#are the disembodied eyes supposed to be blue?

[basement-envy]

I’d like to take a minute and thank Bulgaria for this masterpiece

who the fuck are these bitches

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

Hi! Just here to say that i loved What's in Between so much and i truly was meltinggg with part II 💕💕💕

I've never requested anything before and I don't rlly know how this works so it's all good if you decide no to write this one, but for the request: is it possible for it to be a hurt/comfort, Miguel x reader with the prompt "Talk to me, please. You need to keep your eyes open. Just a little longer"?

𝐎𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞, 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Summary: It was supposed to be a regular mission on any normal day at Spider Society, but momentary distractions are costly and you may have just paid the ultimate price.

Warnings: Mentions of injury and death, BUT IT GETS SOFT I PROMISE.

“Miguel!” you say, bounding up to him with a pep in your step. He looks down at you with a small smile on his face, but it disappears as Jess glances over at him.

“You know you don’t have to pretend to be stoic all the time, how long have we known each other?” She asks, and he only rolls his eyes.

“This isn’t pretending,” he says to her before turning back to you. “Ready?” he asks.

“Always.”

Today was like any normal day at Spider Society, filled with missions to protect the canon of the multiverse. Albeit a little different, because it wasn’t too often that you were able to go on a mission with Miguel. He typically went on them alone, working best without distractions. But whenever he needed a partner you were his first choice.

With one last glance at each other (and a wink that makes Miguel snort) you both head through the portal.

It never gets tiring, travelling to a different dimension. What’s fascinating is the in-between, swirls of bright oranges, reds and blues all as an interconnected web between all possible universes in the multiverse. You get lost in the view, which is probably why you never realize that at the same time, Miguel gets lost in you.

After a little bit, you both emerge on the other side.

“That never gets old,” you grin at him.

“No…no, it doesn’t,” he says, his eyes trailing over your form for a moment.

“So, what’s the deal with this universe today?” you ask, and Miguel huffs softly.

“You would know if you ever listened to the mission briefings,” he says, giving you a side-eye as you both walk around the abandoned factory.

“Why do I need to listen when you’d just tell me anyway, love?” you ask, and he only sighs.

“Yes, but I shouldn’t have to say it twice, amor,” he mocks and you laugh out loud. Your laughter is contagious because Miguel lets out a chuckle himself before continuing.

“She’s a villain from Earth-17502, her main weapons are wooden spikes that emerge from her back and a pistol. What she lacks in speed she has in brute force, and the spikes can be shot out at 100km per hour, regenerated with hammerspace,” he explains.

“So like…a demented Sonic the Hedgehog?” you snicker.

“What? No, I just said she wasn’t fast,” he says, confused.

“No wait, a demented porcupine,” you say, and he only snorts. “Sure, querida.”

“Ugh, disgusting. Romance,” a disembodied voice interrupts, and the two of you immediately go on the defence. From the shadows emerges said villain in question, a cruel expression on her face as she readies her pistol by her side.

Without warning she begins shooting, but the two of you are fast and in sync, splitting off and slinging away with your webs.

“Look bud, I’m sorry that your love life is sad but don’t take it out on us!” You shout, swinging around with a relaxed look on your face.

She only lets out a growl, continuing to shoot at you to no avail. Behind her, Miguel is making his own advance, but like a triggered trap her spikes shoot out before he can get too close.

“Shit!” he says, leaping out of the way just in time.

“It wouldn’t do you well to sneak up on me, little one,” she laughs cruelly. “Wouldn’t want to get skewered!”

Now it's a game of ‘try to avoid the bullets and the spikes flying in all directions at once’, and it seemed like you were at a stalemate.

“There’s no way to get close to her!” you say frustratedly, leaping from pillar to pillar as you continue to evade her bullets. It seemed her frustration seemed to reach a peak as well as she lets out a shout, unable to hit her marks. You move down to the floor, trying a new approach from the ground.

“We’ll figure it out, we always do,” Miguel reassures, and you let out a little smile.

But in that minuscule second of distraction the villain finds an opening, and before you know it a spike is flying straight for you with no time to evade it.

“NO!!” you hear him shout, but it was already too late. All the while, the villain only laughs in the face of your anguish. The spike impales your side, and for a few breathless moments, you don’t even feel it, as though it was nothing more than a punch to the side, a bit of pressure. The adrenaline pumping through your veins does its job of allowing you to not feel the pain.

But as you stumble slightly, it starts to settle in. All at once the searing hot pain hits you like a train, and you collapse to your knees, unable to hold yourself up anymore.

Every breath you take becomes more difficult than the last as a ringing fills your ears.

In front of you, Miguel fights with a new vigour you had never seen in him before, claws slashing and webs flying. Each action is served with purpose and no restraint on his strength, and the villain can no longer keep up. But before long your vision starts to fail you as well, closing in on your line of sight as you collapse onto your side with a wheeze. What felt like an eternity was in reality only maybe 30 seconds, but you were so, so tired.

Out of the corner of his eye Miguel sees you collapse, and all he sees is red. Before he can realize it his fangs are out, and he bites through the villain’s neck effectively paralyzing them instantly.

Within moments he is by your side, scooping you up into his arms as you blink blearily up at him.

“LYLA, SEND BACKUP NOW,” he shouts, his voice cracking at the end and for once there is no funny banter between the two of them as she does his orders immediately.

You open your mouth, but no words come out. Slowly you feel your eyes begin to close, but he shouts your name.

"Talk to me, please. You need to keep your eyes open, just a little longer,” he begs, clutching you close. You’ve never heard his voice so broken, not even when he told you about his past.

“It-” you gasp. “It hurts so bad, Miguel,” your voice weak with pain.

He looks at you with panic and fear, but most of all a feeling of helplessness.

“Querida, come on. You’re strong, mi vida. Stay with me, alright?” he says, his hand gently brushing your hair back before he scoops you up, carrying you in his arms.

You can’t help but cry out in pain as he does, the spike digging deeper into your side.

“Fuck, fuck,” he says, moving as fast toward the portal Jess had just opened up. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I need to get you to the infirmary, alright? You’ll be okay, you’ll be okay,” he says, trying desperately to believe it himself.

But he doesn’t know anymore. You’ve lost too much blood, the injury too serious.

It throws him back to when he was carrying his daughter like this, frantically running as the world falls apart around him.

But this time it was you. His light, the best to have ever happened to him amongst the infinite possibilities throughout the multiverse, the one person that managed to pull him out of the pit he had fallen into after the destruction of his daughter’s world.

You were his salvation…and he was about to lose you.

“I love you, Miguel,” you say softly, before you let out a violent cough. “In case…in case I’m not here to say it anymore.”

“No, no. Don’t say that. You’ll be able to say it a million more times, alright querida? A million more, and even then it won’t be enough,” he says, but you can’t hear him anymore. You can’t even make out his beautiful face so broken in anguish.

All you can see are the colours of the space between the universes. The oranges, reds and blues.

~

You didn’t think death would be so cold and monotonous. You weren’t exactly sure if you believed in the concept of ‘heaven’ or ‘hell’, the Fields of Elysium were probably closer to what you expected the afterlife to be like. But you definitely didn’t expect it to be so…bland.

It was like an endless void you walked through, no warmth, no ‘light’ to go towards, just you and your thoughts.

Your thoughts.

Miguel.

The guilt hits you like a tidal wave at the fact that you left him alone. Another person was ripped from his grasp by the hands of fate. You couldn’t bear the thought of hurting him, and you did just that by leaving him behind. Even though you promised each other forever on your wedding day, here you were breaking that promise.

You couldn’t find the strength in your legs to continue walking aimlessly anymore. Like that fight in the factory, you fell to your knees, not because of your injury but because of the pain you felt in your heart for hurting the one you loved the most.

You remember his face as he held you in his arms, pleading for you to stay.

He was so warm. He always was.

You missed him.

“Miguel…” you whisper. “I’m sorry for leaving you behind,” you sob.

~

~

~

“Don’t leave me, querida,” a voice says, far off in the distance. Your head whips up at the sound, and you look around desperately trying to hear it again.

“Please…please, I can’t. I can’t do this without you,” the voice says, and in an instant you’re back on your feet following the sound.

“You were the best thing to ever happen to me, vida mía. Somehow loving me in spite of my brokenness. I don’t…I don’t know how to live without you by my side.” You’re running toward the voice now, running through the darkness with it as your guide.

“Don’t leave me…” the voice whispers before fading away, leaving you with nothing to follow anymore.

“NO!” you shout, and before you know it your webs are shooting out from your wrists, catching onto something, and then you’re swinging forward into the unknown.

~

Your hearing is the first of your senses to return, the steady beat of the heart rate monitor gratingly irritating after a while. It was ironic considering it was the first to disappear when you first got injured.

Next is your touch. You feel the weight of the hospital blankets, scratchy but warm.

Not as warm as the hand that grasped your own though, holding it tight.

Your sense of smell and taste come back around the same time, the sterile scent of the hospital unfamiliar, your mouth dry.

The last is your sight. Granted it was a bit difficult to see with your eyes closed, but you hadn’t quite found the strength to open them until now.

Blearily you blink as the bright lights temporarily blind you, but your attention isn’t on them for long. Instead, you turn to Miguel who sits staring at you in shock, eyes so wide it was almost comical.

“Hi,” you say softly, and he only blinks once before his forehead is pressed to your thigh, a broken sob escaping his throat. He grasps your hand all the tighter, as though he was never going to let go.

It makes you almost want to cry too, but instead you lift your arm up weakly before running it through his hair the way you knew he loved.

“I thought, I thought I was going to lose you,” he whispers, his face still pressed into your leg. He says it so quietly that you can barely hear him, like if he uttered the words too loudly they would come true.

“I could never leave you, my love,” you say. “I have to say ‘I love you’ a million times before then, remember? Or was it a billion?” He can’t help but chuckle, finally lifting his head up to look at you.

He looked exhausted, his usual dark circles darker than usual, his red eyes bloodshot. But he looked so, so relieved.

“No amount of times could ever be enough, vida mía,” he says before pressing his lips to yours.

You both smile into the kiss of a thousand swirling emotions, a million words left unsaid but you both understood even despite it all.

“Guess I’ll just have to get started then,” you say with a grin as you pull away.

“I love you, Miguel,” you say.

“I love you, querida,” he says in turn.

Taglist: @beiroviski, @scaraza, @blueoorchid,@phobia0325, @remuslupinwifeee, @local-mr-frog, @johfaam0, @raweggohan, @honeycriess, @alexenoirex, @chimpkinnuggies, @rqdior, @banana--belle, @notasadgirlipromise, @6billionyearsold, @gods-perfectidiot, @phobia0325, @alcinas-darling-side

A/N: Was thinking of leaving it on a cliffhanger, thought that would be too cruel LMAO. Thank you for reading! And thank you for requesting, anon <3 I had fun with this one hehe

[seethesin]

vampires everywhere!

pairing: Vampire!Hazel Callahan x F!Monster Hunter!Reader

tags/warnings: sexual content, hazel & reader are 18+, supernatural/vampire au, blood kink, heavy petting, biting, cunnilingus, teasing (18+, mdni)

a/n: based on the request by anonymous found here. i know i said i'd wait until we got closer to halloween, but this idea had a chokehold on me. gif pack/gif credit.

click here for part two!

"You came."

There's genuine relief in your target's disembodied voice as you enter the mausoleum. You look around frantically, squinting to try and adjust to the darkness. It's impossible though and suddenly, your hostess drops from the ceiling. She lands neatly on her feet, looming over you as she rocks gleefully on her heels. Startled, you back into the door.

She stands at average height with unkempt brown hair. Her skin is translucent; even in the dark, the blue plume of her veins crawls up her neck. A broad, boyish smile plays on her lips, revealing a pristine pair of fangs.

"I'm Hazel."

On instinct, you draw your silver stake. The tip presses precisely into her chest and she smirks.

"Feels like someone's happy to see me tonight."

You dig the stake deeper, watching as it tears a hole through her shirt and pierces her skin. Moments later, the scent of rotting, burning flesh fills your lungs and you cough. Droplets of blood drip from the wound and carefully, Hazel uses her middle finger to clean up the excess. She slips the digit in her mouth, sucking it clean as her skin sizzles against the silver. Her cheeks hollow sinfully and you gulp, your mouth watering.

You were disgusted with yourself. You were supposed to kill her, not fuck her.

"I'm thrilled," you respond blankly, gripping the hilt of your weapon steady. "Thrilled to dispose of another leech."

Hazel sneers, leaning back so that the tip of your stake unsheathes itself from her flesh. Moments later, the wound begins to heal itself.

"We both know that's not the reason," she singsongs, glacier-blue eyes gleaming with mischief.

Okay, maybe it's not the entire reason.

Through the monster hunter grapevine, you heard of a nightclub that hosted some high-profile fiends—The Last Drop. Many of the frequent flyers had bounties on their heads and you were eager to cash in.

As you spent your nights staking the place out, there was one person that you always noticed. It was the girl currently hovering over you, wearing her smile like a gold star on her chest. Like clockwork, Hazel left every time by four in the morning. Where she went after that you didn't know. But you would be lying if you said she didn't distract you from your main mission.

Hence why you were currently in this predicament. Curiosity got the best of you tonight and you followed Hazel back to whatever this was. Her lair? Her home? Her timeshare?

A snarky comment is readied on your tongue, but it dissolves as soon as you feel her mouth on yours. Your eyes go wide as saucers and your grip on your weapon falters. The stake hits the floor with a clatter that echoes throughout the high ceiling. Hazel's tongue slips between your parted lips and you taste the iron of her blood. Her fangs graze against your lower lip, drawing blood that she laps up eagerly.

Regaining control, you rip your face away from hers. Your breathing is shallow as you stare at her, bewildered. Hazel cackles in delight, drinking the sight of your swollen and bloody lips.

"I can read your thoughts, sweetheart. Don't they teach you that in Van Helsing school?"

Blush crawls up your neck and you lean into the door, defeated. This was beyond humiliating. To be completely bested by your enemy like this was difficult to recover from. You refuse to look at her willingly, but she closes the distance between you again. Her fingers pinch your chin, tugging it up so that you're forced to look at her.

Suddenly, you're dragged up the door, caged in between Hazel's arms. Her palms are planted at each side of your head and her thigh slips in between your legs.

"Guess not," she mutters, clearly amused.

The pressure of her thigh against your cunt makes you gasp. The rough denim of her jeans brushes against pussy, making you cant your hips. You refuse to admit it out loud, but you want more.

Thankfully, Hazel doesn't need to hear you say it.

Her hands grip your hips, holding you steady as she drags you down the length of her thigh.

"Oh god," you whisper, eyes screwed shut as you dig half moons into your palms. The sensation felt too good.

"Like that?"

You go mute. Hazel huffs, pushing you back up the length of her thigh.

"Gotta use your words," she urges and your eyes shoot open into a glare. Hazel's stupid grin does not falter as she leers predatorily at you. "If you don't, you're not cumming."

You whine.

It comes out before you can filter your thoughts. Your hands fly to your mouth, glancing up at Hazel as her intimidating stare melts into something mirthful.

She begins to laugh, adding to your embarrassment.

"There she is."

Her knee remains pressed into the wall, watching you expectantly. Defeated, you roll your hips, stealing friction between the fabric of your clothing. Eagerly, Hazel leans in. Her mouth is on your skin, kissing across your jawline and down the slope of your neck. You feel her teeth graze your flesh before quickly, her fangs pierce into your skin.

You moan, reflexively jerking away before leaning back into Hazel's unnaturally cool touch. Her tongue pokes out from her mouth, lapping the blood that drools from your fresh wound. Her hands slide into yours, pinning them against the door. She removes her thigh from between your legs and you whimper at the loss of contact.

"If your blood tastes this good," she begins, removing one hand from your wrist, only for the other hand to gather them both between her fingers. She presses your wrists back into the wall as her free hand sinks down your abdomen. Her hand slides to your pants, fingers sliding up the length of your clothed cunt. Your blood roars in your ears.

"I can't imagine what your pussy tastes like."

"Then do it."

Your statement is so immediate it makes Hazel flinch. She blinks in shock, looking up at you with the same surprise you experienced minutes ago.

"Yeah?" she asks and you nod curtly.

"Don't make me change my mind, leech."

Hazel beams.

Quickly, she brings you back onto the floor. Your fingers are at your pants, unzipping and unbuttoning the fly before shoving them down your thighs. You shimmy out of them, discarding them onto the floor. Your underwear follows soon after.

Hazel stares unabashedly, pupils dilated wide as her hands are on your waist. She hoists you back up against the door, positioning you so that she's between your legs, knees hanging over her shoulders as she stands eye level with your weeping pussy.

You feel Hazel's lips on your skin, her warm breath sharply contrasting the cold grip her fingers have on your body. A string of moans pushes from your throat as you feel her kiss across your inner thighs. Her fangs pierce the soft skin, drawing blood as her tongue cleans up the mess they leave. Your fingers thread into her dark hair, tugging firmly to guide her closer to where you need her most.

She chuckles and the vibrations go straight to your throbbing clit.

"So impatient," she tuts, but concedes and follows your somatic demand.

Her tongue darts out from her lips, kitten licking the length of your slit to your clit. You sigh out, rutting your hips toward Hazel's face as she envelops her lips around your clit. She sucks sharply and your eyes nearly roll into the back of your skull. You're not going to last long and Hazel doesn't need to read your mind to know that too.

It's when she fucks you with her tongue that you that you finally cum. The dam in your gut shatters and a wave of pleasure washes over you. Your nails claw at Hazel's scalp, shoving her in place as you grind your cunt into her eager tongue. Her hold does not falter, keeping you steady until your labored breathing evens out. After a few moments, her head darts out from between your legs. Even in the darkness, the shine of spittle and slick glows on her chin.

"How was that?" It was your turn to be cocky and you relished every moment of it.

Hazel lowers you back onto the floor, allowing you to locate your discarded clothing. She wipes her chin, the flat of her tongue licking off the remnants on her palm.

"You tell me." She tosses the question back to you as you pull your underwear over your hips.

"Well," you start, stepping in and pulling up your pants. You meet Hazel's inquisitive gaze as you fasten the button and pull the zipper up. A shit-eating grin cracks across your face.

"You're still alive, right?"

[moralesmilesanhour]

mad props! 03

summary: you're now officially part of the theater club's latest production! just one small problem... wc: 1282 a/n: Can't believe I was able to type this out within the same week. But I diiiid! The songs being performed are: 'Popular' - Wicked 'Ohmigod You guys' - Legally Blonde: The Musical (Original Cast Recording) | Have fun reading ! Feel free to tell me what you thought in the comments <3 (only warning is that the process of putting a theatre production together is probably not super realistic here lmao) 02 03 04

“One five, four five, three five, two five, one five, four five, three-two-one,”

You clutched the white binder containing your sheet music to your chest as you went through every vocal exercise from middle school that you could remember.

From the diaphragm, you reminded yourself, taking another deep breath.

“One five,

Four five,

Three five,

Two five,

One five,

Four five,

Three-two-one–”

“Y/N L/N?” the casting director’s voice called out to you.

Your stomach lurched as you rose from your seat and approached the stage. You handed the sheet music over to the pianist. The blinding stage lights made you sweat beneath your uniform, but part of you was grateful that it hid the faces of your four-person audience. 

The first chord was your cue.

“Whenever I see someone less fortunate than I…”

You sang the lines through your nose, making your delivery as cartoonish as possible. It even earned a few laughs from the dark void in front of you that bolstered your confidence. 

Now, when playing a character such as Galinda, one may be tempted to keep the squeaky ‘princess voice’ the whole way through. But you knew better. 

You added depth to your voice for some lines, maybe a growl here, a cry there; your performance needed to show that you could do more than just play the pretty soprano lead.

You belted the final note, arms spread wide as if you weren’t just about to vomit from nerves, and curtsied.

There was disembodied applause, and then: “Thank you, we’ll be sure to send out an email on Friday to let you know if you got the part.”

“Thanks,” you exhaled as you stepped down from the stage. 

All that there was left to do was wait.

You were jumpy all Friday afternoon. Even Miles noticed your knee making your desks tremble with the way it bounced up and down in the middle of English class.

“Yo, you good?” he whispered.

You shot him a glare while tapping your pencil frantically. “None of your business.”

“It actually is my business,” he shot back, teeth clenched, “ ‘cuz you’re shaking the damn desk.”

“Is there a problem back there?” the English professor peered over his glasses at the two of you.

“Nope,” Miles sighed. “Not at all.”

Your leg stopped bouncing, and you rested your chin on top of folded hands.

“If you must know,” you muttered, “I had an audition the other day, and callbacks are supposed to be this evening.”

He furrowed his brows. “Oh…kay…?”

“What do you mean ‘okay’? I’m super nervous about it–”

“I mean, why are you telling me this?”

Your eyes widened. Why were you telling him this?

“I…well, you’re sitting next to me, and you asked–” 

“I didn’t ask for allat.”

You kissed your teeth, and went back to taking notes in silence.

-

“Oh, the principal’s gonna love that.”

Joshua Baptiste–current president of Visions’ art club–grinned as he watched Miles add his signature to the wide sheet of paper.

Miles replaced the cap on one of his paint markers with a click, assessing his work.

It was a poster for an upcoming pep rally, advertised in bold, sleek letters that curled in and around each other and ended in sharp arrows. Satisfied, he rose to his feet.

“You think?”

“Hell yeah. Better than anything I could’ve put together,” Joshua ran a hand through loose, sandy curls. “I’m more of a portraits kinda guy.”

The boy’s smile was contagious, showing off two rows of light blue braces. Miles remembered how he used to circle back around to his lunch table just to see them when he laughed with his friends, silver earrings tinkling as he threw his head back. 

He’d done crazier things just to see a crush.

Miles returned the compliment, “Your paintings go crazy, though. You could get into art school if you put a portfolio together.”

Joshua shrugged. “Doubt my parents would ever let me go.”

The other hummed in agreement.

“Anywho, I came over here to ask you a favor. Theater club needs an extra pair of hands working on the set, and I already said one of our guys would help out. You in?”

Miles raised an eyebrow at the sudden new project being dumped on him, but he relented. Not like he had anything better to do today.

“Sure. Where to?”

Joshua’s face lit up, and he gestured for Miles to follow him.

“They’re down in the auditorium. You’re a life-saver, man.”

The auditorium was already bustling with students when the two boys entered. There was one group on the far right busy customizing piles of hot-pink costumes with bows and sequins. On the left side, a bunch of kids clutched wrinkled scripts in their hands, practicing until it was time to run through the first few songs. Miles looked up, and taking center stage was a group of no more than ten girls practicing what looked like stage choreography. 

Regardless of what each group was working on, there was an urgency bordering on panic to their movements and voices. Miles thanked his past self for not signing up to be a part of it.

“Oh, thank god!”

A tall, stocky-looking girl wearing pink glasses scurried up to them, carrying a clipboard.

Joshua gestured towards Miles. “Here’s your guy! He’s got an eye for color, you’re in good hands.”

He gave a quick salute before turning to exit through the double doors.

The girl stuck out her hand. “I’m Sarah Park, junior, and student production manager for, uh, all of this!”

Miles accepted the handshake and nodded. “Cool. What’s your vision for the set?”

“Well, it’s…”

Before Sarah could finish, the lights dimmed, and a voice announced: “We’re gonna rehearse the opening, everyone in ‘Ohmigod You Guys’, please take your places!”

She grabbed Miles’ wrist and led him to a seat in the front row and whispered, “You should probably just see it.”

Suddenly, music boomed from the speakers as the stage lights illuminated the same girls from before, now all standing in a straight line across the stage with wide smiles.

They sang a number he didn’t recognize, but there was plenty of squealing as they passed down a blank sheet of paper as a prop. He deduced from the few lyrics he caught that they were playing sorority girls, but that was about it.

As the “Ohmigods” crescendoed, Miles noticed that there was someone entering from backstage that then stood behind the girls. He wondered what for, until the group parted and stepped to the side.

Nothing could’ve prepared him for who stood in the middle of the stage. In a blonde wig.

“It’s almost there, but…”

Miles’ jaw dropped as you recited your lines fully in-character. 

It hadn’t occurred to him that you could smile without malice, but people were full of surprises: Here was the girl who rarely spoke more than a sentence in class until last week, belting her heart out while twirling across the stage. He would have pinned you as more of the debater type.

The song ended on one final “Oh my god!” in unison before the lights were turned back up.

“Great job, everyone, especially for a first run-through. Everybody take five!”

You sighed in relief, wiping away the sweat collecting around your hairline from being beneath a hot wig and an even hotter spotlight. Wig in hand, you carefully descended down the steps with the rest of the cast and made your way back to your seats.

Sarah brushed past you in between aisles, along with a familiar red hoodie.

You paused and spun around on your heel, confirming your fears. 

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.

[therimmerexperience]

Smegtober- Day 7 (Sacrifice)

“I need to go home,” Ace, Rimmer, told Wildfire, his voice nasal and whiny; he was ready to be himself again. 

“As you wish,” replied the disembodied voice from the cockpit, her tone, as always, indifferent and cold. She scanned her dimensional records with a beep. 

Rimmer's eyes widened in disbelief as he laughed bitterly, “it was that easy? You could have taken the others home at any time too?” 

“Yes, Arnold,” she replied, still indifferent. 

“Why?” He tore the wig from his head, tossing it to the arm of his chair and missing. He left it on the ground.

“Why what?” 

“Why did you never take any of the others back?” He glowered at Wildfire's control panel as if she could see him, as if she had the capacity to care. If he had known, if any of them had known, that they could have just asked to go home, the Ace Rimmer grave planet would be a ring system short of a war memorial. 

“They never asked,” she, once again, answered plainly.

Rimmer shook his head, opening his mouth though the strained feeling in the back of his throat prevented anything from escaping. Eventually, he gave up. Lecturing an unemotional machine on human decency seemed redundant. He felt foolish for even getting upset at her. 

“Just take me home.” He finally relented. 

Wildfire buzzed, a swell of blue expanding in the ink before them and swallowing them whole, spitting them back out in a similar blotchy scene, speckled with stars, only with one major difference; a large spacecraft hung in the sky to the right of Wildfire, dusty rouge and just as tasteless and magnificent as he remembered it. It was home. 

Boarding the dwarf, stepping, for the first time in decades, onto the landing bay, he was greeted by Kryten first, the rest of the crew behind him, his head wider and his body a brighter shade of silver than before. He had aged. Could mechanoids age? Rimmer pushed away the thought. It made him feel old. 

“Mr Ace!” he gushed, a veil of perplexion shrouding his features while his eyes scanned the wig pressed curls on Rimmer’s head. A smug, knowing smile tugged at Lister’s cheeks, the creases around his mouth deeper than Rimmer remembered, his eyes lined, crows feet forming in the corners. He pulled him into a tight hug, much like when he had first left though Lister definitely felt softer.  Rimmer supposed time had done the same to him too.

Red Dwarf itself had changed. Rimmer had noted all of the small differences mentally while on his way to Lister’s room: hallways seemingly stretched further, the ceilings panels no longer resembled styrofoam and he could have sworn there never used to be that many elevators. He wondered if the diesel desks had changed. His next spontaneous getaway the next time someone fell ill would surely be more interesting than the time Lister contracted space mumps- for one, he had an actual body now. 

 Looking around, Rimmer felt like he was in a funhouse, the room distorted compared to the one in his memory; he was still trying to wrap his head around the nanobot resurrection, let alone the changes the resurrection had caused; since when were bunkrooms that big?  It was remarkable how pleasantly sized beds were supposed to be before the JMC budget cuts. He shrugged off his hideous silver flight jacket, throwing it out into the middle of the room and watching it dissolve into light before it hit the floor. 

“So,” he turned to Lister, who was slumped in a chair by the table, “Where did the other me go? The one who was resurrected.”

“He’s hiding,” The scouser chucked, “down in the cargo decks. I think he’s scared you're here to replace him.”

Rimmer settled in the chair opposite Lister’s, resting his hands lackadaisically on the surface in front of him and shooting him a playfully suspicious glance, “and why would he think that?”

“Because that's what I told him,” He grinned idiotically, much like he used to back in his twenties, “It’s not my fault he believed me.”

Rimmer couldn't help but smile in return, “I was never that much of a tremendous coward, was I?”

“Well, he is only human.”

They stewed in silence for a moment. Considering his next words carefully before he let them tumble from his tongue, Rimmer pressed his mouth into a straight line, his brow creasing. He watched his former crewmate tap anxiously on the metal tabletop expectantly for a while. 

“He won't want to take Wildfire,” Lister beat him to it, still tapping, “I think he's worse than you were.”

Rimmer nodded; he knew exactly what he had meant by ‘worse’; he was less adjusted, more cowardly, meaner and so much more bitter- all of the things that made Rimmer 'worse’ than most other people. A hand slid over the top of one of Rimmer's, brushing its thumb over his reassuringly and squeezing it lightly. Lister’s eyes met his, unchanged, still the same shade of brown they always had been: a sickly sweet hue of honey.

“I don’t want to leave,” the hologram admitted sheepishly, withdrawing his hands, “I’ve been Ace too long, Listy. Longer than any other Rimmer.”

“I’m sure I can convince him to give it a go,” he winked, “I’ve done it before.”

—-

Rimmer climbed into the cockpit of Wildfire, gaudy, senset blonde wig askew and flight jacket rubbing the wrong way on his skin; he wasn't ready. He waved to the man who looked just like him, who saluted in return, the H on his forehead shimmering in the light of the landing bay. Lister smiled thankfully, a semblance of guilt on the curl of his lips. How could Rimmer have said no? It wasn't as though he truly belonged here. He was merely a spare part.

“Come on, old love,” Nano-Rimmer prompted Wildfire in an Ace impersonation, still yet to be perfected, “We better be off.”

[hannahbarberra162]

Not My Monkey, Ch 1.

(Reverse Trope Isekai Reader)

I thought it would be funny to have a reverse trope -- instead of having one Isekai Reader who knows everything, too many isekai readers have already messed up the OP timeline beyond recognition.

I'm still writing all my other works, I just needed to get this out of my system. I don't think this will float most people's boats, but that OK.

on Ao3

Platonic Strawhats | Reader / Jinbei

This chapter's plot heavy, I had to get some of the world building out of the way. The rest will be more fun and silly / some romance / angst later. Also, this is my first time writing most (all?) of the Straw hats. It’s been challenging, so please be kind <3. There’s 10 of them but only one of me.

~~~

“Robin! Another one’s here!” Some kid in a straw hat was yelling right next to you, causing you to wince. You had a massive headache, you hadn’t felt this hungover since…wait. You didn’t drink anymore. You opened your eyes to a sunny day on…a wood boat? You were definitely sailing on open water. Maybe the ocean since you smelled salt… What kind of dream was this? Sure, you had anxiety dreams of drowning but nothing so pleasant .

A disembodied hand grabbed your ankle and held on tightly. It startled you but since this was a dream there was no need to worry. You were kind of enjoying the sun and the water, so what was a hand (with beautiful nail beds, but dry cuticles) going to do? You turned your head to find a black haired boy staring at you inches from your face.

“Gah! Don’t do that!” you said to the boy. He grinned at you and laughed.

“Shishishishi, it’s me! Luffy! You made it!” 

“Made it where?” Were you supposed to know who he was?

“To the Going Merry! You’re our twentieth reader -”

“Twenty third,” said another guy you hadn’t seen. This one was napping against the mast, talking with eyes still closed. He had luscious green hair that you’d want to check out later. You didn’t see any roots showing so either he had dyed it recently or…oh wait you were in a conversation.

“Sounds good, Loogie. I’m not quite following what’s happening.” This was the most complex dream you’d ever had. You’d never been able to interact like this before in a dream. It all felt like real life. You started to wonder if maybe something else was going on.

“Shishishi it’s LUFFY! But you know that! So what was the last thing you read?” The boy was still sitting incredibly close to you and practically vibrating with energy. 

“Um, I read a biography of Catherine the Great. Why?” Luffy tilted his head at your words.

“Is she in Egghead or Wano?” 

“Um, in Russia? I don’t think she’d be called an egghead though.” The green haired guy huffed and got up.

“Gonna be a difficult one. Robin can figure it out. Nappin’ on the other side of the deck,” he said to Luffy, walking away. He looked like he was flexing his back as you watched him retreat. His three swords clacked against each other, making you wonder how practical it was to have so many.

“No, she’s gonna be a great reader!” Luffy smiled at you again. You smiled back, but were very confused. The hand gripping your ankle was still there holding on tight. A breathtakingly beautiful woman with black hair, looking to be growing out some bangs, was walking towards you with her arms crossed in front of her. Even though she exuded radiance, her intense blue eyes pinned you with a stare. She sat down in front of you, keeping her arms crossed.

“Hello,” you said. Might as well be polite in dreamland.

“Hi,” the woman said smiling. “I’m Robin. What’s your name?”

Long ago, you were tired of baristas messing up your name (even though it wasn’t hard!). So when someone asked for your name, you supplied their own back to them. It usually worked out ok, and gave room for some awkward chit chat while you waited for your coffee.

“Isn’t that funny? My name is also Robin.” The woman quirked an eyebrow but kept her smile and nodded.

“Shishishishi two Robins! But what can we call you then? It’s too confusing having two Robins on board.” Luffy rubbed his chin in thought. 

“Interesting thought, Captain. For now, I have a prepared document I’d like you to read. It should answer the most common questions we get asked by Readers.” The woman handed you a scroll. What in the medieval ages was this?

“Robin TWO!” Luffy said, snapping his fingers. You untied the scroll. Might as well see what it said.

“I don’t think Robin 2 is a flattering name,” Robin told Luffy. “Let’s think of other ideas. In the meantime, let Robin read.” The hand patted your ankle. “It’s best if I keep a hold of you until the shock wears off. Saves a lot of time chasing people down.” She kept a hold of you? Whatever. Looking at the scroll, you saw an elegantly handwritten list.

~~~

Frequently Asked Questions - for Readers

Where am I?

You are on board the Going Merry . Franky has modified it so it does not bear complete resemblance to the original ship but it is also not the 1,000 Sunny .

Is this real?

Quite real. This world is as real to us as yours was to you. This is not a dream, hallucination, or simulation.

Am I dead?

We are not sure. It seems to be likely based on the anecdotes of previous Readers. However, there is no way to know conclusively.

Why was I brought here?

We do not know the criteria under which Readers are brought to our world. We believe it has to do with your intense love of “One Piece.”

What happened to my belongings?

It seems whatever you had last in your world is what came here, with a few exceptions. Cell phones, laptops, and other electronics never make it to our world. We have your belongings on the ship, if you would like to have them.

What will happen to me? Can I stay on the ship?

Readers have stayed in our world for 21 days, after which they disappear. We do not know what happens afterward. During your 21 days, you will remain with us on the ship. You may stay in the men’s quarters.

Is there a way to get back to my world?

Not that we know of. We are unsure if you are transported there once again when you disappear. 

Are there other readers?

There is only ever one Reader in our world at a time. The Strawhat Pirates have had the most Readers, though the Heart Pirates and Whitebeard Pirates have had a few as well.

What arc are we on?

The “timeline” that you know has been completely abandoned. With so much additional information and insight into future events, the events of this world have been drastically changed. We are not in recognizable “arcs” any longer.

What about Ace? Thatch? Whitebeard? Corazon? Sabo?

Thanks to the information supplied by Readers, Ace, Thatch and Whitebeard are all alive. Yamato has joined the Whitebeard crew with Ace. We had a time traveling Reader who saved Cora-san. Sabo has been made aware of Ace and Luffy and they have already reunited.

Can I fight? In our experience, Readers are quite weak and unable to fight. If you wish to try, you must first defeat Usopp in an arm wrestling contest.

Note: Please do not bring up our individual histories. We experienced them as real people and do not appreciate discussing them. Thank you.

~~~

You finished reading the scroll and re-rolled it. It addressed some of your concerns, but also had a lot of information you didn’t know what to do with. You handed the scroll back to Robin.

“You should call this the ‘Handbook for the Recently Deceased,” you told the raven haired beauty. You still had your sense of humor even when dead, it turned out. Er, maybe dead.

“That is quite an excellent suggestion, I think I shall,” Robin nodded solemnly and took the scroll with another arm sprouting from her own. You’d ask her about that later. 

“What questions do you still have?” Robin asked kindly.

“Why do I have to stay in the men’s quarters?” 

“Oh, that is not applicable to you. Nearly all of our Readers have been men, usually Torao has the female Readers. You can join Nami and myself in the women’s quarters.” 

“I’m dead then, huh?” You couldn’t wrap your head around the idea, especially when you felt so alive. 

“Robin B!” Luffy shouted from a few feet away. He still hadn’t given up on a nickname for you.

“No, Luffy, I don’t care for that,” Robin said calmly. “That would make me Robin A, which I am not. And yes, you are likely dead.” 

“That’s a bummer.” You’d think about that and deal with your feelings later, this was all too weird to believe right now. You fiddled with the necklace you were wearing. None of this felt real at all. Besides, one of your best traits as a person was your ability to roll with things. You had always been pretty open to change, though this change was…drastic.

“Interesting - few readers express that emotion upon arriving in our world. Readers are usually thrilled to be here with us.” Robin looked like she wanted to study you in a lab.

“Um, so what’s a Reader? Or a One Piece?” You might as well learn while you were here for the next few weeks. 

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Robin said, the hand patting your ankle. “We aren’t going to harm you for your information. We’ve probably heard it all already. We know that we’re a comic and a show in your world. You’re not in danger.” You hadn’t considered that you might be in danger, but you were thinking about it now.

“TWO Robin!” Luffy yelled from across the deck. He’d been pacing and trying to think of a good nickname this whole time.

“Luffy, that is the worst suggestion yet.” Robin frowned. 

“Aw, you don’t like any of ‘em! This is frustrating. Maybe we can just call her Mystery Reader !” 

“Not every reader is a Mystery Reader, Luffy. You can’t say that for -” Robin was chastising Luffy.

“Myst is fine. Short for Mystery.” You didn’t really care what they called you since, you know, you’d be going to the afterlife in about three weeks.

“ Shishishishishi I knew you’d be a good reader, Misty!” Luffy stretched his arms from where he stood to wrap them around you. Misty, sure. That was similar to what you said. What the…was this kid rubber? Add one more weird thing to the pile, why not? 

“What other questions do you have?”

You were gonna put your cards on the table. “Listen Robin, I’ll be honest, I didn’t get a lot out of your handbook. I don’t know any of those people, or any of you, or what this show is. I don’t know why I’m here, I have no information to give you. I watch documentaries and sometimes HGTV. This is like a new employee orientation for a job I didn’t apply to. ” Robin nodded sagely.

“I quite like that phrase - new employee orientation. Perhaps more of a ‘new reader orientation.’ In any event, you’re here with us now, whether you know any information or not. I am going to release you, and you can get settled in.” The hand holding on to you vanished as you watched. 

“Cool party trick.” 

“Yes, they are very useful, though not always appreciated at parties.” Robin stood up and you did the same. You stretched your legs and back as you’d been sitting for a while. Robin was a tall drink of water, you thought. You were average height, nothing crazy. But she was statuesque and slim, making you think of your own body. Sure, you had some self confidence, but as you approached closer to middle age, things didn’t look quite the same as they once did. And Robin looked like a supermodel, graceful and elegant.

“Do I hear the sweet voice of a lovely Mellorine?” said a handsome waiter, holding a glass of water on a tray. He was practically swooning and you’d never met before. A little strange, but maybe he was just enthusiastic. Robin looked at the waiter, who was wearing a three piece suit.

“This is Sanji, our chef. He is also one of the Wings to the Captain.” 

“Oh, sweet Mellorine -” 

“Wait, who is the Captain?” You cut off Sanji, you realized you didn’t know who was running this show.

Sanji’s expression showed surprise. He looked at Robin for clarification, pausing in moving the tray your way to your dismay. You really wanted that water.

“Misty, as Captain calls her, does not know anything about our world. We will all have to introduce ourselves.” 

“Wait, does that mean Luffy is -”

“The Captain,” answered Robin and Sanji simultaneously. That kid?! The one who suggested they call you “Two Robin”? You didn’t say anything so as not to insult their captain or whatever but the kid didn’t look like he could be older than 18. Not your circus, not your monkey. As long as the ship didn’t sink in the next three weeks, it didn’t really matter to you.

“Right, right. That seems…good. Um, Sanji, is that water for me? I’d really appreciate it.” Sanji looked like you’d asked him to senior prom.

“Oh, dear, sweet, beautiful Misty, it would be an honor to serve you this water.” He bowed to you with a flourish. Alright, time to nip this in the bud.

“Look kid, I’m old enough to be your mother. Cut it out. But thank you for the water.” He deflated a little but not for long. 

“Like wine, most women only get better with age,” he said with a charming smile. “As Robin mentioned, I am Sanji, the chef on our crew. Do you have any dietary restrictions?” 

“Oh, I’ll eat anything you make.” 

“Is that so? Truly, no restrictions? Preferences? Allergies?” For all his attempted flirting before, he seemed serious right now. 

“Well, truthfully, I’m vegetarian. So, no meat.” Sanji nodded, smiling once again.

“Not a problem. Do you eat fish?”

“Ah, no. No animals.” You saw a rubber arm going past you as Luffy rocketed himself to your side. Rubber had its uses it seemed.

“You don’t eat meat?!” Luffy yelled into your face, completely incredulous.

“Nope, haven’t in over 20 years.” You moved your head back away from his. Kid didn’t have much need for personal space.

“What do you eat then!?” It was like the kid couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of not eating meat. You shrugged. You’d had this conversation in various forms many, many times before.

“Vegetables, fruit, grains, legumes, things like that.” Luffy furrowed his brow in thought for a moment before it cleared into a bright smile.

“SANJI - can I have Misty’s portion of meat??” 

“No! If she doesn’t eat it, I’m not going to make more than usual.”

“But she’s our reader, you have to make her a portion! Then I can have it.” 

“But if she won’t eat it, I won’t make an extra portion,” Sanji already looked exasperated.

“But I want it!” Luffy was on the verge of a tantrum, you thought.

“No! You already eat all the food! Besides, if she doesn’t eat meat… ” The two of them seemed to be entering into an argument about meat rations, so you’d bow out of this conversation. It was only getting louder as they argued in circles. 

You drank your water and took a look around you for the first time. The ship seemed pleasant, though not very modern. There weren’t any electrical outlets or lights, and not much metal either. It was powered by wind, as you saw the giant sails. Maybe there wasn’t electricity here? You’d ask Robin later. Your eyes wandered up and you saw a giant jolly roger flag, the skeleton wearing a hat.

“So this is a pirate ship, huh?” The fighting made a little more sense now. Not that you wanted to. You’d let them handle that part of the afterlife. It made you a little nervous and you fidgeted with your necklace. A handsome young man wearing overalls and goggles locked eyes with you while holding your hair dryer. The next thing you noticed was that he had the most beautiful, long, luscious natural coils you’d ever seen in your life. It took everything in you not to ask him his wash day routine before you exchanged names. “Hey! That’s mine!” you yelled at him. You were protective of your tools, they were like your babies. The man looked scared for a moment, then apologetic. 

“Sorry, I just got excited. I’ve never seen a machine like this before. What does it do?” He was turning it over in his hands, looking at the barrel. He was holding it like a precious treasure, touching it with care. At least he could appreciate machinery.

“It’s a hairdryer.” Your guess that they didn’t have electricity seemed to have more merit now. Which meant he air dried all that hair every time? Coily King. 

“Interesting! How does it work? Obviously the electricity feeds through the cord, other readers have had corded things before -”

“Usopp! Where’s the new reader? I wanna see if they have pens!” An unbelievably sexy young woman wearing a tiny string bikini came up from below deck, her bright orange hair blowing in the breeze. Was every person on this ship attractive? How did her boobs defy gravity like that? You looked down at your own, hopeful that whatever force was keeping hers up might be helping yours. No dice. 

“Hi, I’m the new reader?” You extended your hand, which she shook. The woman smiled back at you.

“I’m Nami, Robin told me you don’t know anything about our world. So, the way it works here is that everyone pays a daily fee to stay on the boat. It’s 100 Beri a day. That’s how we afford to maintain the ship in tip top condition.” You could smell bullshit a mile away - you’d been working customer service jobs on and off for decades. You decided to play along to see what happened.

“Oh, of course. But how will I get money? I guess I’ll have to sell some of my belongings…” You pursed your lips for dramatic effect. “I know! I have some pens, I could sell those for…what was it you said? 1,000 Beri each?” Nami smiled even wider, a classic mistake. 

“Well, what’s money among friends? And besides, it’s not like you can take anything back with you. We have a lot of reader stuff left on the ship.” You paused, pretending to consider for a moment. 

“Hmm. You’re right. Maybe I’ll just drop them all in the sea. Y’know, like a, funeral. Since, I guess mine’s already happening. Maybe.” You didn’t want to think about your funeral, it had been a nightmare to figure everything out when your dad died. You felt bad for whoever was arranging it, probably your sister. You were zoned out thinking for a moment, and snapped back when Nami said something. “I’m sorry, I missed that. What did you ask me?”

“What kind of pens do you have?” Nami had taken the bait, hook line and sinker. You doubled down.

“I’d be willing to show them to you, for a price.” She raised an eyebrow, then broke it with a sincere smile.

“Welcome aboard! I’m the navigator for the crew, it’s nice to meet you. You’ll be staying with me and Robin, I hope you’ll have a fun time with us. Now about those pens…” You smiled at her introduction.

“Thank you, and I’d be glad to show you what I have. I’ve always got at least a couple on me. Where’s my stuff? We can see what’s there.” 

“Follow me, it’s probably in the crows nest. That’s where reader stuff usually appears.” She started walking toward a ladder that led up to a platform high in the sky. High, high in the sky. 

“Hell no!” you exclaimed. “I’m not going up there!” Usopp and Nami looked askance at each other.

“Why not?” asked Usopp, still holding the hair dryer like it was a puppy he was cuddling.

“I’m afraid of heights.” Not that unusual of a fear, you didn’t even like diving off the 3 meter diving board at the pool. They looked at each other again. You felt like you were in middle school again, asking to sit at the cool kids table. 

“That’s OK, I’ll go get it for you.” Usopp handed you the hairdryer and climbed the ladder. Nice, you got to sit with them. Score one for you. 

~~~ 

The last thing you remembered from your regular life was walking home from work, rolling your train case with you. You always took everything home with you, even though you trusted the salon you were working for. Force of habit after so many years. You didn’t remember anything after that, though it would be ironic if you got hit by a car. 

Usopp kindly carried your things down from the crows nest. It was weird seeing your train case and purse on a wooden pirate ship, like when you saw a Timex in a historical movie. You heard a distant crash and looked over. The green haired guy was fighting Sanji, both of them looked pretty angry. The green haired guy was using his three swords against Sanji’s kicking? Must have strong legs. Maybe all the fighting was with each other. Nami and Usopp didn’t even look up.

“Ooh, what’s in here? Treasure? I’ve never seen something like this before. Most readers have backpacks or purses.” Nami was eyeing your train case greedily.

“No, it’s for my haircutting tools, makeup, manicure supplies, things like that.” You’d been an esthetician for a long time, though you’d done other jobs here and there. Nami threaded her fingers together in delight.

“You’re a hairdresser?! And you do nails?! Big sister, you’re the best reader yet! Most of our readers are in eye-tea. Would you cut my hair?” Oh, she meant IT. Information technology. Made sense, lots of people worked in IT. You’d never really gotten all that good at computers, so that wasn’t something you’d ever pursued.

“I mean, yeah, we can talk about that.” Even in the afterlife, everyone wanted a haircut when they found out you were a hairdresser. “Speaking of, Usopp, you have the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen.” Usopp looked flustered, like he wasn’t used to compliments. That surprised you, he was clearly smart, well muscled, helpful…if you were 20 years younger you’d have been all over him. Or maybe even 10. But he looked like he couldn’t be older than 20 and that really didn’t do it for you. You liked your men with their prefrontal cortex fully developed. Besides, you hadn’t dated for a long time. In fact, aside from Robin, everyone looked really young. You wondered if there were any other older people on board. Even Robin looked like she couldn’t have been older than 35 at the most.

“So, what do you do here?” It seemed like everyone had a specific job on board, might as well find out. 

“Well, I’m the great Captain Usopp, and I am one of the bravest and most notorious pirates on the seas. I’ve defeated -”

“Wait, I thought Luffy was the Captain.” Usopp’s train of thought was paused.

“Oh, he’s the Captain of this crew because I felt bad for him after I single handedly defeated a pirate fleet of 5,000 men. It was easy too, let me tell you the story…” Usopp went off on a long tale about his (obviously fake) adventures on the seas. But he was funny and entertaining and a really good story teller. You touched his arm to pause his story as he was explaining how he defeated a giant with a flaming sword.

“Listen, Usopp, if you ever want, I’ll style your hair for you. Braid out, cornrows, twist out, whatever you want.” You wished you could take a before and after picture for your business Insta, but based on what Robin had told you, your phone hadn’t made it through the…portal? Er, however you got here. You didn’t offer a fade or anything that would have you cut it - it was too gorgeous to cut. 

“Hmm, maybe I’ll take you up on that - I’ve been wanting a new look recently,” Usopp mused. Nami was pouting, you didn’t want to upset her. “Same for you, uh, little sister, I’d gladly style your beautiful orange hair. I’ve never seen a shade like it.” You hadn’t, it was like the shade of an actual orange. Nami was appeased.

“Thank you Big Sis, I’d love to do something with all this.” It looked like she was growing out a bob, and it was in that awkward transition stage. You could help style it a little better, whoever had been cutting it did a good job, just needed a few pointers.

~~~

A little while later and the sun was in its descent. You were still with Usopp, sitting on the deck. Nami had gone off to do some work, saying she’d see you later. He’d told you a few funny stories before he asked to see the electrical esthetician tools you had in your case. He was most interested in the nail drill, asking question after question. At some point, you didn’t have answers for him. You knew the basics of how it worked but your recollection of electron transfer was weak. 

“Dinner’s ready!” Sanji called. Perfect timing, you were getting hungry. Usopp helped you up and you headed to the galley. 

“How many people are on the ship?” you asked. You’d met five of them, not including the green haired man who didn’t introduce himself. 

“There’s ten of us, eleven including you. We’re a small but strong crew.” Usopp flexed his arm.

“By the way, I’m not going to arm wrestle you. I know my strengths, and fighting isn’t one of them.” Usopp looked relieved. “Not that I’d win anyway,” you continued, “you look strong. But I’ll let you handle the fighting.” Usopp smiled at your last statement. You wanted to compliment Usopp when you could, he seemed like he needed it. 

“Oh yeah, I’ve won every arm wrestling competition I’ve ever had. Let me tell you the time when I arm wrestled a giant octopus and won against every tentacle…” You smiled to yourself and walked to the galley together. Entering through the swinging door, you saw a large table filled with nine other people. Well, mostly people. There was also a skeleton, an android looking guy, and a gigantic blue man - merman? And speaking of the merman, holy shit. 

You’d spent time babysitting your nieces and had seen every Disney princess movie that had ever been released in the last 60 years. Their favorites were “Frozen,” and “Moana,” which was the better of the two. You found the polynesian demi-god to be…appealing. At least more than the white bread Cristoff. And that merman looked like Maui had decided to grow a meter and get more muscled. And turn blue. He was huge - maybe 3 meters tall - and you wanted to climb him like a tree. Did that make you a pervert? Maybe, but it was a gut reaction. You weren’t going to act on it. Besides, you weren’t blind, you could appreciate a good looking person when you saw one. He looked like he was around your age, or at least older than the group of younguns you’d met. Maybe the afterlife had its perks after all. 

[frankencanon]

Another AU where the DonQuixote Brothers get to be Happy and Hale

Teenage Doflamingo gets caught and arrested by Tsuru whilst he is still young enough that the marines think—or can be convinced to think—that he can potentially be rehabilitated...

Doflamingo himself is of course entirely against this plan and is fighting Tsuru and Sengoku every step of the way.

But eventually Sengoku manages to drag Doffy home with him, telling him that he'll be staying with him as part of a very special, tailored specifically to him, rehabilitation plan.

Doffy thinks ew, gross and continues to struggle against him all the way up until they get to the front door and there is a young marine standing there, tall and blonde and about Doffy's age, maybe a little younger.

Wait, hold up.

When the eerily familiar marine spots them approaching his entire being lights up, from his face to his body language—he's practically glowing.

"Doffy!" He cries out, and. Wait. Wait wait wait.

Hold up. Wha—?!

"...Rosinante?!"

"I'm so happy! Dad spent years looking for you—sorry, Sengoku—and I was worried something happened to you! You have no idea how happy I was when I saw your wanted poster!"

"..."

"I mean," he chuckles sheepishly, "I wasn't exactly psyched to discover you were a pirate, but... Honestly, I was too busy rejoicing over the fact that you were alive to even bother caring about any of that."

"..."

"I, uh... I convinced Da—Sengoku to try, uh, rehabilitating you instead of just sending you to Impel Down or something..."

"..."

"...Doffy, please... Please say something?"

"...you're alive, Rosi?"

The marine—Rosi?—stuttered, eyes widening. "I—yes, Doffy, I'm... Sengoku found me, some time after you left, and he took me in... He promised me he'd try to find you too, but he searched the North Blue for years and he couldn't find you anywhere... Not until recently, at least, when word started to spread about the DonQuixote Pirates..."

Doflamingo blinked, continuing to stare. "That...was you?"

"Eh?"

"The marines, everywhere... They'd seemed like they were...searching for something... Searching...for me?"

"You—" Rosi stumbled, "You saw them?! Then why...?"

"They were marines, Rosi," Doflamingo said, as if that explained everything. And...it kind of did? Because of course he ran from the marines; He'd just shot his father full of lead, spent a month carrying around his disembodied head, and was now traveling with established criminals twice his age.

Of course he ran, of course they ran, when they saw marines sweeping the streets, obsessively searching for something—or someone, rather.

And how would Doflamingo have known? It's not like Sengoku and Tsuru were going around advertising that they were looking for a ten year old Celestial Dragon child—that would've put Doffy in even more danger.

Even just admitting to be looking for a blonde male child with an eye injury would run the risk of having unsavory characters also searching him out, once they knew that the marines wanted him—either to use him, assuming he had some sort of talent or ability that made him valuable, or as a bargaining chip to blackmail the marines.

Off to the side, Sengoku groaned, covering his face, while Tsuru tsk'ed, frustrated. No wonder they'd never found the kid—he had literally been running from them the whole time.

But while the marines present were still stuck on that fact, Doffy was glancing around at their location. "So, why...?"

"Oh!" Rosinante startled, "This is our house. As part of your rehabilitation program you'll be living here with Da—with Sengoku and I."

"With...you?"

"Yes! Just like when we were kids, Doffy!"

"..."

"Won't this be great?! I'm so excited, Doffy!"

"...yeah. Yeah, me too, Rosi."

And, oddly enough, he was.

—

OK, this was just supposed to be an idea for an AU—I got a little carried away there, but...

Please, your honor...! I just want them happy and amicable and ALIVE for god's sake...!

🦩❤️‍🔥🐦‍⬛

[longeyelashedtragedy]

taking a risk and posting the very first section of the threesome (which STILL has no title? very odd for me). it is an xxxtreme first draft so some of the language is rough/worded weirdly (i do this so i can just get an idea out onto the page without getting stuck on the wording and then forgetting what it was). that first paragraph has too many tenses in it on purpose--i'm trying to figure out which sounds best! sorry that it starts with a sort of disembodied handjob!

There are so many things Frank won’t think about as he walks up to the carefully placed ball.

For one, the nails painted a bright electric blue.  Cute, thoughtful, flattering.  Thoughtful.  Flattering.  Flattering.  The gaffer said: nothing strenuous.  Not even my hands!  Can’t even use my hands!  Can’t touch you tonight!  Uh-uh, call Roberto up now if you don’t believe me!  Here, take my phone, call him up!

Looking down and watching the nails that decorate the long fingers wrapped around his cock.  It was not a lazy hand; she stroked him firmly.  But lovingly.  Teasing the tip making him moan and say her name out loud despite the sudden embarrassment of this.  The chin digging into his neck and the soft hair draping over his shoulders and the nipples pressing against his bare back through the thin shirt she wears to sleep.  If he closes his eyes there’s a moment of safety.  Everything is alright.

He thinks of sucking the Chelsea-blue fingertips clean with his eyes closed so she can admire his eyelashes.  He knows well what he tastes like on her fingers, thighs, stomach.

With his eyes closed his mind tells him it’s the taste of John.

He won’t look into the bursting blue and white stands to meet her eyes.  Then he’ll have to think about this: how there’s no girlfriend with his name on her back—never has been, she doesn’t do that, has never done.  She’s not like the others.  When he sees her in the stands she stands out.  She’s different.  And it worries him sometimes.  If someone thinks—If she’s different than maybe so is he—

He thinks about John—John is there too, John in his kit.  John trapped in a stadium seat because of being what she’d called a bit of an idiot over dinner or because of what he’d thought of as passion but in private, in the depths of his heart, he has to agree with her.

It’s why she makes a better fiancée than he’d thought life would bring him after he’d made a mistake the first time.  They’re often of the same mind about the day-to-day things.  If they got deeper, there’s a lot she surely wouldn’t agree with about how he feels about John Terry.  So Frank spends the time poised, tense, making sure they don’t get deeper.

 Stop thinking!  John should be doing this with him.  He can’t bear to not have John when he’s supposed to have John.  Stop thinking!

Then he’s back to himself, Super Frank, the captain today, not a leader, maybe a legend, and captain all the same. He sets the example and he works hard enough to tune out the distractions. He’s strong, focused, a good example of a man for others.  His footsteps vibrate though him.  He hears them thump in his ears.  The adrenaline flows, and his view of the world narrows to nothing but the pitch ahead of him and Manuel Neuer.  He doesn’t hear anything.  This is one of the moments he’s been training for all his life.  He doesn’t think of how Dad was the one who first prepared him.  These moments are the ones he lives for.  When it all leaves his mind.

His foot meets the ball with that calm, steady, controlled force.  Up and over Neuer’s arms, cleanly into the top of the net.

*

The team the staff the entourage soaked in champagne and sweat and screams. 

*

The families are loaded onto a different coach.  The first team hanging out of the seats, hooting and spilling things and faking grinding on each other in the aisles, soaking in more champagne and sweat and screams.  It wouldn’t have been out of the ordinary for Frank and John to share a victory kiss.  Shouldn’t have been, anyway.  What kind of world is this, that’s designed things so that they can’t?  It’s Dad’s tired 70s, 80s, 90s holding the 21st century hostage.  Frank is tired of Dad’s world.  He was captain.  He should get a victory kiss.

John takes a break from swigging the Dom Pérignon to do what he always does.  To be on the same wavelength as Frank and yet crushingly not.  “You’re such a fucking star, Lamps,” he yells over the horrible music someone is playing.  “I’m so fucking proud of this lad,” he says to Petr, who’s fully aware.  And then back to Frank.  “Too bad you’re not some pretty girl.  I’d give you a kiss, wouldn’t I?”

*

They don’t get to the Mandarin Oriental until three in the morning.  They’re already playing what one of the younger lads identifies as Justin Timberlake in the hotel ballroom.  Nobody will sleep tonight.

[goldenblu]

hold your fire (by the throat) - chapter 4

One Piece | Zosan | Post-Wano AU where Sanji slowly loses his emotions

Chapter 4: the devil that you forgot

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” “Putting away the groceries,” Zoro says, like it’s obvious. Sanji is going to break his nose. “Why?”

Preview:

The next morning, Robin comes with him to buy groceries after breakfast. To take a look at what’s on sale, she says, but Sanji chooses to believe it’s because she’s irresistibly drawn to his charm and good looks. And who is he to say no to an outing with a heavenly angel? 

When they arrive at the open air market, there’s not too much of a crowd, probably because it’s only an hour past dawn. He made sure to cook breakfast earlier than usual today because he wanted to get the fuck off the ship as soon as possible after baring his insides to the shitty mosshead of all people yesterday. It means that the late-risers won’t be getting freshly made food, but he can take the blow to his pride as a chef this one time. 

As he stews over this, Robin passes him a pouch of berry. “This is from Nami. It should be more than enough, according to her.”

“Ah, Nami-san’s so generous! I won’t spend a penny more than I need to,” Sanji promises. He withdraws the shopping list he drew up last night after taking inventory. “Spices first, I think.”

Though he knows it’s seen as a chore to some of the others, grocery shopping is one of his favorite parts of visiting new places. With all the wildly different climates and cultures of each island on the Grand Line, it’s a perfect way to discover new flavors and ingredients that he hasn’t come across before. As someone who’s constantly looking for new ways to expand his repertoire of dishes, he couldn’t ask for a better opportunity. 

Flitting from stall to stall, he samples various spices and marinades and produce, crossing off items on his list as he goes. He also finally learns that the island is called Quarry Island, apparently named for the nearby quarry which supplies the mineral ore that makes up their main export. He doesn’t particularly care about the details, he’s just thankful for the way it distracts him from brooding over yesterday’s discovery. 

He hadn’t slept well last night, tossing and turning and thinking about what it could mean for him. Because the mosshead could be right that it’s nothing, but he could also be wrong. The little sleep that Sanji had managed hadn’t been restful at all, full of strange half-forgotten dreams, and he’d woken up feeling like shit, with a deep sense of foreboding that he couldn’t shake off.

Now, in the daylight, Sanji refuses to let himself dwell on it too long, or else he’s going to start screaming and never stop. He focuses on the food instead. This island seems to lean towards West Blue cuisine, he notices, with a prevalence of fragrant herb-infused sauces and hearty root vegetables, the kinds that pair well with shellfish. Makes sense, he supposes, given the abundance of crustaceans in the bay. 

There’s a booth selling fried crickets that he steers clear of. Even though he’s usually open to trying all sorts of new foods no matter how weird or gross, insects are the one thing he’d really rather not eat if he doesn’t have to. He suppresses a shudder, feeling the phantom sensation of things crawling over his neck, his cheeks, his eyes, cruel laughter echoing through the suffocating weight of a mask on his head. 

Abort. Abort. Think about something else.

He’s determinedly examining some regional mushrooms—and wondering if he could cook it in a way that even Usopp would like—when a disembodied mouth sprouts in front of him. Robin’s voice says, “Sanji, could you come over here? To your left.”

(continue on AO3)

[formerlycookierunauprompts]

Hi, hello! I have an actual request this time, I know a real shocker. Anyways since I’ve been exploring a cookie with a seriously degrading mental health with a side order of depression and anxiety, I was wondering if you could write shadow milk cookie after being released. He sees a cookie he recognizes a cookie within the group. Reader would be either a beast like them that didn’t get sealed or a long lived cookie race that doesn’t look all to good. From an outside perspective they probably only look a little tired but to shadow milk the difference between how they used to be and now is striking. Would he think them pathetic or would he be concerned? Maybe help in his own way, up to you. Hope you have fun with the prompt see you.

so i may have gotten a bit too silly and wrote for GBC instead of the reader. yeah :P but anyways i hope you still enjoy!

(post writing comment : i think I may have accidentally strayed a bit from the prompt.)

Requested Prompts #35 - 💔

Their efforts hadn't been enough. It had seemed at first like the crack in the tree had been sealed, only for it to burst open again in a vortex of blue disembodied eyes and shadows. Butterscotch Cookie, or rather Golden Butter Cookie as she knew herself as, could only watch on as the shadows spread out of the void alongside his laughter. It almost taunted her, really. Because of her cowardice she'd been afraid to seek out the truth of what had happened to him. It was only due to Rosemary's encouragement that she was able to leave the Toy-Box. " Aaaah! Doesn't this fresh air just feel... divine!" She heard his voice echo, bracing herself alongside the others for him to make his entrance. She was sure that he'd make his entrance grand and boisterous, but what she didn't expect was for more shadow to rush out. It skittered across her vision, blotting out the faerie kingdom and Goldie Butter's comrades, leaving her alone in the darkness. She steeled herself, instinctively putting a hand over her concealed soul jam as she summoned a spear to the other. " Oho? I see that we have an extra special member here in our audience today!" His voice chirped, she could just feel his excitement through his tone. Almost like a cat waiting to pounce. And pounce he did, with a hand made of shadow grabbing and wrapping around her torso she was pulled further into the darkness. She was soon face to face with him once again, Shadow Milk Cookie. It was only him and herself that appeared to be illuminated in the darkness, likely illuminated from the light of their soul jam. Even still, it didn't make seeing him any less difficult in the emotional sense. She could feel everything she felt over the past few thousands of years beginning to bubble up, it felt like she was going to start sobbing from both grief and anger. And yet, she stays silent, only staring up at him with a dulled, weak glare. How could she blame him for abandoning her when he got sealed by the witches? Of course, she didn't know exactly when but... " Wow. Goldie, starlight, you look... terrible." He almost seems surprised, heck, maybe he even is. The hand sets her down unto the shadowy ground, it feels like it's made of solid liquid... Don't ask how that feels but it's similar to jelly I suppose. She brushes herself off, looking back up at him. " Anyone would after getting abandoned with no answers to their questions for thousands of years." She can see him recoil with a wince at her harsh words, making it rather clear that he feels remorse for at least this. He laid on his stomach, at least trying to get on her eye level. " Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to leave you like that." He apologized, Golden Butter scanned his face for any signs of deception... Even though she knew that there was likely none. " I didn't mean to go and get sealed, the witches took us by surprise!" He excused himself. " I heard." She began. " ... You should have known that they'd come for you all eventually." " I thought that they'd do it one by one!" He exclaimed. " I thought that, with all of us together... minus you of course I know you didn't want to drag yourself into our mess, that we could beat them!" Golden Butter waited for the 'but' that was soon to come. " But..." And there it was. " But you weren't, were you now?" She asked, tilting her head to the side a bit. He visibly deflated. " Nope, not at all." He sighed, resting his head in his arms. There was a beat of silence before that wild grin of his made it's way back into his face. " But now, we can make up for lost time!" He cheered, getting up onto his feet and grabbing Golden Butter Cookie from the shadow hand with a spin.

Soon, the spinning stopped. Leaving her a bit disoriented and grasping at Shadow Milk's hands to stabilize herself. " Oh I'm just so so so so so excited to finally get to talk with you again! I missed you so much Goldie!" He exclaimed, Golden Butter thought for a moment that if he wasn't holding her then he'd be bouncing on his feet. But then, another thought came to mind. " Shadow Milk Cookie," She began, her voice once again stern. " If I'm here... then what's going on with my frie-" She catches herself, " The other cookies I was with." " Oh, them. Well they wanted a fight sooooo.... I just gave them one of my puppets to play with! They aren't important anyways, what's important is you and me!" He chirped, he looked extremely excited... And Golden Butter doubted that she could get out of this easily... plus, she had also missed him.

[sombersummerskies]

A Sage's Regret: Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Sky

Word Count: 4438

CW: None

Want all the chapters? -> Masterlist

~~~ <> ~~~

Drip. Drip. Drip.

You stare at the cold stone floor you were sat on as you attempt to get a hold of your surroundings.

A new place. The room you had awoken in felt ancient. Large roots had burrowed their way through the ground and walls, small twigs and plants peeking out in the cracks of the floor. The air was chilly, and it didn’t help that you were only dressed in undergarments and rags. A quick glance around the room tells you that there is only one exit, a doorway on the wall ahead of you which has overgrown vines hanging in front of it.

A new voice. Something, or you suppose someone, disembodied had spoken to you. Whoever it was, they had known your name, speaking to you once you woke up. They even mentioned Zelda, which had caused your ears to perk up. They explained that despite the severity of your wounds, you were able to escape with your life. However, part of your body had been so critically damaged that it had to be replaced.

A new arm. It was an immediate shock when you woke up, your body immediately recoiling from the unfamiliar sensation. Your right arm was changed, from the fingertips up to the span of your shoulder. It was charcoal in color, a thin layer of fur that felt somewhat rough when you touched it. Rather than fingernails your right hand now had something a little more akin to pointed claws. Along with the arm came a series of banded jewelry that wrapped around your arm and small rings on each of your fingers.

You told yourself it was better than having to get an amputation. Just remembering the feeling of the gloom creeping up along your side sent chills through your body. But the feeling of a replaced limb was odd and jarring. You slowly moved each finger, examining them, as if your brain was trying to rewire itself to the new ligaments, joints, and nerves.

You knew that you were upset. But you couldn’t waste time by trying to figure out your new limb. You had to figure out where you were, and most importantly, you needed to figure out what had happened to Zelda.

It is only when you stand and face the room’s exit that something shimmers, catching your eye.

Slowly you walk toward the object. It’s something metal and reflective that has been embedded into one of the roots. The end of it is blue, like the hilt of a sword, and-

A shuddering gasp racks through your throat, and you clap your hand over your mouth (though you recoil at the odd texture of the fur).

The Master Sword.

Your hand trembles as you reach out to grasp it. Your right hand, still foreign to you, wraps around the hilt and you gently pull it out of the root. While the sword’s handle seems mostly intact, it is the blade that has suffered the most from the gloom attack. The majority of the sword’s length has been shattered, and what remains is rusted and decayed. With your left hand, you trace your fingers over the emblem of the Triforce, the symbol of the goddesses, which has luckily been left untouched.

A tear rolls down your cheek. Then a second. You sob as you cradle the sword in your hands. Your life’s purpose had been destroyed, and you were not sure if there was anything you could do to fix it.

“Maybe- maybe if I speak to the Deku Tree,” you whisper as you cry, “or- or I could visit the goddess statues in the springs-”

If Zelda were here she could tell you what to do. Surely there would be something in her studies, something in the literature of the castle which could help. But she wasn’t here. You had lost her.

She was gone.

Zelda had fallen into the cavern beneath the castle. Or at least you think she did, but as she was falling she was covered in a golden glow. But the fall had been caused by that mysterious mummy lifting the rock.

The mummy…

You had no idea what or who he was. You knew not of his goals or intentions. You were not even sure how long he had been below the castle, trapped beneath layers of dark tunnels and stone and earth.

One thing was for certain. All of this was his fault. The gloom, the sickness, your arm, your sword, your best friend. It was all his doing.

The longing sadness in your heart quickly morphed into something else. Your eyes narrowed as you stood up straight, wiping the tears from your face. You stretched out your right arm, feeling the weight of the damaged sword. You could feel your heart begin to pump in your chest as your nerves flared, a fiery new emotion running through your body, energizing every limb.

Anger.

No, it was so much more than anger. You felt rage. You felt wrath. Most importantly, you sought revenge. Revenge against this mysterious man who had taken everything from you.

You move through the strange building with purpose. As you attempt to find an exit you come across sculptures with runic text inscribed on them, almost identical to the ruins you’d found beneath the castle. Zonai ruins. You discover an odd piece of ancient technology that reacts to your new right arm. When you hold your palm up to the platform it activates a set of cogs that open a new doorway for you.

Eventually, after a short hike, swim, and climb (where you notice you feel significantly weaker than before, a side effect of being attacked by gloom), you find your way out. Sunlight greets you at the end of a long tunnel and it almost brings a smile to your face. Your feet carry you to the end.

You were not sure how long you had been asleep for, but based on the soreness of your muscles when you awoke it must have been an entire day at the very least. You couldn’t wait to stand in the sun again, tired of being stuck in caves and caverns. Your body sought the fresh air, you wanted to stand in the fields of Hyrule and take in a deep breathe, stretch out your arms, and-

At the end of the hallway, you skid to a halt. Your wide eyes scan your surroundings, unable to believe what you are seeing. The wind blew past you, chilling your skin and making you shake as you looked down-

You were in the sky.

Thousands of feet above the ground, standing on the edge of a skinny little platform that somehow, miraculously, was floating. It took everything in you to remain calm and not start hyperventilating or panicking. Though there was a thick layer of clouds preventing you from seeing the land below, there were a few sites you could recognize. The peak of Death Mountain, the range of Hebra Mountain, and the span of the Gerudo Desert.

This wasn’t the only island in the sky either. As you spun around there were a plethora of other floating archipelagos scattered across Hyrule. All of them are odd shapes and various sizes.

‘Where did all of this come from? How long was I asleep?’

…

Two weeks.

It had now been two weeks since the Upheaval. Zora’s Domain had been in disarray since, and this disaster with the endless sludge rain had only made matters worse. Not only had all the rivers and waterways become infected, but on the first day the sludge appeared a monster had come with it. King Dorephan himself fought the beast off but had become grievously injured.

With the king unable to rule as he healed, it was Prince Sidon who had to take the lead. The prince had been working tirelessly ever since to ensure his people were fed and safe. The primary problem they faced is that the sludge seemed to be toxic to Zora, meaning the infected waterways were inaccessible to them. An infection of the scales could easily be healed by the nurses in the palace, but if the sludge was stuck in someone’s gills or ingested it could lead to permanent injuries- or worse.

After securing a reliable food source the next step was to find a solution for cleaning the water. Many things had been attempted, from using netting to pouring elixirs into the water, but nothing had been successful. That was until Prince Sidon recalled an ability that he had recently discovered he possessed.

Water manipulation. Like his sister and his mother before him, Sidon had the ability to will flowing water to follow his commands. He could direct it, shape it, and even use it as a shield or to enhance the strength of his weapon. Where Mipha had used this skill for acts of healing, the prince would be using it to clean the infected water.

With his ability to manipulate the liquid, he was able to pull the clean water out of the sludge and separate the two. Thus, after thorough planning and discussion, it was decided the prince would be stationed at the top of Ploymus Mountain. This mountain contained the water source from which the vast majority of waterways in the domain flowed. The recently constructed Mipha Court was atop the mountain as well, a beautifully carved fountain named after the prince’s beloved sister.

The plan had been a success thus far. With Sidon working diligently atop the mountain, the water that flowed between the peak and down into the palace’s lake below was clean and safe for Zora to traverse through. With the water being cleansed, nurses could focus on healing the affected citizens as the guards and council worked to find a solution to the overall problem.

Unfortunately, there was a negative side effect to all of this. Prince Sidon was exhausted. He had not had a full night’s rest ever since the sludge had begun to fall. The only rest he allowed himself was in incredibly short bursts, perhaps an hour at most before he would immediately return to his task. Along with the lack of his sleep, he was barely eating, deciding it more important to continue cleansing the water.

The symptoms of the strain he was putting his body through were obvious. He would frequently feel hunger pains, lose his balance, and feel faint. His arms were sore from having to constantly hold them out to manipulate the water. He had no doubt that visibly he must have looked exhausted as well.

In his mind, he was sure that this would all be worth it. This was his duty, his responsibility, by birth he was sworn to this. He could not ask anyone else to perform this task, it would fill him with too much guilt. Lady Yona had already offered multiple times to assist in cleansing the waters. He had told her no as well, even after quite a bit of insistence on her part.

His father was sick, and according to Muzu, he was making no progress in healing. His darli- the Hylian knight was missing, and even after two weeks there were no advancements in the search for her. At this point, if anyone else he knew were put in harm's way or lost to him he feared the pain it would cause in his heart.

“Prince Sidon!” a voice calls out.

Sidon jolts, pulled away from his thoughts. It was midday, judging by the sun’s position in the sky, and for the first time in what felt like hours, he moved his gaze away from the infested water he had been cleansing. He tilts his head and glances back, greeted by a familiar face.

“Bazz,” the prince greets him, though his voice is slightly hoarse, “my friend, how are you? Have you any news?”

“I’m well, although I should be the one asking you that question,” the captain retorts, “you look… tired. Have you eaten today?”

The prince shakes his head, “no, I’m far too focused on my task. Besides, I fear if I do attempt to eat I will not be able to stomach it.”

“I thought as much,” Bazz responds, “which is why I brought you this.”

The grey Zora holds a hand out toward the prince. When Sidon looks down he realizes that Bazz holds a bottle, the liquid that swirls within it is a deep magenta hue. A hearty elixir.

“Thank you, but I must focus on-”

Bazz quickly interrupts, “no one will be upset if you stop for just a moment. Please, prince. You’re going to harm yourself if you continue at this pace.”

Sidon hesitates, his gaze returning to the water he stood in. He had his duty, but even he knew his limits. His body was pleading with him, showing all the signs of depleted energy. With a sigh he lowers his hands, the blue glow in his palms fading away.

He takes the bottle and uncorks it. For just a moment he observes the drink, watching it swirl and shimmer in the sunlight. Then he tilts his head back and greedily drinks the whole of it, while it may not have tasted stellar it went down his throat with ease. Almost immediately he could feel the effects of the medicine, the soreness of the muscles in his arms dissipated and the cloudiness of his fatigued mind cleared up.

As Bazz takes the bottle back he says, “sit, for just a minute, I can’t imagine how long you’ve been standing here.”

The prince accepts the invitation, though it’s not as if he needs permission to do so- just some gentle persuasion. Even better than sitting, he chooses to lay down in the fountain. The cool, clean water washes over him, refreshing his scales and soothing his nerves. He takes a moment to breathe in deeply, eyes looking up at all of the mysterious floating islands in the sky.

“Now,” Sidon says, glancing toward the captain, “is there any news?”

Bazz nods, “some Zora who feel unsafe within the domain have been attempting to find passageways to go west of the Lanaryu region. They hope to seek refuge in Lookout Landing if the conditions there are faring better than ours here. However, the rivers have sludge-infested water, and many of the land roads are blocked off as well. This means some have chosen to go north, using the waterfalls to travel to Akkala.”

Sidon mulls over this, “it is sad to know our citizens are choosing to leave, but, if there are safer places to shelter elsewhere I do not blame them for choosing to do so. Hopefully, once we have this disaster solved, they can all return home. How about my father, how is he faring?”

The captain grimaces, “not well, based on the brief conversation I had with Muzu.”

“I see,” the prince replies with a frown, “I can only hope our healers find a solution to this sludge poison soon. And…”

His voice trails off. He knows what he wants to ask, but he fears the answer he will be told.

“Prince…?” Bazz replies expectantly.

“Princess Zelda and her knight,” Sidon continues, a tinge of hopefulness in his words, “is there any news of them? Any word from Purah in the landing?”

A small glance downward from Bazz is the only sign Sidon needs to know. “... there’s nothing, is there?” the prince sighs, voice faltering, “I am not sure how many more times I can handle being told that.”

The prince feels a hand on his shoulder, an attempt from his friend to comfort him.

“Do you think… do you think I’ve made the wrong choice, Bazz?” he asks, staring down at his hands.

“If I can be frank, I really don’t think you made the choice at all,” the captain responds, “from the outside looking in, it very much felt forced upon you.”

“But in the end, it was still my decision… I said yes to the engagement. And it has pushed _____ away from me. Perhaps if I hadn’t said yes, perhaps if I had been with her then she wouldn’t have-”

Bazz quickly cuts him off, “you cannot possibly be blaming yourself for her disappearance. No one knows what has caused them to go missing. Don’t be so absurd-”

“I know it’s not true-” the prince groans, “I know this- and yet my heart aches so painfully as if it were my doing. As if this were my fault. All I can do until she is found is pray that wherever she is, she is safe.”

“I am sure she is,” Bazz replies, “she’s a capable fighter. Whatever is happening, she’s likely the most well-equipped in the whole kingdom to handle it.”

Sidon sighs, standing up and putting his arms out once more. Effortlessly he is able to bring the blue glow back to his palms, the water before him reacting to his power. It was time to return to his duties.

“I truly hope so,” he whispers to himself, “with all I have, I hope she is safe.”

…

‘I really hope this works.’

You stare up at the doors before you. Tall, wide, with dragons carved into them. Carvings you had become all too familiar with during your three days on the Great Sky Island. You had attempted to open the doors before, but you lacked the strength. The encounter with the mummy and the gloom had weakened you significantly more than you thought.

The Great Sky Island had been an enigma to you. A giant mass of land floating high in the sky above Hyrule. You were joined by the spirit of Rauru, who identified himself as the source of your new right arm. He had saved you after the attack beneath Hyrule Castle. Rauru, you quickly realized, was a Zonai, bearing an uncanny resemblance to the statues you and Zelda had come across.

You’d spent your time roaming the land and fulfilling new shrines. They reminded you of the Sheikah Shrines, but Rauru explained that these were far older. It was likely that the Zonai from ages ago had inspired the technology of the Sheikah.

Completing four of these shrines had given you four new abilities, which you had to use your new arm to access. Ultrahand, which allowed you a telekinetic ability to lift and move objects into the air, as well as bind them together. Fuse, which allowed you to attach a wide variety of objects to your weapons, shields, and even arrow tips. Ascend, which gave you the rather freaky ability to jump up and push your body through solid objects so long as there was a flat platform for you to stand on at the very top. And finally, Recall, which allows you to target an object and send it back in time.

Recall was the oddest ability. You had not received in a shrine, but rather, at the Temple of Time. In the temple, you were met by a shimmering vision of Princess Zelda. You had run toward her excitedly, only to realize it was a mere mirage. But the vision had held its hand out and bestowed this time ability upon you.

You had also spent your time being educated by Rauru on various matters of the Zonai. He introduced you to constructs, ancient robotic creatures crafted by the Zonai to fulfill various tasks. The constructs taught you about your new battery cells, which would allow you access to Zonai Devices. There were many times during your journey across the floating islands that you would find Rauru lost in thought, and contemplating. Though you weren’t sure exactly who he was, it was clear he seemed to harbor regret in his heart. Many of his words seemed to mourn the loss of his people and civilization.

Now here you were, in front of a set of doors that acted as a barrier to the outside world. You had prayed to the goddess statue after completing the four shrines, and it felt as if a weight was lifted off of your shoulders when you had. Rauru had told you that with every Shrine of Light you completed, it would help you combat the gloom that your body had been tarnished by.

You take in a deep breath before you press your palms to the door and shove. Your right arm begins to glow a bright green, and this same light begins to flow through the runes on the door. Though it saps your strength you continue to push harder, heart pounding as you watch the light swirl and rise up through the dragon carving.

Just when you think you’ve reached your limit, there’s an audible click. You press forward, your feet carrying you as the doors finally begin to move as well. Dust and debris fall from the ceiling, signifying how much time has passed since this entryway was last used. You’re greeted by the beginning of today’s sunrise, thin wisps of an orange glow starting to appear on the horizon.

You feel a presence and glance to the side, unsurprised when you see the figure of Rauru’s spirit standing alongside you once more.

“Ah, good,” he smiles, nodding his head at you, “I see you have managed to open the door. You haven’t fully recovered yet, but that’s to be expected- you were almost beyond saving… by visiting the shrines and receiving their blessing, you have mitigated some of the corruption’s effects”

You glance down at your right arm. When you look up at Rauru, even in the form of a spirit his arm is a ghostly match to your own. You were able to put two and two together and realize that he was what was keeping the mummified man trapped deep below the castle. It gives you pause, wondering just what exactly this man must have sacrificed for powers such as these.

When you look back up you find that he gazes down at you with a gentle smile, “though our time together has been brief, I am so happy that we finally met… you are exactly as Zelda said. I’ve done everything I can for her. Now it is up to you.”

There are so many questions you have for him, so much you need to know. How could he possibly have known Zelda? He speaks of her with a fondness that only close familiarity could bring. How was she able to tell him about you? How had he given you his arm? Who was the being beneath the castle?

Just as you open your mouth to speak, he says one final thing to you.

“Brave Hylian,” he says, looking toward the rising sun, “I have no doubts in you. But I notice that your heart and soul are filled with rage. While I do not blame you for this, please take one final word of advice from me.”

His spirit is fading quickly, and you panic as you reach a hand out towards him.

“Do not act on your own, no matter how angry you become, no matter how greatly you seek revenge against your foe,” he says. Though he is calm, you pick up on the seriousness of his tone, “you have allies, you must seek out their aid. Look to your friends. You are not alone, _____.”

He fades away far too quickly, you barely even have the chance to utter a goodbye. You breathe in deeply, eyes stuck staring at the spot where the Zonai spirit had once stood. With the back of your palm, you wipe your cheeks before turning your attention back to the road before you.

It’s a floating pathway, though the stone is cracked and broken and uneven. You traverse it carefully, fearing the worst should you fall right off the edge. With no paraglider, you have had to be extremely careful with the heights you jump from. As you hop up and ascend through a rocky platform, you notice a glowing light at the end of the path.

You jog towards it, curious to examine it. There’s a lifted pedestal in the center of what looks like was once a pavilion. Atop the pedestal is a glowing, golden orb of light. Just as you bring your hand closer, a rune on the back of your palm begins to glow. Recall.

The golden light grows brighter and at the same time, there’s a ringing in your ear. You gasp. The Master Sword was responding, for the first time since you’d awoken. You quickly grasp the hilt and look, and though the blade is damaged it still attempts to shimmer with blue light.

When you hold up the sword it gently hums, as though it’s reacted to the golden orb. As if it’s trying to tell you something.

“You want… to go into the light?” you ask, cradling it gently.

The blue light of the sword, though dim, attempts to flash brighter.

Cautiously you hold out the sword. The golden orb takes it, and you watch with wide eyes as the Master Sword is lifted into the air. There’s a click, the sound of Recall being activated, and in an instant, the glow disappears.

Along with the Master Sword.

You choke, reaching out, but all you grasp is empty air. It had taken your sword from you. You quickly calm yourself down, the golden glow didn’t seem malevolent, and your sword had responded positively to its presence.

This must have been a good thing. Surely. Though it pained you to be without your trusted blade, you had to convince yourself it was what was for the best.

The ground beneath your feet rumbles, and just for a moment you recall how it had felt beneath the castle. When the ground shook and forced you and the princess apart. Luckily nothing nearly as drastic happens here, as you quickly realize the source of the sound.

A dragon bursts through the layer of cloud, a piercing roar leaving its mouth as it flies higher into the sky. You recognize the dragon, though it’s not one of the three which you’ve seen from the ground. This one had been flying around the Great Sky Island for the last few days.

At first, you thought it might’ve been Farosh, the protector of the Spring of Courage. But you soon realized this wasn’t the case. This dragon had a beautiful, golden mane of hair that flowed along its head and back. Along its spine were a series of turquoise crystal-like spikes, which reminded you somewhat of luminous stones.

“Gorgeous,” you murmured, watching in amazement as it soared higher and higher.

Beneath you the thick cloud cover dissipates, finally granting you access to see the land below. A relieved sigh escapes you once your gaze lands on Lookout Landing. At the same time, you’re unable to stop your eyes as they flick toward the East in search of Zora’s Domain.

Due to the distance, it’s far too hazy to make out the details. But there’s a pounding in your heart when your eyes settle on the Lanaryu region, gaze trailing over the shape of Ploymus Mountain and the surrounding highlands.

You force yourself to tear your eyes away. Looking directly below the platform you stood, thousands of feet below was a large lake. Large enough to catch your fall with no problem. You’d jumped from great heights before, but nothing this daunting. You take a step back and breathe in, soothing your nerves.

“I need to find Zelda,” you say to yourself, “this is the first step.”

You count the beat of your heart. One, then two, then three. There was no time like the present.

You leap over the edge.

~~~ <> ~~~

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

[moralesmilesanhour]

I saw your requests were open! I've seen in some concept art that Miles is trying out watercolor, can you (when you have the time and if you want to, ofc) please write a reader (Gn or fem) who is really good at watercolor and is a artist and teaches him? Either romantic or platonic work :D thank you, I love your work so much!!!

omg wait I used to do watercolor I still have the paints at home...hold my beer (I went with platonic)

Miles sucked his teeth as the pinks, blues, and green he had just put down ran together and formed a puddle in the middle of the paper.

No matter how many YouTube videos he sped through, he couldn't seem to grasp how the disembodied hand on his screen could lay down all that color (without the paper shriveling up like a raisin) and manage to sculpt it into something...comprehensible.

Just then, he remembered the scanned painting you had sent him the other day. It was a vibrant forest, dotted with bright neon flowers and birds dozing off in high branches. He couldn't for the life of him figure out how you managed to capture beams of sunlight in your heavy sketchbook and needed to learn your secrets, so he'd borrowed some leftover paints.

Miles had already mastered sketching, and knew his way around a box of markers. He could even command a messy can of spray paint. What's a bit of watery paint?

...A lot, it turns out. At any rate, he knew just who to call.

After a few beeps, your face appeared onscreen.

You were still in bed, surrounded by an army of stuffed animals with a sleeping mask pushed up to your forehead. Miles made a 'tsk' sound. It was two o'clock in the afternoon.

"Rise and shine, bestie!" he announced loudly into his phone speaker.

"What do you want?" you grumbled, rubbing your eyes.

"This watercolor shit is blowing my mind right now, and I need your expertise. Look!"

Miles flipped the camera to show you the blob of what was now a bright indigo pooled in the middle of his would-be masterpiece.

You squinted. "Jesus. Is that in your regular sketchbook, where you do the markers and shit?"

"Yup."

"Well, there's your first problem. You're using the wrong kinda paper."

"So that's why no one in those videos fucks it up? Noted,"

He reversed the camera again.

"What about the colors? Mine keep running together when I don't want 'em to."

This made you laugh, imagining Miles slapping a ton of different colors on top of a sketch like a child learning to paint in kindergarten for the first time, thinking that he knew what he was doing. He was never the patient type, preferring fast and loose marks with sharp edges. No piece of his was ever allowed an "ugly stage"; it either worked immediately or it would end up crumpled into a ball in the trash.

Oh boy, was he was gonna learn today.

You could see Miles pouting through the camera.

"What's so funny?"

"Miles," you snorted, "did you let the first layer dry before adding more colors?"

His eyes widened in realization, triggering more peals of laughter.

"I just wet the whole page, then started coloring! How was I supposed to know?"

"It's water, dumbass! It's not like your lil' Copic markers--"

"Prismacolor--"

"Whatever. Anyways, gimme fifteen minutes, I'm coming over to save you before you flood your entire room."

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 5/5

Book Blurb:

A man, a woman, a disembodied skull… What could go wrong this holiday season? Everything.

Traipsing through the woods, searching for a century-old skull is just another day at the office for forensics professor, Dr. Chris Carter. But this call couldn't have come at a worse time.

He’s recently been jilted by his long-term crush. It's days away from Christmas and he's spending the holidays alone. It's bone-chillingly cold, he really needs that third cup of coffee, and there’s nothing remotely interesting about this cut-and-dried case.

Until his colleague’s new assistant bounces onto the crime scene.

Daphne McKinnon is bubbly and gorgeous, with a keen intelligence and an eye for detail that makes her an excellent anthropologist. Their eyes linger too long inside the caution-taped perimeter. Her smile stretches wide as his thumb accidentally brushes hers over a dirt-encrusted orbital bone.

It’s more than flirtation. It’s magic.

When Chris and Daphne agree to transport the remains across the state to his lab, their spark ignites. Something about this woman turns the snobby, uptight, millionaire academic into a protective, feral... Daddy... who can't say no to her. Especially not when she’s urging him to right the wrongs of Christmases past, heal their childhood wounds, and make their own new, movie-worthy holiday traditions along the way.

But while they’re making merry, every stop on their Christmas Eve road trip turns into one disaster after another, until one giant peppermint hot cocoa bomb threatens to blow their cozy new world apart, almost as soon as it began.They've already started planning their lives together, but their relationship might not even survive the remains of Christmas.

The Remains of Christmasis an age-gap, (lightly) forbidden romance featuring an angsty-sweet, cinnamon roll anti-billionaire daddy professor, and a brilliant grad student heroine with a blue-collar background.

If you're looking for a Christmas romance that'll warm your heart with comfort & joy and give you the happily ever after of your dreams, but is also thought-provoking, drily funny, and intensely sexy–with only the tiniest hint of the macabre–this book is for you!

Review:

He's a forensic professor tasked with dropping a skull off, she's an anthropologist who's going on this Christmas road trip with him... but when truths spill out, can their romance survive this trip? Dr. Chris Carter is a brilliant forensic professor and an a billionaire. It's Christmas an he's suppose to drop off an ancient skull at a new lab... and he can't think of a worst way to spend the holidays than dealing with his feelings after being jilted by a long time crush and being alone in a car... until he meets Daphne McKinnon, a beautiful and intelligent anthropologist at the crime scene. Daphne and Chris instantly hit it off and she goes with him on his road trip, because what better way to spend the holidays than with a hot single person who just gets you. Yet the more time they spend together the more the harder they fall... the only problem is that their relationship might survive the trip when certain truths come out. Can they find a way to make it work or were they meant to be a holiday fling? This was SUCH A FUN READ. I loved it, it's got forensics, it's got name dropping Fast and Furious, and it's HOT. I loved the relationship between Chris and Daphne, they had great chemistry and definitely hit it off so well. This is such a great holiday read and one I'd absolutely recommend you add to your TBR this holiday season~!

Release Date: November 5,2024

Publication/Blog: Ash and Books (ash-and-books.tumblr.com)

*Thanks Luna Literary for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[nescaveckwriter]

Hurting Angel - Chapter One 🥰

Crowley x reader (also known as Bri)

Chapter One 🐞

A/N: Hey my bugsies, so this was requested by a beautiful anonymous bugsie, I sure do hope y'all are going to enjoy this series...🥰💓

Side Note: Let me know what y'all think, also thank you all for the support - also all my stories can be found on watpad aswell.🥹🤭

Warnings: Blood, thriller, horror, sarcasm, mentioning of guns, if there's anything else, let me know... Much love "Nesca" 🐞

Go on a blind date they said, it'll be fun they said. You need to get out more Bri, they said. " Remind me again why I agreed to download the stupid dating app, signing up for it in the first place was crazy, damn freaking nuts. "

Stirring the drink at the bar, not really feeling like drinking, but hey its a bar, its what your supposed to do right!

The bartender basically screaming over the loud music, 'you okay miss?'

"Yeah of course never been better, love getting stood up," her lips pursed

The barman didn't quite know how to answer that, so he just walked further down to the other end.

Irritated about the fact you got stood up and that it bothers you a tiny bit, you pull out your phone, texting the babysitter, asking if everything is still alright, with Lainey.

The text came through, "Little Lainey is watching my little pony and she already had her dinner, enjoy yourself a bit darling" Mrs Anderson is the only person she trusts with Lainey.  Biting her lip, maybe I should stay a little longer, just enjoy myself for awhile, unwind, the story about the biggest crime syndicate is really taking over my damn life, I'm this close, mimicking with her index finger and thumb, to uncovering the face behind the leader, his code name "The Devil" a crooked smile on her lips, its such a stupid nickname, like are the people supposed to be immediate, well like yeah, here comes the little red man, with his pointy tail and ears, with his little pitch fork, all I know for sure is his name is Crowley, and he goes by the devil, as for how he looks, I'll find that out very soon, well as soon as my source comes through anyway.

''Drinking alone and looking as beautiful as you, is just a crime'' the silvery voice says, breaking her out of her deep thoughts. Turning her head to the barstool next to hers. ''Oh really? last time I checked there's a lot worse crimes in this world'', sounding a little more snarky than she intended. The man with his neatly combed over blonde hair and blue eyes laughs, ''not in the mood for company?'' 

''In all honesty, not if your going to tell me cheesy pick up lines all night'' she sighed.

''Your safe, I promise, that was my last, you have my word'' he laughed

''Okay good! Then your more than welcome to join me,'' sounding inviting

The man, asks for the bartender to give them two more, of whatever she's having. After getting your drinks, the two of you talked, not really exchanging names, merely about how noisy it is, and the fact that, they both got stood up. Still laughing and having fun, some guy bumps into your chair, letting your handbag fall to the ground. ''Hey! Look where you going buddy'' she warned. The guy just gestures a sorry and keeps on stumbling further. 

''This place is getting to crowded, I'm going to head home, as soon as I finish the last few sips'', she expressed

''Leave now? We are just getting to know each other'', his silvery voice, sounded so smooth.

''Biting her lip, yes thank you for the nice chat'' getting up, to only fall back again, holding her head in her hand, "oh wow, how is it possible that I feel so lightheaded, I had two drinks," everything is spinning, my body feels so numb, so outside of myself. Fumbling through her handbag, trying to take her phone. Hearing the bartender say something, the man next to her, sounded so disembodied when he answered, looks like she had a bit to much to drink, I'll take her home, taking ahold of her arm, let's get you home!

Something is wrong, has she been drugged? Trying to get her arms to function to push him away, so that she can get out of his grip, but her body feels weak, her muscles is losing all functionality, as for her eyelids it feels as heavy as stone, she whispers a shaky "no" before everything goes. dark.

Her eyes starting to slightly open, "w..what happened", she mumble's. Glancing over the room, to see if she recognises anything, her view is hazy "where's the man that took her" hearing the dripping sound of water, "it's freezing" breathing heavily, excruciating pain shuttering throughout her body, feeling still slightly numb, tracing her fingers over her abdomen area, her hands trembling when she feels a long incision, and the thread of a wound being closed up, unknowingly tugs at the pointy strand, "what the hell" she gasped.

Forcing herself to see more clearly, glancing down, shaking uncontrollable, her eyes widening, her body is laying in a bathtub covered with ice, some crystal clear, others stained with red, most likely from the blood, still seeping through her left side. "My side its sliced open" she yelled, as if she only realized that what she felt previously was her own body.

Searching across the bathroom, for anything other than the dripping sound and the shaking of her own body, she grabs ahold of the bathtub, her fingers a discoloration of blueish-white, forcing her body over the edge, plumping to the ground, "dammit" she exclaims. Dragging herself across the floor, moaning and whimpering in pain.

Opening the wooden door slowly to peek through, to see if anyone is stil there keeping watch, sighing in relief, "the coast is clear. " Crawling to the edge of the bed, trying to get up, still shaking and weak, she forces herself up, rolling over, taking in a deep breath, her heart is beating rapidly, her throat dry, her voice sounding hoarse. "I need to get to a phone, hospital something"

Grabbing a blanket to wrap up her shaking body, that's only covered in a black sports bra and her black shorts, making her way to a shaky stance. Holding onto whatever she can find as she stumbles out of the room. The bright streetlights making her eyes burn, glaring down the stairs," really the least they could do is butcher me on ground level" irritation in her painstaking voice.

Dragging one foot across the other, down the steel staircase. Searching the parking lot for a vehicle or help of some sort. There in the corner, an old chevy Camaro, "almost there" she sighs.

Pulling the door, praying it isn't locked, "yes, its open" a half smile forming on her tired face. Hoping the keys are still inside, she gets in. "Dammit, no keys, why would it be easy, nothing is every easy" her voice low and weak.

Pulling the ignition with every last bit of strength she has, "need something to strip the plastic covered wires" peeking through the car, in the window hangs a beer opener, reaching for it, taking it to the wires, pulling it across the starter wire, striping the plastic about 1'3 inches back, then doing the same with the battery wire, touching the two ends together, something she learned when she was a teenager, "Come on baby, come, there you go, that's a girl" she whined.

Throwing it in drive, and stepping on the gas, she drives off, leaving a man in her rear view window chasing after her.

Looking at the street signs, trying to read it, but its all a blur, turning down the first left she can find, looks like a residential area, "maybe I can get some help here" she utters desperately.

Feeling the blood rolling down her side onto her thighs, her breathing more shallow and her eyes heavy, knowing she needs help quick! Real quick! Making her foot heavy on the gas, not taking the turn in consideration, she crashes into a wall,  making her head jolt to the steering wheel, glancing over the shattered windscreen, at two men with weapons, running towards her, she looses consciousness.

Chapter Two Here 🐞

[meat-pvppet]

MAGNA ENTERS, STAGE LEFT

AKA. the day Magna put on a headset and got isekaid

Darkness.

. . . No . . . not darkness . . .

Just a sort of . . .

Nothing.

And then suddenly . . .

Music.

Color.

Bright f@#!ing color everywhere.

He squinted as his eyes adjusted. He looked around to the technicolor world he's found himself in. He was . . . on a stage? In what looks to be a circus tent filled with various upscaled children’s toys and a massive primary-colored . . . pipe slide?

A huge eyeball flies past him, followed by a tea set which causes him to stumble backwards from how quickly they all go past. They all join some other flying objects in a weird sort of discordant dance as they seemed to pack themselves away. And there were . . . weird looking characters talking amongst themselves.

He noticed there were two chess pieces with eyes and floating disembodied hands in robes, one a white king while the other a black queen. There was also a walking, talking ragdoll, with short red hair and a bright blue dress. Standing by the doll was a tall and lanky purple hare grinning widely with yellow eyes and teeth, wearing pink overalls and yellow gloves. There was even a clown, complete with red lipstick and blue eye make-up, wearing a yellow hat with red and blue accents with a matching outfit.

It was all . . . weirdly fun looking, but he was too wrapped up in his own confusion of what he was watching.

What was going on? He just put on that headset and now . . .

Headset. Right. He could just take it off, regain his composure, then come back, couldn't he?

He started to paw at the sides of his head to find . . . nothing. Nothing but a very . . . wood texture where flesh and hair was supposed to be, a hat that he doesn't remember putting on . . . and the indentations of a second, third and fourth face on the sides of his head.

That made a shot of ice go down his spine.

He dared to look down at himself for a moment.

What he saw . . . wasn’t his body. He was wearing a nice yellow suit with red accents on its sleeves and tails, a blue vest and a red bow, but . . . his body itself looked like it was carved straight out of a tree; all wood grain, paint and varnish.

Only now could he notice the strings attached to his wrists and feet that disappeared high beyond the ceiling above him, held taut despite any movement he made upward to relieve its tension.

. . . Ok.

Ok.

Ok, ok, ok.

Freaky.

Really, really, REALLY freaky, but that's ok!

He's ok.

Maybe . . . maybe the headset is just really good at tricking him into thinking this was really all in front of him! And that he was some kind of wood puppet and had two other faces on the sides of his head! Yeah, that has to be it, otherwise . . .

Otherwise . . .

Suddenly, there was a voice from just above him that made him jump.

“My, my!” The voice started, sounding surprised, as he looked up to the source.

Looking back down at him were a floating pair of eyes between a set of teeth and gums. A top hat with a red ribbon sat on the top set of teeth. He sported a red tailcoat with black lapels and a bow tie to match.

Weird.

He pointed the cane he held to him to emphasize his words as he continued.

“It seems a new human has entered this realm!”

The eyes of all the varied characters were on him now. It gave him a weird sense of performance anxiety honestly, making him freeze up.

They all looked to him expectantly before someone chimed in.

“Really? Cuz he looks more like a badly painted NPC,” the purple rabbit quipped with a chuckle as he looked over him.

Confusion, a bit of self-consciousness over his paint job, and maybe a tinge of annoyance washed over him. He wasn't sure whether to laugh it off or argue that he was, in fact, a real person trapped in this bizarre, colorful world . . . if it even mattered to the rabbit. It probably didn’t.

“Jax, be nice,” the ragdoll scolded. “He’s probably going through a lot right now.”

“You could say that,” he murmured under his breath.

He addressed the floating set of eyes and teeth as he seemed to be the de facto . . . spokesperson(?) of the group, looking up to him.

“Hey uh . . . can you tell me what’s going on?”

He adjusted his top hat with a flourish before replying, “Well, my friend, you’ve found yourself in the AMAZING DIGITAL CIRCUS!”

He spun in the air, causing his body to twist cartoonishly, as he outstretched his arms dramatically as the text “THE AMAZING DIGITAL CIRCUS” appeared above him, then disappeared after a moment as he continued speaking, gesturing to each person as he introduced them.

“I’m Caine, your ringmaster, and your new friends,  Kinger, Queenie, Ragatha, Jax and Kaufmo! You’ve entered a world of WONDERS, where ANYTHING can happen!”

There was silence for a moment as Caine seemed to await his reaction. He hesitated before he spoke again.

“. . . Right. Cool. Uh . . . how is this . . . This is a pretty good simulation and all, but uh . . . is there, like . . . a menu I can open to exit? Or pause?”

This caused Caine to stammer for a moment, while the others looked among each other nervously, each muttering a “well . . .” or an “uh . . .” or some kind of variation.

“Well,” Caine began, trying to think of a way to put it. “There . . . isn’t a menu. Or a pause button per se . . .”

There was silence for a good moment . . . before Caine added, “. . . or an exit.”

. . .

“Excuse me?”

“Yep,” Jax added, stepping close to him and inspecting his strings for a moment, deciding to grab hold of it, using it to dangle around his hand like a child with a new toy. “We’ve been stuck here for a while now. We’d have all left by now if there was a way to leave.”

He couldn’t stop his expression from shifting to one of horror. Literally. He could feel his head physically spin around and then settle again. This seemed to entertain the purple rabbit.

“Woah, didn’t know it could do that!” He laughed in amusement at the discovery.

Meanwhile, an ice-cold anxious chill slowly spread out from his spine and around his back, making his limbs feel heavy as he grappled with the implications of this.

So . . . he was trapped here. With no way out. With other people who’ve tried and failed to leave.

He sunk down to a squat on the floor as he held his head.

Oh god. He was trapped here. With no way out.

"Now, now, no need to fret, my friend!” Caine spoke up once more, trying to reassure him as he flourished his cane, “While there's no menu or pause button, you can still enjoy the wonders of this world! We're all here together, and we've made the best of it, haven't we?”

He looked up to Caine and stared for a moment before sighing. He could feel his head spin again and settle as he resigned himself to this.

“Alright,” he muttered, “don’t have much of a choice anyway.”

“That’s the spirit!” Caine exclaimed happily as he clapped him on the back. “You’ll love it here, I promise! Now let’s talk about some other matters, like your name!”

Oh, right. He hasn’t told them his name yet.

“Oh, my name is . . .”

. . .

“My . . . name is . . .”

. . .

Wait.

What was his name? Why would he forget something like his name?

He began to panic as he tried to remember. He had to at least know his name, right?

Now that he thought about it . . . he wasn’t really sure if he could even remember what he was doing before he put on that headset . . . or anything in particular about his life before all this. As he searched his memories, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was a void where his past should be. It was like trying to grasp smoke – every time he thought he was getting close to a memory, it slipped away.

“What’s wrong, newbie? Can’t remember your own name?” Jax spoke up, a mocking grin spread across his face as he let go of his strings and crossed his arms.

Ok, this guy was kinda getting on his nerves, but he tried not to let that show. These sorts of people usually get more satisfaction out of it when they actually get a rise out of you after all.

"I... I don't know," he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. "It's like my memory is all fuzzy, and I can't remember much about who I am or what I was doing before I ended up here."

Ragatha stepped closer; her expression filled with empathy. "That's okay, newbie. We've all had our fair share of memory troubles here. It's one of the quirks of this place."

Caine nodded in agreement. "Indeed! The past tends to become a bit... hazy for newcomers.”

That’s just f@#%ing concerning . . .

“But don't worry; we can help you choose a new name!”

He quirked a brow at this as the others began to make suggestions.

"He looks like a Henry to me," Kinger suggested.

"Or maybe a Chris?” Queenie chimed in.

"Poppet?" Ragatha offered with a smile.

Kaufmo added, "How about Woody?"

Jax couldn't resist a quip, "Pinocchio?"

He couldn't help but roll his eyes at some of the suggestions. The situation was already surreal, and now he had his new circus companions trying to rename him. It felt like a small attempt to regain a sense of control in this unpredictable world.

“Alright, alright,” he said with a hint of exasperation as he racked his brain for a name. “How about . . . Magna?”

Jax couldn't resist taking another jab as he chuckled, "Magna? Seriously?"

“I think it’s fitting. ‘Magna the Magician’ . . . since . . . ya know.” He gestures to his outfit vaguely. It did look a lot like that of a performer, which would be good if this really was a circus. It kinda felt more like a freakshow, but whatever.

“Magna it is, then!” Caine chimed in.

And so, Magna it was.

He tried his best to accept his situation and the quirky bunch of companions he found himself with. It was hard to deny the bizarre charm of the place, even if it was disconcerting. He had no choice but to adapt and find some way to make the best of it . . . and of course, a way to get out of there.

Sure, he had people here, adventures, whole “feasts” with “friends”, but he had a life outside of this one, and he wasn’t about to give up on that. Not yet at least.

[hellcheer-heaven]

Hot for Tutor: Eddie's Lesson (NSFW)

Summary: Eddie needs a little help with his homework, but Chrissy is the one that ends up learning a thing or two about her boyfriend.

Chrissy was due to arrive in fifteen minutes to help him study for his science test.  Eddie was supposed to be home forty minutes ago to clean up his room and himself, but time had abandoned him.  Attempting to perfect Eddie Van Halen’s guitar in "Hot for Teacher" was clearly a bigger priority than plant cells.  Or was it animal cells? At this point all he could focus on was clearing his room of plates, candy wrappers, and take out bags.  Shit! The garbage was too full, why didn’t Wayne take it out? Or was it his turn to take it out? 

Gotta clean! Gotta fucking clean!

Okay, everything looked decent.  There were now two problems left: Munson was sweaty and… erect? Why? Why now?! If there was a god, clearly it was one that delighted in Eddie’s torture. 

“It’s okay Munson, just calm down, you can take care of this.”

“Eddie?” 

Fuck! No you can’t! 

A knock followed the disembodied voice, “Eddie, it’s me.  Could you open the door?”

“Be right there, Chrissy,” he stated with a slight crack in his tone. 

Wayne may have been a busy man, but he taught him the basics when it came to dating: Be punctual, be presentable, and never keep a lady waiting.  Well the best Eddie could do was change into something fresh, spritz on some cologne, and greet her with a smile.  But his fucking dick was clearly in charge right now!

“Come on, please, not now.  I gotta study!” He squeezed himself, “I’ll make it up to you I swear.”

If he could only see himself, hot and bothered and talking to his cock like it was a pet.  He’s had to quickly clean the house before, but he’s never experienced an erection afterwards. Was he nervous? Was he excited? Was he aroused? Did his mind drift to Chrissy the entire time? Oh Chrissy, wonderful Chrissy.  So loving, so gentle, so funny, and so patient.  Everything about her made him feel as if he was walking on air.  The way she laughed, the twinkle in her eyes, the excitement in her voice when she showed him her newest routine.  The way her skirt would hitch up to present her beautiful-

“No! Stop that!” Eddie shouted, smacking his blushing face.

He took a deep breath and made his way to the door, nothing but all smiles when they saw each other. 

“Greetings weary traveler,” he stated in an English accent. 

Chrissy’s arms went flying, embracing him in a tight squeeze, her voice emitting a little squeal, “Hi Eddie!”

Abandon all hope Edward Munson, there’s no way that she didn’t feel it.  She nuzzled her face into his neck, her giggle was like a symphony to his ears. Her rose perfume took him back to their very first date: Greasy take out from Benny’s under a starlit sky.  Her manicured nails sweetly scratched his back just the way he liked it.  

Don’t get harder, please don’t get any harder. 

“I missed you Eddie,” she delightfully proclaimed, giving the tip of his nose a kiss.  “How are you?”

As hard as a fucking rock.

“I- I- I’m fine. Do you want a snack? I think I might still have some Tab. I could get you some toaster strudel or pizza bites.”

She made her way in, “Oh I’m alright, maybe later.”

He pressed his back to the door, trying to remember to take deep breaths.  She’s here, she was really here.  Then again, it wasn’t that unusual for her to be here. Chrissy was no stranger to his castle, Forest Lawns was like a second home to her.  She felt safe and welcomed here, she felt truly appreciated as well.  Sure they could go to the local library, but quite frankly she prefers the warmth of Eddie’s room than a creaky, old table plastered between bookshelves that focused on historical events and hunting skills.

Chrissy shuffled and plopped her backpack on the mattress, “So, you ready to study?”

“Mmhm, thanks again for helping me with biology.”

“Biology? You said you needed help with Sex Ed,” she replied as she pulled out her purple notebook and sky blue trapper keeper. 

“I did?”

She reached into a side pocket and fished out a folded up note, clearing her throat, “Chrissy can you come over and help me with Sex Ed?” 

She placed it in his hands, yep that was his hand writing all right; there was even a little illustrated guitar on the bottom too. 

“I have Mr. Hancock’s class in the morning and the subject can be hard.”  

Eddie felt his eye twitch, did she not hear herself?

She thumbed through her notes, each page highlighted with a specific color for the chapter, unit, vocabulary, and key pieces of information.  She even brought her own index cards, all beautifully written in pink gel ink.  

“Holy shit, you’re a master at note taking,” he commented. 

“Oh well, I mean it’s just how I study.  Honestly, I think I spend more time coloring my notes than actually studying them,” Chrissy shyly confessed.  “So is your class on chapter 5 right now? Do you have your syllabus?”

Yes he did, but it was under his bed and Eddie felt terribly trapped in his jeans. “Y-Yes, it’s under my bed.”

She waited, her fingers tapping her cheer skirt, “Okay… are you gonna get it?”

He shuffled his ringed fingers together, “Um… well…”

She sighed, “Eddie, please, the chapter test is next Monday and I have to study for it.”

Eddie nodded, carefully inching himself off of the bed and onto the floor.  If he were built like one her Ken dolls, maybe this wouldn’t be so embarrassing. Still, that would mean he’d end up looking like a stupid preppy jock. Then again the idea of being Chrissy’s little doll was kinda interesting.  She could brush his hair, undress him, and pose him however she wan-

Stop it Munson! Focus for once in your life!

“I can't reach it,” he said nervously. 

Chrissy kneeled beside him and touched his forehead, “Eddie are you feeling okay? Oh no, you feel so warm.  Are you getting sick?”

Oh god, oh christ, her soft lotioned hand was on him, “Um- no, no I… I’m…”

Hard, turned on, gonna to cream my pants!

“Sweaty! Yes, I’m very sweaty from band practice!” Upon the realization of his volume and her wide eyed expression, he brought his voice down, “I didn’t have time to take a shower, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I smell bad.”

Chrissy paused, considering the sudden rollercoaster of emotions from him, “Well if it makes you feel better, I didn’t take a shower after practice too.”  She brushed back a lock of hair behind her ear, “So I smell pretty awful.”

“No, no, you do not smell. At all.”

Nice choice of words there, Eddie.  Real smooth. 

There it was, her bashful smile and toothy grin, “Would it be okay if I use your shower? I won’t be long.”

“All yours baby. Take your time, if you want,” he noted with a crooked smirk. 

“Well if you say that you’re fine, then I believe you.”

She offered him a kiss to his lips and headed towards the bathroom.  Good, Eddie could finally manage to take care of himself.  If he were smart enough, he could head over to the van and finish there.  There would be no evidence and he wouldn’t have to explain where the stained magazine came from.  But, as stated previously, his second head was in charge.

As soon as she was out of sight, Eddie went to town on his cock.  Sighing with relief at the wonderful feeling of freedom.  He grabbed the adult magazine tucked beneath his mattress and immediately went to the centerfold.  A pretty cheerleader with sparkling blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair smiled at him the way she always did.  All he could see was Chrissy.  Eddie laid down and went to town, biting down on his lip to prevent any semblance of a moan from slipping.  The minutes felt like hours, yet he could not cum. 

“Fuck, fuck please… please…”

He tossed the stupid magazine aside and used both hands, going harder and faster.  His body felt so warm, skin glowing so pink like a rose.  His breathing was shallow and rapid.  Shutting his eyes tightly to imagine what it would feel like to have Chrissy, naked and wet, on top of him. 

He mumbled into his pillow, “Oh baby, mmm Chrissy… oh make me cum.  Make me cum, babygirl.”

Strands of wet hair decorated around her breasts, with pebbled nipples out that were ready to be suckled on.  Oh to just imagine what she must have sounded like if she sat on his hungry mouth.  

Well he didn’t have to imagine anything anymore.  His eyes were wide open the moment she quietly said his name.  There she was wearing a towel that was far too big for her, still looking like the belle of the ball.  Caught double red handed, pants down to his knees, and even sweatier than before.  

You forgot to lock the door, you simpleton. Good job. 

Chrissy had never seen a nude man before, let alone a partially bottom half nude man.  Her health book didn’t have any anatomical charts portraying genitalia. The closest thing she’s ever seen resembling a penis were those ugly sharpie illustrations that people would draw on the chairs in calculus and beneath the bleachers in the gym.  Even when she was with Jason, she screamed that she didn’t want to see his dick. Slapping him hard across his cheek when he took her out to his car and pressured her to have sex with him during the sophomore winter dance. 

“Chrissy, I know this looks really bad. I swear, I can explain everything,” Eddie stated slowly with such fear in his eyes.

She wasn’t sure what to make of this scene. Eddie Munson naked from the stomach down. Laying on the bed with her notes just a few feet away from his body.  Hair splayed out upon his pillow like a halo.  The reddening blush was like watercolor along his flesh.  And his hands, his big, veined, and ringed hands clasping his cock.  All she could see was the top portion of him, everything else was hidden within his two fists.

Eddie stood up, his cock slapped up against his belly before it jutted out horizontally.  Good lord, he must have looked like a depraved animal ready to mount its mate, “Babe, I’m sorry. I am so so so so sorry.”  He grabbed his pillow and covered himself, “If you’re mad at me, you can absolutely yell at me.  I deserve it.”

No, she wasn’t mad. She felt strange at first, a sort of bubbling feeling at the pit of her stomach.  She shut the door with her foot and locked it up.  Quietly walking over to him, practically floating across the shagged carpet; the wet towel feeling a little loose around her.  

“I wanna see it, Eddie.”

His eyebrows rose, “What?”

Chrissy placed her hand on his, noticing his grip on the pillow tightening up,  “Please, Eddie? I want to see.”

“Chrissy, I think maybe we should get back to studying.  You have that test coming up and I’m-”

She stood up on her tiptoes and smooched him.  His hands instinctively went to her shoulders to share in another kiss.  

She gasped at the sight, her pulse beginning to rise, “Oh my god, you’re… you’re big.”

Well not to toot his horn, too late for that of course, but yes Eddie was a little above average; at least that’s what he thought.  He may not be pornstar huge, but his memory bank would definitely archive her words. 

“How does it stay in your underwear?” Chrissy asked, eyes taking in the details like she was studying a Greek statue’s nether regions. 

He gulped, “Well, you know… it gets hard and then it stops… eventually.”

She looked back at him, then his cock, and then at the jeans beginning to slide down to his ankles, “I still don’t understand.”

How on earth did he get himself into this?

“Okay, so my dick doesn’t look like this all the time.  Usually it looks like a… droopy banana.”

Nice visual comparison, that’s not gonna weird her out.  

Instead she laughed, it was a genuine laugh.  Well, laughter is a good way to break tension.  Eddie fumbled, but continued nonetheless, “So when I feel turned on, it’s gonna look different.  It moves, it feels hot, then it rises up.”

Chrissy took in this information like she was listening to a great scholar, her curiosity growing, “Does it hurt?”

Eddie chuckled, “No Chrissy, no, it doesn’t hurt.  It feels… I don’t know, it just feels stiff.”  He tightened his lips, looking off to the side to choose his words carefully, “But sometimes it happens when I don’t want it to.  So then I have to jerk- uh, touch myself until I cum.”

Chrissy nodded slowly, making sure to focus on his lips and what he was saying instead of the pulsating organ just an arm’s distance from her.

“What does ‘cum’ mean?”

He gulped, his heartbeat blasting in his ear drums, “It means, when I’m finished… stuff will come out of me.”  His voice was suddenly whisper quiet, as if the walls were paper thin, “Out of my… penis.  White stuff comes out at the top.”

“You mean semen?” She gently asked, prompting Eddie to shush her.  “Why are you shushing me? That’s what it’s called. You touch yourself and semen appears.”

He held his hands up, “Okay, okay, you’re right. Technically you are right about that.”  Eddie rubbed the back of his neck, “So um… now what?”

Chrissy took a seat on the mattress, her exposed shoulders and legs warming up much quicker than she realized.  She looked over at her work, all those hours poured into her binder left untouched since she arrived.  She was invited to teach him, quite frankly she found the task to be mundane and unnecessary.  They weren’t sexually active yet, they wanted to wait a bit.  Eddie had his fair share of masturbation fantasies, Chrissy was just starting to figure out what she liked.  Her textbook had information, but she had many questions regarding her body and Eddie’s as well.  Well, who better to get answers than straight from the horse’s mouth? 

“Eddie, could you show me how you touch yourself?”

At this point nothing should have surprised him, but that question certainly took the cake.

“You want me to do what?”

She packed her notes away and tossed her binder and trapper keeper by the closet door.  Schooching aside to give him enough room to lay down, “Please Eddie? Just for a little bit.”

He plopped himself onto his chair, “Chrissy- I- what the fuck? Is this really happening?”

She pushed back a few wet strands behind her ear, “I mean, I’ve never seen a penis before and I… I’m just curious.”

He nibbled his bottom lip, his laughter coming up just a bit, “Shit, I meant it as a joke when I called you a ‘freak,’ but I guess wasn’t completely off.”

Her brows furrowed, her blush matching his as she looked away and grumbled, “Whatever.  I could just leave and let you look at your girly magazine, pervert.”

Eddie shuffled himself out of his jeans and briefs, making a little strip tease show out of it.  Giving Chrissy his best bedroom eyes as he lifted up his band shirt.  Even when his sights were temporarily flooded with Alice Cooper’s printed face, he could sense her eyes focusing on him.  If he could see himself the way she did, he would look like any one of those pretty boy rockstars with perfectly coiffed locks.  Holding his guitar like a viking ready to charge into battle by day and then make love to his queen upon a bed of furs by night.

Eddie laid down, cradling his hard on while his other hand laid across his stomach. Taking in another deep breath, then one more for good measure.  What if this was all just an elaborate dream and he was due to wake up any second now? He waited for a moment, carefully gripping his penis just the way he wanted.  Closing his eyes and starting with his wrist, a gentle moan escaping his parted lips.  

“Ooh, oh.”

Chrissy’s thighs suddenly clenched, her throat feeling strangely dry.  Eddie’s hand continued to stroke himself, focusing on the sensation of his rough hand upon his heated and hardened flesh. 

“Yeah, yeah, oh fuck… mmm.”

Was his voice always that deep? Did his lower lip always quiver like that before he bit down on it?

“Oh my god,” Chrissy whispered, eyes darting back to his cock. 

Eddie’s sights were on her face, her soft face with an expression that appeared to be a mixture of shock and inquisitiveness.  He never knew her eyes could open up that wide, the whites appearing much more visible the likes of which he’s never seen.  Her fingers held on to her towel, clutching tightly to the material like her life depended on it.

Eddie no longer felt any shame, he was calm and relaxed.  Never in his wildest fantasies could he ever imagine anyone, especially his beloved, watching him during a private moment.  He loved to masturbate and he was always so careful when he did it.  This sensation of being looked at only heightened his arousal, wanting to chase that exciting feeling until he saw stars. 

She licked her lips, “Eddie, how does that feel?”

“So good, so fucking good babe,” he moaned, his hand going a little faster. 

“And all you have to do is move your hand like that?” 

He nodded, followed up with a delicious chuckle, “Oh yeah. Sometimes I’ll use both hands, but you already knew that when you caught me.”

Chrissy was in awe, a pleasant dull ache blossomed between her thighs.  What was happening to her? Why did she have these feelings of such lustful, wanton need? She wondered if her own hand could wrap around him like that.  If she could make him feel just as pleased.  Her orbs followed the bulging sack of flesh beneath his shaft. 

“Eddie, are those your testicles?”

He let out a loud guffaw, “Babe, we’re not at the doctor’s office! Those are my balls, Chrissy.  They hang low, but they can get tight when I’m hard.”  

Chrissy noticed his leg shaking, “Is your leg okay?”

His hips followed his fist, “Yes! Oh fuck, I’m close to cumming, oh I’m close.”

He let go for a moment, her jaw dropped, “Did your penis move by itself?”

He looked so smug, “Uh huh, has a mind of its own sometimes.”  He flipped his hair to the side, licking his lips slowly as he made another clever quip, but his message fell on deaf ears. 

She could no longer hide the way her hips pushed down and motioned around.  What was with her? Why did she want to wrap her hands around his cock? Why did her mouth start to water? And why, oh why, did her inner walls pulsate? The part of the towel covering her bottom felt wet. Before she could say another word, Eddie went right back to it.  Chrissy had no clue what to center her attention on more: The guitarist’s enchanting face or the way his hand played his personal instrument.

He shut his eyes tightly, “Chrissy, Chrissy,” his voice was like a guitar string bending at the right moment during a song. “Fuck, take it. Fucking take it! Oh, such a good girl.  Yeah that’s right, open up.  Oh! Oh fuck!”

She groaned, thrusting against her towel, “Eddie…”

He stopped again, his breathing heavy, body ready to give in.  Their eyes met, “Look at me, Chrissy. Please look at me.”

Chrissy did just that, never breaking away from those dilated eyes. His face, his handsome face glistening with sweat and glowing with such beauty and warmth.  Jaw dropped, pillowy pink lips puckered up.  Hips rising and falling as if he were humping an imaginary partner.  She wasn’t sure what possessed her to do this, but she had to kiss him.  All she had to do was lean down and peck him, instead she grabbed the sides of his head and pulled him up.  His sudden yelp turned sensual moan made her mouth vibrate.  Her tongue lathering up those lovely lips of his before biting and pulling away from the bottom one slowly.  Their wet appendages twisted and twirled around in such a delectable manner before she shoved hers into his mouth.  He gladly took it, letting her do as she pleased while he cupped her covered ass.

Her arms kept his head locked into place, sharing another long and delicious kiss.  Her fingers ran through his chocolate curls, giving them a little tug at the roots.  He broke the kiss to allow his whiny moan to pass, making her pussy flutter at such a sound.  His hands stayed firmly on the exposed areas of her thighs, playfully squeezing them.  Her flesh was burning and his rings attempted to cool her. The air suddenly felt cold along her back, then her breasts, and suddenly her stomach.  Their bodies had rubbed up against each other to the point where the towel had loosened up and fallen around her belly.  Eddie wanted her badly, but he couldn’t bring himself to pressure her.  He moved it back up, looking into her eyes with nothing but love.  Chrissy kissed the tip of his nose and rested her head on his shoulder. 

“I love you, Eddie.”

“I love you too, Chrissy.”

She looked down at the neglected dick, feeling a little sorry for it.  She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to have one.  It was so sensitive and it looked so sore against her boyfriend’s belly.

Her voice was as sweet as sugar, “Could you finish Eddie? I want to see what it looks like when you’re done.”

“Anything for you, Chrissy,” he hummed against her shoulder. 

Eddie pressed his back to the headboard, spreading his legs apart at a comfortable distance.  The color at the tip had changed, another intriguing discovery for her to stash away in her mind.  He was ready to finish his solo act, hand prepared and in position.  Chrissy’s thighs had once again squeezed together.  That sensation returned as well, a little stronger than before.  Maybe if she sat on a pillow that would help.  Eddie called her name again, pleading and beckoning her over. She wanted to be there with him, but she felt conflicted, unsure of what to do.  She bit down on her lip, her whines practically mimicking his.  She looked down at herself, hips motioning upon the pillow, her mind attempting to replace the bedroom item with her beloved instead.  Oh if only she knew just how badly Eddie wanted to be that pillow. How desperately he wanted to be suffocated by her as his tongue explored her dripping crevice. 

His muscles tightened up, air pushing through his nostrils, and sweat dripping down his body.  Eddie’s attention was on her, his eyes and ears taking in every detail.  The way she bounced and the way she let her little whimpers slip out, this felt like a dirty peep show, yet he was the star.

Eddie craned his neck back, “Oh fuck, fuck! Oh it’s coming!”

He centered his mind on her, imagining Chrissy letting her towel slip off.  Trying to remember what her pretty breasts looked like again.  Picturing her pushing him down on his back and keeping his head in place as she took her rightful seat on her throne.  Wondering how she would look as she bounced on him.  His hands gripping onto her milky legs, all while his mouth sampled and gorged on her like a man starved for nourishment.  

“Ed-Eddie!” Chrissy mewled, quickly followed up with a shaken moan.

The pillow was folded, her thighs wrapped around the sides as her now nude form humped it.  Eddie was practically drooling, his hand going faster than it ever had before.  This man has seen a fair amount of adult magazines and porno tapes in his life, but they do not measure up to the most incredible display of erotica before him.  She inched closer to him, lower half still riding, closing her eyes when he held her heated face.  She felt so loved, easing into his touch with such adoration. Chrissy pecked his palm. 

That was it, the last thing that he saw before Eddie screwed his eyes shut.  He jutted his hips forward and let his body, brain, and base instincts do the rest.  His hands grabbed at the bed sheets, thrusting into the air like a man untamed and unaware of anything else, except for the hard and heavy rush of absolute pleasure.  What emerged out as tiny beads at the tip, quickly ejected into thick ropes of cum.  Leaping out and sliding down his veiny flesh, his whole being letting the waves of titillation push him further down beneath the seas of arousal.

His body felt so light, all of his limbs were as limp as a rag doll.  His bangs were stuck to his forehead, his heartbeat rattled in his eardrums.  The band in his stomach had snapped, nothing but relief. Sweet, gentle, and beautiful relief.  And he did it all in front of Chrissy. 

“Um… Eddie…”

“Yes Chri- oh shit!” 

Chrissy looked down at her torso, unsure of how to handle the fact that she was coated in his ejaculate.

“Chrissy, I’m so sorry! I- I- I didn’t mean to- You looked so hot! And I lost control-  I-”

Anyone who was anyone knew that you never finish on your partner unless you ask them first.  Even someone as romantic as Steve and horned up like Billy knew this.  Eddie fucked up. He really fucked up.  It was over now: No more dates, no more kisses, no more Chrissy.  Nothing but lonely nights and ridicule for the rest of his life. 

Her finger collected a sample dangling from her left breast. Squishing it between forefinger and thumb, amazed at how far it could stretch before splitting in two.  

“It’s so sticky, and kinda warm,” she stated as her fingers pressed together again.  “Do most people cum this much?”

“I… I… I don’t know.  Wait, you’re not mad at me?”

She shook her head, “No. Why would I be mad at you?”

He grabbed the towel and started to wipe her, his voice shaken, “I’m sorry Chrissy.  You’re right, I am a pervert.”

“Hey Eddie, come here,” she cooed, planting a smooch on his cheek.  She eased him onto his back, snuggling up close to her man.  “I really, really enjoyed that.”

His eyes were on a corner, all of his shame overpowering him.  She moved his face back and pecked his lips.  Nothing. She then proceeded to plant more and more kisses all over his face until he smiled. He couldn’t hide it, he adored her affectionate coaxing.  Letting her wrap her arms around his slender form until they were chest to chest.  This was nice, this was better than nice. Whatever the word was, he could not find it.  Regardless of the lacking adjective, Eddie was calm once more.  The sort of tranquility he feels whenever he’s with Chrissy.  No worries, no need to think about anything; all he wanted to do was be by her side.  And she wanted the same. 

His hands traced little circles along her back, lips caressing her neck, “Chrissy?”

She giggled, twitching a little, “Eddie, that tickles.”

He smiled against her jawline, “Do you think Mr. Hancock will give you extra credit if you write about this- Ow! Ow! Kidding! I’m just kidding!”

Her scowl could cut steel, fingers gripping to the point of pulling off his ear.  Despite his stupid question, she still let him go, “You, Eddie Munson, are a total butthead.”

He rubbed his ear, trying to play it cool with the reddening pain, “Yeah, well… I’m your butthead.”

She rolled her eyes, a smirk pulling at her plush lips, “Yes, yes you are.”

Eddie stripped his bed and cleaned his sheets while Chrissy washed herself up.  She slipped into a big, fresh Pink Floyd shirt and a pair of boxers while he took his shower.  The two of them studied well into the night until they could no longer see straight.  Wayne was able to get home at a decent time with some take out, only to find his nephew and his girlfriend passed out amongst the organized mess of notes and index cards.  The older man grabbed a fresh blanket and tucked them in before heading to the front room to watch the evening news.  If he knew that Chrissy was coming over he would have stopped by the store to grab fresh bacon, a box of waffles, and eggs. Tomorrow, he thought to himself, he’ll make a breakfast fit for a king and queen.