shock of white hair in the front. At a second glance, Lance realizes that one of his arms is mechanical, and his flesh arm is covered in a long tattoo sleeve.

Lance, despite being slightly intimidated, hops of his perch on the cart and waltzes up to the guy.

"Hi! How are you?"

The poor guy looks around himself to make sure Lance isn't talking to someone else.

"I... I'm okay, I guess? Is anyone ever feeling great at 5AM?"

Dang. That's a good point. Lance sighs and shakes his head. "Do I know you from anywhere?"

Mr. Buff Guy raises an eyebrow. "You know what? You do look familiar."

They squint at each other for a moment before Cyborg Cute Guy snaps his fingers aggressively and holds out his mechanical hand. "I know! Keith showed me a picture of you from your client profile! You're Lance McClain! Hi. I'm Shiro, Keith's brother."

Lance stares at the robotic appendage for a moment, trying to figure out if it could crush his hand, before accepting it. "Oh, cool. Keith said something to Allura about introducing me and my friends to you. Hopefully you're nicer than Keith first was."

Shiro snickers. "Yep. That's Keith. I swear he's only half demon."

The way Shiro says that is with such a serious tone that Lance finds himself debating if the guy is kidding or not. Before he can ask, Shiro has changed topics.

"Hey! Do you have Keith's number? Like, his not-work number. I should give it to you!"

For some reason, Lance agrees, and now he has a brand new contact. Yay?

Shiro smiles. Keith had ranted to him about Lance just yesterday. He hadn't really been listening, but he heard the words 'cute' and 'pretty' loud and clear. And now, looking at the man in front of him, he could see why. This guy was totally Keith's type.

It's a good thing Shiro likes to play matchmaker.

------------------

This was more of a filler chapter because I needed to introduce Shiro and give Lance Keith's number. But don't worry, we will be back to klancing in the next part. Also, I somehow managed to post on schedule??? What is happening??? Consider this a miracle. But don't worry, the next part will be out soon, I'm on a roll.

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

[weekend-whip]

I wanna know what hobbies the folks in the royalty au have. Fun facts. What do these bitches do without internet.

Well most of them do the same things they do normally, just with different context.

With the Western Kingdom being all the about the arts, entertainment, and expression, Cole's hobbies include dancing, listening to music, painting, and drawing—he'd normally be pretty chill and just vibing, if his father wasn't so gung-ho about getting him hitched. And being depressed about that on top of having limited time anymore anyway has deterred Cole from doing things for himself (which is something Jesse seeks to rectify). Also enjoys sleeping, but like, that's not a hobby, Cole.

Always constantly busy with his job(s), Jay doesn't have a lot of free time either, but he's still able to pursue a lot of his craftier hobbies, like poetry writing, cooking, and he doesn't invent so much as "improve" upon things that may or may not need to be fixed. Let's just say he's a guy ahead of his time...and is something of an adrenaline junkie when allowed to be.

Instead of being a journalist/papergirl/extreme cyclist, Antonia likes horseback riding! She also does still like to write stories, which helps occupied some dead time while guarding the boring garden gate, but they're less based on facts/rumors and more on just general goings-on around the castle.......so, Jesse and the Spring Festival are a fantastic source of inspiration for her. Also tries to learn to paint after getting closer with Cole (and inadvertently gives Jay the idea for a mystical object called a 'camera').

Can't remember if I've mentioned this in-story yet (all I know is that Cole doesn't know yet lol), but Jesse's actually a citizen of the Central Kingdom—the real (or, initial) reason he went West was in the hopes of making it big as a magic entertainer. So whenever he's not tending to the gardens or swooning over Cole, he's practicing his magic tricks (another reason why Antonia takes to him—he's really good at beating out boredom). He also likes to sing, but, he's gotta be in a really good mood for that. Also, not technically a dedicated hobby, but he does enjoy baking, even if he doesn't like to admit it (he just needs to right motivation...like a very hungry prince).

In the Southern Kingdom, they're all about agriculture and trade, so while I wouldn't call it a "hobby", Kai and Nya are both extremely skilled in farming, negotiations, and economics (Nya moreso with the farming and Kai moreso with the business). But for fun, Nya likes to spend time on the beaches watching (read: talking to) sea life or collecting shells, while Kai likes to travel if/when he can, as he likes to experience more than just his kingdom. Both of them also have a knack for crafting weapons—Kai by forging and Nya...more as crazy DIY projects, also maybe a bit ahead of her time. Nya also likes horseback riding and Kai likes jogging.

In the Northern Kingdom, they have a strong foundation in battle maneuvers and tactical strategy, so a younger Zane found himself doing a lot of studying while being trained with several weapons. He now has a fondness for archery and darts (but with throwing stars), and can easily pass the time with a nice informative book. He also enjoys bird watching like Aurora, and venturing through the forest until he gets lost, but otherwise is actually quite lonely.

...until Samurai X shows up. They're originally from Central as well, but their father and Zane's parents are acquaintances, so one thing led to another with them becoming Zane's retainer. They enjoy playing things like chess and other board games with Zane, and sparring with him, but for the duration of most the story they don't really have a lot of personal stake in much of anything.

The Eastern Kingdom is the home of most of the world's history (along with Central), so being well-read is already par for the course. What isn't common is the dabbling of magic, which is where Harumi's passions lie, especially after discovering Jesse has magic of a similar source. She reads up on ancient artifacts, studies spells, keeps a pet spider, and teaches herself to throw knives, but otherwise, she's a dreadfully bored person, and that's why she has little hesitation in butting herself into other people's problems. That's entertainment.

Lloyd, despite his well-behaved behavior to avoid trouble, has a nasty habit of pulling pranks around the otherwise structured Central Kingdom and eventually the Spring Festival (activities which are very much enabled by his retainers, and ofc praised by his father). He does this because he's good at it and hates to let a well-honed skill go to waste, and it's also something of a cry for attention. He also becomes interested in the cultures of the other Kingdoms, including but not limited to the art/stories of the west, the weapon aspects of the north and south, and the history of the east, like his mother. He also enjoys paragliding (which is something that Jay got him hooked on).

You may think visiting the Archipelago is like arriving on some tropical vacation, but the only one being entertained is its current ruler. He puts on tournaments just for sport of it, and will banish anyone for doing anything he doesn't agree with...so, Skylor doesn't have a lot of room to do very much, but on the flipside, it also means she's down for anything/everything when given a chance, as just about everything is new to her (which is what draws her to Kai and the other royals to begin with). Though one thing she is a bit guilty about enjoying is her younger self partaking in those tournaments herself—primarily due to the rush from the fact that she's never lost (and especially not to Chad).

[asexual-spongebob]

The waves that lap the shore - Chapter two - The quest for mussels

(divider by cafekitsune)

Chapter notes

hi y’all warning that this is kinda short anyway y’all get some Kwazii content in this one. edit: I changed clams to mussels because I forgot that shellington liked clam sandwiches lmao.

Shellington opened his eyes and rubbed the sleep from them he wanted to find out more information about mermaids “hm… Kwazii probably knows… he usually knows a lot about that stuff” Shellington reasoned.

••• 

Kwazii was playing a game of ping pong in the game pod with Codish and Barrot out of boredom, he was zoning out often. Shellington walked into the room, hoping that Kwazii had some answers.

“Hey Kwazii, do you know anything about mermaids?” Shellington asked  “yeah I know a lot about those fish scaled beasties” Kwazii murmured “they lure sailors to their deaths by singing their sweet, sweet enchantment songs and drown them and feed them to monsters of the deep” Kwazii exaggerated making some paw movements to go along with it. 

“Okay…” Shellington responded I don’t think Kwazii is really a reliable source of real information considering he often exaggerates things, damn it why did I ask them?! Shellington asked himself as he walked out, thanking Kwazii.

Shellington sat at his desk researching, he started to get hungry for raw mussels, even though he usually hated mussels and he usually ate things cooked, not raw.

Shellington walked out of his lab to go get some clams “hey Captain do you have mussels?” Shellington asked, Captain Barnacles stared at him, confused.

“But I thought you hated mussels?? I thought they were one of your unsafe foods?” Captain Barnacles muttered “not anymore!” Shellington proclaimed “well I don’t have any mussels..” Captain Barnacles frowned “it’s fine I’ll just go get some myself” Shellington replied.

Shellington made it to the launch bay, placing a towel near the edge. 

Shellington looked around before diving into the tank in the launch bay, making sure no one was around, his tail apparently before his eyes.

Shellington swam out of the Octohatch and went on a hunt for clams “where are those mussels?” Shellington asked himself, after a while of searching he finally found some.

Shellington cracked them open with his teeth, slurping the fishy insides letting out a hum and licking his lips afterwards, it started to get dark   .

“Jumping jellyfish! I need to get back!” Shellington exclaimed, soon disappearing into a trail of bubbles as he headed back to the Octopod.

The Octohatch opened as Shellington swam in thankfully no one was there, he preceded to dry off, his tail disappeared. 

Shellington went to his lab, the vegimals had been waiting patiently for him, Codish and Tominnow ran up into his paws “I missed you guys” Shellington stated as he played with their leaves.

“Where did you go?” Tunip asked “just out for a swim” Shellington answered, Tunip just smiled and let out typical vegimal noises.

••••

Kwazii was going to go out for a joy ride in the gup-b, however he noticed something that caught his eye, a few scales “what are these doing here?” Kwazii wondered what or who did they belong to? 

“I’ll bring these to Shellington later, he probably knows” Kwazii meowed as he put them in the pocket of his ripped up pants.

“Ahoy Shellington matey! I found these scales in the launch bay. Do you know what they are from?” Kwazii asked as he bursted into the room Shellington froze oh no… its onto me! what do I do?! Shellington began to panic.

“Are you okay matey?” Kwazii mrrped noticing Shellington’s unease “yeah and those are blue beta scales!” Shellington stammered “thanks!” Kwazii replied.

“What is wrong with him? why has he been acting so weird?!” Kwazii grumbled as he walked down the corridor, feeling confused and defeated.

Shellington began to panic, what if Kwazii found out?! what if anyone found out?! Shellington proceeded to collapse onto his bed and cry, “Shellington?” Peso murmured as he began to gently rub Shellington’s back “what’s wrong?” Peso added.

“Kwazii found my scales… I’m scared of them finding out… what if they tell everyone or something?” Shellington stuttered “I don’t think Kwazii would do that, even if he does find out he’d probably keep it a secret! he’s a pirate after all!” Peso assured.

“I guess you’re right..” Shellington breathed, feeling slightly at ease.