#calling the ship dark crystal

[plasticbabyart]

I’m literally in love with them… I’ll probably post the speedpaint to my TikTok

[drnoblesix]

Posted the fanfic I wrote about Dr. Schuster x Someone's OC! Feel free to give it a read!

The men featured in the fic (first art piece by @dimensionjumpingartist :3)

[k-nayee]

Wife to the Winds Epic: The Musical | iiii

wc: 4.4k a/n: whew! this is it y'all, the final and last part of the WTTW series. I hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I did <3 Here's the animation for this part (and honestly the main inspiration for this entire series) sidenote: In this AU, when Odysseus left for war Telemachus was 9 years old.

Shameless Plug in for Penelope!Warrior Fic!

Traveler M.List

Previous |

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

The rolling sea churned beneath the ship as waves sprayed mist over the deck.

By this point you had gained full respect of the crew—especially those who owed their lives to you.

Now as the ship rocked over rough waves, you steadied yourself by the railing, ignoring the heated discussion unfolding between Odysseus and Eurylochus.

Polites was caught in the middle, a concerned spectator of their throwing words. He would cast you a nervous glance every now and then as a silent call for help.

But you wouldn't know. Your eyes were locked onto the dark clouds circling overhead in the sky and the ever-approaching mountain-like formation of Aeolia.

Even among the chaos of the storm the sky palace loomed like a beacon—massive and otherworldly against the darkening horizon.

Aeolus’ island was unlike anything you’d ever seen. It floated above the waves with its lively beauty, anchored to nothing but the whims of the winds themselves.

Approaching footsteps behind you grew louder. You turn to see Odysseus and Eurylochus approaching with their argument trailing along them.

"I can't have you planting seeds of doubt every step of the way," Odysseus said to his Second in Command, every word spoken edged with unyielding authority. "I can't have you disagreeing each route. I need you to agree and comply without question or we risk all of us dying in this. Do you understand?"

A tense silence settled between them. For a moment Eurylochus held his gaze, the frown on his face fading to resignation.

“Okay,” he muttered almost reluctantly.

Odysseus seemed to release a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Thank you."

A shout from one of the men broke through and all of you turned. The crew had managed to hook several ropes onto the cliff edges of Aeolia, securing the ship in place.

Odysseus turned to you, his features darkening as he prepared to leave for his encounter with Aeolus.

“Stay here,” his command carried a weight of finality. “This is no place for you nor is it safe.”

Frustration welled within but you bit back any protest.

Watching Odysseus hoist himself up the ropes, you felt the weight of all that had happened over the past months—the times your instincts had protected the crew, the risks you’d taken.

'Would he be on this journey at all if not for me defying his orders?'

You turned to Eurylochus and Polites who were already watching you with a mixture of concern and uncertainty.

“You know as well as I do that if I hadn’t disobeyed Odysseus before, many of you would be with Hades by now.” The words carried confidence you’d earned through hard-won respect. “Odysseus may not admit it but he needs me. We all know it.”

The two exchanged a silent conversation before Polites gave a small nod.

Eurylochus folded his arms, the faintest hint of a smile breaking through his normally guarded expression.

“Alright,” he murmured, “but keep close.”

With a nod you gripped the rope tightly and began to climb, your heart thudding in time with each pull and stretch.

The air grew colder the higher you went, an exhilarating chill that bit at your skin.

But when you reached the top and hoisted yourself over the edge that coldness was replaced with awe.

Aeolus’ realm spread out before you like a dream—a world sculpted from wind and sky.

Clouds coiled and twisted to form walls and archways, each one alive with a shimmer of captured light.

Wind chimes of crystal and glass that hung suspended in mid-air harmonized with the constant rush of air that whipped past.

Towers of vast storm clouds and statues of mist shifted with each gust of wind.

You marveled at the beauty and wonder of the place. The sights and sounds were nearly overwhelming but you forced yourself to focus.

From behind a cluster of silvery trees you heard Odysseus’ voice, followed by a low rich laugh that sent shivers down your spine.

Silently creeping closer you slip behind a low wall of crystalline stone allowing the view of your Captain standing face-to-face with the Wind God.

Beside him floated two beautiful wind nymphs, their features delicate and movements as light as air.

They twirled around the God like ribbons caught in a breeze with playful knowing smiles.

Aeolus himself was a sight to behold.

Tall and willowy, his hair moved with the rhythm of the wind as  his soft and flowing robes made him seem less a man and more a living embodiment of the sky itself.

 “Let’s play a game!”

A visibly wary Odysseus took a cautious step forward. “A game?”

“Yes that's what I'm serving,” his smile widened as his nymphs swayed alongside him mirroring his amusement. “And if you win you’ll get what you’re yearning.”

"...deal."

A decorated leather bag appears cradled in the immortal's hands. The bag seemed to pulse with energy as though it barely contained the forces within.

“Take a look right here at this bag. It has the winds of the storm all trapped. All you gotta do is not open this bag.”

Odysseus eyed the bag warily. “Sounds too easy. What’s the catch?”

You see a flicker of something sly in the Ruler of the Wind's eyes—a twist of his lips that gave away the God’s true nature.

“Ha ha ha!” Aeolus’s laughter rang out light and carefree. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer...”

His voice trailed off into a lyrical hum as the nymphs joined in harmony. “Never really know who you can trust!”

The words sent a chill down your spine. You could see Odysseus bristle slightly at the implications.

Aeolus, noticing his reaction, flashed a smile filled with a playful malevolence. He leans in as if sharing a secret. “If they wanna get the bag open you gotta say no sir.”

The nymphs pop up behind the Greek King. “Sometimes killing is a must!”

“What?”

But Aeolus and his nymphs continued, their song unbroken, their voices dipping into a darker melody. “Cause the end always justifies the means. Friends turn into foes and rivalries...”

“So keep your friends close and your enemies closer” His smile was something between a grin and a threat. “Never really know who you can trust.”

“Never really know who you can trust!”

A chill ran down your spine. Unable to hold back any longer, you decide it was time to make yourself known.

Stepping out from behind the bushes with careful steps you softly called, “Odysseus?”

Your voice broke through the tension catching the attention of all present. Odysseus turned with furrowed brows, but it was Aeolus whose reaction was most striking.

His eyes widened as he took you in and a faint pink flush crept across his cheeks. The winds around him stirred and eddied—reflecting his sudden interest.

In an instant Aeolus floated toward you, his movements impossibly graceful as though the air itself had carried him to you.

He looked down at you as if he could scarcely believe what he saw.

The nymphs fluttered around him. Similar to their own master's fascination, their nimble fingers reach out as though to touch the air around you.

“Who...who are you?” he asked hushed and reverently. His hand lift almost instinctively, fingers curling as if he could pull you closer with only a thought. 

“A beauty like yours and no God has claimed you? Not even Zeus himself?”

His tone was laced with admiration, but beneath it lay something else—possessiveness perhaps.

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by his gaze. 'A God enraptured...by me? '

The idea of a divine being finding you so captivating was a dangerous thrill. But as the initial shock faded your wits returned, recognizing the opportunity.

If Aeolus wanted to play games you were more than willing to play along.

You softened your expression. With a tilt of your head you meet his gaze through lowered lashes

“Me?” you murmured, letting your voice carry the perfect note of awe and shyness. “A mere mortal to catch the eye of a God as glorious as you?”

Aeolus’s eyes sparkled in delight by your response. He leaned in slightly, his gaze intent as if waiting for something more.

You let the moment build and step closer as though drawn to him with a whisper of invitation in your eyes.

Then, just as you seemed close enough to brush your lips against his, you gracefully twirled away to a stop next to Odysseus.

The shift in your movements left Aeolus visibly stunned and you couldn’t resist a subtle satisfied smile as you watched his reaction.

“How deeply flattering is is...” You placed your hand gently over your heart, letting your eyes shine with wistful regret. “But I am already bound to my dear King Odysseus. Sworn to remain by his side. Oh! It breaks my heart so.”

Aeolus’s eyes sharpened at your words. His attention moved from you to Odysseus in a new kind of interest.

“Oh truly?” The weight of the God’s gaze settled heavily on the King of Ithaca as a slow calculating smile pulled at his lips.

“In that case let us make another deal, King of Ithaca.” He straightened as he turned to fully face the Greek Hero. “I will command my winds to carry you safely to Ithaca unchallenged by storm or squall. But in return...”

His gaze returned to you. “Once her feet touch the sands of Ithaca, she shall be mine—a bride as a token of goodwill.”

Odysseus stiffened in shock. The idea of choosing between his mission to return home and leave you to another made his mouth fill with distaste.

'After all she has done for me and my men...'

The son of Laërtes' lips curled as refusal sat at the tip of his tongue. “I—”

You place a steadying hand on his arm, your fingers firm but gentle, signaling him to stop.

Meeting his gaze you simply offer a faint nod. Odysseus hesitated, his expression softening as he read the resolve in your eyes.

Finally, he turned to Aeolus and nodded. “Very well. We have a deal.”

The God's face lit up in a radiant almost childlike joy. He let out a delighted laugh before throwing his arms wide as if to embrace the entire sky.

Without warning he swept you into his arms and lifted you into the air, twirling you around.

The world spun in a blur of color and sound as the wind caught your hair and clothes making you feel weightless.

His nymphs whirled around you both; their laughter blending with his in a symphony of wind and joy.

When he set you back down on your feet, the Wind God was mere inches away, his eyes soft and filled with something almost tender.

His hand came up to gently cradle your face, his thumb tracing a line just below your cheekbone as he whispered, “Soon...”

With that single word a delicate ring of cloud appeared around your neck: light and cool against your skin like the softest silk brushing against you.

You instinctively touched it and felt the tickle of mist against your fingers. The cloud ring was ethereal—a reminder of the promise that had been made.

Glancing at Odysseus, you spot the faint distress in his eyes and offer him a reassuring smile.

For now the deal was struck. And with Aeolus’s favor on your side, Ithaca was finally within reach.

*.·:·.☽✧✧☾.·:·.*

The path down to the ship was silent with the gravity of your decision pressing down on you like the weight of a storm.

As you and Odysseus descended he stole glances at you, his face shadowed with a mixture of gratitude and guilt.

Unfortunately he couldn't speak his mind because the moment you both reached the deck, countless crewmen began to cluster around in curiosity.

Elpenor, one of Odysseus most loyal crewman, pushed to the front with worry etched into his expressions.

“Captain what’s happening?” His asked, gaze dropping down to the object held tightly in Odysseus's hand. “What’s trapped in that bag?”

Odysseus drew a breath. "Something dangerous friends, we mustn't lag. It's—"

"Treasure!"

Your heart stopped and you spun around just in time to catch sight of  the two wind nymphs, their ghostly forms dissolving into the wind.

As they faded they shot you a pair of sly knowing smiles. "Buh-bye~"

The effect on the crew was immediate. Greed gleamed in their eyes as they leaned forward.

Whispers of excitement rippled through the crowd.

“Treasure you say?” one of the crewmen licked his lips as he eyed the bag.

Another voice chimed in eagerly, “What could it be? Gold? Jewels?”

"Well open the bag Captain!"

"Yeah let's see what you got!"

Several of the crew members took eager steps forward, their hands twitching with the urge to reach out.

“No! Do not!” Odysseus snarled with an severe expression. His voice rang out sharply, cutting through the growing excitement. “Everybody listen closely. See how this bag is closed?” He held it up firmly. “That’s how it’s supposed to be. This bag doesn’t contain treasure—it holds the storm inside. It must not be touched.”

There was a long pause as the crew absorbed his words.

They didn’t look convinced. But once wary glance at Odysseus’s stern expression and they reluctantly broke away with grumbles as they returned to their tasks.

Yet you could see the gleam of suspicion in their eyes, their greedy curiosity far from satisfied.

Odysseus' jaw clenched in frustration. Seeing Eurylochus and Polites standing nearby his face hardened with a new determination.

“Eurylochus, Polites: we can’t afford to let the treasure rumor fly. Not a single word of it.”

Eurylochus’s expression grew grim and he gave a determined nod. “Understood Captain.”

He turned and began ordering the men to prepare the sails, his voice sharp and unyielding as he barked commands.

Polites lingered to offer a strained apologetic smile. “We’ll try to keep them in line,” he murmured before hurrying off to assist Eurylochus.

Odysseus let out a sigh, his shoulders finally relaxing as the tension began to ease.

But then his gaze drifted back to you and his eyes fell on the faint cloud ring still resting around your neck—visible proof of the promise he’d made with Aeolus. 

"Why did you agree to this?" His sorrowful eyes searched yours.

You met his gaze steadily. "Aeolus is infatuated and I’m nothing but a passing fascination to him. His promise of safe passage may be the only way to see you all home.”

You look to the sealed bag in his hands then back to him. “Having him focused on me hopefully stops him from tempting the crew anymore than he already has. You all get to go home Odysseus—and that’s what matters.”

Odysseus considered your words before his expression melts with admiration and gratitude.

“You’ve sacrificed much for us,” he murmured, touched by your foresight. “To keep us safe you’ve bound yourself to a God.”

There was a somber pride in his gaze and for a fleeting moment you saw a hint of sadness. Still he was deeply grateful.

With a solemn nod he set his jaw with renewed resolve. “I will guard this bag myself to make sure your sacrifice is not in vain.”

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

Over the next nine days Odysseus kept his promise. He did not sleep, and even when his eyes grew heavy his grip remained firm.

As the days passed you couldn’t help but notice the cloud ring moving on your body. 

Halfway to Ithaca the cloud ring settled on your upper arm, forming a delicate band around your bicep, barely perceptible yet still cool against your skin.

With each shift of the misty band the weight of Aeolus’s claim grew more tangible—silent countdown marking each mile toward Ithaca.

By the tenth day you could see exhaustion settling heavily on Odysseus. He fought to keep his eyes open but the days without sleep were taking their toll.

At dawn, just as a soft glow of sunrise bathed the deck, you noticed him beginning to doze, head dipping ever so slightly as his grip on the bag loosened.

That was when you saw them: several crew members creeping forward with greed shining in their eyes.

Two men stood on lookout duty, glancing back at Eurylochus and Polites who were distracted by the other crew members with carefully timed questions and complaints about minor ship problems.

The rest surrounded Odysseus quietly, their eyes fixed on the bag as if it held the promise of riches.

Casting one last glance around to ensure they were unnoticed, the sailor closest reach out with trembling hands toward the bag.

Heart pounding you leapt to your feet. In a flash you crossed the deck, dagger in hand, and positioned yourself between the crewmen and the bag.

“Stop!” you hissed, Your free hand went down to grab and clutch the bag tightly against your chest as you leveled a fierce glare at each man. “Do you have any idea what you almost cost us?”

One of the men sneered but his defiance wavered under your fierce gaze. “We only wanted to see what’s in it.” he muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.

“See? See?!” you spat in disdain. “What do you think Aeolus placed inside? These are winds bound by the hand of a God! Open it and you would unleash storms strong enough to send us all to the depths.”

The men shrank back as their defiance crumbled into shame the more they processed the gravity of their actions.

Just then Odysseus stirred awake, his eyes snapping open at the sound of your voice. “Wha...?”

Taking in the scene—the dagger in your hand, the bag clutched protectively to your chest, and the men standing sheepishly before you—his expression hardened.

“You...fools!” Odysseus growled. “Do you understand what you nearly did?!”

The men hung their heads as Odysseus continued to speak with a  fury that left them visibly shaken.

“Aeolus gave us a chance to return home—each of you has a family waiting, a future. And yet you would risk it all because of your greed?” His gaze was unyielding and each word hit like a hammer on stone. “One gust from this bag would have thrown us back to the depths of the sea and we would never see Ithaca again.”

The men murmured apologies, their faces red with shame as they backed away, visibly chastised.

You let out a breath as you sheathed your dagger, feeling the tension ease from your shoulders as the threat passed.

Odysseus stepped forward. “Let this be a lesson you remember well. Disobedience...distrust—these are poisons that will kill us all before any sword or storm. Your lack of discipline nearly cost us Ithaca, nearly costed us everything after all we've been through.”

Just as he finished a shout from the ship's crow's nest broke the tension. “Land ahead!”

The cry sent a ripple of excitement through the crew, their earlier shame momentarily forgotten.

They scrambled toward the bow and you turned with Odysseus to catch sight of homeland just beyond the horizon.

Ithaca—finally within reach. Something that meant freedom for the men and for Odysseus.

And yet for you it was meant something else entirely.

You tightened your grip on the railing.

Glancing down you saw the cloud ring had shifted once more; sliding down from your forearm to your wrist, its misty band now clasped around you like a bracelet.

As the crew rushed to prepare for docking Odysseus found his way to your side. Together, you both stared at the nearing shores in silence.

The Greek King looked almost somber as though the sight of his homeland stirred memories long buried.

After a long contemplative pause, he finally speaks. “The last time I saw those shores...Telemachus was just a boy of nine.” A bittersweet smile touched his lips. “I wonder what kind of man he’s grown into. If he’ll even recognize me...”

You offer a faint smile when he turned his gaze to you but it did nothing to stop the sadness.

He searched your face as though memorizing it and then said, “I am endlessly grateful to you—for everything you’ve done. For the men and for me. All of this...” He looks away as though unable to face you directly. “...only to become another prisoner. Just as you were before.”

Sadness pooled in your chest, but you met his words with a quiet acceptance.

“There’s not much to be done when it comes to the Gods,” you calmly say despite melancholy coloring each word. It was a fate you’d accepted the moment you’d struck that deal.

Odysseus’s silence was broken by a quiet, almost wistful chuckle. You turned to him to catch a glimmer in his eyes.

“If things had been different you would have made the perfect wife for my son Telemachus.” He looked at you fondly.

Caught off guard you felt your cheeks warm. His words were laced with a sincerity that was both touching and painful.

“Intelligence like yours...it shouldn’t be wasted on the whims and entertainments of Gods.” His tone softened into something almost paternal. “You would help Ithaca flourish as its Queen.”

You let out a dry almost self-mocking laugh. “Pity isn't it?” you replied, unable to hide the edge of bitterness in your voice.

Looking back toward the nearing shores of Ithaca, the cloud bracelet has now shifted to your finger. The opaque object slowly gaining its solid coloring with every passing wave.

“In the end I’ve found myself exactly where I didn’t want to be: just another pawn in the games of Gods and Kings.”  With a rueful smile you add, “Though...at least the King I served along the way was worth it.”

Leaning against the railing you let out a mock sigh of resignation. “But a promise is a promise isn’t it?”

You lift your hand, letting the light catch on the cloud ring as it hovered on the cusp of your fingers. “Where my feet touch the sands of Ithaca...”

Odysseus' gaze moves from the ring to your face causing him to perk up. “The sands you say...”

A knowing glint light his eyes as a thoughtful smile curved his lips.

.*.·:·.☽✧✧☾.·:·.*

Odysseus stepped into the grand hall. His gaze swept over the familiar stone walls, the polished floors, the long-forgotten scent of his own kingdom.

His heart pounded as he took in the sight before him: Penelope, standing tall yet trembling, her face softened by age but still achingly beautiful.

Beside her stood Telemachus—no longer the child he had left behind but a grown man with his father’s strength and his mother’s fierce gaze.

They stared at him as if willing themselves to believe that he was truly here.

“Odysseus...” Penelope’s voice finally broke the stillness, barely more than a whisper in fear the weight of his name in her mouth might make him vanish.

Odysseus crossed the floor. When he reached her he stopped, his roughened hands slowly reaching to cup her face.

“Penelope,” he murmured, voice thick with longing, “after all these years...”

Penelope reached up to cover his hands with her own. “You...you are here. Truly here.” Tears gathered in her eyes and she fluttered them back in fear that one blink might end the dream.

“I am,” Odysseus replied barely holding on. “By the grace of the Gods and the strength of our hope I’ve come back to you.”

As if a dam had broken she threw her arms around him, clutching him tightly as though the very fabric of the world depended on her hold.

“I kept your memory here,” she said into his shoulder. “I told Telemachus every story, every lesson you ever shared. I waited and I prayed.”

Odysseus held her tightly as he murmur in her hair. “And I lived each day for the thought of this moment my love.”

Behind her Telemachus took a hesitant step forward. His hands were clenched at his sides, his face filled with an emotion too complex to put into words.

Odysseus’s gaze shifted to his son. “Telemachus...” He released Penelope slowly, stepping toward the Prince. “Look at you.”

His breath caught as he took in Telemachus’ tall strong frame, the shadow of a beard on his face, the look of a man who had faced his own battles.

The King's eyes shone with pride as sorrow mingled in their depths.

“I'm sorry I wasn’t there to see it. To guide you. But it seems you’ve become a man on your own.” He placed a strong hand on Telemachus’ shoulder, squeezing gently. “And I could not be more proud.”

Telemachus met his father’s gaze with a clenched jaw in attempt to fight back tears. “It was my honor to learn from your shadow father.”

They embraced and for a moment the world shrank to the three of them—the cunning King of Ithaca, his devoted wife, and the son who had grown up in his absence.

The tearful reunion was suddenly interrupted by the entrance of several men carrying a large cloth-draped basket.

Penelope and Telemachus pull from the hug as the men carefully set the basket down the middle of the hall before leaving. They turn to Odysseus, their confusion plain.

Odysseus smiled. Yet there was something else in his expression—a hint of anticipation and a glint of mischief. 

Gently, he took Penelope’s hand and guided her closer to the basket, gesturing for Telemachus to follow.

 “This,” he began, “is the reason I am here. And though the introduction may seem unconventional, it was the only way. I had to be specific to avoid some...complications upon disembarkment.”

He turned to Telemachus, his expression one of pride and apology combined. “I am sorry I was not there to see you grow into the man you are now. But what I brought for you is something any should have...”

With that Odysseus placed his hand on the woven lid of the basket and lift.

You emerged slowly, rising from within the wicker container with a serene smile. The soft light of the torches cast a warm glow over you giving your appearance an almost otherworldly quality.

The son of Odysseus and Penelope was silent. His eyes widening as he took in your your face making his stunned expression quickly shift to awe.

He was speechless—utterly captivated. For him, it was as if no one else existed in the hall.

A blush crept over Telemachus’ cheeks as glanced between you and his father with astonishment still etched across his features.

Holding his gaze, you smiled, allowing a touch of playful confidence to warm your expression. “Hello husband.”

[brittle-doughie]

2nd time I've sent this ask sorry if I seem impatient.

Hello! Can I have Y/n as Galacta knight?

Summary on what happens:

In the fight between pitaya and ananas against longan, timekeeper cookie(she lived)was bored and opens a big time rift; on the other side is the fight between the crk brave gang and dark enchantress cookie. Then deep below the earth is a crystal that's teleported to the surface. Everyone looks at the crystal with curiosity. Suddenly the crystal cracks, slowly but surely the crystal breaks. The being takes a deep breath of air. Everyone from crk looks on with curiosity, while the rest excluding timekeepr look on with fear. This being was in old written tablets, not from the witches or the wizards but from a race that existed before earthbread and had mysteriously vanished, The Ancients. The Ancients are an old civilisation that consisted of 2 groups, ones with advanced technology and ones with extraordinary magic. They've made strong artifacts that's laced with magic. Some of these are the Lor Starcutter, a floating ship that's able to traverse to different dimensions; the Galactic Novas, planet sized clockwork stars that can grant one wish when summoned and more artifacts they've made; they still exist but are difficult and dangerous for cookies to try to obtain the artifacts.

Then a being called Void Termina The Destroyer of Worlds, was brought into the world. The Ancients sent 4 warriors, one of them being Y/n, who's known as Galacta knight who holds the title "The strongest warrior in the galaxy" to defeat the dark being. After Void Termina's defeat The Ancients feared their power resulting their imprisonment but not without physical changes(they changed Y/n to look like a cookie not turned to an actual cookie)and has been sealed away since. The ovenbreak cookies, especially the dragons, have every right to fear them for the freed being was Y/n the Galacta knight. After a few seconds they look at their cookie-shaped body then their surroundings, they saw the brave gang and flew towards them at great speeds. As they landed the others braced themselves as Y/n approaches the group. They asked "What is the meaning of this? Why am I released to the world? Did you release me out of pity? Or to make a sad attempt to claim my title." They said the last line coldly laced with anger which sent shivers down every cookie’s back. Then it all clicked for Gingerbrave, Timekeeper cookie must’ve accidentally removed the spell of The Aeon hero's prison, so he explained the situation to the knight. Fortunately for everyone, Galacta knight understood what was told to them, then lotus dragon and snake fruit cookie arrived to the scene to see what happened and saw Y/n. They initially panicked with lotus prepared to fight for their life 'til gingerbrave and the other cookies(and surprisingly lychee; they were in the background)explained to them what happened.

After that chaos ensues as the other dragons and the cake witch are fighting each other. Lotus was about to join 'til Gingerbrave to everyone's surprise, asks the Temporal warrior for help against longan and the cake witch, they agreed with the condition from Gingerbrave to NOT kill longan dragon. Before the cake witch could strike again, it was parried with strong force from an unknown being. Every cookie looked towards the unknown person, much to the horror of the dragons and confusion of Dark enchantress cookie, it was Galacta knight. Before anyone could react they went after the cake witch; it was dealt in short time as after they tanked a few attacks, destroyed it in one strike. Dark enchantress cookie looks at what's once the cake witch in horror; Y/n immediately goes after Longan next. The other 2 where forced to retreat to the group who told them everything whilst Longan starts to dodge for their life as more time rifts appear in the background. As Y/n deals more damage to the dragon they, out of anger, sent a sword beam at Longan dragon who narrowly dodges it, the sword beam continues to travel entering a time rift and cuts an entire planet in half, much to the surprise and mainly fear of the cookies and dragons.

Shortly after Longan is defeated by Y/n and is forced to turn Earthbread back to normal and turn cookies back from stone.The time rifts are closed by croissant cookie(idk how she lived)who greets Gingerbrave. She also saw Y/n and starts to panic and is given a summary of what went down. After that Y/n roams Earthbread and is catching up with Gingerbrave on what happened after their imprisonment with help of other cookies.

Brittle I'm SO SORRY for how long this is. Can we get reactions of the ovenbreak characters involved in the events(crk characters reactions are optional, tho I'd appreciate it if you include crk!Dark Enchantress' reaction)and the aftermath of the ask.

Smol bonus: I like to think he's short tempered and protective to those who he's bonded with after his imprisonment and have long hair that fades from white to faded pink if he had a human form; these information is carried over to Y/n in this ask. Btw I would’ve included an image of Galacta knight's design but Tumblr won’t let me send the ask if I did, so it’s best if you searched up galacta knight and just imagine that he's in the shape of a cookie with armor in neon pink, yellow and white colors and the skin color is mainly grey cuz Y/n takes his role.

I know you’re sorry and I’m all for a bit of Kirby, but PLEASE keep requests short. This made my brain fart-

Who was this random knight, she thought. How could a cookie drop in and defeat the cake creature in short time with that blade in their hands. She’s annoyed, but intrigued at the same time with the arrival of this new contender to the fight.

Timekeeper didn’t regret a thing, she would’ve been bored with what she foresaw in the future that removing the spell actually brought her some joy that Y/N was able to make things interesting by their grand entrance into the fight! She’ll be watching them closely!

Longan didn’t understand, how could a mere knight match up to them in power? It was completely humiliating to have to undo all they have done under their watch, how could the other dragons look at them the same again after that display?

Lotus wasn’t going to lie, they and Snakefruit got a kick out of Longan being knocked down a peg or two. Seeing the once feared ivory dragon being defeated and forced to reverse the damage brought them a bit of gratification, especially to Snakefruit.

Gingerbrave and the others were glad to see that the Galacta Knight was able to vanquish the threats and bring peace to the land once more. It was really like what they were told about the knight, pretty cool in Croissant Cookie’s book!

They know the knight can’t stick around for long, but the group will wait for the day that they cross paths with the knight again!

[psychedelic-ink]

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑨𝑼𝑹𝑶𝑹𝑨 𝑩𝑶𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑳𝑰𝑺

pairing: din djarin x fem!reader

genre: hurt/comfort, romance, smut, forced proximity

word count: 2.8k

summary: A friend, lover, then stranger. The last thing you expected was to be snowed in along with the bounty hunter. Tension rises as the past circles you both, trapped in the Razor Crest with no where to run or hide.

warnings: established past relationship, piv, touch starved din, creampie, also this takes place after S2 but the Razor Crest is still here because I love it so much and miss it

a/n: As some people might remember, I had a winter WIP list called 'Psychedelic Winter,' and this was one of the fics that I said I would write. And I thought, 'Hey, what better moment to post this than the day Mando S3 drops?' Enjoy everyone, happy mando day!

When you were thrown onto an icy planet by your so-called colleagues, you didn’t really have a plan for survival. It was your fault really, you were too trusting, too eager to help and be useful. It was a stupid habit that you had since very little, forced to feed yourself in this lonely lonely world. 

However, it wasn’t always like that. 

With a shudder, you hug yourself, your boot-clad feet buried in the snow. The flakes feel like glass shattering across your skin, painful and cold. Even your lungs tremble from it. As you walk forward, your mind brutally reminds you of him. A man that became a friend, a confidant which had quickly turned into something more. Heat pools between your legs at the mere thought of it, the feeling of emptiness and cold prominent. 

The Mandalorian. Mando. Din Djarin. Din. 

You miss him still. You can’t really help it. You loved traveling with him, and after such a long time, you truly felt like you belonged. He became family. He became your everything. Soon after your little family grew, Grogu joining the fray. It felt like a dream, you were finally living out what you’d been searching for. 

But that all changed when Grogu had to return to his own kind. The Jedi. Din grew distant, he pulled away, not responding to you or your touches. You just felt grief emanating from him, something that you couldn’t fix. He didn’t ask you to leave, you just left. Once again alone, once again without a home. 

In your desperate attempt to replace it, you went with anyone who would tolerate your presence. You’ve met some good people, but you’ve met some assholes too—obviously. 

Your lashes turn into cold crystals, stinging every time you blink. In the distance you see a hint of yellow light that bleeds into red, you can feel the warmth of it despite being far away. Like a moth to a flame, you walk towards it, your steps fighting against the cold wind and the snow. You can’t feel your fingertips anymore, or your legs, or your face for that matter. You’re flirting with death. 

You notice that the ship most likely crashed. You press your freezing palms into the metal, still hot, a soft heat spreading throughout your hand and blossoming across your arms. You let out a sigh. It feels familiar like you’ve been here almost. Teeth clattering, you reach the door and give it a loud knock, your fists hurt when you do it, but you manage to muster your last bits of strength. 

The door opens with a muffled hiss and you find yourself immediately staring into a blaster. 

A very familiar blaster. 

You quickly realize why this ship felt familiar, it was the goddamn Razor Crest. Your home—once upon a time. 

The blaster falters, and you stare into the familiar dark visor, he tilts his head. You like to imagine that he’s happy to see you despite the shock. With a crooked smile, you mimic his movement, cocking your head to the side. 

“Hey, Din.” 

Everything is the same. Everything is different. It’s weird to be back within the Razor Crest’s metal walls. The ship creaks with the wind, metal groaning as Din sits across from you, his legs spread and elbows leaning over his knees. You chew the inside of your cheek. Having such intimate memories with someone is an odd thing, your body still remembers what it felt like to be filled so thoroughly by him, to have his large hands squeezing and kneading your ass as you dripped and begged for more. 

Heat settles right below your spine. You wonder if it’s the same for him too. Had he thought of you after you left? Had he rutted into the pillows imagining that it was you instead? 

Probably not. 

“The engines are messed up from the cold but as soon as the storm lets up a bit we should be good to go,” he says, refocusing your focus back on him. “We’re going to be stuck here for a while.” 

You nod, not really knowing what else to say. To be honest, you’re slightly embarrassed that he’s seeing you like this. 

“How did you end up here?” he asks. 

The question surprises you because you hadn’t expected him to make conversation. You can’t tell if he’s angry or not from the modulated voice. He sounds like he always does. You look up to him, wishing you could see his face. 

“Grouped up with the wrong people. You?” 

“After a bounty.” 

“Ah, the same old.” 

“Pretty much.” 

The following silence is uncomfortable, it makes you feel unwelcomed and slightly gross. You don’t know what to say. What can you say to the man you basically abandoned? That was never your intention, but it was what he wanted. He didn’t need you around, reminding him of something important that he’d lost. 

Your mouth acts unfiltered, the horror sinking in as soon as you ask. 

“Have you heard from Grogu?” 

He stiffens quite visibly. His shoulders raise, his visor looks down. You curse your tongue from moving on its own. Din’s anger is physically felt by you, it chokes out the air from your lungs, forces the soles of your shoes to be glued to the floor. Your eyes go wide and you swallow. Your lips are sealed shut when he stands, his figure suddenly larger and taller than what you’ve been used to from your memories. 

“You don’t need to ask about him,” he answers curtly. “We don’t need to talk at all.” 

Din storms towards the back of the ship, his long strides reverberating through the metal walls. His sudden outburst leaves you stunned, your thoughts scrambled like the tangled wires of a circuit board. The sound of sparks and him tinkering with something echoes within the confinements. You’re stunned. Confused. You hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to do, before the ship groans and shudders again. A loud groan vibrating from your feet to your chest. 

Your feet move of their own accord, propelled by a mix of curiosity and concern. As you approach, the cacophony of tinkering grows louder, the metallic clinks and whirs blending into a symphony of sound. At first glance it looks like he’s doing nothing, crouched over, just occupying his hands. You reach out to touch his shoulder, a hesitant gesture. To your surprise, he leans in instinctively, his body responding to your touch like a magnet to metal.

But then jerks away, as if he’s been burned. 

“What did you mean by that?” you ask, pulling away.

He huffs, his hands falling. “I just said we don’t have to talk.” 

“What if I want to talk? I missed you, Din.” 

It’s an unexpected, sudden confession but you decide to go with it. It isn’t a lie. You did miss him. 

“Miss me?” he hisses out, his head falling back, he stares at the ceiling. “You left.” 

“What? Are…are you blaming me for what happened?” 

“No,” he stands up, his masked face an inch away from yours. You fight the urge to take a step back. He wouldn’t hurt you. He slowly tilts his head as if he’s amused by whatever expression you’re pulling. “I’m stating a fact. Didn’t you go?” 

Your eyes fall to his chest, “I did but—” 

“Then I find you on the brink of death, shivering, helpless,” he lets out a deep breath, chest heaving. “Was it worth it?” 

“I left because you didn’t want me around.” 

Your gaze snaps back up. He doesn’t move, the visor staring back at you feels colder compared to the storm raging outside. The build-up of tears is sudden, overwhelming. Your face controls with anger, your brows pinched and your lips curling down. The rage twists in your gut, you’ve been suffering, doing jobs left and right to feed yourself. And he has the audacity to tell you that it’s your fault? That he never wanted you to leave? 

Bullshit. 

Without thinking you push him away, your hands finding the cold plates that decorate his chest. He doesn’t move. An indestructible wall. Shaking your head, you push at him again, and again, and again. When nothing works, you hammer down with fists. Your heart beats loudly and painfully in your chest. You can’t breathe. You can’t speak. It’s suffocating and cold. So fucking cold. 

Your fists stop mid-air when he holds them, gloved fingers wrapped tightly around your wrists. 

“I never asked you to leave.” 

“You didn’t have to,” your eyes fall, shame heating your cheeks. “You barely spoke to me. Touched me. It felt like I was reminding you of a tainted memory. Something you could never have again.” 

“That’s not…dank farrik—” 

He pulls you in, arms coiling around you with the intent to never let go. The beskar is uncomfortable but comforting. Your hands shake as you return in like, wrapping your arms around him weakly. His hand cradles the back of your head, the other one sliding down to rest against the small of your back. He doesn’t say a word but you know this is his own peculiar way of apologizing. Even if he’s not sure what he’s apologizing for. Neither of you are. Luckily, you have a very functional mouth. 

“I thought you wanted me gone after…I didn’t know. I should’ve realized you were hurting. I was so afraid of what you might say that I acted before you actually said it.” 

“I was never planning on saying it,” he answers. “I missed you too, mesh’la.” 

His scent; metal, musk, and something sweet fills your lungs. You take deep inhales of him, grounding yourself back to reality. The hard surface of his helmet presses into the top of your head. The ache between your legs is uncomfortable, you want to touch him, feel his bare skin against yours. 

“Do you trust me?” he asks. 

You answer. “With my life.” 

“Then close your eyes for me. Let me guide you.” 

You do as you’re told. A dance that you’ve grown accustomed to once upon a time. The hiss of a helmet, the touch of his lips, the feeling of his hands cupping your bottom. He slips his tongue into your mouth, tasting you, reminding himself of what you felt like all those times ago. He tastes the memories he hasn’t been a part of, he gets used to the differences. 

When he parts, it’s hard to keep your eyelids from fluttering. You don’t open them, but the tease of the what if always remains. What would happen if you gave into temptation? Would he know you’ve seen him? Would he be angry? Would he never see you again? Would it be worth the risk? 

No, you think, It wouldn’t. 

“Touch me, riduur, I need you to touch me,” the last plea is spoken brokenly. “please.” 

Your hands roam his armor, blindly helping him out of it, touching every exposed skin and muscle. He’s trembling under your touch. You feel the thrust of his hips into yours, still clothed, desperate. Your skin prickles when you feel the hardness, heat pooling between your legs, and tingling. You’re just as desperate as he is. 

He takes your hand and leads you to the bunk. You feel him everywhere. His lips are on your breasts, kissing a trail down and circling the pebbled nipple with the tip of his tongue. He opens his mouth wide, fitting as much as he can as he sucks and bites. You arch into him, your hands still touching—tracing his back, cupping his ass, pulling him closer, asking him to thrust against you in the same desperate manner he had not moments ago. 

“Why did you leave?” he asks between wet, needy kisses. “Why did you go?” 

“I don’t know,” you say over and over. “I was scared, I’m sorry, I love you.” 

It was like a song that was whispered for their ears only. It’s a symphony of reminding themselves what they’d lost, and what they’d gained. 

Feeling him inside is a beautiful thing. Din is not a small man, not in the slightest, and he has to cover your eyes just in case when he fills you. It’s a smooth entry, your wetness enough to pull him deep inside. Your walls flutter, the blissful pain of the stretch makes you moan his name. The first thrust is like fireworks in your mind, bursting with pleasure. The second one you feel like ice, melting into the motion of his hips and the warmth of his cock. 

“Harder,” you breathe out. “Harder, fuck me, Din.” 

His teeth sink into your neck, his pacing fast, hard. The sound of skin against skin is loud enough to drown the sound of the snowstorm outside. You push against each thrust, albeit your movements not really doing much, uncoordinated and unpracticed. Din pins your hips down, his fingers like iron branding your skin. He hammers into you, the dark curls stimulating your clit forcing out a gasp from you. 

“Look at me.” 

“What?” 

“Look at me. Open your eyes.” 

His hips slow down into a tortuous grind. Your bottom lip trembles at the thought. You’re scared to open your eyes, and frankly, you’re not sure if you heard him right. His thumb smooths over your closed lid, gently pulling them down.

“Don’t be afraid,” he whispers. “I want to see you. I want to see the look in your eyes when you come for me. I want you to see mine.” 

“Are…are you sure?” 

Your heart feels like a ticking time bomb, your chest ready to explode, the ticking in your ears too loud. 

“I’m sure.” 

Your eyes open incredibly slow, fearful. Din’s face clears up and you see him smiling down at you, his hair mussed, sticking to his forehead due to sweat. Hesitantly, you place a hand on his cheek, feeling the trimmed down hairs with the pad of your thumb. He leans into your touch. 

“Now, that wasn’t so scary was it?” he asks, you smile and shake your head. 

“No, it wasn’t.”

He kisses you. It’s different this time, softer, slower. He resumes his thrusts, hips snapping into you with the intent of release. His one hand slides between your bodies, thick fingers finding your clit and starting to draw quick, tight circles around the sensitive nub. The skin above your stomach grows tight, your thighs shaking against the broadness of his hips. You can’t get enough of him. Kissing him and at the same time trying to look at him. You engrave his face into memory. 

Din breaks the kiss with a rush, his one hand cradles your cheek, tilting your head up to him. He holds your gaze, his lips parted. You feel your cunt fluttering around him, his cock heavy and throbbing deep inside you. Din spills into you with a groan, his hips stuttering forward. You follow right after, the sight of him too much. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip and his eyes roll back, you gush around him, your body convulsing as a silent promise never to let him go. 

When both of you come down from your highs, he kisses you. Again and again. A man starved. A man desperate. Only one plea falling from his lips. 

“Touch me.” 

You wake up with his touch on your shoulder. When you open your eyes memories come flooding back, you and Din, again you had found your home. You wince as you slowly get up, the ache between your legs uncomfortable but missed. You notice that Din is in full armor, waiting for you outside of the cot. 

“Come with me,” he says, voice hoarse. “I want to show you something.” 

He helps you into your clothes and his hand never leaves your waist as the two of you make your way up to the cockpit. The storm had subsided, only snow falling scarcely from the heavens above. He points you to look up, and you do. 

Your breath catches in your throat. The sky is alight with an otherworldly dance of colors - the aurora borealis.

The lights shift and shimmer, painting the sky with vibrant hues of green, blue, and purple. It's as if the entire galaxy has come to life, it’s beautiful. 

Din's arms wrap around you from behind, and you melt into his embrace. The warmth of his body against yours, the strength of his grip, and the steady rhythm of his breathing all serve to ground you in the moment. You feel safe, and you feel loved.

The aurora continues to dance above you, you lean your head back against Din's chest. It's like nothing else matters in the world except for this moment - just the two of you, surrounded by the beauty of the cosmos.

And as you look up at the lights, you know that you are home.

[snowflaketale12]

A Brief Timeline Guide to Frozen Books (Part 1) ❄️

One of my followers on Instagram asked me about which Frozen books are related to the movies, which ones are connected to Frozen 1 and Frozen 2. They also wanted to know if there are any books that answer questions from the movies, like details about Agnarr and Iduna's past. So I decided to make this post to answer these questions 😁

Note: - It's been a while since I last read some of these books, so feel free to correct me if I’m wrong. - Also, my photos aren't very aesthetic since some were taken in a rush. - I only covered the books I've read, but you can check out Arendelle Archive's Frozenverse for a more detailed book list within the Frozen universe, and Annals of Frozen for a more detailed chronicle timeline in Frozen universe.

1. Novels

There are twelve novels in total in the Frozen universe. Four of them are junior novelizations, one is an alternate universe (AU) story, and the rest are sequels or prequels to the movies.

Pre-Frozen 1:

Dangerous Secrets (covers the full timeline from the day Agnarr and Iduna met until the day their ship sank).

Fixer Upper (covers the full timeline from the day Kristoff met ice harvester until the day he became one of them).

During Frozen 1:

A Frozen Heart (Frozen 1 story retelling with Anna and Hans' perspective).

Conceal Don’t Feel (AU).

Post-Frozen 1 & Pre-Frozen 2:

Journey to the Lights.

Forest of Shadows (takes place one month before Frozen 2).

Post-Frozen 2:

Polar Nights (takes place two months after Frozen 2)

Well, All Is Found contains ten stories:

Pre-Frozen 1:

Call of the Cuckoo.

During Frozen 1:

Anna of Arendelle and the Silver Stakes (take places after the incident happened).

Anna and the King (Anna's flashback about young self with Agnarr).

Post-Frozen 1 & Pre-Frozen 2:

Elsa and the Frost Monster (takes place one month after Frozen 1).

Post-Frozen 2:

Engaging Anna and Kristoff.

Cold Secrets Deep Down.

A Midsummer's Song and Dance.

Wandering Oaken and the Not-So-Hygge Day (honestly I'm not so sure the timeline for this story).

The Next Right Things.

Coronation Day (Kinda like an AU story).

Note: - Excluding Conceal, Don't Feel & All Is Found, timeline in order, are: Dangerous Secrets -> Fixer Upper -> Frozen 1 Junior Novelization & A Frozen Heart -> Journey to the Lights & Olaf's Frozen Adventure Junior Novelization & Frozen Fever Junior Novelization -> Forest of Shadows -> Frozen 2 Junior Novelization -> Polar Nights. - Dangerous Secrets mentions Anna and Elsa's grandmother, Queen Rita, and explains how she left Agnarr when he was five years old. Sir Jorgenbjorgen originally belonged to her. This book provides the most details related to the movies and is highly recommended! - Polar Nights covers Anna's life as queen and describes how Elsa transforms water into a memory she saw in Ahtohallan to share it with Anna. - Forest of Shadows explores Elsa's life as queen and delves into the emotional aftermath for Anna and Elsa following the events of Frozen (spoiler ahead: nightmares attack). - Journey to the Lights explains how the trolls' crystals work and what it takes to earn them. - All Is Found contains many details related to the movies, such as Anna and Elsa's childhood after the incident, Elsa's feelings following the events of Frozen, and Anna's life as queen after her coronation.

2. Dark Horse Comics + Disney Comics

The top two books are retellings of Frozen and Frozen 2, while the rest are sequels to Frozen 1 and prequels to Frozen 2.

Note: - The middle three Adventures comics cover hundreds of short stories. - The bottom four books, timeline in order, are: Breaking Boundaries -> Reunion Road -> The Hero Within -> True Treasure. - The Hero Within mentioned Kai's brother and his hometown. - True Treasure mentioned how Iduna comfort Elsa after she accidentally struck Anna's head.

3. Anna & Elsa Storybook Series

There are nine books in total for this series, all of them are sequels to Frozen 1 and prequels to Frozen 2.

Note: - Most of the stories are also included in the Adventures series comics but longer version. - Timeline in order, are: All Hail to Queen -> Memory of Magic -> A Warm Welcome -> The Great Ice Engine -> The Polar Bear Piper -> The Arendelle Cup -> The Secret Admirer -> Return to the Ice Palace -> Anna Takes Charge. - Memory of Magic mentioned that Anna’s memories which were altered by Grand Pabbie, were never fully restored. - The Great Ice Engine mentioned how Oaken is passionate and expert in invention.

4. Short Stories

Elsa's Icy Rescue takes place before the incident occurred, while Anna Finds a Friend is set after the incident. And Stories From Arendelle are sequels to Frozen 1 and prequels to Frozen 2.

Note: - In Elsa's Icy Rescue, it is mentioned how the Arendelle royal family lived happily and how Elsa learned to be a queen. - In Anna Finds a Friend, it is noted how bored Anna's life became after Elsa locked herself in her room. - Two stories are covered in Stories From Arendelle, which are Phantoms of Arendelle and Olaf & Sven on Thin Ice.

5. Frozen and Frozen 2 Retelling Storybooks

All of these books are Frozen and Frozen 2 retelling storybooks, featuring amazing illustrations.

6. Others Storybooks and Graphic Novel

All of these books are sequels to Frozen 1 and prequels to Frozen 2, except for Anna, Elsa, and the Enchanting Holiday, Anna and the Mystery of the Mountains and some of the stories in 5-mins & storybook collection are sequels to Frozen 2.

They are all short, beautiful stories.

Note: - Most of the stories in the 2nd and 3rd (Advent Calendar storybooks) are repetitive compared to the Adventure comics, and some of the stories are retellings of Frozen 1 and Frozen 2. - Anna and the Mystery of the Mountains discusses how Anna deals with challenges as the Queen of Arendelle (including a beautiful scene of Elsa with her hair down in her sleepwear). - Anna, Elsa, and the Secret River is a book that introduces the four spirits. - Sisters and Snowmen covered three stories, A Frozen Adventure (Frozen 1 retelling), A Sister More Like Me and An Amazing Snowman.

That's all for today. Thanks for reading, feel free to correct me if I'm wrong on anything.

I'll make another post for additional books such as the diaries, art books, and guidebooks! 💙

Edited: Part 2 is here!

[littlefreya]

Summary: Whatever madness drove this woman to board a pirate’s ship of her own free will was beyond comprehension. Yet there she was, in velvet and silk, marching toward certain danger and the sinful desires of the monstrous Captain August ‘Blackbeard’ Walker.

Pairing: AU! Pirate August Walker x OFC (no mentions of body type or ethnicity)

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: 18+. No smut, but sexual themes are mentioned, as well as dark themes - he is a pirate. Possible historical inaccuracy. This is not the real Blackbeard. Mentions of kidnapping.

A/N: Not beta’d. Many thanks to @agniavateira @luna-aestas and @wolvesandhoundshowltogether for the support, and thanks to @geralts-yenn because this story started as a 15-minute challenge, and I ended up writing a whole shot. There might be a part 2, and this might turn into a series. We will see after my anxiety runs its course :D

Thanks for reading, and please reblog and comment if you enjoyed :)

Neptune's Snare

The soggy wooden platform creaked beneath her feet as she climbed onto the main deck. Each step eliciting s husky wail - a sorrowful hymn to the lost maidens of the sea - those who would never return, those devoured by the sinful desires of monstrous captain August ‘Blackbeard’ Walker. 

Whatever madness drove women to go there willingly was beyond comprehension. No more than a tomb, the ship alone looked like a carnivorous maw; black iron spikes stood firmly at the bow, and the sheer size of it was enough to strike fear at the heart of even the bravest sailor.

Yet, there she was, draped in a black velvet cloak and an ivory corset dress, willingly marching toward grave danger. 

Dozens of ragged men welcomed her onboard, filthy scoundrels, all drenched in an exotic mixture of sweat and alcohol. Hungry, their eyes gnawed at her tender flesh, but none would dare touch her. If August’s crew knew one thing, it’s that some fates are much, much more worse than death. 

It didn’t stop them from taunting. Suckling their lips, they followed the girl on her march toward the captain’s cabin. Cheer and chortle in their voice as they imagined the obscenities their captain was about to perform on this naive girl. 

“Pity, he never let us look…” whined one of the pirates while the other bood.

“Aye, you mad to come ‘er tonight. The cap’n hasn’t had his fill in weeks, lass. He would sure pillage each of you’ holes tonight.”

“He gonna paint her full of his sea foam!”

The entire ship roared with their laughter. The girl, however, kept a blank face and, without spending any minute longer, opened the door to the captain's cabin.                                                                                                                                                

Bright, golden luminance blinded Lizette’s sight as she entered the cabin. The walls were plated by ornaments made of gold, reflecting the sparkle of the hundred candles that burnt at the decorated candelabras and crystal chandelier. Fine works of art hung from each wall, and on a vast lacquered table stood a plethora of delicacies that made Lizette’s belly gurgle. 

She stared at the table momentarily, almost fooled by the obvious seduction. In complete opposite to the murky exterior of the ship, the captain’s chamber was a room fit for kings, sputtering style, elegance and riches. Perhaps this was how he lured them. The poor naive girls truly believed he would give them a better life. But Blackbeard was no king, nor was he a gentleman. He was the deadliest man the world has ever known - a serpent, nightshade - all he could give a woman was death. 

“Take off your cowl.”  

A deep voice called from behind, dark and mysterious as the ocean. It struck like an icy shard through her spine, making her shoulders jerk and stiffen. It was odd to know someone by hundred of myths and stories spun around them and have men mimic their voice in an attempt to portray them but never know what they truly sounded like. 

As it turned out, August sounds like a man one doesn’t refuse. 

Obedient, Lizette pulled the cowl from her head - slow as she would unwrap a much-anticipated present. Her gaze kept to the floor still, continuing to play the coy virgin the Captain wanted her to be, though if she had to be honest - she was terrified of whatever hideous monster she would soon have to face. 

There must have been a reason why the women who came here never left. Lizette was willing to bet every dime in her pocket that August was the most gruesome, repulsive creature, and the only way for him to keep people from knowing was by murdering each woman he bedded!    

“Shy, aren’t we?” Blackbeard murmured with a dry chuckle and began to circle her, observing his bounty from side to side.

“I quite enjoy shy,” he chuckled once more, his voice almost a groan. 

She forced herself not to flinch too much. She could sense his glare upon her, stripping her garment by garment, weighing what he earned tonight and considering all the ways in which he would pillage her body. It made her feel like she was one of the delicacies that rested on his table rather than a person. 

After gyrating around her and inspecting each crease of her body, August finally returned to his starting spot behind her and, in a low, delighted groan, demanded, “Turn around.” 

Doing as he commanded, she turned to him, still keeping her glance plastered to the floor, her breathing now shallow as the air in the room grew magically stuffy. She could spot his blurry silhouette from the corner of her eye; a tall and fit man, rather broad. It seemed that he was doing a loose white cotton shirt and dark trousers, and from his waistband - a gleam of silver winked back. 

“Are you a mute?” 

Another chill shot through her as he spoke. Absentminded, she swallowed. “No…”  embarrassingly, her voice cracked; she took a deep breath and reprimanded, “No, sir. Just nervous.”

“Captain,” he corrected. 

Lizette nodded but did not repeat him. She couldn’t. Words died on her tongue as the Captain made a bold step toward her, drawing dangerously near. He paused for a shy second, fingers laced together, contemplating, before he reached a fist beneath her chin and, in a ceremonious tenderness, lifted her chin.  

The air drained from her completely. Her lips parted in a mixture of fear and astonishment. 

It couldn’t be.

Perhaps she had the wrong man?

Grey, ocean-eyes peered at her through a face that women and men would damn themselves for. No! Even angels would. His jaw was sharp and profound, statuesque like cut marble - dashed with dark stubble and a thick raven-black moustache. His lips, though chafed from the salty sea breeze, were plumped and shaped to be kissed, and while some of his curls were streaked with silver, he still had a healthy mane of hair on his head. 

‘He could have been a decent man,’ she thought, ‘and yet he chose this?!’

There was an obscure attractive melancholy to his looks - almost tragic. 

August took another moment to study her face, a frown slowly forming on his ridged brow. “You look familiar…”

“I work the docks,” she answered almost immediately.

His stare deepened, eyes dropping to her cleavage momentarily before returning to pierce back into the back of her skull, “Skin too soft. Too shy to be a prostitute.” 

His fingers wrapped around her chin, caging it between his thumb and his index in a tight grip, making it hurt. He tilted his head, daring her to come up with another lie.  

“The tavern,” Lizette answered, firm and steadfast. She did not flinch from his touch, even though every instinct begged her to.

“And you came to me. Why?”

“What girl wouldn’t give everything for a night with the notorious Captain Blackbeard? The living legend… the king of pirates.” She softened her eyes as much as possible and offered a shy pout to reconcile him. 

August chewed on the inside of his cheek; storm clouds gathered on his pale eyes as he contemplated. They both knew she was flattering him to gain his trust and save her pretty little neck. It wasn’t a situation he hadn’t encountered in the past. They both also knew that he was stronger, bigger and armed and could snap said pretty little neck in less than a split second. 

“Are you a virgin?” He proceeded. 

She nodded, her throat clenching. 

August lingered on her response and, after what felt like an eternity, offered a small grin and pinched her chin sweetly as if to praise her before moving a step closer. Lizette smiled back nervously. She could sense his rum-drenched breath on her face. The scent was so pungent it made her moan invulnerably. 

Or perhaps it was the anxiety that was eating into her heart. 

“Ever sucked a cock, pet?” 

His question was answered by a small click that echoed through the quarter and the press of hard, cold metal against the bare parts of his chest. 

Not stepping back, he slowly, almost theatrically, spread his arms into a gesture of defeat while peering at the girl. No rage nor fear painted his face, and as he spoke, there was neither surprise in his voice. 

“Heh. So you ARE a whore.”

Lizette held the pistol determined, not saying a word.

“What is it that I do, pet?” 

Offering a sly grin, the pirate pressed against the barrel; the oceans in his glare darkened. As Lizette stared back, she could have sworn the many shades of blue in his sights shifted and swayed like angry waves. Quickly brushing the thought away, she cocked the gun in a warning, her little thumb grazing the trigger.

But to August, it was clear that the girl had never killed anyone before, and the longer she stalled, the more shaky her hand became. Taunting, he moved further into the barrel, which forced her to take a step back. 

“Do not move closer!” She finally spoke. 

August brushed her warning away, moving forward instead. He had been so nimble in his movement, fluid, like a sea creature himself. Only now she realised that his hands were no longer in the air. 

“Was it your dear mother?” He suggested. “Father? Sister?” He paused and offered a vicious smirk, “Ah… I see, A lover. Well, to that, I surely deserve to die. Go ahead, pet, pull the trigger.” 

His slender, heavily ringed fingers reached to envelop the barrel, holding the pistol steady for the girl. Every breath he took pressed the metal harder against his sternum. Lizette could sense his heartbeat pulsating through the barrel, the thrum of his blood nearly mingling with her own. No longer steady, her digit quivered around the trigger and in her throat, she felt the strenuous hold of anger, guilt and hatred. 

“You have taken everything from me!” She simply answered. 

Soon her sight became blurry, and wetness gathered beneath her eyes.  

‘Do it, do it now.’ 

Another click sounded in the room. Louder than the cocking of a gun. 

Lizette’s eyes flared in shock, and before she could pull the trigger, August had carefully veered the gun from his chest and, in a tenderness that was accustomed to lovers, snatched it from her hand. His other hand laid still on her neck, fastening the iron collar he granted her.

“Good girl,” he teased and then leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the forehead of the girl who was too struck by her own misfortune and stupidity to react. 

With the pistol safely placed in his waistband, the pirate stepped back, face alighted, eyes sparkling with starlight cascade, like a child who had just earned a new toy.  He clasped his hands together, ecstatic; thick silver rings chiming as they collided.

 “I haven’t taken everything from you, pet. but I am going to…”

With one last slanted grin, the pirate turned on his heels and marched toward the door, not bothering to bid farewell as he left and locked the door behind him.

Panicked, Lizette reached her hands to the iron collar, desperately trying to pry it off her neck despite knowing there was no logic in pulling at the heavy metal. 

“Please!” Tears trickled down her cheeks and chin, “no! No! No! Please!”

Through the open window, she could hear the captain's voice barking orders, commanding his men to lift anchor and set sail. 

****

Chapter Two

[crystalskiesandcherrywine]

The sound of the waves collide // Part Four

So it is time for the last part.... I still cannot believe that I managed to write something and look forward to post more

This chapter is very explicit - for my taste at least.

Song for the chapter - Alkaline by Sleeptoken

English is not my first language

_____________

Na Baron Feyd Rautha x Atreides!Reader

shameless smut

FxM

All feedback is welcome <3

Part One // Part Two // Part Three

1.695 words

____________

The encounter with Feyd leaves you so shaken that, come morning, you avoid seeing anyone. It feels childish and less dignified, your mind circling around the memories of the evening like vultures. It's as if he doesn't even need to touch you to make you forget years of training and let your emotions get the best of you. And he visibly enjoys it, your pain and humiliation making it even more luxurious for him. Frustrated and unable to concentrate, you put Irulan's gift away and lie down in a lounge chair on the balcony overlooking the small garden. The sun's rays are softened by the huge trees and reflected in the pond below. Its crystal clear waters appear like a mirror - calm and serene, a painful contrast to your mental state. You close your eyes and try to ground yourself in the moment, repeating the mantra „I am alive in stillness“, but to no avail. The fever that has been ignited within you consumes your mind and body. Your hands seem to develop a life of their own and, as if guided by a puppet master, they find their way to the small band of your tunic. The warm air touches your skin and you close your eyes, letting your fingers slide over your breasts, caressing the nipples that instantly stiffen under your touch. Your hand continues to slide down as your eyes flutter shut. It is almost as if you are picking up where he left off. The heat concentrates under your fingers, and letting your intuition guide you, you move your fingers in circles, dipping in and out of your cunt. The orgasm is so intense that for a second you forget where you are. You can't stop yourself from moaning his name and you feel like coming up for air.

Two days later it is time to say goodbye. Your father kisses you on the forehead and your mother seems to think the same as you - "I will not fear". Letting go of Paul's embrace seems almost impossible, but when all is said and done, you make your way to the Baron's ship. His gigantic form floats in front of you, while your betrothed follows at the same level as you.

Even if he doesn't look at you, you can't help but feel his presence. Each step seems to be part of a well-orchestrated choreography and reminds you of a wild animal, ready to reveal its murderous nature at any moment. At the last glance, you turn your head to see your mothers signing "Good luck" to you with a small flick of her wrist. The connection to what was familiar is tethered and you are not sure of the tumultuous feeling your gut that the now empty space in your soul is son tobe filled with a new home. The change is almost tangible, as if when you pay close enough attention, it glow like a dark halo around you.

Once on the ship, you are left to your own devices. You can call upon servants at any time, but they seem to anticipate your wishes before you know them. Food and drink are brought to you, as well as an army of new clothes. Your favourite is the black dress with heavy beading around the bodice, covering your torso like a shield. Paired with a translucent black veil and a small gold chain around your neck, connected to your torso, it feels appropriate to take your first steps on the planet you will call home.

Your unease is heightened when, upon your arrival, neither Feyd nor the Baron are to be seen. A tall, slender man who introduces himself as Piter de Vries escorts you to the Feeds chambers. You immediately recognise the characteristic traces of spice in his eyes, the only thing that seems to have any colour in this world. Shielded from the harsh black sun, you reach Na Baron's quarters, only to find an army of monochrome grey, white and black surroundings. The palace seems to be the essence of the Harkonnens, with hard, clear lines, yet graceful and spacious.

"If you need anything, there are always two servants at the door," says Piter. The servants resemble guards, but you decide not to share this observation. Piter's eyes linger on the glass box with the fir tree. "Do you want to have a closer look?" You ask. "Only if you don't mind. I have never seen anything like it". "It was a parting gift from my father. On Caladan, fir trees grow as tall as these walls, more of them than you can count. You may take it with you if you promise to return it in one piece tomorrow." Pieter seems to understand your bid for connection and bows his head „I am indebted to you, Na Baroness“ Its the first time some one dresses you with your new title and you barely suppress a shiver. And as if the title was a spell, Feyd Rautha appears in the doorway. Piter bows and leaves at once, holding the precious piece of your home in his hands. He moves so siletly, that you begin to wonder if the planet is not only devoid of color but also of sound. Blood seems to rush to your cheeks as you meet Feyd's gaze. "Is everything to your satisfaction?" His voice echoes. "Yes, thank you, Baron." His arms are behind his back and before you realise why, you see droplets of thick, almost black liquid collecting on the floor behind him. Slowly he unclasps his hands, drops to one knee and holds out a slim silver knife to you, covered in more of the same substance. "Is… is it blood?" You don't know why you question it. "Yes, it is. Please accept this as a token of my devotion to you. It is…" his blue eyes find yours, "the proof that my body will be yours alone. No other being shall touch it."

"Your pets…" you feel almost dizzy as the understanding dawns on you.

"No more pets," he says, still on his knee.

You slowly take the knife and place it on the white table beside you. Some of the blood gets on your wrist. He grabs it and licks it off. While a part of your brain screams that you should be afraid, your body seems to find the spark he struck on Kaitain again. His tongue flicks across the sensitive skin as he rises and begins to undo the buttons on your shoulders, the need to touch him overwhelming you and you reach out with your palm to his cheek. He leans into your touch with more tenderness than you ever expected. But as soon as your dress falls to the floor, pure hunger returns to his eyes. He presses into you and you feel as if your insides have melted on the spot. You try to feel his length through the fabric of his tunic. „So needy, Na Baroness?“ He purrs, enjoying the dominance he has over you. With a swimming motion, he pushes you onto the bed, holding your arms above your head. His tongue descends to your collarbone, moving deeper as he takes one breast in his mouth, sucking the tender flesh. You moan under him, already feeling washed away from any security of a shore into a whirl of need. His tongue continues to drive you mad as he bites you, the pain searing and glorious at the same time. Your hand reaches for him again, but he holds your wrists down as his tongue continues to run between your legs. He looks up at you, and it is the last thing to break the tiny shreds of your resolve. But he doesn't let you go, his tongue still swirling between your folds, drinking in your sweetness. Suddenly your hands are connected and a split second later you realise why: he uses his left hand, with slender, graceful fingers, to push your thighs further apart. You feel wanton and still needy, and as one of his finders curls inside you, you moan his name. "Feyd, Feyd, Feyd." Your own voice seems alien to you, high-pitched and desperate.

"My Na Baroness seems to want more," he smiles devilishly and inserts two more fingers at once. You whimper and throw your head back into the pillows. It feels like the stars are exploding behind you and feel the second orgasm coming as he stops and pulls away from you. You can barely hold back a frustrated squeal. Your body feels hot, the only antidote to this madness his skin on yours. You try to concentrate on his form, seeing him remove his tonic first, then his trousers, leaving nothing to the imagination. His body is pure perfection, not a mark on his porcelain skin, he kneels on the bed again and moves towards you. The tip of his shaft is already pink and covered with pearls of pre-cum. It touches your clit lightly as it settles between your legs. "You'll have to learn to control yourself. So responsive to my touch, so desperate…" he hisses as the black of his pupils replaces the blue, making them almost invisible. His tip touches your entrance and then disappears completely inside you. You feel torn apart and put together at the same time, pain and pleasure mixed into something new, a delicious cocktail of discovery that leaves you drunk and breathless. You want to close your eyes, but he says "Look at me" you hear him murmur and you are lost again. With every movement of his hips, your whole being seems to refragment and reassemble like a kaleidoscope. Your walls convulse around him, his name like a sacred chant. Your nails dig into his back and he lets himself fall, speeding up and thrusting into you with even more abandon. You feel his use of you, your name on his lips. For a few seconds you are speechless, your shallow breaths filling the room. He holds your hips as he lies down behind you, still inside you to the hilt. „Welcome to being my wife, dear Na Baroness“

[joedirtymadre]

Hello 😊 I hope you are having a great day! I would like to request a fluffy Luffy x y/n story please!

The Potion

LUFFY X READER! FLUFF! (PLEASE SEND MORE REQUESTS! PLEASEE 🦫)

“Where is he?” You asked yourself as you continued exploring the new island. You were currently looking for your idiot captain, but adorable boyfriend. Nami thought it was a good idea to stop by an island to restock on some supplies. Nami only planned for a day stop, but Luffy still hasn’t returned… So a part of being his girlfriend is to find and drag him back to the ship. You groaned, “I can’t believe he just ditched me on the ship, why didn’t he ask if I wanted to tag along? Aren’t we dating?”

While walking down the main plaza, you turned and noticed a familiar dark haired man, with the very familiar straw hat on his head. “Luffy!” You called out as you ran over. He quickly turned and grinned once noticing you. “Yo (Y/N)! You found me!” He waved excitedly. “You idiot! I spent the last hour looking for you! How dare you ditch me?” You asked angrily as you smacked his head.

“I’m sorry…” he pouted. “It’s alright, I’m glad I finally found you. So, what have you been up to?” You asked as you rubbed the spot you hit. “Just running around, but I stopped to talk to this granny,” he said, motioning towards the older woman sitting at the stand.

“Oh hello,” you smiled, and the woman smiled back. “Hi sweetheart,” she said. You looked at her stand, and realized that it was simply a table with a crystal ball in the middle, with a small stand with different colored bottles. You noticed one particular bottle that caught your eye, it was a beautiful shade of deep purple. “Would you like one deary?” The woman asked. “Ummm… well what are they?” You asked. “Potions!” She smiled. “Potions? “Really?” You asked suspiciously. “Well of course, I spent years trying to perfect each potion. Which one would you like?” She asked.

“Hmm… Well, what does each one do?” You asked curiously, eyeing each bottle. “Can one of them make me super strong? Or shapeshift? Or fly?” Luffy asked excitedly. “No, my potions don’t do that. They’re small potions, but trust me… they work,” she said. “I see, but what does each potion do?” You asked again. “Ahh… that all depends on you. My potions create whatever you heart desires,” she explains.

“Whatever my heart desires?” You questioned. “So that means I can fly!” Luffy said with stars in his eyes. “Perhaps, if your heart truly desires to fly,” the woman sighed. “Oh wow! Now we have to get one (Y/an)! Just imagine me, like a superhero, or a bird,” he grinned. You laughed at his reaction, “I guess I’ll take two,” you said.

“Only 1 per each group,” the woman said. “Huh?” Luffy pouted. “Well, I can’t have everyone getting their deep desires granted. Plus there are potions that take decades to create, my inventory would disappear if I didn’t limit purchases,” she explained. “I guess that makes sense,” you said. “Well which one sweetheart, I saw that the purple one caught your eye,” she said. “Yeah, it’s a pretty color,” you said softly. “I’ll take this one then,” you said. “Good choice, and remember all potions last for 24 hours,” she said as she took the berries from my hand and placed the bottle in it.

“Wow, a potion! Let’s drink it!” Luffy said. “No sharing, the potion won’t work if two people drink it,” the woman quickly explained. “Awe man…” he pouted. “If you want it, you can have it,” you smiled. “Seriously? Tha-“ Luffy was cut off. “Only the person that I gave the bottle to can drink it, for others it won’t work,” the woman said as she winked at me. “O-Oh… well that sucks,” Luffy frowned. “Sorry Luffy,” you said. “It’s fine, just means I’ll have to keep an eye on you. See if anything changes,” he laughed. You nodded and you both headed back to the ship.

“Drink it, drink it!” Luffy chanted. “Alright, but if I do can we go walk around some of the shops? I really wanted-“ you were interrupted. “That sounds boring…” he whined. “O-Oh… uhh, well alright. I guess we can do something else after,” you sighed. “Oo let’s go find another witch, maybe then I can get a potion!” He said excitedly, as he headed back to the plaza. “You go ahead, I’ll meet you there,” you said softly. “K!” He shouted as he raced off.

You let out a deep sigh, and walked over to an empty bench. “When’s the last time we’ve done anything I wanted to do? Or the last time we’ve done regular couple stuff?” You asked yourself as you leaned back into the bench.

“Hey! The woman said that this’ll grant my deepest desires! Maybe it’ll help Luffy be romantic again, like when we first started dating!” You said excitedly, as you opened your bag and pulled out the bottle. You stared suspiciously at it before you opened the lid. It made a hissing sound as you slowly opened the lid.

You shrugged it off and chugged it in one swoop. “Ugh… it tastes terrible,” you said in disgust. “If anything, at least Chopper can cure food poisoning or… regular poisoning,” you said.

All of a sudden you felt a nauseous wave rush through you. “I think I’m gonna pass-“ you immediately knocked out.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)! Wake up, please!” You felt yourself being shaken. You slowly opened your eyes, and saw Luffy cradling you. “Luffy?” You asked as your eyes adjusted to the light. “Yeah it’s me, are you ok? I found you passed out on the bench,” he said, worriedly. “I-I’m fine,” you said as you tried to get up but slowly fell back. “Be careful, here I’ll carry you,” he said as he picked you up bridal style.

You felt your cheeks heat up. “You’re carrying me?” Yo I asked, surprised. “Well, why wouldn’t I carry you? You’re my girl,” he smiled. You felt your face heat up even more, and nuzzled your head into his chest. Just enjoying the moment.

You were finally able to stand, so after a few words of trying to convince Luffy that you can walk he finally let you down. As you were walking, you realized you were back at the main plaza. You suddenly felt someone reach out for your hand, you looked over and saw Luffy holding your hand. “I wanted to hold hands,” he smiled. “Ok!” You grinned. “Look, isn’t that the store you want to go to earlier?” He asked, as he pointed at a jewelry store. “Yeah… but it’s fine you said it was boring, let’s do something else,” you suggested.

“What? No way! Come on, you said you wanted to go so let’s go!” He smiled and dragged me to the shop. My eyes widened, there’s no way that her potion actually worked! You both spent the day like a normal couple, walking around being lovey dovey. Going to eat, exploring some cute store you found, and just enjoying each other’s company.

Now you were both at the main plaza’s water fountain. Just enjoying the sunset. “Man, I had an awesome day Luffy,” you smiled. “Me too, I’m glad you desired this,” he said, strangely. “Desired? Why’d you say it like-“ you were interrupted.

“(Y/N)?” You heard a family voice call out. You quickly snapped your head towards the voice and saw, “Luffy?” You stared in shock as he walked up to you. “L-Luffy? B-But I don’t- how- why?” You grabbed your head, not sure what the hell is going on. “(Y/N) who is that guy?” Luffy asked. “I’m Luffy, the better Luffy,” the other one said.

“The better Luffy? You’re just an imposter!” He yelled. You stared in disbelief, unsure what to do or say. “Not in (Y/N)’s eyes. That’s why she wished for me,” the other said, getting close to the other Luffy's face. “Wished for you? I-Is that true (Y/N)? Did you wish for him?” Luffy asked as he turned towards you.

You were speechless, you tried to explain yourself but nothing would come out. “Of course she did, she wanted that old spark we used to have. She hated how you treated her like a regular crew mate, how you would ditch her, ignore her wants or feelings, and just take her love for granted,” the other one said. “T-That’s now true, I love (Y/N)! You don’t know anything about us,” Luffy shouted.

“But it is, why else would she wish to do regular couple stuff with you? Because you never took the time to do it, that’s probably why she thinks you don’t love her anymore,” the other one explained. “Is this true (Y/N)? Do you really think I don’t love you?” He asked softly. “No, I-I… all I think is that you don't treat me the way you used to when we first started dating. Why?” You asked tearfully.

“I-I don't know, I guess I didn't realize it… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. I promise!” he said as he reached out for me. However, you felt a different pair of arms wrap around you from behind. They pulled you into a close hug, you looked to see the other Luffy who was holding you. “What makes you think that she’ll still want to be with you? After the amazing day we had? I carried her, held her hand, followed her to some nice shops, and ate nice food. We both know you wouldn’t have done that,” he said as he tightened his grip.

“Shut up! (Y/N), please believe me! I’m sorry, I do want to be with you. I love whenever you smile, when you smack me around whenever I’m acting dumb, when you rub and take care of me whenever I’m feeling down. I see now that I should’ve done the same for you, but please… Please let me try again, I won’t make you wish for a better me again,” he pleaded. “Oh Luffy,” you said softly. You quickly pulled yourself out of the other Luffy’s arms and leapt onto your Luffy. “(Y/N)!” He said, holding onto you tight.

“I’m sorry, this will never happen again. I swear,” he said with a light tremble in his voice. “I know,” you said as you pulled him into a kiss. This kiss almost made your legs give out, but luckily Luffy was keeping you steady.

“Hmm… it’s not 24 hours, but I guess my job here is done,” the other Luffy said. “Huh?” You asked as you turned your head. “Yep! I granted your deepest desire, to have your Luffy treat you like before,” he smiled, and you noticed his body began glowing. “But before I go,” the other Luffy said and ran over to give you a kiss on the cheek. “Hey!” Your Luffy shouted, pulling you back into his arms. “Take care of her, she deserves it,” the other Luffy said before disappearing.

Once the other Luffy was gone, you were quickly turned around. You felt a million kisses placed on the cheek the other Luffy kissed. “L-Luffy?” You blushed. “Good, now that fake’s kiss is erased,” he huffed. You laughed and pulled him into another kiss, happy to have your boyfriend back. I guess that woman is a real witch after all.

[madelinesnarutoblog]

Another example of Sakura's superficial infatuation with Sasuke.

When Sai first meets Naruto, they get into a fight and he calls him a loser. Sasuke at first treated Naruto similarly, yet there were different motivations for these interactions. It doesn't even cross Naruto's mind that there are superficial similarities between Sasuke and Sai.

He is just deeply bothered that Sasuke got "replaced". Because for Naruto, no one could even take up Sasuke's space.

Sakura HOWEVER says that Sai feels familiar because HIS FACE AND HIS VOICE remind her of Sasuke. That is very superficial of her because even though they have both dark hair and eyes, that is where the similarities end.

It ones again shows that Sakura just liked the pretty, cool boy, but never even began to understand Sasuke's character, personality, and essence, something Naruto just understands intuitively without words. Hell, Naruto's struggle is giving them a f*cking label, that's it. The rest is crystal clear.

Even if you didn't ship them, they would both have been better off single and living together and being around each other as platonic soulmates. No matter what, their bond will never be surpassed by any other bond they might have.

He even defends his Sasuke way more than Sakura does. Who has the crush? xDDDD

[lanitalay]

At sea 

Rhysand x reader

a/n: Hi my loves!!!! I wrote this to break the ice after winter break. It will likely have one or two more parts. Wanted to write some Rhysand fluff after destroying his character in Before I say goodnight lol.

word count: 1k

warnings: none

Summary: reader returns home after months at sea.

Part 2

Salt coated the railings you clung to while walking down the stairs to the main deck. The summer sun had dried up the water that had crashed against the ship all night long. Now small crystals blanket every surface on board. You make it down the wonky steps, map rolled and tucked under your arm. It had been a rough passage last night, the shaking had kept most of the crew on board hugging buckets, unable to control the bile. It was the most dangerous part of the voyage, the captain had to watch out for jagged rocks that were mostly covered by water or mist, towering waves and fog overhead that prevented the guiding stars to be visible. 

It would be a matter of days now. If you squinted you could swear the shoreline of Velaris was on the horizon. This time it had been an entire season. The trek had started the day after the last of the snow melted and you would be back just shy of the summer solstice. You had never been gone this long from your home. The salt air was starting to stink, you yearned for green fields and pine scented breezes. 

You had collected more samples than ever before. The botany in the foreign lands you visited was truly magnificent and different to what you were accustomed to in the Night Court. In your private quarter you had managed to fit around one thousand dried samples of leaves, roots, flowers and a few insects along with some living plants, placed carefully near the port hole and a plethora of seeds. Your favorite treasure was an exceptional plant that you had meticulously looked after because the bright violet color of the flowers reminded you of a pair of matching eyes back home. Rhysand. You tried not to think of him. You really really did. But in the flowers you saw his eyes. In the stars you saw his smile. In dark waters you saw his fury. In the sea shanties you heard his drunken laugh. A sigh escapes your frowning mouth. 

He might have married or mated by the time you return. Not that anything romantic existed outside of your wildest dreams. But he was your friend. You had known him since the head researcher of the priestesses had sent for a field researcher, since she did not feel ready to be outside of the sacred library walls. You had been recruited because your father was a renowned explorer and you had grown up by his side. Every shore in Prythian and the Continent was familiar to your family. Every shore unknown called your name. 

Rhysand was the one who brought you to the library the first time. He had wanted to be present and even gave you a tour himself of the massive sanctuary. Since then, each time you return he flies you to the library and you tell him an abridged version of what you saw on your travels. Sometimes you think that he holds you a little tighter than the last time he saw you and you stop yourself before even thinking that there is a glint in his eyes that indicates something more than polite interest. 

The days pass slowly. Eventually, the familiar cliff sides and hilly landscape come into view. Relief floods your chest. You would be staying a while this time. Cataloging all of the new materials would take at least until the end of summer. Flapping sounds from above and you look up expecting to see the mast ripped but instead a gliding shadow figure high above. An inevitable smile forms on your face. 

It feels like docking the boat took forever. But once all the ropes are tied and the masts lowered, the bridge gets lowered and you all but leap to the wooden platform and to the young High Lord that’s waiting for you. Sprinting you pounce on him, wrapping your arms around his neck and relishing the feeling of being on solid ground. “Welcome home, explorer” his smooth voice soothes your racing heart. Seconds pass before you let go and look at him. He’s beaming, his hair has gotten longer since you’d gone,  his face is clean shaven and he smells of home. You open your mouth to speak but his smile- his smile is making it impossible for you to concentrate on anything other than his mouth. So you stall. Your hands ruffle his hair in the way you knew would annoy him and he laughs. 

“I’m so glad to be back” you finally say. 

Flying to the House of Wind was routine at this point in your career. You would land and immediately go debrief with your head researcher. But today Rhys had asked you if you were hungry. The grumble in your stomach told him you were. So now you were eating a lovely lunch prepared by the house. It felt decadent to eat anything other than fish and potatoes. You moan as you bite and the High Lord in front of you chuckles. 

“What else did you find?” 

“Besides the plants there were incredible creatures there. Some had fur and some had scales. I drew them in my books” you point towards the bag you had brought with you most precious items. He reaches for it and begins to flip through the pages of your findings. 

“This is fascinating” he breathes. 

“What about you? Is there anything new in the Court?” You notice his jaw clench for a fraction of a second.  “Is something wrong?” 

He shakes his head and closes the book “there are whispers of war”. Your blood drains from your face. “What do you mean?” 

His face is now the face of a High Lord, relaying important information to a court member “Hybern has been making some advances, Prythian is too fragmented to stand a chance”. The war that had put the wall between the human realm and the seven courts had ended not one hundred years ago. Villages were still recovering. The Courts were still shifting in new power dynamics. 

“What can I do?” You were no warrior. The amount of times you’d trained with the Inner Circle you could count on one hand and it had always been to appease Cassian. Rhys looks away “nothing, we are trying our best to unify and organize our armies”. Something akin to a thorn nestles itself in your heart “and how are you going to do that?” 

He swallows and looks straight through your eyes “I’m marrying the Princess of Autumn”. 

[dynasty889]

Scylla (Warrior!Penelope AU)

I totally remembered this was in my drafts lmao. Ima be pissed if there’s a typo or something in here oof

CW: Blood, death, descriptions of injuries to the body (lots of dismemberment and severed limbs)

——————————————————————————

The ship sailed slowly on calm waters. The sun was starting to set. The crew hummed quietly a shanty as they rowed onwards towards the narrow passage they had to pass through to get home.

The lair of Scylla…

Penelope walked across the deck to the bow. The waters in front of them were still and silent. Jagged rocks jetted out and as she turned around, she caught a glimpse of a floating, mutilated limb of a human.

Once they entered the strait, all light disappeared except for the torches that burned on the mast. Her crew gagged, a putrid odor of death and horror filled the air.

“This is our only way home,” she mumbled to herself. She breathed deeply as she reminded herself of this.

“Deep down…” The voice was quiet, yet crystal clear as it echoed across the walls.

“You’re quiet today.” Penelope turned her head and found Ctimene standing behind her with a pensive expression. She looked exhausted and ridden with anxiety.

“Deep down…” Those two words again echoed around, but several other voices accompanied the original speaker.

Penelope offered her friend a weak but kind smile. “Not much to say,” she admitted, then returned her gaze to what was in front of them.

“Deep down, you hide a reason for shame...” It was like whoever was speaking was above, below, and on both sides of the ship.

Ctimene ran a hand through her hair. She felt like her knees could give out at any moment. “Penny,” she asked.

Penelope turned to Ctimene again but stayed silent.

“I’ve got a secret I can no longer keep,” she said. Guilt seeped into her tone for she was filled to the brim with it.

“Deep down, you know that we are the same…”

“I opened the wind bag while you were asleep.” Ctimene was shaking like a leaf, her voice cracking as her eyes filled with guilty, regretful tears. Penelope didn’t flinch, she didn’t move. She just turned her gaze away.

“Leaving them feeling betrayed. Breaking the bonds that you’ve made…”

“I’m so sorry,” Ctimene exclaimed.

“There is no price we won’t pay…” Gentle splashes came from behind the ship.

“Forgive me!” she pleaded.

“We both know what it takes to survive…”

“Full speed ahead,” Petra demanded urgently. She didn’t care if she didn’t have the authority to say such a thing, she wanted to get away from these cliffs that seemed to sing on their own.

“Full speed ahead,” the crew chanted. They rowed faster. The oars clanked against the rocks, lifted the seabed up to the surface, and nudged floating objects in the water. “Full speed ahead, full speed ahead!

“Deep down, we only care for ourselves.” The ship bumped into something beneath the water. Or perhaps it was something bumped into the ship. The latter was confirmed when Penelope spotted the dark scales of a creature breaching the surface of the water. Whatever was following them dipped below again, completely out of sight.

“Ctimene,” she called, the first time had acknowledged Ctimene since her concession, “light up six torches.”

Ctimene nodded. She would do anything to appease Penelope, anything to get Penelope to look at her again and trust her. She had failed to obey her captain once, but she would not again. She handed five torches out, keeping the sixth for herself.

“Deep down, we’re lonely demons from Hell…”

“Captain, something approaches,” Ctimene stated as she peered over the railing.

In front of them was a woman. The head of a woman. She had long, thin, black hair. Her eyes blankly stared at the ship, her head slightly tilted, and mouth open. “Hello.” Her mouth didn’t move as she spoke. Her eyes didn’t blink.

Out of the water began to rise a being of great size. Six heads lifted out of the murky water, each baring three rows of jagged teeth. Ctimene stepped away from the railing. Everyone gazed up and down the monster before them. Penelope’s gaze was not on Scylla, only the faint light she could see on the other edge of the strait.

Penelope’s deep sigh was the last of the quiet. “ROW FOR YOUR LIVES!!!” she commanded. Nothing else was given a chance to happen as Scylla lunged for the ship.

“DROWN IN YOUR SORROW AND FEARS!”

Terror paralyzed the crew. This was unlike any monster they had seen before or heard in legends. This was a horror even the gods turned away from. A head creeped from behind and snatched a woman from the deck. Blood spilled as she hung onto the railing, desperate for her life, but the monster’s jaws crushed her and pulled her into the water. A torch dropped onto the deck.

“CHOKE ON YOUR BLOOD AND YOUR TEARS!”

Everyone, aside from Penelope, whipped around and watched the final moments of a life be destroyed. Immediately, another head closed in and stole away another life. Her blood curdling screams bounced off each cliff. She, too, held a torch. The severed arm that held the torch dropped back onto the ship as well. The head swallowed and consumed the spilled blood and broken limb before slipping back down into the water.

“BLEED TILL YOU’VE RAN OUT OF YEARS!” A third crew mate was picked off. She screamed and reached her hands out. Ctimene hurriedly gave her torch to another and ran to save her. Their hands touched briefly, but Scylla’s bite was too powerful. Ctimene was coated in blood and a torch dropped beside her feet.

“No…” Ctimene’s mind was working as fast as Scylla’s jaws were, but her body was not. The woman she had handed her torch to was crushed to pieces.

“WE MUST DO WHAT IT TAKES TO SURVIVE!”

Penelope was eerily calm. Scylla plucked a woman right behind her, piercing her chest and back with her fangs. The woman grabbed onto the ship. Penelope was right in front of her and she reached out for help, but Penelope didn’t move. She stared straight ahead like she was looking at Death right in the eyes. Like everyone else who Scylla had killed, the flickering flames of a torch was the last thing they left behind.

“GIVE UP YOUR HONOR AND FAITH! LIVE UP YOUR LIFE AS A WRAITH! DIE IN THE BLOOD WHERE YOU BATHE! WE BOTH KNOW WHAT IT TAKES TO SURVIVE!” Scylla’s heads finished their chant as the final person to fall victim to her was consumed and dragged under water.

Every head but the first one that greeted them sank below. She watched with the same blank eyes as the ship reached the other side of the strait. She sang one last chant, “We are the same you and I…”

“…I,” Penelope whispered. The ship emerged into the light once more, greeted to an orange sky and bright sunset.

Ctimene was sick with guilt and anger. She turned around, eyes blinded by the setting of the sun. When a cloud finally blocked its light, she only saw one thing in her way.

Penelope.

[unicyclehippo]

Hey, Ollie, you mentioned AGES ago that Show Me the Way Home (Avatrice) had a second chapter, it just wasn't perfect yet-- do you think you'll ever post it? Or is that officially an abandoned fic?

its not abandoned, i actually did some minor editing on it the other day. the problem is that its a very seasonally locked piece in my mind & also im lazy & also a perfectionist & also i want to watch wn again before i keep writing it bc i need to rmbr what the characters are like & basically any one of those obstacles are enough to shut me right down so.

it actually is a four part story & if u want, i can share a little with u now? maybe that'll make me feel better for not posting it yet lmao

thursday 22nd december

// 6:55 //

Beatrice stood by the doorway of her apartment, phone in hand and duffel bag at her feet, and wished she was already at her parent’s holiday home. 

It wasn’t that she thought their reunion would be simple or pleasant; it was more that today had started hot and was getting hotter and her parents kept their home at a crisp twenty-three degrees at all hours of the day and night, environmental impact be damned. As the humidity clung to her, a bead of sweat rolling down the back of her neck, Beatrice’s thoughts drifted to the crystal blue pool and the ocean wind that would blow up from the cove and she checked her phone again for any word from her driver. 

Camila’s voice travelled from the kitchen. ‘Maybe you should take the can opener with you. I mean, what if you need to open a can and you don’t have one? There might be beans. Baked beans, cannellini beans, red kidney beans.’

‘I’m sure my parents have one. They do have a kitchen. And a personal chef.’

Camila heard her. The apartment was too small for her not to have heard but she continued listing off every tinned item she could think of. 

‘Lentils, obviously. Diced tomatoes, crushed tomatoes, peeled tomatoes, puréed tomatoes.’ There was a long pause. Beatrice wondered if Camila was reading the labels of what they had in the pantry; if she was, those lentils had been there for a very long time. ‘Tinned peaches.’

‘I think those come with a tab now,’ Beatrice pointed out. She kept her voice mild, not really wanting to draw Camila’s attention to her hiding place by the door. 

At some point over the last few days, the nerves buzzing under Beatrice’s skin had jumped ship and now Camila was the one pacing the confines of their apartment. She’d picked over every inch of the house in search of things Beatrice might need—which ranged from the useful, like the good phone charger she’d “found” (definitely hadn’t stolen out of her room a month ago) to what could be charitably called not useful, like the can opener—and now she stood at the end of the hall bearing the can opener and a dark frown befitting a serial killer. 

Beatrice cleared her throat. Carefully, she said, ‘I really don’t think I need it.’

Camila looked down at her weapon. ‘Oh. Right. No, sure, of course not.’ She tossed it backward into the living room; it missed the couch, landing instead on the floor with a loud thud, the sound of their rental bond being instantly halved. Beatrice winced. Camila seemed not to have noticed, though, and with her hands now empty she returned to chewing nervously at her thumb nail. She scanned the living room, hawkish, before fixing her attention on Beatrice once more. 

‘Can I help you?’

‘Are you sure you want to do this?’

‘Camila…’

‘Because you don’t have to. You know that, don’t you? It’s not your only option—you could come home with me again! My parents would love it, we’d all love it, I promise. And you wouldn’t be intruding at all, I swear. The boys ask about you all the time and when you’re coming to visit again.’

‘They’re very sweet.’

‘Sweet! When they want something, sure! They’re still hoping you’ll teach them how to throw people—they bring up your match with Conner every time I call home.’

‘Tell them I’ll think about it.’

‘That can be your Christmas present for them. And Pop, he says you’re the only good one of the bunch.’

‘It’s because I don’t talk.’

‘I know. Poor guy. Christmas in a household of me’s. It’s so loud we have to mime everything for him.’

Beatrice smiled. ‘He turns off his hearing aids.’

‘What? That sneak!’

‘Don’t tell him I was the one that dobbed him in.’

‘It’ll be the very first thing I say—then you won’t be his favourite anymore and the rest of us will have a fair shot.’ Laughter shone in her eyes; it faded a little as she stared at Beatrice, gaze flicking down to the duffel at her feet. ‘I’m serious, Bea. You could call up your parents and tell them you’re not coming anymore. I’d prefer you tell them to go fuck themselves but.’ She sucked in a breath, shook her head. ‘Bea. Don’t waste your time on them. Spend your holiday with people who want you around. Who love you.’

It was a tempting offer. Of course it was.

From the day they met, Camila had been Beatrice’s friend; from the second, her sister. She’d gone out of her way to be all that a sister could be—kind, understanding, supportive, deeply irritating—and offered it all without cost. Her family was just the same. 

Beatrice remembered last Christmas fondly. The singing, the laughter, her chair squashed up to the end of the table next to Camila’s, the friendly chatter, the elbows bumping, the squabbles breaking out, the yet more guests arriving and pulling up a chair, the pass the salt, pass the butter, pass the damn water would you I’m dying over here, where’s the champagne, Arthur we don’t need another bottle of champagne it’s not even midday for Christssake, Beatrice do you want a second serve help yourself sweetheart, when do we open the presents. It had been loud, sometimes overwhelming, and wonderful all the same. 

But. 

Beatrice shook her head. 

Camila sighed. ‘I had to try, obviously.’

‘I know. Thank you.’ She set her hand on Camila’s wrist and squeezed. ‘I appreciate it, very much. Please tell them… Please tell everyone I miss them and that I’ll see them soon.’

‘You mean for your surprise birthday party?’

Beatrice smiled. ‘I’m looking forward to it.’

‘Good. Because mum’s going to need a menu from you—’

‘I thought we agreed we’d buy the food, Camila, I’m not making your mum cook for me.’

‘She likes to cook for her kids. Unless you want me to tell her you’d prefer eating a stranger’s food over hers?’ Beatrice scowled at the bold threat. ‘That’s what I thought. Pick what you want and I’ll tell her. Better yet, text her yourself.’

‘If I know your mother, she has something in mind already.’

‘More like eleven somethings.’ 

They shared an identical grin. Camila’s mother had a small habit of going overboard for parties and events. A buzz broke the moment. They both glanced down at Beatrice’s phone. 

Mr. Morris I have arrived

Beatrice Thank you. I will be there momentarily.

Beatrice nodded. This was it. She slid her phone into her pocket. ‘Mister Morris is here. I should go.’ To Camila’s suddenly stricken expression, she soothed, ‘It will be fine, Camila.’ And, because she was not completely oblivious to Camila’s concern, ‘I will be fine.’

‘I know that. Of course I know that. But I want—you don’t have to be just fine. You should be having fun. You’re my best friend, Bea, I want you to be happy.’

Beatrice paused. She struggled for a moment to think of a way to explain the purpose of this holiday to Camila, explain her purpose, in a way that she would understand and accept. 

‘It means so much,’ she began, carefully, ‘to be welcome in your family. But they will always be your family.’

‘Bea…’

‘You and they are all beyond generous.’ She held up a hand to stop Camila interrupting. ‘I know they love me, and I love them. I do love Christmas with your family. It’s always wonderful and comfortable and fun.’ She paused, considering her words. ‘But this is - this is about me,’ she admitted with difficulty, and was rewarded for the effort when Camila softened. ‘I want to go. I need to find out whether I have a place with them or not. And I’ve been so uncertain of how it might turn out that I haven’t tried. But this invitation is an opportunity. One would like to make the most of.’

Camila grabbed both of her hands and pulled her close. Very intensely, she said, ‘Okay.'

'Okay? Just like that?' Beatrice asked, doubtful.

'Yeah. I’m not going to say I understand because I don’t. It honestly makes me furious and a little bit sick to think of you going back to them. But I love you and I trust you and I want you to call me if you need anything. And whatever happens, Beatrice, you always have a place with me. Always.’

Beatrice smiled. Shifted so that she was the one holding Camila’s hands. Her friend wouldn’t let her go willingly and there was a big part of Beatrice that wanted to let herself be held tight and give in to her friend’s protectiveness, to be bundled safely up into Camila’s terrifying little car and trundling off to visit family. 

It was hard to pull free. 

Beatrice stepped back and opened the door.

‘There’s no need to fret, Camila. I’ll have Ava with me, remember?’

‘Yeah. I know. It’ll be great, you’ll see.’ The tightness around her eyes told Beatrice she didn’t quite believe her own words. ‘And you’ll call me.’

‘Every day.’

With one last hug, Beatrice picked up her bags and left. 

// 7:03 //

The town car waited for her outside the apartment. It was sleek and black, washed and polished; the only evidence of the recent storms were faint specks of grey mud deep in the tyre wells.

Beatrice stopped at the bottom of the stairs, observing the car and its driver—Mister Morris, patiently stood at the kerb—and swallowed around a lump in her throat. He looked the same as when she had left. A little more silver in his hair.

He might not have changed much but she had. Now that she was grown (or perhaps, now that she was not in that household), she found herself full of questions—where was it that Mister Morris had driven from? Where did he live? Had the storms been bad on his side of town? How had he passed the time? Had they lost power? (She and Camila had huddled in their living room—it was, Camila had insisted, the perfect weather for a marathon of gory slashers—and the rain had hammered against the windows with frightening strength but had done no damage. She knew others had not been so fortunate.) Most pressing of all, how had he been? Questions that could not be answered by hiding.

Beatrice gripped the strap of her duffel and, setting her shoulders, marched to meet him.

‘Good morning, Mister Morris.’

‘Miss Turner,’ he greeted her, his smile small but true. ‘A pleasure to see you again. How are you?’

‘Quite well, thank you.’ Then, keeping her tone light and brisk, ‘And yourself?’

‘Very well, Miss Turner. Very well.’ It looked as if he wanted to say something more but then he only smiled and cleared his throat. ‘Your luggage, Miss?’

‘I can see to it myself.’

Beatrice stashed her duffel in the boot then folded herself neatly into the backseat. Mr. Morris retook the driver’s seat. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Beatrice fixed her eyes on the headrest in front of her.

‘We have another stop to make, Mr Morris.’

‘Yes, miss. Do you have the address?’

‘I do.’ She ran a finger along the inside of her watchband, rubbing away the sweat that had gathered there. She made it a notch tighter, then loosened once more. ‘They are - That is to say, she is my—’

Mr. Morris met her eyes in the rear-view mirror. His were green and kind. The kindness did not make it easier to say.

‘She is my girlfriend.’ 

‘Yes. I know.’

‘Oh.’

‘Though your mother used slightly different terminology. Companion, I believe she said.’ He kept his eyes locked onto the rearview mirror. When Beatrice glanced into it again, he said warmly, ‘Congratulations, miss. That’s wonderful. I’m very glad to hear it.’

When she had been younger, there had been a stretch of time where running away had seemed very appealing. Each time she attempted it, Beatrice had never made it further than the park four streets from her home. She’d been too pragmatic, even at ten years old, but she’d also been stubborn so Beatrice had say there in the swing until someone noticed; whomever did notice, it was always Mr. Morris who collected her. She was reminded of it as he started the engine. The sound of its growl scared old memories out of hiding—she remembered how the plastic swing creaked, the feel of the metal chain in her little hands, how the gravel of the park entry had crunched beneath the town car tyres. How the headlights had washed over her and away with the tilt of his park and how invisible she’d felt when the lights turned off. Like a ghost haunting the playground.

Beatrice stared thoughtfully at his back, remembering how he would climb out of the car and sit next to her on a too-small swing until she’d been ready to return.

‘Thank you, Mr Morris.’

He nodded. Then, ‘I do still need her address, miss.’

‘Oh. Yes, of course.’

[venus-haze]

Got No Reason To Run (Homelander x Supervillain!Reader)

Summary: Homelander fantasizes about you, his supervillain arch-enemy, and getting the revenge he so desperately craves.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. This is based on some of the headcanons I wrote here. I’m definitely open to writing more of a supervillain!Reader with Homelander. This is short because it's PWP, honestly. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Sexually explicit content which includes masturbation. Non-con, violence, intentional scarring, mild bloodplay, and dacryphilia in the context of a fantasy. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Homelander’s eyes were glued to the television as soon as the story about you began to run. Rosethorn. More like a thorn in his fucking side. Ever since Vought decided to let you wreak havoc on the streets of New York because having an arch-enemy was good marketing, you were inescapable. Every interview inevitably derailed into questions about you, the Homelander Vs. Rosethorn comic series was almost out-selling his solo ones, and to make matters worse, half of the internet seemed to ship you, the marketing team bafflingly thrilled the first time #Roselander trended on Twitter.

All of those things he could reasonably deal with, but among the people who regarded you as an anti-hero rather than a supervillain, they’d developed a conspiracy theory of sorts that you were somehow as powerful as, if not more so than, him. He often seethed in rage over it. You were only alive because you were useful to Vought. At least, that’s what he told himself after the first time the two of you were face-to-face, and you spit your venom at him, burning through his costume and blistering his skin, to both of your shock. The faint scar on his arm became a point of sensitivity for him, few people had ever seen it. To him, it was a symbol of failure, but even worse, it fed into the paranoia that what your handful of supporters were saying was true.

He watched the news replay the security footage of you and your accomplices, a rotation of other, less powerful supes, robbing a bank. You could secrete incredibly potent, acidic poison through your saliva and breath at will, though most people were too scared to put up a fight and see what damage you could do to the human body. You practically skipped over to the vault, spitting on the metal door which quickly melted into twisted scrap. Your goons wasted no time in collecting the money and valuables that were then ripe for the taking.

Your gaze landed on the security camera that had caught the whole crime in action, and you grinned, staring directly at it—eyes crystal clear and haunting, as if you were looking into his soul as you stalked over like a tiger waiting to strike. 

“Homelander, you can come and get me,” you said with a playful wink at the camera before disappearing in a toxic haze.

Something stirred in him at that. He grabbed the remote, playing the clip back over and over until his cock was half-hard. If he were there, that bank robbery would have gone a hell of a lot differently. He licked his lips as he thought about how he would have made his appearance, crash through the ceiling or laser through the wall—no, he would’ve walked through the doors like he owned the damn place.

He had a firm grip on his cock as he pumped the length, imagining the bank was empty and dark, after hours with no hostages in sight. You grinned at him from inside the bank vault you’d just half-obliterated. It was all a game, as usual, playing cat and mouse until you’d make your escape. Not this time. 

Vought’s orders to avoid grievously harming you were endlessly frustrating, but in this instance, he was the one calling the shots. If he had his way, he’d make sure you faced the specific brand of justice a supervillain like you deserved after years of getting away with countless crimes with little more than bruises and scratches. You were too cocky, too smug. He’d be more than happy to knock you down a few notches and remind you who exactly your arch-enemy was and what he was capable of.

“Homelander, come and get me,” you repeated, voice light and airy, clueless as to what his true intentions were.

He strode across the threshold of the bank, his steps strong and purposeful as he closed the distance between you. The ensuing fight was laughably easy since he was actually trying to cause some damage, and from your place on the floor, disheveled with blood trickling from the corner of your mouth, you looked betrayed. 

You attempted to push yourself off the ground, only to be met with his boot on your chest, his gaze nothing short of mean.

“Do you have any idea who the fuck I am?”

Your confused silence infuriated him.

“Answer me!” he shouted, his eyes glowing red.

“You’re—you’re The Homelander.”

“That’s right. So I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, Rosethorn, but injuring me? Scarring me? I don’t bleed. I don’t break. I sure as hell don’t scar,” he raged, droplets of spit flying in your face. “I can’t let that stand.”

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered pathetically.

He scoffed. “You can do better than that.”

“Homelander, please, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scar you. Forgive me.”

His silence was accented with the sound of your racing heart, the blood rushing through your veins. You were terrified. Good. 

“We both know you’re not sorry. You loved every second of it, didn’t you?”

“No, Homelander I didn’t–”

“I think I should return the favor.” 

Your eyes widened, and you began shaking your head frantically upon realizing what he intended to do. He grabbed your arm, and his teeth broke the skin with ease, just a bit of pressure from his razor blade smile to cut you open. Your blood on his lips almost tasted sweet, at least, he imagined it would. 

"Scream all you want, there’s no one to hear you," he would snarl at your weeping figure. Now you had matching scars, now you couldn’t look at yourself in the mirror without being reminded of him too. In a disturbing display of dominance and possession, he licked your open wound. You wailed. He squeezed your arm tighter. You should have been grateful he didn’t try to cauterize it himself. Finally, he released you, but this temporary freedom wouldn’t last.

“You’re a monster,” you sobbed, clutching your injured arm.

“Me? No, I’m The Homelander. I might as well be god. You? You’re only around to make me look good.”

Then he heard it, the way only he can, the sound of your spit collecting in your mouth. He grabbed you by the throat, hauling you to your feet. “Try it, and I promise I’ll take all the time in the world to kill you.”

Teary-eyed, you nodded. When he released your throat, he heard you swallow. 

“Now, how to properly serve you justice for being caught red-handed robbing a bank," he mused.

“Fuck you.”

“That’s not a bad idea at all.”

The fear that would glaze over those eyes that he couldn’t get out of his mind made him jerk his hips, and he slowed how quickly he was pumping his leaking cock. He didn’t want to cum, not yet. Digging his teeth into his bottom lip, he exhaled through his nostrils, trying to ground himself.

Where was he? Fear. You were afraid of him, of what he’d do to you, as you should be. You weren’t rivals, the implication that you were as powerful as him was outright offensive. His lip curled in disdain. 

He pushed you against the wall, tearing off your clothing with little effort, reveling in the way your body shook against his as it was suddenly exposed to the cool air in the vault. He reached from behind, his gloved hands feeling how wet you’d gotten. The squelch of leather squeezing into your wet pussy made him moan out loud, but in his fantasy he was in control, mocking you for being turned on and how easily he was able to fit two–no, now it was three fingers inside you.

Tears streamed down your face as you begged him to be gentle, to slow down. Your legs were shaking as you tried to stay standing despite the overstimulation from his strong fingers curling inside you and pumping in and out. He wouldn’t get exhausted, not from brutally fingering you until you were little more than a blubbering mess. You begged him to stop, to at least have some mercy and give you a break.

“What’s the matter? You told me to come and get you, and here I am,” he taunted. “Don’t think I’m even close to being done with you.”

You cried out in response, or maybe you’d just cum. It didn’t matter, this was about his pleasure. In that moment, watching you sob and struggle got his proverbial rocks off, and he turned your head to capture your lips in a messy kiss. Your mouth stayed open as your desperate protests disappeared down his throat. His tongue curled. He wanted to swallow the noise, digest it, let it sit in his stomach. A wave of pleasure rocked through him. He was close, dangerously so.

He pulled his hand from your cunt, soaked and stretched out for him. Your juices glistened on his gloves, and he broke the kiss to suck each of his fingers as you utilized the time to catch your breath, or at least try to while he gave you this short break. You’d taste perfect, and he’d lick his fingers clean, his mind almost wandering to what it’d be like to eat you out.

Instead, he unbuckled his belt, observing the way you clenched your thighs at the sound of the metal hitting the floor as he rid himself of his spandex bottoms. His hands gripped your hips tightly, and you gasped as he pulled your ass to press against his hard cock. You tried wiggling out of his grasp, and he almost laughed. Stupid girl.

“Beg me not to break you in half right now,” he ordered, his voice low and husky.

You choked out your plea through sobs. “Homelander—don’t do this—don’t—please don’t break me in half.”

“No promises.”

With that, he slammed his cock into your wet cunt, grinning to himself as your eyes squeezed shut and you clawed at the wall, a near-animalistic howl tearing from your throat. He kept a steady, unforgiving pace that made your legs finally give out on you, relying on him wrapping a strong arm around your middle to keep you up. He dipped his head down to press a kiss to your temple.

“C’mon baby, you’ve made it this far,” he purred. “Why not see this thing out to the end?”

He kissed down the side of your face, his lips lingering along your cheek and jaw, covering them in open-mouthed kisses as he moaned into your skin. Your pussy clenched around his cock, and when he glanced at the wound he’d inflicted on your arm, he gave a forceful thrust that had you reaching back to grab some part of him to hold onto. 

You were his. You wanted to be his. You wouldn’t have permanently marked his skin if you didn’t. You laid claim to him first. It was only a matter of time before he reciprocated, showing you what you were really in for. Part of him wanted so badly to just kill you, but the part of him that was winning out was buried deep inside your cunt with the intention of filling you with his cum.

Briefly, his mind wandered to keeping you in the tower, maybe in his own suite, tied up pretty like a present for him to come home to at the end of each day, or maybe isolated in one of the supe containment cells where through time and pressure you’d be begging for him to use you, just to get some physical contact.

As much as he could dream, the main event beckoned him back to that bank vault he’d conjured up, his thrusts into you still strong, but more erratic, and he felt your pussy milking his cock as you came, your voice strained as you cried out his name.

Homelander, you can come and get me.

He orgasmed, and you were gone. Back to reality, just him, his hand, and the remote control he’d accidentally crushed. Fuck. He ran his clean hand through his hair, taking another look at the paused frame of you smiling in the security footage. 

Maybe he would come and get you.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Dungeon: The Hole in the Hill

Of all places, a portal to the underdark has opened along a sleepy stretch of country road, drawing amature explorers and lookie-loos who all want to know the origin behind the mysterious purple glow. Those bravest to be first across the threshhold bring stories of glowing mushrooms and caverns full of odd animal life, a few even returning with souveniers in the form of carrot sized fingers of crystal. Naturally the party will be headed below next, going even deeper in search of greater treasures.

Adventure Hooks:

Diverted from his dayjob of selling snakeoil town to town when his cart and campsite fell into the original sinkhole, an enterprising merchant by the name of Canny Farwell has laid claim to the sinkhole and is charging admittance to its uppper levels at three silvers a head. He's got dreams of establishing a mine to exploit the riches of the seeminly bottomless cavern, and while he's more than happy to give the party a tour through the sinkhole's upper reaches ( full of facts he's made up), he's not going to let the party venture deeper and jump his claim without putting up a fuss.

However stubborn Canny might be, he's all to willing to drop his arguments and bolt for the surface when a pack of monsters from the world below show up hounding the party back to the surface. Forced to act quickly to protect the onlookers, the party will have to delve deep into the depths to force these creatures back into their original territory.

Somewhere in the depths the party can find the smashed remannts of the huckster's cart, being picked over by a gnomish waif with leaden skin. She speaks no common and is TERRIFIED of the party, but once they convince her they're no threat (food has a way of briding all cutural divides, especially when the hesitant party has been roughing it in a cavern for a fortnight) she'll use mud-doodles and pantomime to indicate that she was forced to flee her village when they were attacked by... somehing... that has enslaved her people and forced them to mine the great crystals in the cavern depths.. which might've been what set off the sinkhole in the first place.

The girl, Takta, is a svirfneblin, a deepgnome who lives along with her people in a hidden subterranian village, enjoying a humble existance while keeping themselves concieled from the underdark's major predators. That was until a few months ago, when a levitating duergar ironclad loomed its way into the network of caverns their community called home. The vessel known as The Esretnatzar and its crew of grey-dwarves are an exploratory expidition sent off to expand the borders of their autocratic homeland and to seek sites worthy of colonization. After nearly a year and a half evading perils of the world below they're delighted to have found a people to subjugate, useing psionics to expose and subdue Takta's people, forcing the Svirfneblin to act as laborers and servants as they dig themselves in.

Further Adventures

Its hard to oust an occupying army that can read your mind, and while the deepgnomes are no strangers to defending their home they have little defence against mind-censors, a fanatically dogmatic group of telepaths who kept order onboard the Esretnatzar during its long voyage and have now turned their attention to keeping the chattel in line. They've moved the troublemakers (including Takta's older brother) into a makeshift prison and while it doesn't compare to the reducation halls of their homeland it does keep the gnomes working for fear of their loved ones being hurt. Freeing these individuals from lockup is the first step to fighting back.

While the Esretnatzar's captian Fulgite Faultsaw is eager to return home bathed in the glory of expanding the hegemony, many in her crew do not feel the same. They're sick of the ship and sick of skimming dark caverns, and just want to keep their boots on the groud (even if it means pressing them into some deepgnome necks). Some others, careful to guard their thoughts from the ship mind-censors, imagine staying in the village, establishing a new clanhold and living like thanes. Perahaps this division can be exploited, convincing the recalictrant crew to surrender while pushing the hardliner faction back out into the dark.

After the party has done their thing and these cavernous conquistadors are defeated the village will be in rough shape, and while the deepgnomes will galdly put in the years of work to make it funcitonal again perhaps the party can suggest another option: moving the village to the far more defensible mouth of the sinkhole, allowing the svirfneblin to continue their subterranian agriculture in the upper reaches while having the whole of the upper world to fall back to if they need it. It'll be a hard sell, both to the traditionalist gnomes whos' lives have already been disrupted enough, and the authorities on the surface, but should the party succeed they'll get to see a new settlement blossom over the course of their adventures.

[yoitsjay]

Pairings: Eleventh Doctor x Male Reader

Summary: The Doctor witnesses the Indomitable Human Spirit for the first time in his life. Boy did that give him a scare

Warnings: gore, reader barely hanging on, mentions of shown broken bone, blood. Indomitable Human Spirit

Word count: 1760

The Doctor promised you that he would take you anywhere in the world, and that no matter where you went you would always be safe with him. Well despite his promises adventuring with The Doctor always seemed to be quite dangerous, but exhilarating all the same. This time you assumed would be no different.

You and the doctor were on an alien planet, a place you had never been to before and boy was it ever beautiful, the scenery was just spectacular, with crystal clear waterfalls and glowing lakes that hundreds of lifeforms could swim in, There were shopping malls galore. The Doctor took you shopping, and you had the time of your life, better this than having to go back home to join the army like your parents tried to send you off too.

“Doctor” You called out, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards you so he would either slow down or stop entirely to hear what you had to say. “Listen this is great and all but what are we actually doing here? you said you had something to do? or someone to see?” You asked him, however before he could even get a word in to answer you a mass of people started to swarm the shopping district and one of them bumped into you and the doctor quite roughly which ended up parting the both of you. The Doctor called out for you within the crowd, however you also had no moment to respond to him as someone, or multiple someones had come up right behind you, placing some form of cloth over your mouth, and that is when everything went dark.

It had been hours, The Doctor was now extremely worried at the fact that there were aliens on this planet that did not belong, and sure they could be visiting aliens but these aliens were not regular happy go lucky traveling aliens no, these were Daleks and they had given a very clear message to the Doctor.

“Exterminate!” The transmission repeated before cutting out, only for The Doctor to play it again and again, trying to pick up any other voices, any clues other than the Dalek’s signature phrase. Damnit! where are you Y/n” he cursed under his breath, looking around the now closed shopping mall, yes that is how long it's been, you have been gone since the afternoon and now it was midnight on whatever planet you were both stuck on… Oh but you weren't on that planet anymore, No the Daleks and their new human puppets had taken you on board one of their ships…

You finally open your eyes, squinting upon the painful realization that there are very bright lights flashing into your eyes. A grunt escapes your lips as you blink once or twice, turning your head side to side to gather in your surroundings. You were in a white room and from what you could feel and tell you were strapped to a table that was elevated at an angle.

Your wrists. biceps, ankles and calves and chest were all strapped uncomfortably to the table, above you was a strange looking device that had different things attached to each side, there were four sides to this device, one was a black hollowed half sphere that looked like the end of a toilet plunger, similar to the small attachments that the Daleks had on their armor plates. The second device looked like a giant needle with a blueish green sludge inside of the needle canister, you clenched your jaw, imagining just what cruel things that strange liquid could do to you.

there were two more devices on this thing above you, but you had no time to examine them as the door to your room which was behind you had opened, you closed your eyes for a moment, clenching your hands into fists before opening your eyes again, looking directly at a Dalek, but not just one, there were multiple in front of you. “You are the doctor's companion.” The one closest to you spoke, its.. eye? staring directly at your face. You grit down your teeth, there was no way youd answer to the likes of them even if it cost your life.

However the less you talked, the angrier they grew, and the device above your head activated, turning around to reveal a drill bit, that turned on and slowly lowered down to your left eye. You had no time to plea before it shot right through your eye and tire it to shreds as it drilled through before pulling back. regardless your screams echoed through the halls of this ship and reverberated off the walls of the room.

“i ask again, you are the Doctors companion?” The Dalek asked once more, and with a choked sob you nodded. “Yes!- yes i am his companion.” You cried, your remaining eye blurry with tears. You felt blood trailing down the other half of your face, soaking your clothes.

“You will answer all our questions… failure to do so will not result in your extermination, rather your very slow and painful death.” The Dalek explained, the other Daleks in the room dispercing across the room, just as the door opened again, and you felt a very cold hand wipe the blood from the left side of your face.

A woman then stood in front of you with a wicked smile on her face as she licked the blood from her fingers, placing her hand on a console in front of her, most likely the one that controlled the device above you.

“Where is The Doctor?” the Dalek asked, it took you a moment, but for the alien that moment was too long, and this time the arm rest that your arm was on bent the opposite of your elbow, and the bone shot right through the skin, fractured and bent in the way it was never meant to be. Again you screamed, but you couldn't give up your beloved Doctor, there were so many things you had to tell him, and yet… couldn't.

“Where is the Doctor!” The Dalek shouted, however you only shook your head.

This torture went on for hours, you only gave the Daleks bits and pieces when it got to much, but nothing that they could work with. You were on your last legs, you were battered, bruised and broken. so many holes were drilled into your body, bones crushed. Your breathing was shallow, and your heart rate was going a million miles per minute. The machine connected to your stats was going haywire… until you flatlined, and your head lolled to the side.

“He is dead. cut him loose and leave him to rot. If the Doctor finds him, then the bait will have worked.” The Dalek said, and left the room along with everyone else… minutes passed, ten minutes…

your eyes shot open, your heart having rebooted itself it seemed. Your spirit was not done yet, YOU were not done yet. Adrenaline fueled your body and with slow and with pained grunts you got up to your feet, tumbling into the wall, falling to the floor again. But you didn't stop, not for a minute. You crawled on the floor, dragging your body with your good arm since your broken one was just dead weight to you now.

You needed to leave.

In the meantime, The Doctor had finally managed to find your location, in the middle of an entire fleet of Dalek spaceships. But of course that didn’t stop the Doctor, not with the drive that fueled him, the same drive that allowed him to avoid his fixed death. He would not give up looking for you, and if that meant blowing up ship after ship to get to you he would do it every time, in every universe he would kill thousands of Daleks just to see your face, that is how dedicated he was to you. Everything he did was for you…

With the fireworks and explosions of Dakel ships viewed from the windows, he finally got to the last one, screwdriver in hand as he screwed over every Dalek that got in his way. he had already programmed the ship to self destruct… he just needed to find you.

Though maybe he didnt have too… he stopped in his tracks and slowly turned around, eyes widening as he saw you, silluetted by the explosions of light behind you. however when the lights flashed on front of you, it revealed to the doctor every broken bone, bruise and drilled hole, the blood caked on your face and the torn up eye. You were a walking zombie. yet despite it you stumbled towards him, and eventually into his arms.

“I cant die.” You muttered with choked words, blood spitting from your mouth. You stared into his eyes, fury and anger fueling your spirit… Your indomitable human spirit. “I was born to claim the stars! they are mine! These daleks will not kill me to get to you… no. I hope that your rules and wisdom choke you Doctor, because i am one in everlasting peace… The Daleks will choke on my fury, they will choke on my stars.” You sneered, more blood pouring from your lips.

The Doctor held you close, tears streaming down your face… However, out of the corner of his eye he noticed a shimmer, a few stars in the distance, ones not blinded by the explosion of spaceships just seemed to get closer, and closer but not as suns themselves… as a hot white mist, shining and glittering… The Doctor stepped away from you, and you extended your arms outwards.

“I am the stars. the universe, i am your soul, your hatred and your love. I am the one they couldn't kill” You hissed as you absorbed the power of the two stars, and all those injuries you gained seemed to repair themself like nothing had harmed you in the first place… and when you opened your eyes, they weren't your normal eye color, no they were a shimmering and beautiful gold, like the color of suns so far away.

The Doctor stared at you in utter awe. Jaw dropped to the floor before he finally stood up. “You humans… are the most unpredictable species I have ever seen.” He muttered, quickly rushing towards you as you fell to the ground, unconscious but very much alive.

That was the day that The Doctor learned that no matter what, you can never break a human's spirit.