#bug out bag kit

[natinalpartisan]

Bug-Out Bag Essentials: Building Your Ultimate Survival Kit

Bug-Out Bag Essentials: Prepare for anything with these vital items. In the face of emergencies, a well-stocked bug-out bag is crucial. Our top 100 picks ensure you're ready for any scenario. Start with the survival basics: water filtration, food rations, a multi-tool, and a first aid kit. Stay warm with a durable blanket, waterproof clothing, and fire-starting gear. Communication is key, so include a reliable radio and flashlight. Personal protection matters, so pack a sturdy knife and self-defense tools. Keep documents, cash, and maps handy. Remember comfort with extra clothes and a portable shelter. Trust these essentials to keep you safe and secure during uncertain times.

[historyofguns]

The article "Urban Prepping — Emergency Preparedness in the City" by Kit Perez, discusses the unique challenges of survival in an urban environment during disasters. Unlike rural areas where survival resources are abundant, cities require different survival skills and preparation for disastrous events like earthquakes, hurricanes, or civil unrest. The importance of situational awareness, self-defense proficiency, and blending in during emergencies is emphasized. It highlights the limitations of depending solely on stored resources and stresses the need for emergency plans including Bug Out Bags (BOBs) for evacuation. Moreover, urban dwellers are encouraged to adapt their training to city-centric scenarios, focusing on both combat and non-combat skills to navigate potentially chaotic urban landscapes during emergencies.

[deathdealertactical]

How to Build the Ultimate Bug-Out Bag with DDT Gear

When disaster strikes, having a well-prepared bug-out bag can make all the difference. Whether you’re faced with a natural disaster, civil unrest, or a sudden emergency, being ready to leave quickly with essential supplies is crucial. A bug-out bag (BOB) is a portable kit that contains everything you need to survive for at least 72 hours away from home. At Death Dealer Tactical, we offer a range…

[campersgotogear]

Conquer the Outdoors with This All-in-One Survival Shovel Axe!

Are you an avid camper, hiker, or outdoor enthusiast? Then you know how important it is to be prepared for anything. This incredible Survival Shovel Axe is the ultimate multi-tool. It combines a shovel, axe, and hatchet into a compact, robust package. Here’s what makes it a must-have for your next adventure: Durable and Reliable: Crafted from high-carbon steel with an extended handle (19.2-37.8…

[weratebeanz]

[ #WeRate ] Nutri-Vet Antimicrobial Wound Spray for Cats: A Must-Have for Your Pet First Aid Kit

As responsible pet owners, we all know that accidents happen. Whether it's a minor scratch from roughhousing, a small cut from an outdoor adventure, or a bit of irritation from an allergy, having a reliable solution on hand is super beneficial.

That’s where the Nutri-Vet Antimicrobial Wound Spray for Cats comes in—it's a fantastic addition to your pet first aid kit, providing soothing relief and promoting healing for those everyday feline mishaps.

This post contains affiliate links, and we only recommend products we have either used, are using, or would use and share with our family and friends. Click here to read our Affiliate Disclaimer.

What It Is

The Nutri-Vet Antimicrobial Wound Spray is a specially formulated treatment designed to soothe your cat’s skin with the healing properties of aloe and Vitamin E. This 4 oz spray is perfect for addressing minor wounds, helping to reduce pain and promote faster healing.

Why We Love It

With multiple cats in our household, it’s essential to have a go-to solution that’s easy to apply and effective. The Nutri-Vet Antimicrobial Wound Spray fits the bill perfectly.

It’s gentle on their skin, and the added aloe and Vitamin E work wonders in calming irritation while aiding in the healing process.

One thing to note: the sound of the spray can sometimes freak out our cats. To avoid this, we’ve found that spraying the liquid onto a clean cloth or our gloved hands before gently applying it to the wound works best.

While our cats may feel a slight tingling sensation (indicated by a little bucking after application), they don’t scream or cry, so it doesn’t seem to cause any further discomfort. Within a minute, they’re calm and appear more relaxed.

A Natural Alternative

We’ve also tried natural alternatives like coconut oil, but they can be messy. Coconut oil tends to be greasy, drippy, and can spread when licked, leaving our cats looking like greased goobers and getting grease all over anything they touch.

In contrast, Nutri-Vet Antimicrobial Wound Spray is easy to apply, absorbs well, and doesn’t leave a sticky residue behind.

Things to Keep in Mind

While we highly recommend this spray for minor injuries, we don’t suggest using it for major wounds. It’s been incredibly effective for smaller issues like minor scratches, pricks from outdoor adventures, or irritated spots from allergies. However, for more significant injuries, always consult your vet.

Great Value and Peace of Mind

Having the Nutri-Vet Antimicrobial Wound Spray in your pet first aid kit offers peace of mind, knowing that you have a reliable solution on hand for those minor injuries that happen from time to time. It's a small investment that can make a big difference in your cat’s comfort and healing.

Would We Buy It Again?

Rating: ★★★★☆

Absolutely! The Nutri-Vet Antimicrobial Wound Spray is an essential addition to any pet first aid kit.

It’s effective, easy to use, and helps soothe and heal minor wounds without the mess. We highly recommend keeping a bottle on hand for when those inevitable feline mishaps occur.

Disclaimer: We’re not medical professionals—just passionate pet owners sharing what works for us. Always consult your veterinarian for pet-specific issues, and if your pet experiences any adverse reactions, contact them immediately. Every pet is unique, and what works for one may not work for another. Your vet is the best source of advice tailored to your pet’s health needs.

[raffaellopalandri]

Daily writing promptCreate an emergency preparedness plan.View all responses My entire life is a perpetual emergency preparedness plan. Image taken from Internet Living with life-threatening allergies to most medicines and foods, and many chemicals, has instilled in me a state of vigilance that most people reserve for catastrophic events. Every outing, every meal, every interaction with the…

[aahsoka]

there was like a weird pillbug but longer on my bed ………… how am i gonna sleep now im gonna be thinking theres bugs all over my bed

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Been seeing a lot of folks talk about bugout bags where the context seems to be fleeing a Knock from secret police or something, and I want to gently suggest folks consider more likely reasons to bug out (wildfires, crumbling infrastructure leading to gas leaks, etc).

Make sure your bag can get you through scenarios where you are part of a mass evacuation, rather than you clandestinely leaving in the middle of the night to escape brownshirts.

I feel like thinking in this context will help folks prepare better and think beyond fleeing to the nearest border as their prime objective.

I don't like giving this regime more power than it actually has, so it is helpful to me to think about what I would do in specific scenarios. Planning for those gives me much more concrete action items, reduces my panic, and ends up preparing me better for unknown situations.

A lot of us have real fear of this regime rn, and escaping a Knock is a realistic concern.

But I feel like a lot of white, cishet, middle class folks are in oppression cosplay mode rn, and their brains aren't in a practical space for what the more likely impact to their lives is going to be.

If preparing for a Knock isn't also going to prepare you for facing sitting in traffic for 12 hours with no hotel plans because you need to evacuate a natural disaster on short notice, you should think a bit more about your risk factors and resiliency.

Vague prepping for "When shit hits the fan" means you are going to forget key items. Come up with some specific scenarios to run through and see how your kit would perform.

[natinalpartisan]

Survival Gear Essentials: Building Your Prepper Arsenal with Tactical Tools

Are you prepared for any emergency or disaster? Discover the essential survival gear you need to build a robust prepper arsenal with tactical tools. This comprehensive guide highlights the must-have items for every survivalist, ensuring you're equipped for any situation. From durable knives and multi-purpose tools to versatile shelters and advanced communication devices, we cover it all. Learn about the latest innovations in emergency preparedness, wilderness survival, and self-reliance. Whether you're an outdoor enthusiast, a prepper, or someone concerned about potential disruptions, this guide will help you navigate through challenging times with confidence. Gear up, stay prepared, and safeguard yourself and your loved ones with these tactical tools.

[trulyhblue]

INAPPROPRIATE

leah williamson x arsenal! reader

warnings — tiny angst, annoyed! Leah, Emma Hayes, Chelsea, sorta fluff, coarse language, mention of injury scare.

A/N — in light of Lee’s birthday!!!! short one today, sorry! Thought I would add some spice to this. Emma Hayes needs to realize that pretty much all of woso have dated each other, including her own players lol. there is a mention of Bug, which is a character in one of my stories. Just for context, that is Caitlin Foord’s daughter.

___________________

After hearing Emma Hayes yap on about her opinion on footballers' relationships, you found yourself subjected to a pretty pissed-off Leah Williamson.

Today was the London derby, a long-awaited revenge for Chelsea, it seemed, as the Arsenal bus arrived outside the stadium. Seas of blue and red treaded the stands — you caught sight of a couple of jerseys with your number plastered on the back. Leah was holding your waist as you wandered through the mob of fans reaching for autographs and pictures, a cold facade planted across her face.

Leah was always solemn before games. She was a serious contender, North London bred, with a serious competitive nature that no one could break down.

When you moved to Arsenal from your childhood club, you instantly caught onto Leah’s prominent soberness. Every player knew that if they didn't show up for a game and give it their all, their position would falter. It wasn't like any player with a job as a professional ever thought to underperform, but Leah was an exemption from sincerity. You couldn't joke with her the same way you could during team bonding. You would be stupid to slack off during training or talk to an exaggerated extent when Leah was running beside you. The Lioness Captain copped none of it, and there was no exception for you, her girlfriend.

The woman had woken up with an eminent frown playing on her lips. This was arguably the most important game of the WSL season, and with Leah starting after a long time away, there was a newfound angst set in your shared apartment.

Not only that — the stress Leah had put on herself to perform exceptionally — but the media spotlight Chelsea’s Emma Hayes has put on herself after a certain interview regarding coach-player, and player-player relationships.

From your viewpoint, it didn't really affect you. Everyone had their own opinions based on who dated whom. There was no stopping someone for sharing what they thought, so you simply shook it off as soon as you watched the clip. You did feel bad for the select few of the Blue’s team that were dating players. To not have the personal backing of your coach wouldn't be the most relieving sensation. You knew that the fans were in upheaval regarding her comments, but to be honest, there was nothing anyone could do to stop her.

But, it seemed that Leah did not share the same insight as you.

“She can't just go ‘round saying that.” She barked, hiding the Emirates logo as she crossed her arms in disapproval. “It's barmy, that's what it is.”

You were side by side in the change rooms. Leah was already in her kit, the Chelsea socks sticking out like a sore thumb. You were tugging up your shorts, your shirt yet to cover your sports bra. You sighed, having been hearing Leah go on for the best part of the morning.

“You shouldn't let it worry you, Lee.” You muttered, sorting through your bag, ignoring your girlfriend’s huff. “I don't think she meant any harm—”

“Well she did, didn't she?” She retorted.

You pulled your jersey off the hanger, slipping it on. “Leah, c’mon.”

“Why does she feel the need to talk about us, huh? She should be more worried about the amount of injuries on her team, not about what they do in their free time.”

“Leah, that's enough.” You snapped, your hands planted firmly on your hips. The blonde in front of you looked subtly started by your sudden change of demeanour. “Don't worry about it. It's not worth your time.”

You were currently faced with the nerves of the game, on top of other things like international duties, and the Olympics. To have Leah in this mood, in such a critical time like this, was not only overwhelming but downright anxiety-inducing.

Leah didn't answer you. Instead, she tied her laces and crossed the room, exiting into the tunnel for kick-off. This gave you a few minutes to breathe, to centre yourself. You weren't starting, but your nerves were rising by the time you took your seat next to Alessia.

As soon as the game started, it was clear that Chelsea had it covered. Alessia joked that it was the socks, but you could see by the look on Lee’s face that she was fuming from something other than the odd black that covered her shin pads. You warmed up along the sideline, carrying Caitlin’s bug by your side when you saw her growing restless near Frida.

Unlike the rest of your teammates, you bit their nails at the painful game in front of them, you tried to hone your focus on keeping Bug’s hood down, making her giggle instead of wince at the tackles Caitlin was receiving.

You had been benched for the past few games, your hamstring giving you grief over training. But you were anticipating Jonas to call you over. You waited for the flick of his hand, wanting to make things right on the pitch.

The second-half whistle couldn't have come slower. The starting eleven were frustrated, angry, and quiet when entering the changing rooms, an eerie aura lingering inside. You held onto Bug all the way until Caitlin took over, trudging over to Viv, who happily took the girl up to the stands to watch. Jonas had told you and Emily that you’d be put on, so you were preparing yourself for what was to come.

You tried not to interact with Leah. It was an unspoken rule that unless it was personal, it was not to be said directly, especially when you were losing. But the blonde was leaning nearer to you the closer you were meant to be out on the pitch once more. She made the effort to tug at the hem of your shorts, and hold both your shoulders as she stood behind you, listening to the plan for the rest of the game. You pushed your back into her chest, letting her hug you from behind. She squeezed affectionately, and you noticed the subtle unravelling of her tense shoulders. Her features smoothed when she found out you were replacing Victoria in the midfield, and she made sure to hold your hand as you walked back into the stadium.

“You're doing great, Lee.” You managed to say, hoping that your substitution would be before the sixtieth minute. “Just be careful near the wing. It's very congested and you should wait for the midfield to sort it, alright?”

Leah cared deeply about her career and strived for greatness in all that she did. There was nothing that she couldn't achieve without perfection in her eyes. Many people said that you would bring her down to Earth, and remind her that mistakes are human. But there was only so much you could do, and you found that simply telling the girl that she was making the right decisions, treating her softly, was a tactic no game plan could ever beat.

You were about to find your way down the sidelines, getting ready to finish your warm-up before you were subbed on. Both teams had started filing out of their respected halftime seminars, Chelsea looking as confident as ever. Arsenal were sauntering out with much determination, the spite and inherent desire for justice spewing from the gunner’s crowd. Leah and you were near the entrance of the tunnel, standing on the edge of the field in what seemed like your own personal bubble.

Jonas had taken a seat near the rest of the officials, but Chelsea’s Emma Hayes was standing not far from where the two of you stood, skimming her surroundings vaguely without giving too much away. You could feel the irritation radiating off Leah as soon as the woman was in your sight. You both knew the coach was trying to look at you, without it being bitterly obvious, but it seemed to make the tension rise all the more. Your girlfriend found solace in kissing your forehead, running her hands down your sides painstakingly slow. You felt your cheeks go red, the blush filming over your face when Hayes’ eyes darted away.

“Leah.” You warned her wandering hands, squirming in the taller girl’s potent grip around your hips.

You pulled taunt against her, sighing when she loosened. She ignored your scolding look. A smirk was aligned on her lips, threatening to spill the cocky remarks relieving her lips. You watched her run over to the rest of the team, a meek smile matching hers.

God, you couldn't wait to go home.

_________________

A/N — again, sorry it's really short but I wanted to put something out xxxxxx

[totally-here]

Post Gotham war Jason and post GIW Danny scrap

Jason is laying on the ground. He can hear water running to his right and can see his parachute tangled in trees overhead. 

The explosion must have sent him farther away than he hoped. His back hurts from the landing after he disconnected from the parachute. His hands are still shaking from residual adrenaline that in turn makes his throat constrict in fear. 

Fucking Bruce. Of all the things he could’ve done to break their cycle. 

Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it? A never ending cycle of them fighting over morality, making up, then fighting again without any real progress being made. The Joker’s still kicking in one way or another, and Jason still doesn’t talk with his family much outside of vigilante activities. 

And now he won’t even be able to go out as Red Hood, because his own fucking adrenaline will immobilise him with fear. 

Jason never should have tried to work with Selina. He’s self-aware enough to admit that. It was stupid, trying to mess up her operation from the inside after realizing just what she was setting up the goon workforce for, even if it wasn’t her intention. She was only letting him work with her to shove it into Bruce’s face, anyway. 

Because that’s all Jason will ever be to them. Batman’s biggest mistake. A Robin turned corpse turned mass murderer. Like he hasn’t been actively not killing people for at least a year now. Hasn’t shot a gun in months. 

And yet here Jason is, trying to tell if his ribs are broken without moving. His ears are ringing faintly from the collision with the meteor and then the explosion at the observatory. 

He ditched his comm to Oracle and the rest of the bats earlier, and the batwing is one with the wreckage now. But there are cameras everywhere in Gotham. They would see he got out, and probably send someone to pick him up. Maybe. 

Jason doesn’t know if he can stomach looking at his family right now. Not when he can still feel the effects of whatever Bruce stuck in him in the back of his throat, in the back of his mind. It’s like he’s been flayed out, all his scars and weaknesses on display. 

“Hey man, you okay?” A man steps into Jason’s vision. Around his age, if not younger. His eyes that verge on the edge of uncannily blue have deep eye bags, like he hasn’t slept in weeks. He looks at Jason like one would a particularly uninteresting bug. Jason shivers.

It takes a few tries for Jason not to swallow his words. As it is, he still slurs on the swear. “Just fucking peachy.” 

The guy raises an eyebrow, looking very doubtful. He looks Jason up and down, then sighs. He rights himself from leaning over and runs a hand through his long black hair with white streaks in it. It’s choppily cut, and not in a tasteful way. It’s like a five year old found scissors for the first time. It’s annoying how it actually works for the guy. 

“I have a first aid kit in my truck, wait here,” He orders, then walks off to the left. Jason turns his head to watch him. There is a small white truck parked to the side of a road that no cars are passing through. The guy opens the back door and digs around, then emerges with a white box. 

He kneels on the grass next to Jason and slowly reaches out to help him sit up, narrating as he does. “I’m gonna lean you against the tree so that I can get a better angle for your forehead.” He does that, and Jason realizes that yeah, his forehead is bleeding. Maybe he snagged it on a branch on the way down, or maybe it was debris. “I’m going to disinfect it, brace for the sting, I guess.” 

It does sting, but Jason doesn’t flinch away. It’s not the exhaustion from the back to back panic attacks that’s calming him. He knows what that exhaustion should feel like, this is not it. As the guy gently washes off the blood from Jason’s forehead with wipes and presses bandaids onto it, he feels like he’s being enveloped in a warm hug. 

“Why do I feel safe with you?” It stumbles out before he can stop it. The guy doesn’t stop inspecting Jason’s arms for cuts to answer. Only when he finds traces of burns to wrap against infection does he say anything. Jason’s too warm for a November night. 

“Well. There are two options. Either you’re concussed, or you’ve died before.” Jason takes in a sharp breath, but the guy doesn’t seem to notice. “Oh, three, I guess. Since it could be both.”

“I don’t feel concussed," Jason says. And he doesn’t. Maybe slightly dehydrated, but his head doesn’t hurt and he’s not nauseous at all. The slight slurring is just because he’s tired, probably. 

The guy hums, leaning back to check his handiwork. There’s bandaids on Jason’s forehead and bandages along his arms. He closes the first-aid kit with a snap and stands to his full height. His face is haloed by the full moon behind him. His eyes reflect in the light. “Guess it’s option two, then. I was leaning towards that, anyway. Once Deads tend to have that effect on me, and you do give off Realms Touched vibes.”

The guy offers a hand, and Jason stares at it for a moment before taking it. It’s like touching an ice cube. “I don’t know what that means.”

The guy pulls him up easily, despite being built like a broad-shouldered twig and at least five inches shorter than Jason. Probably a meta, then. Or maybe magic. The guy lets go of Jason’s hand to run a hand through his hair again. The motion brings attention to the layer of scar tissue around his left eye. Likely scarred over in the past month or so. 

“Yeah, my bad. Should’ve assumed. Um, short version: I have what amounts to a biological need to help peop-” He stops, purses his lips, then starts again. “To help the undead. And that stretches over to you, I guess.”

“And the Realms Touched thing?”

He shrugs, not looking at Jason’s eyes, but up at his hair. At the white streak sticking out against the black. “Let me guess, you had an encounter with some green not-quite-liquid stuff sometime after you died?” Jason nods once, slowly. “Yeah, that’d do it. The green stuff’s from the Infinite Realms, and doing stuff with it kinda marks you for people with an eye for it.”

“People like you?” Jason narrows his eyes, but it really does seem like this guy is telling the truth. That this is just some weird coincidence that the spooky guy (who cannot be local. Jason might have ditched the mask, vest, and gloves, but he still has his padded shirt with his symbol on it. No true Gothamite would dare to approach the Red Hood with medical supplies) just happened to stumble upon Jason. The complete blasé attitude he has toward the pits helps. A League devotee would be more reverent. 

The guy tilts his head to the side, his face scrunching. “Technically, yeah. I meant more, like, formal magic users. I’m… different?”

“What are you, then?” 

“It’s complicated?” As Jason’s unimpressed look, he tries again. “I’m, I’m kinda like a protector spirit and a psychopomp rolled into one? But, a psychopomp that’s not good at their job.”

Jason gets the feeling that that’s the best explanation he’s going to get out of this guy. He’s already shifting away, looking past the trees and at what’s probably Gotham proper.

“So I have a sense for dead things. ‘S actually why I ended up coming through here. Something that felt like a meal was coming here, but now it’s faded.” He points past Jason, and he follows his finger, moving to face the green smoke rising from the observatory, glowing in the night sky. “You know what happened?”

“Big fuckin’ meteor,” Jason mutters. The smoke is dispersing slowly but surely. A news helicopter is already buzzing around the observatory site. 

“Sure, why not?” The guy mutters back. His eyes flick to Jason before jutting a thumb backwards. “Welp, I’m gonna get back on the road. You need me to call someone for you or something?”

Jason thinks about it. He could call someone to pick him up, or check in with Rose. But. That would mean eventually going back into Gotham. Back into the fire. Back into a city that’s being overrun with thieves he had helped support. It’s not shame that stops him, but fear. 

Fear that if he goes back, it will just start the cycle again. That it’ll just take another form, but he’s just going to be stuck fighting. He’s always fighting, has always been fighting. If he goes back and he starts fighting again, it will never stop. Fear lodges into the back of his throat once again and Jason realizes that he might not be able to fight like that anymore. 

And standing outside of Gotham, seeing the smoke coming out of it color the same as the Pits that still haunt him, Jason thinks that maybe fear and fighting are all he has left. 

He wonders what would happen if he let himself lose those, too. 

“Actually, which way are you going?” Jason asks the guy, who squints at him.

“North.” 

“Sounds good.” Jason spins around and walks determinedly towards the guy’s truck. The guy stutters and hurries to catch up to him.

“Wait, what? You’re just gonna… come with me? Are you sure you’re not concussed?” He says, but stops at the driver’s side door and just watches as Jason slides into the passenger seat. 

Jason smiles at him, all teeth. “Come on, Charon. Aren’t psychopomps supposed to lead the dead to their next destination?”

The guy just looks at him for a moment, then opens the driver’s side and slides in. He glares at Jason, but it doesn’t feel like there’s any real dissatisfaction behind it. “You’re not dead now, and I told you I’m bad at my job.”

Jason shrugs and swings his feet onto the dashboard, ignoring the guy’s disgruntled and insulted look. “Then you’ll get some on the job training.”

“I’m on the run from the government. This isn’t going to be a fun adventure, dude.” 

That does make Jason pause. But he also knows the government. “What’d you do?”

He scoffs. “Exist. Fuckers think they’re entitled to my organs. For science, they said.”

A victim, it sounds like. Hell, maybe even a clone. Not likely to be a criminal. Jason shrugs and shimmies more into the seat, making a show of getting more comfortable. The guy frowns, then closes his door. 

“You know what? Fine, guess I’m doing this now. But we gotta set some ground rules for this roadtrip, okay?” He points at Jason with his left hand, leaning over a little in what could have been intimidating if he didn’t look dead on his feet. Jason recognised the faint lichtenberg scarring on his finger. Recently electrocuted, and badly. “First, get your dirty ass boots off of the dash.” Jason obliges. “Thank you. Second, seatbelts stay on. I know how I drive, and it is not good.”

He emphasizes his point by buckling himself in and glaring at Jason until he does the same. 

“Third, um, I don’t have a third one.” He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “Oh, tell me a name I can call you. Yeah, that’s the third.”

“Jason. What’s yours?” He should have hesitated. All bat protocol for getting into unmasked situations with a stranger determines giving a fake name, and to not even think about anything close to real. But he doesn’t. It doesn’t matter. This guy clearly doesn’t know who Red Hood is, if he doesn’t recognise the symbol, so Jason doubts he’d recognise the first name of Bruce Wayne’s dead son, and then connect the dots. 

“Danny.” Danny starts the truck and pulls back onto the empty road. It must be two or three in the morning at this point. Maybe later. “Hope you have an enhanced ID, ‘cause we’re going to Canada.”

Jason, in fact, does. Not one that has his name on it, and it’s for New York, but the picture looks similar enough.

~~

So the original idea for this was they head to a cabin aunt alicia has in canada, but I got like 2000 words into this then realized i didn't have the motivation to continue, plus i wasn't confident about the characterization (i'll admit i read the gotham war event in a vacuum) so i just scrapped it. But!! I figure i would post it here in case someone else wants to take the idea and run with it :P

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Frayed Edges

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky used to be so in love and so… ignorant of the roles you had to play, which lead to you breaking up. But that didn’t seem to keep you away from each other since you now act as Bucky’s nurse whenever he gets hurt. Based off my mini fic here.

Stitched Together | Pull the Thread | In Stitches | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

He was pissed off. His entire body hurt and he was really pissed off.

Sam dropped him off at your place. Bucky didn't want to deal with anyone else right now. He told Sam he'd call him when he'd need to get picked up.

He limps up to your door, grimacing at every move he makes. The stab wound in his stomach hurt like a bitch and he needed your help ASAP.

He knocks on your door, ringing the doorbell with urgency. The door swings open and your eyes widen, "Holy shit, Bucky!" You pull him inside and he groans in pain.

Bucky takes a quick glance at your table, seeing two sets of plates set out, "You expecting someone?"

You open your mouth to reply and there's a knock at your door, "Shit," you murmur, "Go to my room. Don't make a sound. Hurry!"

He obeys without a word. As soon as your bedroom door closes, you rush to your front door and pull it open, "Hey, dad! Sorry, was in the bathroom."

"It's alright, Bug," your dad kisses your head and enters your home, the bag of takeout in his hand. You take the bag from him and head to the dining table.

"Nice! Sushi!" you feign excitement, silently praying that, for whatever reason, your dad doesn't go to your room to find your ex boyfriend, now mob boss, bleeding on your floor.

"You still like the dragon roll, right?"

"Yup!"

"Good," your dad joins you at the table.

"Um, I have to finish some online training class really quickly and then I'll join you in a bit."

"Yeah, yeah. No problem. Go finish up. I'll be here," your dad waves you away and you rush to your bedroom, locking it behind you.

You head to the conjoining bathroom, as see Bucky cleaning his wound. “Why the fuck did you think coming here was a good idea?!” You whisper angrily at the bleeding mob boss in your home.

“I didn’t know your dad was coming over!” Bucky loudly whispers back in response.

“Exactly! You didn’t know which is why the smart thing to do would’ve been to call or text me to let me know you planned on coming!”

The mob boss scoffs, “Well sorry, I was a little too busy trying to not to die from a stab wound!” He gestures to his punctured skin.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh, “Out of nights you get hurt, it had to be the night my dad and I have dinner together.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, “My bad. I’ll make sure to schedule my stabbings at a more convenient time.”

“Idiot,” you mumble as you grab your first aid kit from under the sink, and gesture for him to sit on your toilet.

You work in a quick and efficient silence. Bucky doesn’t make an effort of conversation because he knows you prefer silence when you work.

Despite your annoyance with him, you're still gentle. You apologize for the stinging of neosporin.

He watches you with an observant gaze, a softness in his eyes. A sense of longing fills him in the pit of his stomach...or maybe that's the feeling of the needle you're sewing him up with.

Bucky still can't believe this is where life has lead you both. You help save lives, he, on occasion, ends lives. You're light, while Bucky lives and works in the dark.

He knows coming back into your life was dangerous, but he couldn't help it. He just missed you so much and was desperate to have you back in any capacity. Even if he can't have you the way that he wants.

You finish up, taking off the bloody gloves you wore and throwing them into the trash, “Stay here. Take some meds. I’ll check up on you, but please be quiet. If dad finds you, he’ll kill both of us.” You state with concern and seriousness.

He nods and gives you a shy smile, “I’ll be fine, sweetheart. Go enjoy dinner with your pop.”

You stand with a sigh, “Just text me if you need anything. I’ll pretend it’s America or something.”

“Got it. Thanks,” Bucky says as he slowly stands from your toilet after you stitched him up.

He watches as you quickly clean up and exit your room. He listens to the distant sound of you and your dad talking.

Bucky’s shoulder slumps as he lets out a shaky sigh. He wishes it never came to this, sneaking around and pretending like he still didn’t love you.

Because he does. He always will, even if you two are now worlds apart from each other, on opposing sides, never meant to be.

[13uswntimagines]

Big Emotions (Alessia X Leah X toddler!R)

Request: In the Arsenal game vs Manchester United, R has some big emotions about the crowd booing her Mama (Alessia), while shes sitting with Leah in the stands because shes not back from her ACL yet.

Warnings: None. This is a cute kidfic.

Pt. II

More in this universe- here

You tucked your face tightly into your Mama’s neck with a groan, the Batman blanket draped over your body like a little tent protecting you from the biting wind and camera flashes as the team made its way off the bus and into old Trafford. 

It wasn’t that Alessia was hiding you from the world, the fans definitely knew about you and loved to chatter about how adorable you were, but she always did her best to keep your face off of the internet. 

Finding where you lived, and where you went to preschool would be far too easy for someone who had Ill intentions for her to risk it. 

Arsenal and her teammates had agreed and refrained from putting your face on their official social media. Though there were a few of you in a Batman mask on Ella and Mary’s pages, and a couple with some well-placed stickers on the Arsenal official account, she had been successful in protecting your identity. 

And the fans seemed to respect her wishes too. 

So your appearance in your Batman blanket tent was one that the fans were used to. 

What no one was used to was how grumpy you were. 

The bus ride from London to Manchester had been long, and rather difficult if Alessia did say so herself.

It was an extension of the already challenging week without her girlfriend that the two of you were trying to navigate. You didn’t take kindly to breaks in your routine, and since your move to London, your mother’s girlfriend Leah had become a large part of that routine. 

You were nearly as attached to her as you were to Alessia, and you hadn’t taken well to her absence. You were unable to understand that she was just away on business and that she hadn’t abandoned you and your mama. 

The week had been peppered with sporadic FaceTimes that you had no interest in and a lot of crying when your typical routines were broken. 

The only reprieve had been your excitement for the game between Arsenal and Manchester United at your favorite stadium, Old Trafford. 

You had been so excited to see Mary and Ella that you had refused to sleep after your bedtime story, even after she pulled you into the big bed she normally shared with Leah since the move to London. 

Then you hadn’t been impressed by how early she had to wake you up, and were rather uncooperative as she got you dressed, flat out refusing breakfast because they weren’t the mini pancakes Leah usually made you on travel days. 

You were miserable by the time you got to the bus, and then you had been forced to sit still for nearly 4 hours. You hadn’t been interested in any of the snacks she brought, any of the movies on your iPad, or interacting with her Arsenal teammates (even Viv, Beth, and Katie which surprised her). The only reprieve had come when she finally coaxed you into a nap about 30 minutes before the bus pulled into the stadium. 

“Easy love,” She hummed, bouncing you lightly as she stepped off the bus, flashing a grin towards the waiting crowd while trying to balance you and her bag. 

“Let me take that,” Katie said, grabbing Alessia’s kit bag from her. “You just worry about getting the bug inside,” 

She nodded towards the Irish captain in thanks, bringing her now free hand up to cup the hidden back of your head as you shifted anxiously against her again at the cheering of the fans. 

She sent them another smile, but forwent going to say hello, and headed down the tunnel instead. 

The last thing she needed was a full-blown meltdown, and with how loud the fans were and how cranky you were, she knew that’s exactly what would happen. 

“We’ll get to the changing room, and you can finish your nap in your cubby, alright?” She said, keeping her voice soft, her feet tapping as the crowd noise faded, blocked by the walls of the stadium. “And then you get to see Mazza and Ella,”

“Weah,” You mumbled into her neck, your voice muffled by her skin, your blanket tent, and the stuffed animal clutched under your arm. 

“I know you want Leah,” She sighed, rounding the corner to the hallway that held the visiting team changing room and showers. 

She wanted Leah too. 

While she had been single when she had you and she knew how to be a single mom, things were so much harder than they were with Leah. 

The defender had been part of your life since you were barely a year old, and Alessia had gotten used to her help throughout their 2-year relationship. Even when she was in Manchester, Leah had been an active participant in helping Alessia raise you. 

Things were so much easier when they could tag team things like breakfast and keep you entertained. It was one of the selling points of moving to Arsenal. 

More time for the three of you to be a family.

“But I’m sure the equipment staff will get you a nice warm sippy of milk, and we can relax until I play,” She continued, nodding towards Stinia as she held the changing room door open for the two of you. 

She thought you would perk up at the mention of warm milk, something they were trying to limit to just before bedtime, but you only sniffled against her neck. 

“I think our visitor will help too,” Stinia said as she passed, tilting her head towards the locker that the staff always set up for you with blankets and snacks, and a jersey of your own. 

Alessia followed her eyes, her shoulders immediately relaxing at the sight of her blonde girlfriend. 

“Oh thank god,” She breathed, crossing the room to stand in front of her locker.

Leah met her halfway, pulling you both into her arms the second she was close enough. “Hey loves,” 

“Hey,” Alessia sighed, leaning into the woman and accepting a very tame kiss. “Missed you,”

“I missed you both too, so much,” Leah said, her expression soft. 

While she loved her job and the opportunities it afforded her, she had grown rather attached to the little family unit the three of you had created. 

She quite missed the way you cuddled up to her in the mornings while she watched cartoons with you, and helped you get ready for bed. It was made even more excruciating by how little interest you showed in interacting with her on FaceTime, going so far as to hide under the couch so you could escape the phone. 

The only reprieve had been the photos Alessia sent her of you and your stuffed turtle cuddled up in a nest of her sweatshirts, and your refusal to leave the house unless you were wearing one that smelled like Leah. 

Today she knew Alessia had wrapped you in one of her owls England ones. 

“Tough morning?” Leah asked when you didn’t pull your head out from your blanket tent to greet her. 

“You have no idea,” Alessia sighed, beginning to rock again to help settle you. “We’re in a very grumpy mood today,”

Leah made a low noise, stepping a little closer, tilting her head around to look at the opening to your little blanket cave, and laying a very gentle hand on the center of your back. “Hey snuggle bug,”

You shifted in Alessia’s hold, peeking out from under your blanket, the head of your stuffed turtle just visible under your chin. “Weah?”

“Yeah sweetie,” She smiled gently at your bed head. “Do you wanna come to me so mama can get ready? I’ve got your cubby all nice and cuddly for you,”

“No,” You mumbled, your fist tightening in Alessia’s shirt. “m comfy,”

Both women frowned. 

They expected you to cling to Leah the moment you saw her, she tended to be your go-to on game days, and you had been relentless in your desire to see her for the last week. 

“Ok,” Leah agreed, rubbing your back to hopefully help you stay settled. “Do you want to continue your nap?”

You shook your head, resting your cheek back on your Mama’s shoulder. The way you blinked heavily at her told her a different story, but she didn’t mention it. 

“Alright,” Leah hummed, running her fingers through your wild curls. 

Your eyes slid closed, and she shared another look with Alessia. 

“Let’s go to your cubby,” Alessia sighed, rocking you as she made her way over to the bench that was all set up for you with blankets and two jerseys hanging. 

She gently pulled your head from her neck and settled you into the little nest that had been created for you. You pulled your Batman blanket tightly around you, snuggled deeply into the pile of blankets, and pulled the hood of your England jersey over your head, tucking your nose into the collar that smelled like Leah. 

You hugged your stuffed turtle, Squirt close to your chest, and let your eyes slide closed. 

Maybe you would finish your nap. 

******

“Hey love bug, wake up,” 

Gentle hands rubbed your back, and you lazily blinked up at Leah’s voice. 

“Warm-ups are about to start,” She continued, squatting in front of your little cubby. “Do you want to wear your jersey?” 

You shook your head, your little hands coming up to rub the sleep out of your eyes. 

“Alright,” Leah agreed, reaching up to brush your wild curls out of your eyes. “Does Squirt want his jersey?”

You yawned, thinking about it for a very long second before nodding. 

Leah smiled widely at you, reaching above you to the two extra jerseys hanging in your cubby, specifically designed for your favorite stuffed friend. 

“Does he want to wear mine or Mama’s?” She asked, waiting patiently as your eyes flickered between them. 

It often took you a few minutes to make big decisions like whose jersey you would wear. 

“Mazza,” You mumbled. 

The corners of Leah’s lips pulled downward. She wasn’t sure that Alessia had packed the turtle-sized Earps jersey that was a staple at Lionesses games. “I’m not sure we have that one bug. Can you pick mine or mama’s?”

You pouted, tucking your face into Squirt’s shell and shaking your head. 

“Ok love,” Leah sighed, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. “I have a sippy for you if you would like to watch warmups?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you rubbed your nose into squirt's soft body as you thought it over. 

You did love to watch Mama play, and they didn’t let you drink warm milk unless it was bedtime. 

“Otay,” You said finally, holding out your arms for Leah to pick you up. 

Her smile returned, as she ran her hand through your wild curls, and lifted you, squirt and the Batman blanket still wrapped around you into her arms. 

You immediately tucked your face into her neck, squishing your stuffed turtle between you, as she tucked your blanket more tightly around you. 

You hated jackets, and the old England sweatshirt you were wearing was not sufficient to keep you warm on its own. 

“Mazza and El?” You asked into her skin, practically melting into her as she made her way out of the changing room and down the tunnel, nodding at some of the staff as she passed. 

Leah hummed. “They’ll be out there too, but I think we’re closer to the Arsenal bench,” 

You yawned, a big dinosaur yawn as she stepped out into the stadium, waving at a few fans as she got settled in the seat just behind the bench that the training staff had set up for the two of you. 

“See after?” You asked, turning your head so you had a good view of the pitch. 

“Definitely,” Leah agreed, passing you a warm red and blue sippy cup filled with milk. 

Your eyes found your mama, running next to Viv near the center of the pitch, and you followed them as you sucked on your favorite beverage, relaxing into the defender's hold. 

Leah rubbed your back, bouncing her knees very gently. It was adorable how you waved at the girls on the pitch, no matter what team it was, and how they waved back, nudging whoever was next to them to point you out. 

You got particularly excited when Ella noticed you, sending you a very enthusiastic wave and a kiss. 

Leah knew the move to Arsenal hadn’t been easy for you. You were rather attached to the Manchester United women, and you missed them even if you had settled in well with the Arsenal girls. 

She just hoped that you could handle seeing both teams go at it. 

Seeing your Mama go against your decidedly favorite aunts. 

“Mama is waving at you,” Leah said, nudging you as Alessia sent you an equally big wave. 

Maybe this would pull you out of your grumpiness. 

*******

Any hope that Leah had of your mood lifting was dashed as soon as the starting lineups were announced. 

You had finished your milk just after warmups were over and dawned your Spider-Man ear defenders as the crowd roared to life. You seemed excited to chant along with them to their rendition of Country Road, and the Glory Glory Man united chant, even waving squirt along to the tunes. 

But then everything shifted. 

You wilted under the chorus of boos that met your Mama’s name, frowning as they echoed from every inch of the stadium. 

“Why they boo Mama?” 

Your voice was soft as you turned to Leah, a distinct crinkle between your eyes. 

Leah bit her lip at your adorableness, smoothing back your hair again. “Well, you remember how Mama played for United?” 

You nodded. “With El and Mazza,” 

“That’s right,” She said. “When she moved to Arsenal, that upset a lot of people,” 

“Because she so good? And they were sad?”

Your head tilted to the side at the question. 

Leah hummed. Recognizing and vocalizing your emotions were things that they were working on with you, so she was proud that you were trying to understand the big emotions of the crowd. 

“Some are sad,” She agreed. “Some are angry because they don’t understand why she left them,” 

“She no leave. You no leave either,” You said automatically, and Leah was already nodding. 

“No, we will never leave you. She just changed teams because it was better for her,” She explained gently. 

It was a familiar reassurance, one that she and Alessia had to given you hundreds of times. 

You had never met your father, but since you started pre-school, you had been acutely aware that you had a Mama and a Leah instead of a mom and dad. They weren’t sure exactly what started it, but you had become irrationally terrified that one of them would leave you. Terrified to the point of a panic attack. 

She knew that her absence hadn’t helped. 

“Mark a meanie butt,” You muttered, turning back towards the pitch. 

Leah suppressed her snort as the teams lined up for kickoff. 

He was a meanie butt, and he hadn’t treated you well, going as far as to say that you were a distraction, and doing his best to make it impossible for Alessia to spend time with you. 

“Who do you think is going to score?” Leah asked you, redirecting your attention. 

Your nose scrunched as you thought. “Mama score one and El,” 

“If Mama scores then Mazza won’t have a clean sheet,” Leah reminded you, resting her chin on your shoulder. 

You shrugged, the crinkle between your eyebrows reappearing when the crowd erupted in more boos as the ball neared your mama. 

You didn’t like it when they booed. 

Leah tightened her hold on you, as you began to squirm, your head whipping back and forth with the pace of the game. 

“Go, Mama!” You yelled as Katie dispossessed Galton and sent a ball over the top, right into Alessia’s path. 

She easily collected it and sent it careening right past Mary’s outstretched fingers. 

You nearly launched yourself out of Leah’s lap as the ball hit the back of the net, cheering so loudly that Leah was afraid you would hurt yourself. She pulled you back to stand on her thighs. 

Your little yell of excitement was drowned out by the deafening boo throughout the stadium, impossibly louder than it was before.

You turned in Leah’s lap, glaring up at the crowd around you. “No boo my Mama!” 

“Easy love,” She said, using her hands on your hips to balance you as you stood on her lap, hyper-aware of the cameras now pointing in your direction. 

“No boo Mama!” You screamed at the audience again, your fists clenched at your side, your little cheeks going red. “Mean!”

“It’s ok bug,” Leah tried again, using hands under your armpits and standing up so she was cradling you against her chest. “You’re ok,” 

“No ok,” You yelled, tears finally leaking from your eyes. “No boo mama goal. Bestest goal,” 

She shushed you gently, rocking from side to side, as she gestured towards security to let her back to the aisle behind the benches.“I know love,” 

No one wanted your looming meltdown to be splashed across social media later, even if Leah agreed with you. 

It was a great goal and it didn’t deserve the boos. 

Alessia didn’t deserve the boos. 

 “Sh, you’re ok,” She shushed you gently, stepping down the small staircase and into the tunnel, dampening the boos. “Take some deep breaths for me,” 

“Mama,” You sniffled miserably into her neck, wiping your tears on Squirt's back. “Best,” 

“Your mama is the best,” Leah hummed, running the hand not holding you through your hair, scratching your scalp. 

You sagged against her, just like your mother did when Leah ran her hands through her hair. 

“And they all know it too. They just don’t know how to handle her being on a different team,” She continued, rocking from side to side. “You’re ok,” 

“Mama best,” You repeated, pulling back to look at her with a pout. “no boo,” 

She smiled sadly at you. “We can’t stop them from booing, but you know what we can do?”

You shook your head, your eyes that were so like Alessia’s still watery and rimmed red. 

“We can cheer so loud that we drown out the boos,” Leah said, fixing your hoodie. 

Your eyes flashed with determination. “I cheer for Mama goals,” 

She hummed, kissing your forehead (and Squirt’s when you held him up for her). “Let’s go then,” 

You nodded vigorously, wiping your eyes. “But after, I tell Mazza and El that fans were butt heads,” 

Leah made a low noise of agreement in the back of her throat, bouncing lightly as she made her way back to the mouth of the tunnel. 

Her idea wasn’t a complex fix to your mood, and she was sure that they would have to dodge more frustration tantrums from you, but hopefully, it would satisfy you until after the match. 

Yes, Alessia would need to assure you that she was alright, and they would need to scrub social media of your face angrily yelling at fans, but right now she would take the little that you were giving her. 

There would be time for big emotions later. 

Right now, all she had to do was cheer for her love with you (and Squirt). 

[atavist]

Ayahuasca, fortune-tellers, a heroic dog, and more: Inside the race to find four children who survived a plane crash in the Amazon. “Mayday,” issue no. 147, is now available:

Disoriented, Lesly unbuckled her seat belt and wrenched Cristin from her mother’s arms. She used one of the baby’s diapers to stem the flow of blood coming from her head. The smell of fuel filled her nostrils. Debris was scattered everywhere. Lesly saw that Hermán Mendoza and Hernando Murcia were dead, but that Soleiny and Tien were unharmed.

With Cristin in her arms, Lesly led Soleiny and Tien out of the plane. A few yards away, she built a makeshift camp, stringing up a towel and a mosquito net to keep the constant rain and bugs at bay. Then the four children waited to be rescued. Tien kept asking when their mother would wake up. Lesly worried that her brother was too young to grasp the concept of death, so she said she didn’t know.

No one came for them, and Lesly knew it wouldn’t be long before predators arrived, attracted by the bodies. So she gathered a few of Magdalena’s clothes, some farina she found in Mendoza’s bag, and juice, soda, and candy from elsewhere on the plane. She salvaged a few other items that seemed useful: scissors, a first aid kit, diapers, a baby bottle. Then she led her siblings west, using the sun as their guide.

[fanaticsnail]

Grand Line Playgroup

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,200+

Synopsis: Adoptive parents have all taken the initiative to join together with their children to form: Grand Line Playgroup. This is the way it usually goes at playgroup: filled with shenanigans, support, and most importantly love for their children. 

Themes: the adoptive parents of one piece, all children are all relatively aged 3 to 7, but Robin is 10, au they all live, modern au, platonic, not an “x reader” fic, parenting drabble, fluff, nonsense. 

Parents: Mihawk, Rosinante (Corazon), Bellemere, Dadan, Zeff, Uncle Beckman, Shanks, Garp, and Smoker.

Children: Perona, Zoro, Law(rence), Nojiko, Nami, Uta, Ace, Sabo, Luffy, Sanji, Uta, Koby, Helmeppo, Robin, and Tashigi.

Notes: A small drabble about what it would be like if the one-piece characters were adoptive parents to an assortment of their toddler counterparts. This silly brain-worm was brought to you by several conversations with @feral-artistry & @writingmysanity, and the bestest aunties @since-im-already-here & @sordidmusings. This worm got to me and I needed to get it out. Links: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Tag List: @mfreedomstuff, @gingernut1314, @vespidphoenix, @i-am-vita

Dracule Mihawk arrives at Grand Line Playgroup ten minutes early every single Tuesday. He has a personalized gothic embroidered bag for both of his children filled with snacks, changes of clothes, water bottles, first aid kits, and a book for him to read while his two children play.

He wears matching nail polish with his daughter, Perona: today, she chose pink with black accents. He has parenting down to a fine art, everything always perfectly planned for any circumstances. Zoro takes out a collection of sporting equipment and begins kicking around a soccer ball as he waits for his friends to join him. 

The next to arrive is Donquixote Rosinante. He always attempts to get there early: set up his variety of bags to ensure his son, Lawrence, has everything he needs to enjoy his time at playgroup. His hair is a blonde, fluffy mess of mopped curls, his clothes disheveled and askew, but his smile is always cheerful despite his constant exhausted exasperated state. 

Law is a quiet child, not really engaging with Perona as she sets up a mock tea-party, nor Zoro as he kicks the ball against the wall. He, instead, opts to sit quietly alone and read a picture book in comfortable silence. 

Mihawk offers Rosinante a moist towelette, gesturing wordlessly to his lips, cheeks and right eye where Law graffitied art with permanent marker on his face as he slept. Rosinante gives him a gratuitous smile, huffing his laughter as he scrubs at his face with the towelette. 

The next to arrive is Rosinante’s old work colleague, Bellemere, with her two daughters in tow. Nami and Nojiko were walking arm in arm before rushing off to join Perona in her tea party. Bellemere gives Rosinante a clap on his shoulder, nodding her acknowledgement to Mihawk before taking her elected seat. 

As the clock ticks over to 10am: a small bundle of nervous, chaotic energy bounces inside the door and over the walls. This flash of black hair was followed immediately by a small blonde child that stares, unblinkingly, at Law. Dadan is exasperated as she carries an older and asleep Ace in her arms, attempting to catch up with Luffy to rein him in and set up. 

Rosinante springs into action, offering to ferry Luffy towards his regular playmate, Zoro. As Luffy nearly joins Zoro, he is instead drawn to the sticker book Law is holding containing bugs, beetles and arachnids. Luffy becomes entranced by the stickers: and he and Law begin cataloging them by shape, size and type over pages of lined paper. 

Dadan sighs, already exhausted although her day has barely begun. Rosinante smiles and fawns over the two dark-haired boys before resuming his seat beside Bellemere, talking about the latest gossip at his old workplace and the shenanigans his colleagues' love lives.

As if on queue, Ace wakes up and immediately springs out of Dadan’s arms, hurrying over to Zoro and joining him by kicking the ball against the wall. Sabo backs into the corner of the room and glares with his pale, blue eyes at Perona’s tea-party with intrigue. 

After Dadan, in comes Benn Beckman with his niece, Uta. Uta bounces on her heels as she runs over to Sabo, doing all in her power to make the small blonde smile instead of glare. She has a cheery disposition, guaranteed to always get a smile out of the quiet boy the longer she sings and pulls faces at him.

Zeff is the next, his young son, Sanji, sprinting towards the soccer ball and easily stealing it away from Zoro. They immediately get into a heated fistfight: legs and limbs flying as they butt heads as to who's turn it is to kick the ball next. Mihawk sighs, immediately rising to his feet to play referee to the match as Beckman places Uta's bag beside Perona's. 

Arriving late, and with his two adoptive sons Koby and Helmeppo, strolls Garp. Dadan glares at him, up turning her lip in a snarl as Garp shepherds his boys into the room. The tension is thick between these two due to Garp's history of dropping off children at Dadan's and not returning to raise them himself. She refuses to help with the latest two additions to his family, although she cares for them greatly. Sabo nods at Koby, Helmeppo scoffs at Uta. 

Another late arrival is a larger gentleman with his quiet and older daughter, Robin. Sir Crocodile is dripping in luxury brands, gold rings and smells of expensive colognes. Robin immediately humors Perona, Nami and Nojiko by playing mother in their tea party adventure. 

“Mihawk,” the larger man gruffy nods in acknowledgement. 

“Crocodile,” Mihawk mirrors his tone, gesturing with his chin to take a seat beside him. Sir Crocodile takes his seat before unrolling the newspaper tucked beneath his arm and beginning to read. 

As the children interact together, the more talkative parents swap parenting advice amongst one another. 

Rosinante asks for support with Law's current food aversion. How does he get this child to eat grained carbohydrates without him gagging about the fact it's bread? Dadan is a seasoned expert in parenting at this stage, still ignoring Garp as Garp speaks to Mihawk about his blonde son’s latest interest in kendo. 

Bellemere joins in the conversation, Mihawk leaving as the topic changes to work and joining beside Beckman who is silently brooding on the chair beside Crocodile. 

“No Shanks today?” Mihawk quips at the larger man. 

“No Shanks today,” Beckman parrotted in return with a disgruntled and gruff growl. 

As if the mere mention of his name summoned his presence, in comes the red-haired Shanks in a lazy and cheerful stupor. His socks are raised to his knees, tucked into some comfortable sandals on his feet. His cargo shorts are tied loosely on his hips by a brown belt, and his patterned shirt is open to expose his bare chest. 

Glasses are lying lazily on his head as he extends an enthusiastic smile at the children before acknowledging the adults. An enthusiastic chorus of “Uncle Shanks!” echoes throughout the playspace, a flash of small bodies immediately moving to tackle and engulf the redhead in a warm embrace. 

Shanks falls on his ass, holding high his coffee cup as he laughs at Luffy, Uta, Ace and Sabo as they enthusiastically clutch at him with grabby hands. Their faces all shine with the utmost adoration at the redhead, who shoots Beckman and Dadan a wink while mouthing: “I'm still the favorite.”

Beckman sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as Dadan rolls her eyes at him. 

The adults are finally all gathered for their children’s weekly playgroup, the kids settle into playing amongst themselves once again. Shanks offers Beckman a smile before offering him the half-drunk coffee cup. The taller man takes a sip, choking on the liquid as the surprising burn of warmed alcohol scorches his throat so early in the morning. 

As their meeting draws to a soft close, a knock at the door interrupts their close knit conversation. 

“I heard there was a playgroup in here?” a gruff voice rumbled at the door. White hair and the scent of tobacco immediately sprung through the hallway. In arrived a large gentleman, another common associate of Garp, Bellemere and Rosinante who immediately sprung up to greet him. 

Smoker presented ushered a quiet child into the room, her uncertainty was one the children knew well. Immediately, Luffy sprang up from his arachnid archiving with Law and went to introduce himself to the girl. Smoker smiled at the interaction, nodding to Tashigi as an indicator for her to go ahead and play, before joining Bellemere and Rosinante. 

“Finally decided to foster, Smoker?” Bellemere smiled, embracing him into her warm and welcoming arms. Smoker returns her gesture, tapping her on the shoulder and releasing her from the embrace. 

“Foster? Not a chance,” he smirked, pulling away and smiling at the purple-haired woman, “Adopting.”

[ratsummer]

Something I've been thinking about is cozy, fleecy ghoul hammocks... You know, like the ones for ferrets??

They're strung up in various parts of the abbey, like the library, sunny corridors, and the ghoul dens. All ghouls are welcome to use them: some are hanging high up in the rafters for nimble air ghouls, others are under skylights for quint ghouls to stargaze. Generally, water and earth ghouls are only tempted in by promises of cuddles from other types of ghouls, as they're more inclined to keeping their feet on the ground.

All this to say, I think Dew LOVES to be up in a hammock. He liked it fine when he was a water ghoul - he'd clamber up with Ifrit or Zephyr, rocking them gently by letting his tail drape over the side and swishing it about. But now that he's fire, he simply can't get enough hammock time.

His favorite hammock is in a quiet, south corridor, strung up high in front of two-story windows. It's not as lofted as the ones the air ghouls favor, but high enough that most of the larger ghouls don't bother with it - perfect for when he needs to hide away. This particular hammock is almost sleeping bag style, with soft, fleecy pockets he can tuck himself into. He's stashed a couple pillows and multiple soft blankets up there too, just for extra coziness.

When Phantom comes along, shy and touch-starved, Dew can't help but immediately introduce him to his favorite hammock. At first, he lets Phantom hide away there by himself when he needs some quiet time to adjust, or when he needs to feel wrapped up and safe with pack smell but he's a little too overstimulated for ghoul cuddles. But before long, Phantom is dragging Dew up for hammock cuddles almost daily.

Poor Swiss has on many occasions gone looking for his sweet little bug, hoping for a cuddle, only to discover he's been secreted away to Dew's hammock - soft purrs and tails poking out the only things giving them away from floor-level. He can't get in there with them: it's a little too awkward of an angle for him to get in without feeling like he's going to plummet to his untimely death, and it also can't support all three of them without ripping off the wall.

Once, Swiss was feeling particularly bummed that they were up there without him - he was feeling needy for his little ghouls, and they'd been up there for hours. Admittedly, he was feeling a little vindictive, so he climbed up the little access ladder to shake them around a bit and whine. Once he got up there though... Well, it was hard to snap a picture with the way his heart was melting, but it's now pinned up on the wall over his nest.

It was hard to see where one ghoul ended and the other began, the way they were pretzeled around each other, dead to the world. Dew was stretched and contorted so that more than half of his limbs stuck out over the sides of the hammock. His hair was loose, tangled up around his horns instead of neatly braided down his back, and his clothes were tangled and bunched up in a way that simply couldn't be comfortable.

Phantom was koalaed around Dew's middle, half underneath him, but somehow wormed around to have his head pressed dead-center on Dew's chest. Their sweet bug is happiest sleeping when he can have an ear pressed over someone's heart, the steady beat and purrs soothing him all the way through.

Dew doesn't really sweat much anymore unless he's actively running around wreaking havoc... but poor Phantom was drenched. He looked like a toddling kit gone down for a hard nap - his hairline was damp and shining, hair curling up where it wasn't plastered to his skin. His cheek was mushed hard against Dew's shirt - when he got up he'd have crease and wrinkle marks impressed on his face for hours. He also had his mouth hanging wide open, a puddle of drool steadily soaking into Dew's shirt.

Swiss couldn't help but purr and stare fondly at them for a few minutes. When Phantom's brow started to scrunch up like it does when he's having a nightmare, Swiss started gently, gently rocking the hammock to soothe him. Almost instantly, the little ghoul's face was smooth and peaceful once more, hands clutching at Dew's waist and squeezing him tighter as he snuggled down. Dew made little grunting sounds as he wiggled too, scooching and squirming until he got Phantom tucked up under his chin.

Accepting that he'd just have to wait until after dinner to get Dew and Phantom snuggles, Swiss sighed and skulked back toward the ghoul den. Maybe he could snatch up Rory for some little ghoul snugs...

Anyway... yeah... ghoul hammocks <3 <3 <3 Thoughts??