#every time you turn a corner it's like fight this same boss again fight these same enemies oh look another fucking dragon

[death-rebirth-senshi]

Remember the first time I entered Leyndell and I was like oh finally a new kind of enemy these bubble blowing guys are weird and then we were right back to fighting those same knights we've been fighting all game. With an Erdtree avatar thrown in there for good measure.

[miirohs]

nightingale [m.v.s]

pairing: Mob Boss!Max Verstappen x Nurse!Reader wc: 1.7k cw: indications of ppd (not explicit but you'd have to read the lines for it), max is not the most mentally stable, abuse mentioned (not in detail) an: elle is 100% made up and if yall want more family content hmu i can do it 😝 also, the nightingale oath isn’t universally used, but essentially it’s almost the same thing as the Hippocratic oath doctors take :)

“She won’t stop crying!” Max snapped, frustratedly clutching the rails of the crib as the baby in it cried relentlessly, giving you a crazed look from the corner of his eye as you got closer. It was like dealing with a wounded animal that refused your help.

“Breath Max. Breath.” From the moment you had arrived at the Verstappen home, it had been walking on eggshells, anger fueling his every waking move from as far as three weeks as he prowled around the house.

“Godverdomme (goddamnit) Y/n, I know that! Why is she crying though?!”

You reached out a hand, stroking his back gently. You ought to be as angry as him for having you snatched off the streets but you couldn’t, not with the reveal of his child. You had the barest idea of what he might have been going through.

“I don’t know, I'm not… yeah.” The look in his eyes turned sharp and you closed your mouth, staring down at your hands.

“I’m leaving, I can’t do this right now. Don’t come after me or else.” He threatened, the anger on his face fading into a stoic look as he turned away from the child, one look you feared more than his explosive anger.

It wasn’t until he left the room, gun drawn in hand, that you could breathe again, nearly collapsing to the floor.

You turned around, weakly holding the rails. You could hear him barking at the guards from inside the room, fading into the distance as your anticipation slowly died down. You thought that maybe today, you were good as dead.

The baby’s fussing had died down long before you had finally noticed. You hesitated when looking at her, reaching in to pick her up gently.

“Hi Elle.”

All the baby did was look at you blankly, eyes still wet from the countless tears that’d been shed before Max left. She had his gorgeous blue eyes, but most likely her mothers soft face.

You knew he was a dangerous man, and now you supposed the baby knew as well, seeing the way she’d been crying before Max had finally left the room. It wasn’t an isolated incident as well, building up across many miniature incidents.

The most shocking part, though, was the fact you’d been told the biggest kingpin in the Netherlands had a child. You would’ve laughed in the face of the person telling you before, but now it felt realer than it had been for the last couple weeks.

You gently cradled the baby in your arm, rocking her lightly as you looked out the door ajar to the hall. You could hear the guard grumbling in discontent as they went about their business, yet none of the commotion had bothered Elle. 

She had finally fallen asleep in your arms, gripping onto your finger as you put her down, a strong sense of familiarity washing over you. 

You spent a good part of your time caring for children, as this was no different to you.

Letting go of the crib, you steeled your nerves to walk out the room, arms crossed in front of your protectively as you eyed the men in the hall.

One of the guards, Daniel, held you back gently by the shoulder, looking at you with curious eyes. This was probably one of the more rare times seeing you, it was like you’d never left the nursery from the moment you got here.

“You can’t-”

“He kidnapped me from my own home Daniel. I don’t think he has a right to keep me from going wherever I want in his house.” You snapped, surprised at how hoarse your voice seemed.

He didn’t fight you, simply nodding and slinking back to his spot because there wasn’t much he could do to convince you to stay. 

You could easily recall your steps to the kitchen, the heat in your feet dispelled by the cold tiles as you entered.

You didn’t know how long you were there, standing blankly at the sink as the water continued to fill up in the glass.

The glass was overfilling and you watched it, hands clenched into fists before you released them entirely, weight rolling off your shoulders.

The sound of a door slamming snapped you out of your stupor, turning off the sink and staring into the dimly illuminated living room.

Max came through the door, blood staining his shirt and face, dirt smudge across his nose and cheeks. He noticed you, a look of disparagement in his eyes as he got closer. Looking into his eyes, it really reminded you of Elle.

He ignored you as he limped into the kitchen, opening a cabinet with more gentleness than you’d seen in days.

“I thought I told you not to leave her alone?” He said, voice scratchy and low as if he’d been screaming. 

“She’s finally asleep.”

You responded. He didn’t bother to critize you again, popping open the bottle of whisky and pouring it into a glass. 

He limped back to the living room, settling into an armchair with his back to the cityline. He looked almost formidable as the harsh shadows cast lines on his face.

“You sure have a way of showing you care, Max.”

“I know you aren’t criticizing me now, schat.” He laughed humorlessly, sending shivers down your spine.

“Oh yeah, because kidnapping someone to take care of your child really says you love them.” You snarked, eyes trailing to his sides. 

There were minor tears when you hadn’t seen his shirt before he left, heart beating loudly as you got a glimpse of his bloodied side as he pushed himself up.

“What happened to you?”

“What do you think happened?” He said, rolling his eyes as he lowered the glass from his lips.

“Well, this isn’t healthy. For you or Elle.” You said wearily, finger tracing the rim of the glass. “Have you ever considered therapy? It might-“

“No.” 

You blinked, surprised by his sudden refusal. “Why not?”

“I can’t. Do you know the kind of risk that poses?” He grumbled, clearly offended at you for suggesting so.

“Okay then, sure would’ve been better if you’d kidnapped a therapist rather than an underpaid nurse to do that job for you. Secrecy and all.” 

“That’s how you want to play then? I’ll give you the money, then leave this place and never come back, if you’re that desperate.” He gritted through clenched teeth, temper clearly being dialed up by the reminder.

“What? Absolutely not.” It was your turn to reject his offer, staring at him blankly. You didn’t know why that made you feel so upset.

“I’m offering you money and allowing you to leave, what more could you want, schat?” He scoffed, sharply putting down the whiskey glass as he held his head in the other hand.

“I can't just leave her like that, you know that as well as I do.” He remained silent, which you took as permission to get closer to him.

He didn’t protest as you leaned over, yet flinched slightly as you pulled his shirt up.

“Calm down, if I had any intention of hurting you, you’d know.” You rolled your eyes, turning up the light a little more so you could see the full extent of his wounds.

“I don’t think it’s necessary-“ 

You cut him off with a sharp inhale. The other miniature wounds stared back at you, barely cuts compared to the jagged scar that ran down his side. “When did this happen?” You whispered.

He slammed his glass down again and you flinched back, split seconds before you could look him in the eyes again. They were slightly sorrowful, but otherwise empty, where there had been every negative emotion a human could muster moments before.

“It was my dad.”

“Did he…” You didn’t finish the sentence, swallowing your doubts as you stared at it.

“Yes. It was in a fight. He won, obviously.” He answered, short and clipped as his posture dropped slightly. 

“Is this why you don’t want Elle? Because you don’t want her to go through-” You asked meekly, cut off almost instantly. “The old man is dead. I killed him myself, made sure he couldn’t lay a single hand on anyone else.” Max hissed, a few beats passing in between the both of you.

“Do you know anything about her mother maybe? I could probably pull together something if-”

“She’s dead.” 

You blinked, mouth gaping slightly.

“She was a prostitute. Most likely gone from all the drugs up her system by now. That’s why I needed you. Our old doctor… left his position early.” 

You watched him get up from his spot, clearly done with the conversation, but something about what he said seemed to strike a chord in you.

“So you brought me to make sure-“

“The baby wasn’t affected. You weren’t a doctor but you did just fine I suppose.” He finished, back to you and he poured himself another one.

“Max, do you know what a Nightingale oath is?”

“Een nacht wat (a night what)?” You continued on, though you had a feeling you knew what he said.

“It’s an oath some of us take. To protect and to serve.”

You got up, feet pattering against the ground as you got closer to him.

“I don’t think anyone really abides by it anymore-“ He let out a short laugh, clearly unbelieving of your words as you continued, “-but maybe, just maybe, that’s why I haven’t gone home just yet.”

“Are you sure you want this Y/n? When you could just as easily leave and go home now?” He muttered softly, hunched over the countertop as your hand met his back.

“I’m sure. You need the help Max. You can’t deny it.”

“Then so be it nachtegaal. I can’t stop you when you’ve made up your mind.” He murmured, steely blue eyes meeting your own as he held your gaze.

“Maybe, once you’re well enough, you can finally form some connection to the child.” You sighed, looking at him. “I promise it.”

“You’re very confident in this plan of yours.”

You smiled inwardly at his words. “Why else would I be here if I wasn’t?”

[swanimagines]

MASKS | KAZ BREKKER

Summary: You are incredibly beautiful but you have always been insecure of your own face, so you wear a mask. But in the middle of doing a heist, the mask breaks.

Ever since childhood, you hadn't liked what you saw in the mirror. Your nose was too big. Or too small. Your lips were too thin. Or then they looked like a bee had just stung them. Your eye color was bland. You just bashed yourself in front of the mirror every morning as you had brushed your teeth, and other kids at your neighborhood didn't really help with that - kids could be cruel if they were given a reason for it.

So, that day you moved into Ketterdam, you made yourself a mask before anyone got to know you. A beautiful white mask made of porcelain, with cat ears and a red stripe going over your eye. It fit perfectly around your face, hiding any imperfections behind its perfect curves.

You joined the Dregs, a gang ran by a young man who was barely 18. Kaz Brekker wasn't interested about your mask, he only wanted to know how you could fight and you were in. It didn't take long after that before you joined the heists with him and the other five people who called themselves "Crows". You quickly had made friends with them, spending evenings with them and finally feeling like you had a family again.

Kaz ended up growing something more than just your boss. It took a while, but he let his walls down with you, took a faint hold of your hand when you were worried about your wounded friend and even tried to comfort you, although he wasn't a master in it. In turn, you had showed him your face, let yourself be vulnerable too. He had looked at you with so much love you thought it's uncharacteristic of him, but at the same time you felt how your cheeks grew hot as you felt cared about for the first time in years.

Jesper had seen your face too, but it was by accident. He had barged in to Kaz's room because Wylan was missing and he was scared out of his mind and walked straight to the bedroom, just in time to see you sit up and your eyes met his. He froze for a moment before you ducked your head and took your mask, and Jesper knew better than to question it. He told you that Wylan is missing and you sprang into action immediately, dressing up and hurrying out of the office.

Turned out Wylan had been fetching Jesper a cake because the sharpshooter's birthday was the next day. Thank the Saints you found him first, so the surprise wouldn't be ruined.

A few months from that, and you were on another heist. Another merchant in the city, who has bragged about his fortunes a little too enthusiastically. In Ketterdam, you had to remember that someone was always listening, and this time that someone was Inej. A week from that, and you were at the manor of that merchant.

Kaz had ordered you and Jesper to keep watch at the hallway as he worked on the hidden safe around the corner - the merchant was smarter than he looked, he had put a safe inside a safe, and hid that behind a large and incredibly heavy bookcase. The blueprints were done wrong as a distraction, and Kaz had cursed himself over not realising it. So it had taken a while to actually get on the safe.

Footsteps were heard from the right, and Jesper's hand immediately went to his other gun. A few guards bickered about something, and Kaz halted his movements upon hearing that too. Jesper met his eyes, and he nodded towards the guards. Jesper started making his way towards them and you glanced at Kaz who started working on the safe again.

You hadn't known what was happening before you already felt a blade on your throat.

"Don't move, bitch," said a voice behind you. His breath had a bitter scent of garlic and you scrunched your nose at it.

The man with the knife pressed hard enough to cut your skin but didn't draw blood yet. A thought of him killing you and going after Kaz next crossed your mind, an d that thought made your heart start racing faster and adrenaline kicking in.

You knew it was stupid. Irresponsible. You should wait for Kaz to deal with it, he by no doubt was already thinking what to do to save you. But you weren't a lady in distress, you refused to be.

So you stomped on his foot with all your might and when he grunted, you elbowed his jaw. The knife made a scratch on your face and you heard something shattering - probably a vase on the drawer next to you. You started giving punches to the brute until he laid on the ground unconscious, and then turned back around to see all your friends gathered there to see what's the noise about. You let out a breath of relief upon seeing they were all alright and walked up to them as you tried to catch your breath. You didn't pay attention to it at first, but then you noticed that they were staring at you.

"What?" you asked, frowning.

"Darling, your mask..." Kaz mumbled, looking over at the shattered piece of art you had been wearing for the past half a decade.

Your heart stopped for a moment.

"Oh," you whispered and suddenly felt self-conscious as you turned away from your friends. Your cheeks burned like hellfire, even though nobody was saying anything about how you looked ugly underneath this disguise. Though, they had probably stared because they didn't recognize you at first, not because of how you looked. But it still felt like the latter option, and the echoes of what the kids in your neighborhood had been saying to you when you were growing up.

"Okay, we got what we came here for, escaping through the third back door." Kaz interrupted the moment and everyone started moving out, leaving Kaz and you standing there to come as last ones.

You walked in silence side by side with Kaz, looking behind the shattered mask - its shards glinting in the moonlight as if to wave its goodbye to you. You felt like a part of you had just been ripped away, and you couldn't help but feel tears in your eyes. The whole thing happened so fast, that none of it registered until that point. Then it was too late.

You could feel the slight night breeze caressing through your face once you were outside in front of the carriage, something you hadn't experienced in years. It felt so foreign now - but somehow also comforting.

You stood there for a moment before Nina spoke.

"Hey, we don't care how you look. We still love you the same."

You closed your eyes against the sudden wetness on your cheek and nodded, sniffling. "I know."

"Hey," Jesper said. He walked up next to you and handed you a handkerchief from his pocket.

"Thanks," you sniffed and wiped at your tears.

Jesper cleared his throat. "It's weird to see you without that mask. You're not ugly, you know. Not really."

You looked down at the cloth in your hands and gave a watery laugh.

"Don't be ridiculous. I've always been ugly."

"No, you aren't. This is what beauty feels like. This is what real beauty would be like."

"Oh," you said softly, biting back more tears.

He glanced at Kaz who was looking at you with something looking like concern. "Kaz is lucky to have you, you know."

You couldn't help but smile a little at that, and everyone started to board the carriage, Jesper being the driver and standing beside the door.

Jesper smirked as he helped you board the carriage, "I know what we just said but just a suggestion, love; you should consider being a model, we could pull out pretty neat heists if you went on a modeling show with rich pigs and turned over their pockets."

You couldn't help but smile at the suggestion - maybe you could finally get rid of the feeling of insecurity you had felt since you were a child.

---

Requests are always open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

[outsideratheart]

Happy Sundays (Laia Aleixandri x reader)

A/N: I’m not a huge fan of this one and I’m not really sure what prompted me to right it. Hey ho, I hope you all like it.

Sundays away at Meadow Park were never something to take easy. After your last performance there you wanted to prove that it was one bad day and it would not happen again. 

“Forget about it” Laia’s hand rested on the small of your back as you stood in the tunnel “it was a mistake, don’t take it into this game” 

You had been obsessing over the previous league game against Arsenal when your error game the home side 3 points. 

“No can do” you didn’t look back at her but you hand to lower to her waist as you give it a little squeeze. 

Your girlfriend shared a look with her close friend and fellow defender. Leila simply shrugged her shoulders. If she has learnt one thing since coming to Manchester City it is that you held yourself the highest standard and anything below that was not good enough.

Through the fist half you didn’t have much to do. The ball was being played in the middle third for the most part and you took the time off the ball to watch your team play. There were a few moments when you were needed but Arsenal took too long to execute so they weren’t really a threat.

The second half is very similar to the first. That is until Arsenal commit a foul and city is awarded a free kick. Chloe looks at her options and with Bunny already on the bench you wonder who will be the blonde’s target. At first you think it will go over everyone and out for a goal kick but then it hits Catley’s leg and Laia has clear shot on goal. You scream in delight as the ball hits the back of the net. 

Do you want to run to the other end of the pitch to celebrate with her? Of course you do but you also know that isn’t an option so you retreat to your goal and prepare yourself for the restart. No way was you going to let your girlfriend’s goal be in vain. You were going to everything you can to keep a clean sheet and send the team into the quarter final.

When Laia got back into her position she turned around and made a heart shape with her hands before pointing to you. She did the exact same thing when she scored her first goal for the club. Just as you did then you kiss your fingers then point at her. 

“You two can be cute after the game. Focus” Alex points at the both of you. 

“Yes boss” you salute your captain and return your focus to the game.

When 6 minutes of injury time is announced you know that Arsenal are going to give it there all. They had nothing to lose and you were the thing standing in their way of going through to the next round. 

Your first true challenge of the game came from an Arsenal corner. Pavlova gets her head to the ball and you use every ounce of power in your legs to jump and push it over the cross bar. 

“Jesus Christ. That was too close. Be better girls!” You shout to the players in the box “that can’t happen again” 

“We won’t” Laia is the closest to you “5 more minutes. Project your goal, mi amor” 

You only have the chance to nod before Foord is on your for the next corner. 

A few minutes pass and you hate to admit it but it has been all Arsenal. You are filled with adrenaline from the saves you make and watching your girls fight to defend.

Somehow Kim gets the ball in open space. You know what she is capable of you do everything you can prepare for the power shot is about to take. It comes flying at you quicker than you imagined and yet you still manage to react quick enough, once again sending the ball over the bar.

When the full whistle blows you pound the badge on your chest in victory. 

Laia and Leila both coming running to you and latch onto you like koala’s. 

“Victoria, chicas. A la siguiente” you tell the two of them as you place them back on the ground.

“My keeper and my goal scorer” Leila kisses you both on the head.

“My keeper” your girlfriend says territorially.

“And my goal scorer” you match her tone.

The former Barcelona defender mutters something you don’t quite catch before leaving you alone with Laia.

“You showed them. You showed them all” she tells you. 

“You scored Laia. You’re the reason why we are through the to quarter finals” 

Nothing a lot is said as you head to where the team is huddling. Your girlfriend head rests on your shoulder and your arm wraps around hers. You won’t lie the injury time took all your focus and you felt a little mentally drained. Laia knew that this sometimes happened so she doesn’t say much. You both enjoy being in each others company even if you know the peace won’t last long. 

“There they are!” Chloe says as you approach the team “our stars” 

You take a bow reeling in the cheers before pushing your girlfriend into the middle of the huddle so the team can celebrate her once again. 

Once in the changing room you go about your business. You shower, get changed and head to bus to get one of the tables. By the time Laia get on board you are dancing around with Chloe as if no one is watching. 

“Y/N Y/L/N, what are you doing?” Laia laughs as she sits where you’ve placed your bag. 

“There she is. The love of my life, the scorer, the Spanish beauty, my girlfriend Laia Aleixandri!!!” You introduce much like an announcer does a boxer. 

With flushed cheeks, she pulls you down into the seat. 

“Look at us. You scored and I made some right worldie saves!” 

“You’re in a good mood. Will I be dealing with confident Y/N all night?” She moves lose wet strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Oh you know it. Tomorrow morning too” you quickly steal a kiss. 

[mstigeress37-blog]

all because i liked a boy

SUM. You and Draco have been teasing each other for as long as you can remember when suddenly, you have had enough.

Draco. M x reader, fluff, angst, borderline bullying (could be seen as teasing but draco hits a certain nerve multiple times), reader is an academic warrior, reader has one panic attack, reader cries twice, Dub-con kissing, Ron x Reader (platonic), a fight happens, Reader gets hit on accident, family issues.

-----

Your story starts on your first day when you befriended Neville and Hermione on the train towards Hogwarts. Because you and Hermione had subconsciously chosen each other to be best friends, you were friends with Harry and Ron as default.

Out of your family, you were the first to join Hogwarts - every female L/N before you had gone to Beauxbatons but your parents decided to bring you here after your sister failed and therefore couldn't graduate.

Because of your older sister's choice to party instead of study, your parents had made it quite clear that you had to pass with flying colours, even if you were only eleven.

You were walking up the stairs with Hermione when a Professor in a tall hat stopped you all. She explained how the houses worked before leaving to make sure everything was ready.

"Psst." You hear someone whisper beside you. You look around curiously before your eyes settle on the Draco Malfoy.

Your family and the Malfoy family had been in kahoots for a while - his father was the boss of your very respected mother so, while it was rare, it also wasn't uncommon to see you at their family balls.

"Hello, L/N. How did you find the ride to Hogwarts?" He smiles, his gelled slick back hair shining, making you bite back your laughter.

"It was pleasant, I made a couple friends. How about you?"

"The same. I met up with Crabble and Goyle, you remember them, right, L/N?" He replies, gesturing to his friends behind him who are in their own conversation. You nod. He continues before you can speak.

"You know, it's a shame what happened to your sister."

You felt your heart crack slightly a the thought of your sister. You loved her more than anyone else in the world, but because she had damaged the L/N reputation, she was heavily reprimanded by almost everyone in your family. 'She's lucky she wasn't kicked out of the family.' You remember your parents telling you under candlelight as they kissed your forehead. 'Let this be a reminder to you, Y/N, to never fall behind in your studies.'

If the situation with your sister wasn't as bad as your family had made it to be, you would have smiled and moved on. But you felt insecurities flow through your eleven-year-old veins for the first time, so you lashed out as gracefully as you could.

"Yes, Malfoy, it's also a shame with what happened to your father. What happened again? He got fired for suspicious use of the dark arts?" You scoffed, turning your head away from him and crossing your arms. From the corner of your eye, you see that Hermione had been watching with concern the whole time.

You listen to Draco struggle to insult you back, stuttering and all, before letting out a court, 'My father will hear about this!'

Fast forward twenty minutes and the sorting hat is on your head. You hear it grumble and mumble to itself before yelling, 'SLYTHERIN!'

The table of the said house erupts in cheers and hollers, clapping as you sat down at your table. You make eye contact with Hermione from her table who gives you a thumbs-up. You respond by giving a wide-smile.

A couple days later and you quickly start to feel guilty. You have a lot of classes together so whenever you see him sat at his seat, you force yourself to turn away.

One day, you had spoken to both Hermione and Pansy (on separate occasions of course, even if you didn't quite understand the rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor) and both had said to just apologise to him. The worst that could happen would be that he doesn't accept your apology but he grows up to forgive you, right?

Wrong.

"Malfoy, could we talk?"

It was break now and you were both coming out of your Transfiguration class. He stops to glance at you and you feel bad for the people that are stuck behind him and are forced to squeeze by. He nods silently so you walk away with him following you. You lead him to a quiet part of the corridors.

"I wanted to apologise for how I acted last week, it was rude and I had no reason to say that. I was insecure and you wouldn't believe what I had to go through when my sister-"

"What you went through?" He cuts you off.

"It wasn't you that failed." He takes a step forward. "It wasn't you that was bad-mouthed by the entire Ministry of Magic." Another step. "It wasn't you that was technically banished by all social events." He took one more step, and you felt your back hit the stone wall. Your breath is quivering by now.

"Your sister made the one mistake of being happy and now she has to pay the sad price. I truly feel bad for her, not you." He looks down at you for a while before he backs off, still glaring. "Not everything is about the youngest L/N daughter, Princess Y/N." He says before walking off, hands in his pockets.

The worst that could happen would be that he makes you insecure of what you talk about and will continue to torment you for five years.

Because he was right. Not everything was about you.

You stood there for a couple of beats before you ran off to find Pansy or Hermione, whoever you found first, but amidst the chaos that was running through your mind and the tears that wouldn't stop falling, you ran into Ron.

Probably the worst person you could have run into. It couldn't have been Blaise or Harry, so it had to be Ron.

And bless his heart, Ron really did try to soothe you. He couldn't understand your babbles as you choked through your sobs, but he could understand one thing.

Draco's name.

Before he even attended the school, he knew of the Malfoys, so it didn't surprise him that you were hurt because of him. But you were absolutely wrecked, it looked like you couldn't even breathe. Sitting on the floor probably wasn't helping.

He went to go find Hermione, but the minute he stood up, he felt you tug on his sleeve.

"Please..." You mutter to the best of your abilities. "Just stay with me."

And stay he did.

That day, you both saw a different side to each other. You no longer saw him as the corny comedic relief, and he no longer saw you as the posh pure-blood.

Ever since then, you often sat at the Gryffindor table. Prefects like Percy were suspicious at first - A slytherin sitting at the Gryffindor couldn't have been good news - but people grew to love you and you had more friends on the Gryffindor table than the Slytherin table.

Sometimes you would sit with Pansy on the Slytherin table, but you would have to sit away from her friendship circle since Draco was a part of that. You didn't force her to stop being friends with Draco since you sat at the Gryffindor table most of the time and no one else would talk to her. Most of your conversations take place in class or in your shared room.

The first time Draco made fun of you in front of everyone was in Potions class a couple months after you confronted him. You were sat alone since Pansy was sick.

You put a feather into your potion only for it to instantly blow up, puffing smoke into your face.

You were utterly embarrassed - not only did you mess up in Snape's class of all classes and you looked a mess, but this meant that you made a mistake.

Draco's words echoed in your head: 'She made one mistake and now has to pay the price.'

Snape silently took your flask and saved telling you off since he knew you're usually on top of things.

"Ha!" You heard behind you. "She's turning into her sister!"

You slowly turn around to see Draco laughing with Crabble and Goyle. Despite the entirety of the class not laughing with him, you felt as though the whole world was cackling and wouldn't stop cackling.

Before anything else was said, you ran out of the class.

It didn't stop there. He would constantly insult your smarts and your grades - even if you had gotten Leviosa on your first try and he didn't, he would comment on something like your posture, whether bad or good. He also made it seem like he was bullying Harry, Ron and Hermione for being friends with you, making you feel guilty about even being friends with them.

One time, the three could tell that you were trying to pull away from them so they invited you out to Hogsmeade more and more. Soon enough, you forgot about even trying to stop talking to them.

Throughout the next four years, you slowly learned to tune out Draco's bullying, and yes, you reported him and so did many others, but nothing was ever done because of his family's status. One time, however, a howler was sent to Draco and not only was it from his mother, it was also from his dad! He left you alone for awhile before he eventually forgot about the Howler and went back to you.

For a while , you didn't think of your sister. No, not like that, you sent her letters every week, but you just slowly stopped thinking about your parents forcing you to be smart all because of her, you just fell into the routine of studying and you quite liked it.

Once you got through the mental block of attending parties, you loved going out! You were friends with every house at Hogwarts, so you were seen at almost every party all while keeping your straight As.

You even learned to talk back to Draco. While you never insulted his father again, you would tease him by saying stuff like 'kiss my ass' and 'you can't mansplain Quidditch to me when you're not even on the team, unlike Harry.’

------

You were in your fifth year now and currently struggling to get something from the top shelf when suddenly, you felt someone's chest come up behind your back and see a long arm stretch out to get the bottle you needed before backing up.

You turn around to see Draco's face. By now, he was much taller than you and had also somewhat left you alone. When you stopped responding to his comments, he slowly gave up.

His expression was unreadable but he just kept staring at you before giving you the bottle and walking away.

That was the first act of kindness (?) between you and Draco. Once, he struggled to get a potion correct for the last few lessons and once you saw he was about to put the wrong ingredient in, you stopped him and passed him the correct ingredient. When the potion lit up and showed to Draco that he had successfully made the potion, his smile grew wide before looking to you and nodding.

You were getting used to passing by Draco in the corridors without fear but instead with smiles towards each other.

Little did you know, Draco had not only felt extremely guilty for how he's acted towards you even though you tried to apologise on the first week. He just couldn't stop, because if he did, he wouldn't be able to talk to you and get your attention anymore. But when that happened anyways, he gave up on making fun of you.

Now, it was nighttime and you were in the astronomy, leaning against the gate that held you from falling to your death. Earlier today, you had less that 100 on your test. While it was still a good score and most people wouldn't be able to get a 94, you didn't want it to be the first of many. You thought maybe studying right now might not be the best since you won't even remember the information.

You hear someone clear their throat. "Hey, Ron." You said. Ron was the only one to know that, if someone couldn't find you, you'd be up here. Weirdly enough, you were each other's shoulder to cry on ever since that day with Draco.

"Ron?" The voice says behind you. In shock, you stand up straight and off the gate only for your eyes to land on Draco, so you went back to leaning.

"Hey, Malfoy."

"You know you're not supposed to be up hear, right? You should be in bed, now." Oh yeah. You forgot he was a prefect now.

"I know."

Oddly enough, you knew he wasn't going to do anything. You had no reason to think that, but your gut was telling you to stay. "I could pay you to keep quiet, if you want." you joke. You hear him scoff and suddenly, he's next to you, also leaning on the gate.

"Nah, I've got enough money." He says, causing you to laugh, which makes him laugh slightly too. "What're you doing up here? Are you expecting Weasley?" He asks, looking at you, but you keep looking out into the night sky.

"Nope, I just wanted some time to think." You say briefly. And you do think. You think, 'Why the hell am I telling him this?'

"Do you want me to leave?" He questions after a couple moments of silence, and the question shocks you. He didn't say, 'I'll leave,' or 'I can leave.' He said 'Do you want me to?'

You find yourself shaking your head before you can think, so he nods.

"Can I ask you something, Malfoy?" You ask all of a sudden, turning your head to face him and he's already staring at you.

"Of course."

You hesitate for a moment, wondering if you were in the right headspace to ask him 'why were you so mean to me for so long?' or if Draco would just pull what he did in first year again. So you shake your head and start to walk away.

"No. Never mind. I'm going to bed."

Suddenly, he grabs your arm. You wince at the grip which he instantly amends by soften his grip but not letting go.

"No. Ask me."

"Malfoy, let me go-"

"Please."

You turn your head around to see him practically pleading with both his eyes and his words. Never had you heard him say 'Please' to even a professor.

You felt bad, so you turned your whole body around to face him, shifting your weight onto one hip and crossing your arms.

"Why did you tease me for so long?" You finally ask, clenching my teeth and hardening my gaze as he seemed to struggle to get words out.

"You do know that you teased me too?" He says, his eyes never breaking eye contact with you.

"Yeah, but I didn't insult you, Draco!" You burst out before backing down instantly. "Malfoy. Sorry." You corrected yourself.

He lets go of your arm before swiftly moving both his hands to cup your cheeks and kiss you. You panic slightly and push him away.

"What the fuck?!" You yell, wiping your lips in disgust. "You can't just make me and my Hogwarts experience absolutely dreadful and horrific and then kiss me like you're in love with me!"

"That's because I do!" He yells back, making you shut up. He runs a hand through his hair, turning away from you to think for a bit before turning back but not meeting your eyes. "I have been since you first came to the Malfoy balls."

You look at him as if he was crazy because right now, he is.

"Then why did you make my life hell?!"

"Because...!" He manages to exhale out before sighing. "Because I was an insecure only-child who has never had to say sorry and always gets his way. I'm sorry I never said sorry but you wouldn't even look my way if I didn't tease you a least a little, and I know, I know I went too far sometimes, but please..." He takes a couple steps back to get closer to you and tower over you. "Please forgive me."

There's a moment where you're slowly puckering your lips and he's leaning down. He puts a hand back on your cheek before the kiss finally lands.

The kiss, at first, is slow before it gets rougher and his other hand goes to the back of your head to safely push you against a wall. It reminds you of first year but you don't think about that memory for long since he's licking your bottom lip and you're opening up, closing your eyes.

You're both moaning into the kiss, your hand going up to throw his hat away to rake your hand through his hair, until Draco is suddenly pulled off of you and grunting in pain. You don't even comprehend what's happening in front of you when you open your eyes for a while until you see ginger hair mixed with platinum blonde hair on the floor.

Ron is beating up Draco.

"Ron!" You yelp, rushing to get him off. "Stop!"

"What the hell are you doing to her, Malfoy?!" Ron practically spits as you pull his punching arm away only for him to get it out of your grasp and punch him again.

You go to grab Ron's arm again but he brings his arm up quicker than you thought and elbows your face, hitting your cheekbone and causing you to yelp and fall onto the floor.

At the sound, Ron gasps and looks back to see you on the floor covering your cheekbone. He quickly gets up to check on you, crawling on the floor and carefully taking your hand off of your cheek. He can barely take a look at the already-forming bruise before he's shoved out of the way by Draco whose eyes were wide and whose hand was shaking just by looking at your pretty face ruined by a purple spot.

"Get off her, Malfoy-!"

"Merlin, Ron, just shut up!" You yell, scrabbling to get up and quickly leaving. Draco doesn't hesitate to grab his prefect hat that had fallen off during the kiss and go after you, but Ron's iron grip landed on his shoulder.

"Don't go after her." Ron threatens, getting out his wand from his pocket with his other hand. Draco has to admit, Ron is the most stupid person he knows (he was being proven right the second Ron put his hand on his shoulder) but Ron can be intimidating, like now.

Draco just pushes his hand off before running after you.

He sees you speed-walking down the dark and empty corridor so he jogs after you, stopping you and turning you to face him.

You've been crying since you left and he pulls you into a hug, letting you cry into his robe, his chin laying on top of your head. Eventually, you pull away and go on you tippy-toes to kiss his cheek, leaving him a blushing mess. This is the first time you properly saw him since Ron had beat him up - his cheek was much more purple than yours as well as his nose which was also starting to bleed from his nostrils, and his lip was cut - but he was still much more concerned with you than him.

"C'mon. Let's get you to bed." He nods in the direction of the dungeons.

"What is the meaning of this?" You hear the familiar voice of Umbridge, causing you both to flinch and turn around quickly. She's glaring at you until she's looking at Draco for an information. "I heard yelling up in the astronomy tower, Mr Malfoy. Tell me everything has been sorted?" She sighs.

"Yes, Professor Umbridge, a couple of Gryffindors. I got caught up in it but it's been sorted out, now." He lies. You both watch cautiously as she nods in understanding, her gaze going from the floor to you. "And her?"

"Sleep walking, ma'am." Draco 'explains' without a beat. You see her look at the bruise.

"Draco told me I had fallen down when he found me." You tell her. She nods.

"Make sure you both go straight to bed, the both of you!" She says before turning around and coming back from where she had come from. Once she had turned the corner, you and Draco laugh with each other and you turn around to make your way to the dungeons, walking in the opposite direction of Umbridge.

He casually slings an arm around your shoulders, kissing your temple as you both made you way over.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

how are the main 10 when drunk, and whats a funny story because of this?

Undertale Sans - He doesn't drink that much so it's pretty rare when he's actually drunk. But the rare times he is, he turns into a chaos goblin, pranking everyone repeatedly until someone has to restrain him to make sure he stops messing with people. Friends, family, perfect strangers, drunk Sans fears no one. The worst being when he's drunk with Toriel. The two of them are laughing hysterically to the point they can't breathe anymore for no reason. If Sans' laugh is pretty discreet, Toriel... is absolutely not.

Undertale Papyrus - Papyrus doesn't drink except when he's hanging out with Undyne, and somehow, it always ends terribly wrong. There was that one time they woke up on the roof of the highest building only wearing duck lifebelts or that time they crashed a wedding and begged the priest to marry them together, which he actually did because he was terrified of them. To this day, they are still legally married as Undyne doesn't want to divorce because she thinks it's funny. Papyrus thinks it is not, but he can't drag her in court to divorce their drunk marriage, that's so embarrassing!

Underswap Sans - He's the same when he's drunk, just really hyperactive and excited, bouncing and running everywhere, completely forgetting his inside voice and trying to ride every royal guard dog he can find to run in the park on their back. Toriel usually keeps him on her lap when he's starting to cause too much chaos until he passes out after running out of energy lol.

Underswap Papyrus - He doesn't take alcohol very well. Usually, he feels dizzy after a glass or two, goes to a corner and naps there for twelve hours straight. The only problem being no one can wake him up and he usually ends as a dead potato bag on Asgore's shoulder when it's time to go home.

Underfell Sans - He needs to have someone to watch him over at all costs because he will provoke a brawl. Red is searching for fights, and for people to fight each other. He can't help it, when he's drunk, it's his favorite thing ever. He's not authorized to drink if no one can watch him, because one time, he made Toriel and Asgore fist fight in a party and it took 30 monsters and the entirety of the Royal Guard to stop the two boss monsters from trying to kill each other while he was just cheering in a corner and taking bets...

Underfell Papyrus - It doesn't seem to affect him, but alcohol makes him a lot more sensitive to compliments and teasing. Just a little sentence can turn him bright tomato. Unfortunately, alcohol prevents him from defending himself too. His mind is blank, he has no control of the situation, and the more you tease him, the more red he gets. He hates it when he's like this, so usually, he doesn't drink before everyone is already drunk.

Horrortale Sans - Alcohol makes him sick and he hates how it tastes so no thanks. He's fine with a soda or water.

Horrortale Papyrus - He's a big baby when he's drunk and will get emotional at anything. Any compliment, anything looking cute, just giving him back something he dropped on the floor will send him sobbing hysterically in the other person's arms and crushing them to death in a hug. He accidentally dislocated Grillby's shoulder like this once. Then he came to his bar every day for two entire months to apologize again and again lol.

Swapfell Sans - He's his usual self, but without the filters. Instead of bitching on everyone in his head, he's bitching on everything and everyone out loud, and not a lot of people actually like that. It's not like he cares. Well, he cares when some giant monsters smashed him into a wall several times to make him shut up, but otherwise, he's answering back to people coming to argue with him. Half of them leave crying because he beat them up verbally.

Swapfell Papyrus - He's flirty as hell. He will flirt with everyone, but also everything looking vaguely monster-like, like a pillar, or a bush, or a car. He even went to an airport to flirt with what he thought was a Tsunderplane for three hours before someone asked him why the hell he's kissing a random plane.

Fellswap God Sans - He goes to find Alphys to antagonize her so they start fighting. He doesn't care if Alphys is on the other end of the city, dating Undyne or in the middle of an important meeting with the Royal Family, he will fight Alphys. Alphys is a bit paranoid now in the evening, scared he might crash through a window to throw bones at her.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He has a confidence boost for about an hour, does crazy things like inviting Napstaton to dance, and suddenly he realizes he's dancing with Napstaton and that everyone is looking at him and he randomly screams and jumps by the window to run away. Yeah, he's not good with alcohol.

[otakween]

Digimon World 4 - Final Thoughts

Whelp, that was...something. This game is objectively bad, but I still had a good, brain rotting time. It falls into the "game to zone out on the couch to" category. The lack of much story, characters or dialogue means I got in some quality podcast/music time as well. It's pretty similar to Digimon World 2 in its crappiness, but I found DW4's gameplay more satisfying. I think DW2 has the more appealing art style though, so they even out to the same rank basically. Full thoughts below!

Notes:

So this is loosely based on the Digimon X-Evolution CG film I posted about before. I was disappointed to see that the opening credits are just a hodge podge of scenes from said movie. That's pretty boring and lazy if you ask me. I picked Dorumon to control in honor of the film's protag (and since it would be a more novel experience).

I found any weapon aside from the guns to be a colossal pain to use, so I just used guns and guns alone for the entire game lol. At least I was able to get tech points quickly that way!

This game has the most unbalanced difficulty levels ever. It's either stupid hard or stupid easy. Luckily, the stupid easy moments are far more frequent. Every time I fought a boss I braced myself only to just button mash my way to the end in like a few minutes. Most of them were jokes. On the other end of the spectrum, the beginning of the game was weirdly hard because I would get mobbed by enemies and massacred in like two seconds (this is when I realized I should be using the guns lol). It's hard to have much strategy because most battle moves you can do (spin attack, charged attack, block) suck control-wise. My strat for most of the game was either the ole "shoot and run" or just to get up on a high ground where I was invincible. The latter move kinda felt broken and was part of what made the game stupid easy.

Thank God I emulated this game. Although it's mostly easy, there are definitely moments where it's easy to die. Some dungeons will lock you into the tightest corners and then just spawn like a jillion enemies out of nowhere (the Otamamon and Infermon were the WORST). Some of the harder bosses had some pretty cheap moves too. Save states were the VIP, as usual.

The plot of the game is really basic and the writing is just as wonky as DW2. Basically all you need to know is that there's a virus that's bad and you need to get rid of it. It doesn't get any deeper than that and there are no twists or turns. Ophanimon, Seraphimon, and Leomon are the only characters with significant dialogue (none of the bosses talk) and they really don't have anything interesting to say (I did like Ophanimon and Seraphimon's models tho)

The dungeons were definitely better than DW2 in terms of visuals/layout, but the enemies felt super repetitive. You get maybe 3 types of enemies per dungeon and then you just fight those same 3 again and again and again.

The dungeons are unreasonably long slogs with no way to save in the middle of them. I had save states so I was okay, but sometimes a dungeon would take me over two hours?? Like wtf. I know kids have a lot of free time but some of them aren't even allowed to game for 2 hours straight!

Of course, I played this single player. I actually think it'd be really fun as a multiplayer game? Like, that's probably what it was actually built for. There are actually some moments where you can't go to certain parts of dungeons without a buddy :'(

The bosses were mostly big bads from the series/movies which was fun. Made it awkward when I defeated them so easily though lol

All of the walkthroughs for this game suck lol. The one I used for the majority of the game the guy literally kept writing "I don't remember what happens in this dungeon. Just go through it." LOL thanks for nothing, bud. He said "I don't remember" sooo many times it was comical.

I poked around on the internet looking for info for this game and it seems the general consensus in the fandom is that it's pretty abysmal. Still, there are people like me that got enjoyment out of it regardless.

The little noises Dorumon made when attacked were very cute

I never bothered with digivolution. You don't get digivolution until late in the game and if you digivolve it reverts you to levl 1. Nuts to that!

I also didn't bother with any side quests because they sounded extremely not worth it (some of them don't even have a reward?)

I was pretty under-leveled at the end of the game (barely scraping level 30) but I felt like I had infinite healing basically because I had so much MP. That's another aspect of the game that felt broken.

The ending of this game was SO anti-climactic. I defeated the boss, returned to the hub world expecting a cutscene, and then it went straight to credits. No dialogue, no thank you, nothing. I had to go around and talk to people to get some thank yous but they didn't sound that appreciative really lol. Where are my flowers!? 😭 This took me over a month of tedium!

One part of the game that I did find pretty hard was the Storm Train where you have to get to the end of a train track while hitting the right levers while simultaneously fighting of a ton of enemies. If I had to do that without save states, I probably would have given up lol

I never really regret beating a video game, even if it kinda sucked. It's especially nice to check off another game in a series (even though the World series isn't really connected). I give Digimon World 4 a 5 out of 10.

[megamikmini]

My dream redesigned Slenderman with the most BOMB design choices I've ever seen: an analysis of key character points and how a subconscious thought blew every design I've ever seem out of the water

I think I speak for a lot of us when I say that people don't really take this design anywhere. It's the same blank white face, suit, and sometimes you can throw in a splash of color with a red tie

But all that changes with this design.

Boys.... we've missed out on so much potential it's CRAZY

Key point 1: blank face. In my dream he came from a distance, and as I have bad vision he looked just the same as usual (I dream about the dude a concerning amount. A lot of the time, as with this one, I spend the dream constantly keeping an eye out for him, making plans of escape or spots to hide, until the end where I get chased into a corner and the dream ends. Of course, some of them are like "yo! It's my boss!👉👉" ) but back on topic: he got closer to me and as I scramble realizing I'm caught in a corner I turn around and... it's not a pale blank slate. It's a man, pale skin, tall, in a suit and tie, sure, but -- it wasn't an artificial pale. It was a real person, and he had intricate, white lace ribbon wrapped around his shaved bald head, covering his features (not everything) very purposely. It was ornate, definitely intentional. Then, like you take off earings before a fight, he took them off

Part 2: no eyes, always watching. He had actual human features underneath. Something in dream me knows he was white Egyptian, but most notably staying true to character, he had no eyes. Instead of them just being missing, with skin laying over where they were supposed to be, they were instead simply missing, like regular, underdeveloped eyes! I'll try and find a photo. It was very obvious he could see, because at this point I chucked the ice in my drink at him and it kind of force fielded off, so I threw the cup at him and he caught it and looked at me like I was an idiot XD Anyways, point being dude could see - well - and he had full intention of bashing my head in

Part 3: asshole attitude. Yes, slenderman is your dad and yada-yada, but that's fannon, and I'm talking about cannon. This is the guy who ruined Kate's life from day 1, chasing her down and making her go slowly insane until she broke. Same with CR. Same with Charlie, and the whole Matheson family for that matter. And that's just from one game! We could look at Marbel hornets and the Operator, with Alex being led around like a puppet even after his girlfriend is killed, he's stalked into oblivion, and has his mind distorted until he believes the only think he can do is off everyone he's ever cared about to "cure the sickness". That's one guy out of SO MANY in that whole series who's life was decimated by this dude. And dream Slenderman, redesign and all, lived up to the potential.

I spent the entire dream, with different plot points, adventures, people to meet, etc all just waiting for this guy to turn up. Every time I was alone I'd check my back. Every chance I got I'd arrange stuff to find a box, plant, or open door to dissappear behind. And yet, he found me, backed into a corner without a way out. Most dream slendermen kind of just appear there, look menacing, then I get brain-fried or whatever else. This guy had intention. This guy was power walking at me, full speed, ready to physically beat me for whatever I did. Taking off his decoration so I could watch his face and know he was serious

Crazy! 10/10 would experience again

[anoradraws]

The Jacket

A Guzma x Reader Short Story

Summary: You travel to the large mansion of Po Town to challenge the boss of Team Skull, Guzma, but after every grunt battles, puzzles, and other obstacles you finally arrive at his throne room at the top floor of the Shady Mansion; but once you entered, he’s not there... except for his jacket sitting on his makeshift throne.

Editor’s Note: This is kinda silly, stupid, and weird even for me, yet I wanted to write this anyway, but hey let me know what you think about it.

⚠️WARNING:⚠️Sexual preferences, explicit language, nudity; read at your own caution!

Po Town was considered one of the most dreary and miserable areas in Ula’Ula Island of Alola; nearly run down to ruins by a band of misfits known as Team Skull, who took over the town many moons ago, with the help of two leaders-- the second in command known as ‘Big Sis’ named Plumeria, and the Boss and founder of Team Skull named Guzma, who is said to be the most dangerous and threatening of the organization.

You traveled there for one purpose though: to challenge Guzma to a battle!

With help from the local police officer, and Ula’Ula Island Kahuna, Nanu, you enter through the walled gates into the decrepit town and begin your pathway to the large mansion located near the edge of the small borough, known as the Shady House, where you were told at some point during your journey is Guzma’s lair. You encounter several grunts along the way as they tried to slow you down, but you pressed onward with you head high as a Sirfetch’d ready for combat.

Finally, you arrive at the mansion; and once you stepped inside you see that it was far more dilapidated than even the town itself. With broken windows and ripped curtains, spray painted and slashed paintings hung on the walls, and several boxes stacked as walls in almost every corner of the main lobby. You didn’t hesitate as you start searching through every available room for clues as well as battled more grunts until you make your way up to the stairway to the second floor, careful to avoid the fallen chandelier as it blocked the second set of stairs of the main staircase.

You repeat the same process as the main lobby, and afterwards you manage to find an alternative route to the balcony outside. It was nearly a more dangerous tread to the other side of the building as the floor and rooftop soaked with the never-ending rain that continued to pour over the town, but carefully you were able to pass through without a scratch or otherwise.

You enter through a large window on the other side of the house after being outside for a steady but short while, and you walk through the large hallway until you finally approach a doorway at the end. In the pit of your stomach you feel this must be where Guzma is hiding; this is it, no turning back now, you take a deep breath and slowly but confidently opened the door and entered the room.

Once inside, you oddly find... no one is here, not even Guzma.

“Huh, that’s weird. Where’s Guzma?” You asked to yourself. “Usually he’d go all ‘big bad whatever’ to see me.”

It is strange; you expected a feeling of a Boss fight cutscene from a video game, but it turns out he’s not even in his room; then, out of curiosity you decide to snoop around for a while before concluding to leave and perhaps try again at a later time.

First, you noticed a large chest of lime green colored crystals called Buginium Z, an object usually given to trainers by Kahunas or Totem Pokémon after completing a trial as part of an Alolan tradition called the Island Challenge; then you rummage through the closet full of Ariados webbings and tattered clothing that looked like suits and dresses that belonged to possibly the previous owners of the mansion before it was taken over by Team Skull. You noticed the King Sized bed across the room, a large cabinet behind it filled with half empty and full bottles of liquor that seemed to be hardly touched, two safes that held the cabinet atop, and you finally spot the makeshift throne which made you roll your eyes in annoyance by how it’s set up. A large worn purple colored lay-z-boy sits atop two large flat platforms with a hallway rug underneath the furniture, two table stands sit on each corner of the platform with one of them having a laptop, and sitting on the chair sits a lone black clothing in which you suddenly took a strange interest in.

You approach the “throne” and slowly reach down to touch the cloth, but a foreboding vibe chills through your spine as a side of your mind is trying to warn you not to touch the fabric; but you ignore the ominous hints and, like a cursed artifact from a sacred temple, with delicate ease you finally pick up the apparel.

You study the clothing and realize it was a black hoodie, but not just any hoodie, it’s Guzma’s signature short sleeve hoodie with the large Team Skull logo on the back and black zig zag patterns with white backdrop on the sleeves and the sides. Whatever possessed you to hold and touch the leader’s coat is even beyond your self-conscience, yet here you are.

You hold onto the hoodie a little longer, feeling the recent warmth that lingers even within the sleeves, and at that moment-- only for that moment-- you felt a forbidden passion about the hoodie, like a warm summer breeze blowing through your hair during an outing, but you instantly shrug off the feeling and finally throw the hoodie back on the chair.

“Okay, I dunno what that was about, but I’m leaving!” you said with a final stomp toward the door to exit the room.

For some reason you stop; just as you reach up to grab the handle of the door, you oddly look back at the jacket, and then back at the door again. Rationally, you want to leave, but a more mischievous side of you is weirdly calling for that hoodie as a playful idea slowly starts to form in that messed up head of yours.

“Hmm...” You pondered and then give a devious grin. “I guess it wouldn’t really hurt to try on the jacket-- just for a little bit, at least.”

So, you unhook your backpack and set it next to the chest of Buginium Z-Crystals, and then you pick up the hoodie once more and easily slip it on, feeling the lingering warmth once again but this time it’s now shrouded around your upper body.

It was larger than you expected, understandably because Guzma himself is quite a very tall man (maybe even taller than your family member you know well of), and while you start to take a liking in wearing the jacket, another idea comes to your mind-- and now you start to mimic Guzma while standing in front of the purple colored chair.

“Oooh, lookit me, ‘I’m da Big Bad Boss who beats ya down and beats ya down and beats ya down blah blah BLAH blah BLAAAH’!” You mocked with a hearty laugh and tuned into a croaking voice to mimic Guzma’s. “’YEAH, big bad GUZMA is here‘!”

You start to run around like a preschooler, imitating Guzma’s slouching, walking, and almost every other gimmick he does to make himself look intimidating to the public’s eyes. “’I use Bug-Types because everything else SUCKS’! ‘Ya boy’s a big bad stinky rotten no good asshat with nothing else better to do than steal people’s Pokemon and knock out bus stop signs because they also SUCK’!”

You laugh and giggle, trot around and stomp around, as you continue to mimic Guzma for only a couple more minutes until you finally settle yourself on the large lay-z-boy to take a break from poking fun of the Team Skull leader. You can’t help but laugh at your jokes, but then that laughter slowly turns silent as you look around the room once more. At that point you start to feel a little lonely, well not quite Cubone lonely so to speak, but nonetheless you feel a bit empty inside.

You study the room for a few more minutes pondering to yourself of how Guzma really does feel when he’s not always ‘Big and Bad’ as he always claims. You shook your head at first as you logically feel the man’s a total menace, a danger to everyone in Alola, and yet... there was something more about him than even you don’t know about. For a moment, you actually felt sorry for him; why it is, you don’t know, and as you try to shake off the feeling it wouldn’t go away. 

The way you taunt him earlier starts to slightly haunt you, almost feeling bad for even poking fun of him, and that’s when you look down at the jacket once more. The hoodie feels so warm around you, with his scent still lingering in the fabric; musty with some hints of a mild cologne brand, and some cocoa. It was a very odd smell, but you seemed to take a liking to it, making you flush a pretty shade of rose on your face.

Admittedly, when you first met Guzma back at Malie Gardens, you thought him as a very terrifying man with the way he talks smack and scares the living daylights out of everyone around him, but over time you weirdly wanted to know him more, as you secretly developed a slight crush on him, that is until one day when the grunts kidnapped a little girl’s Yungoos from the Aether House and you had to go through Hell and back to retrieve the poor thing and take it back to the child. This is actually your second trip to Po Town to be honest, as you felt enough is enough of Team Skull’s harassment among Alola, and wanted to battle Guzma to force him and his gang to pack up and leave.

That was the original plan at first...

However, as of tonight, Guzma’s not at the mansion, and as far as the grunts you battled earlier, are still hanging out at the house but they’re actually not even noticing you’re in Guzma’s room, wearing his jacket and sitting on his throne.

After taking some time to look back on your thoughts, you start to sit back more on the throne to take a little comfort to yourself. You start to feel a slight breeze in the room, probably coming from the cracks of the main doorway, and you feel cold until you pull Guzma’s jacket closer and tighter to you. Then you feel the passion from earlier come back to you, now more alleviating than before, and for some reason you feel like his presence is slowly wrapped around you, keeping you warm, soothing, and loving.

You cuddle within the hoodie a little more, smelling his scent ever so tenderly to your warmth, and that’s when you start to feel a heat inside you, a wanting feeling, even with Guzma’s hoodie dressed on you.

Without thinking, but at the same time you wanted to, you take off your regular clothes and set them next to your backpack against the chest of Buginium Z-Crystals, leaving nothing but your panties on.

You wrap Guzma’s hoodie ever so tightly yet comfortably around your upper body, ignoring the breeze flowing through your bare legs; the lingering smell of Guzma still wafts against your face, and the fabric shrouds you ever so tenderly like he was really hugging you. Then, as you keep stroking the hoodie with gentility, you slowly reach your hand into your panties, imagining it’s Guzma’s as you start to rub against your clit, pleasuring yourself to the thoughts of Guzma all around you while you wear the hoodie like it were hypnotizing you.

After a few minutes, you hardly hear the door of the throne room creak open as you were starting to feel a climax coming soon, and at that moment, that’s when you hear his voice.

“Wow, this is a new one!”

You finally snap out of your masturbating trance after hearing that deep but familiar voice, accidentally scratching your clit with one of your fingernails; you whimper by the graze, despite not being as painful, as you quickly turn around with your legs both feeling a little like jelly and keeping your nether regions covered despite wearing the panties; you also wrap the hoodie very tightly to hide your bare breasts, and finally you see him in the flesh, straight and tall, with a befuddled look about his face-- Guzma!

“OH ARCEUS!!!” You panicked at Guzma’s unexpected arrival. “G-Guzma, I-I did-- I-It’s not what it looks like, I mean-- I didn’t mean-- I-I can explain--”

You feel so mortified by this moment as you feel your whole body flush red, getting caught by the one person you were starting to develop feelings for, and even worst of it all is you’re still wearing his hoodie.

Guzma continues to stare you down with a deep stupefied look on his face after catching you masturbating in the middle of the room with his coat on; at the same time however, in all the months he’s come to know you since your first encounter back at Malie Gardens, he’s definitely surprised to see a daring and freaky side of you, especially in this current predicament.

“I go down to help a couple of the grunts move a sleeping Snorlax from the swimming pool for a couple hours,” He cries with an annoyed tone. “and now I find (Y/N) here, rubbing one out in the middle of MY room, wearing MY jacket like the horny slut she is! This is definitely something I’d never expect from a goody-two-shoes teacher’s pet like you, that’s for sure!”

At this point you just want to get out of this house, go back to your home, and hide beneath thirty blankets on your bed for the rest of your life after what you had just done. You couldn’t help it, somehow you were in the mood, and you didn’t want the moment to stop. Very weird and wrong, especially for you but face it, deep down you actually want Guzma, you never felt anything like this for him or anyone beforehand; now, you just don’t know what to think of anymore or make any excuse to get yourself out of this moment, and perhaps not even Guzma would want to see you the same way again.

“I... I-I’m so sorry...” You apologized as your whole body is still blushed in embarrassment. “I’ll go ahead and leave now, I’m sorry this happened.”

However, as you turned your back to head to the chest of Z-Crystals to get your belongings, Guzma grabs you by the arm and pulls you a little close to him. He looks over you like a leaning tower, studying you and quite frankly admiring you in your current state. 

He chuckles slightly and gives you a sinister grin on his face. “Don’t get me wrong, now I know you couldn’t have just come here to mess with my stuff, but since you’re here anyway and.. I hate to admit... you look pretty cute in my hoodie.”

Your face blushes even redder as Guzma confessed his interest in you; then you smirked nervously and you feel a warming comfort through your skin.

Then, Guzma’s smile widens as he spoke once more. “But... there is one thing that doesn’t go with that jacket.”

“What’s that?” You asked.

Guzma leans closer to your ear and whispered. “Your panties... Take them off.”

Your eyes widen as you thought he must’ve seen your underwear while you try to hide the rest of your body with his coat, but after a moment with your thoughts, you surrender to Guzma’s command and easily take off your panties and push them aside, now fully nude but with Guzma’s jacket still clinging around your upper body.

Guzma gives a lustful look in his eyes as he reaches out to you once more. “Now, c’mere!” 

Guzma pulls you in and finally locks his lips against yours, slipping his tongue inside between the wet and slobbery smooches you both take in. You and Guzma make out for the next few minutes until Guzma picks you up in a bridal fashion and takes you over to the bed, laying you flat on your back and once you hit the mattress the jacket you’re still wearing bounces open to reveal your full nude body for Guzma to gaze in awe as he climbs over you.

“Damn, you’re hotter than I imagined,” Guzma compliments as he dives to your neck and starts nibbling at the base of your skin.

You and Guzma make out a little more until he starts feeling up your breasts, pinching and twisting the nipples, and suckling them while you grasp a hand between the locks of Guzma’s soft, messy, white hair, and breathing out a few gasps and moans in between. Shortly, Guzma makes his way down slowly and tenderly across your stomach, kissing every part until he reaches your thighs; he sits up and takes off his white shirt and throws it to the floor, and then he takes your thighs and spreads them apart, revealing your already wet, shaved nether regions.

Licking his lips, Guzma takes another dive and goes straight to your clitoris, drubbing and engulfing the sensitive area, making you mewl in ways you’ve never experienced before, which at one point made Guzma look up at you to see your squirming in ecstasy, making his eyes glint in delight. In between laps, Guzma reaches a finger into your entrance, thrusting and touching all your more delicate expanse, making you all the more wetter for him, and more eager for his performance.

“Think you can take on my cock now, baby?” Guzma teased as he wipes his face with the back of his hand. 

Hesitantly, you nodded with your eyes bleary in lust, and you whole body already in motion to take anything the Big, Bad Boss will give you at this point.

“Good.” He grins; eyes glowing with desire and his smile as wide as a mischievous Gengar.

Guzma strips of the remaining clothing he had on, slipping out his already hardened cock, which is far larger than even you had imagined, and in a moment he finally yet gently slips inside your entrance. Slowly, he gets you used to the feeling of him inside you while thrusting back and forth, making you groan in delight of this moment; shortly, he begins to take you a little faster and teasing you with more kisses and bites to your upper body.

Both Guzma and you touch your foreheads for a minute as Guzma grinds faster into your pussy, stretching you and filling you with every inch of his cock; you yell his name in the air, begging for more, and he teases you once again while cupping your breasts to rub them in between each pound he takes to you.

“Ahh fuck... fuck, you’re so good! I’m gonna... almost...” Guzma pants as he nears his climax, while at the same time you also reach for yours while holding onto his upper body with your arms, clinging for dear life while Guzma fucks you to oblivion.

You yell out his name once more, and he yells for yours, and finally the both of you cum, both your heads throttle back in the wake of your climax as Guzma fills you with his seed and your juices squirm out alongside his slick dick. Both you and Guzma shortly collapse atop each other on the mattress, taking in each other’s bodies closer in an afterglow cuddle and gazing into each others’ eyes. You and Guzma make out slowly and tenderly once more, taking in another moment to yourselves until Guzma pulls out of you and relaxes himself to take another breather for himself as he lies next to you.

You also relax from the exhilaration of the lustrous intercourse you and Guzma had gone through, not even realizing the jacket your still wearing, but you also gladly didn’t take it off through the whole event. In a while afterwards, you roll yourself atop Guzma’s chest, laying your head about to hear his soothing heartbeat as you rest while Guzma wraps and arm around your shoulder in comfort. Both you and Guzma ease yourselves in a pleasant cuddle, until Guzma breaks the ice once more.

“So... What was that earlier about knocking out bus stop signs because they suck?”

At that moment, your eyes widen in shock; you had forgotten about your mocking Guzma earlier, while pretending to be him as you wear his hoodie. You look up at him and gave him a nervous chuckle, along with a very timid crooked smirk, realizing that Guzma had possibly overheard your previous insults about him before all the sexual pleasures you and Guzma endured.

Something tells you this was going to be a long night.

[its-ya-boi-kaz]

Memories

(a kaz x inej fanfic/fluff/1201 words)

Summary :

Kaz buys a house for Captain Ghafa of the Seas, Freer of Slaves, treasure of his heart.

She is sitting on the same windowsill she had sat on five years ago. Her thick, black eyelashes are fanned across her cheeks and she has braided her hair into a tight coil, the same way she used to five years ago. A welcome memory comes to Kaz, like a dusty glass pane wiped clean, and he could finally see what was on the other side. He could finally see what he had never allowed himself to think upon, until now. A memory so deep tucked into his heart that he had almost lost it.

But now he remembers, he had sat in this same chair and looked at her sitting on the same windowsill and he had heard her laugh and thought if he could've bottled the sound and got drunk on it every night, he would have. It terrified him. Five years ago.

Now, instead of his spider, there is the Queen of The Seas, Freer of Slaves, the fearsome Captain Ghafa. And Inej. Inej who never left behind her faith even when her saints were cruel. Inej who had seen the world in all its endless ugliness and still smiles like she holds nothing but love in her heart. Knowing her, she probably does. And a fraction of it, Kaz flatters himself, is for him.

"Kaz?" Inej's voice snaps him out of his merry daydream and he fumbles for an believable excuse.

"Hmm?"

"You're staring. I asked you what you were staring at."

"There was a crow behind you," Kaz says, and then mentally winces at his inability to think correctly around her.

She laughs, and even years later, Kaz wants to bottle the sound and get drunk on it every night. Though, it terrifies him no more. And he realizes that, without her, this room was too familiar yet so entirely different.

Something clicks inside his head, and Kaz walks over to her. He looks out to the locked up windows of every building in sight. From the corner of his eye, he sees Inej follow his gaze.

"That's because of you," Kaz says.

"What is?"

"The locks. They knew you were coming." Inej looks back to the windows, new steel glinting gold in the sun's light.

"What about old man Mikhael?" she asks, looking at him as though she wants to know if he still remembers. He does. A clerk who made girls stolen from their homes and didn't know Kerch sign wavers of slavery, who got his fingers cut in half one by one by a certain Suli girl.

"He finally repaired his broken pane that has been leaking buckets every rain for three years," Kaz states smugly. The news of the Wraith returning had spread throughout Ketterdam like a wildfire. The barrel bosses and corrupt businessmen have all heard of ships that depart for slaves and come back piled with bodies to be taken to the morgue. As much as they don't admit it, they're afraid. They take precautions against any movement in the shadows. All but one. The lone leader of the Dregs hears their frightened whispers and has to fight the urge to grin.

He is suddenly aware of a weight against his chest. He sees Inej with her gaze turned towards the sunset, though he knows she isn't quite watching. Something in him recoils, but this time, he won't be the foolish boy who thought he had nothing to lose. This time, he doesn't push her away. Instead, he closes his eyes and feels her small figure againt his chest. Her elbow, punctuating a toned arm, jutting slightly beneath his ribs.

And then, maybe out of desire or simple curiosity, he puts his －ungloved－ hand over hers. The poison rises again to his throat, but this time, he has the antidote. He needs to hear her voice, so he asks,

"Do you see that house over there?"

"Which one?" Inej inquires, after a moment of silence. Kaz closes his hand over hers and points somewhere with her index finger. He then has a foolish thought that he can hear her heartbeat.

Inej turns her head to where Kaz is pointing. A house not quite far from the Slat, of adequate space with a small garden up front lined with －from what she could make out－ bushes of wild geraniums. It wasn't there when she had last been here, but it was a lovely house.

"It is ours," Kaz rasps above her.

"What?" she jerks her head up, narrowly missing his chin.

"I mean that I payed for it, but it's in your name," Kaz affirms, still looking at the house instead of her.

"Why? Kaz, why would you- you know i-" he suddenly feels like he is being interrogated, which is not a good feeling for him.

"For when you come ba- when you come to visit." He knew what this meant, but that didn't stop him from saying, "We can't have all of our memories on windowsills and makeshift desks."

Memories. That is what he was asking for, memories of her, memories with her, memories of her and him together. He senses her gaze burning through him, acknowledging the weight of what he had asked her. As he breathes in the scent of the oils she rubs in her hair, he wonders when exactly did she steal his heart, that he had not even known existed. Or rather, when did he offer it to her on a silver platter.

He wonders when did she give him the knife to carve the beating organ out of his chest and present it to her. Was it when she snuck up to him in the Menagerie catching him by surprise for the first and last time? Or when he found her bleeding on top of a crate, ready to die by her own blade? Was it when he was drowning and fighting for breath and his only thought was her? Or when he first brushed his lips against the pulse in her neck in the lush bathroom of the Ketterdam suite? Because when she looks at him with such tender eyes and sweet smile, he knows his heart is there, right in the palm of her hand.

"You built that for me?" The same tender eyes are now flooded to the waterline.

"Yes," Kaz replies.

"Brick by brick?"

He stares at her, stupefied. Then, out of nowhere, laughter erupts from him. It starts in his chest, a giddy feeling, making its way up his throat until he laughs more genuinely than he has ever. She starts to laugh, too. Her voice thick with tears combining with his hoarse, raspy one.

His laughter dies down and he regards Inej while he allows a small smile to stay on his face. Her grin has softened into something so delicate that it might shatter if he didn't shield it with his own lips.

Their eyes meet in the red glow of the dying sun, and Kaz glimpses something so golden, unrestrained, and bright he thinks he might go blind. He leans forward to press his lips briefly on top of her hair. For a moment, he is just a boy whose girl has come to visit.

[loopstagirl]

Fight Club, Final Part

Part 1 | Part 2

“That doesn’t matter,” Scott argued. “If they come for us, we need to be ready.”

“Right. As you’re able to offer such a fight right now.”

Scott glared, and John knew it was the glare of defeat. His brother knew he was making sense and didn’t have a come-back. Scott hated not having the last word, but over the years, John had got apt at being able to circumnavigate his big brother.

“If they come-,”

“Then I’ll wake you. Seriously, Scott, get some rest.”

John wasn’t entirely sure if Scott going to sleep was the best thing given the state of him. But he didn’t have anything to treat his brother’s injuries, and after the stunt he’d just pulled to get here, he doubted any of the guards would oblige to a request for supplies. If only he’d had the chance to talk to the guards more… John knew he was good at persuading someone to help, but he had to at least know their name first.

It told him a lot about how Scott was feeling that his brother didn’t argue. He stretched out on the cold floor, pointedly ignoring the blanket, and his breathing slowed as his eyes shut. John doubted his brother was properly asleep, but at least he was resting.

It felt like a long night. John drifted a couple of times, but he didn’t dare go to sleep properly. He owed it to Scott to make sure no one could take them unaware again. It didn’t help that the room was cold and even if he did wrap the blanket around himself after Scott threw it at him for the third time, he couldn’t get comfortable.

It only heightened his guilt, though. This was what Scott had been dealing with for the last four days, while John had had a bed, three square meals and hadn’t been made to fight for his survival all day, every day.

Without any natural light, he couldn’t keep track of the time. But judging by how gritty his eyes were, it was likely morning when he heard the bolt being drawn back. He glanced at Scott, whose eyes were open, watching the door carefully.

“Help me up,” Scott said in a low voice. John did as he was told, knowing that standing facing their captors was the only way this could go. A Tracy did not go out without a fight, or on their knees.

He had to wrap an arm around his brother’s waist to keep him upright. Either way, John knew this ended today. If they tried to make Scott fight, he’d lose. They were coming for John today, no matter what.

“I’m not going to do what you want,” John said. “You can’t make me.”

“Or what?” Billy pushed through the men. To John’s delight, he still had soot streaked across his face and through his hair. John’s little fire had obviously put up a fight about being extinguished. For a reason he couldn’t explain – he was a rational man who didn’t believe in signs – John felt emboldened by that fact.

He saw Scott glance at him out of the corner of his eye and guessed that his brother was regretting not asking how John had come to be in his cell overnight.

“Or-,” John had no idea what his threat was going to be. Even growing up with four brothers and a need for his own space hadn’t given him an answer for this sort of thing.

But he didn’t need to answer. No sooner had he opened his mouth, the radio clipped to Billy’s belt like out a squawk. He scowled, flicking it onto a different channel, only for the same thing to happen again. After the third attempt, he picked it up.

“What?”

“This is International Rescue. We’ve been called to the area due to a high flood-,”

“Earthquake.”

“High earthquake risk. Our equipment show there are numerous people in your facility. We will help you evacuate your staff.”

John glanced at Scott. His brother was taking more of his own weight now, fighting a grin.

Billy flicked to another channel.

“Boss?”

“I heard,” Kemp said. “They’re broadcasting on all frequencies. I’m going out front; I’ll see these heroes off. Take the captives through the back.”

“Copy that.”

Billy didn’t look as confident as he turned back to the brothers. On his belt, the radio continued to play the message from International Rescue. He couldn’t turn it off in case his boss needed him but Kemp was right: Virgil and Gordon were broadcasting on every channel they could. They weren’t leaving it to chance.

“You two, move.” Billy gestured angrily down the corridor in a completely different direction to where they’d been before.

The pair of them shuffled forward. Scott was slow, leaning on John with each step. But John felt the tension running through his brother and knew he was putting on a show, biding time and no doubt planning. Just knowing their family was here was enough to give him extra strength.

“Billy, get to the main door,” Kemp’s voice ordered. “This dude out front is being stubborn, insisting he needs to come in and he’s got a great big drill-looking thing.”

As Billy swore, John looked down to hide his grin. Of course Virgil had brought the Mole out to play. Bigger was always better in his books. For once, John agreed.

“You and you. Take these two to the evac point. Stop for nothing, understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” Both guards nodded. They pulled Scott away from John, taking a brother each as they marched them down the corridor.

They had radios on their belts, too. John caught Scott’s eye, motioning to one. If they could get a message to the others, tell them where they were and to check the back door, then help would be a lot closer at hand than them all running around blind.

Scott suddenly went limp, his guard cursing as he found himself holding a dead weight. As he tried to get Scott up, John drove his elbow into the one holding him, jabbing him in the gut. The guard let out an ‘oomph’ of surprise, but his grip didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened.

Before John even saw him move, the man had somehow dragged him to the floor, forcing him to his knees with one arm bent behind his back. He glanced at Scott, only to find him pinned face down with his guard’s boot on his neck.

“Boss doesn’t need that one, right?” The one holding John said. “Finish him off here, and we’ll just take this one.”

John bucked, but the man held him down with embarrassing ease.

“Fine. Give me your gun.”

“I don’t have it. Use yours.”

“I don’t have it either.”

John snorted. He couldn’t help it. They’d both managed to leave their weapons behind while escorting their prisoners, relying on Billy to have them covered with his handgun.

“There’s other ways.”

The guard forced Scott onto his back. Even as Scott tried to push him away, a hand found his throat.

“No,” John gasped, trying to lunge forward and still was kept still. “Let him go!”

In Scott’s current state, he didn’t have the strength to throw the man off. He tried, but just like John, was kept in place.

“After the amount of my buddies he’s taken down? Why should I?”

“Cos I said so,” a familiar voice cut in. “Actually, no, wait, I haven’t said so. Let’s try that again: let him go.”

“Who’re you?”

“Doesn’t the uniform give it away?” Gordon drawled. There was something in his hand that looked remarkably like a gun. “I’m in the rescuing business. And you, my friend, are cramping my style. So let him go. Let them both go.”

“Or what?”

Gordon shrugged and hoisted his weapon further into his arms. “Want to see what this thing can do?”

The grip on John’s arm loosened just a fraction. Judging by the ragged breath Scott suddenly drew in, the same was true for him as well.

“You’re bluffing,” the one holding John said. There was doubt in his voice, though. No one was entirely sure what International Rescue were capable of: John had spent many hours onboard Five laughing at the theories he found circulating.

“Am I?” Bluffing or not, there was nothing but cold certainty in Gordon’s voice.

The two guards glanced at each other.

“Boss’ll kill us,” one muttered.

“Guys, seriously? I’m the one holding a gun on you. Be more worried about what I might do!”

John didn’t know if the guards had just had enough of their troublesome prisoners, Kemp and his entire operation, or simply didn’t want to take the risk. John felt the grip holding him loosen even further, until it suddenly disappeared altogether. A sharp shove between the shoulder blades forced him to put out a hand to steady himself and by the time he regained his balance, the two guards were running back the way they’d come.

“Sorry it took us so long,” Gordon said. Despite his light tone, he was hurrying closer, anxiety etched into his expression. “Virgil wanted to bring every pod.”

“What is that?” John asked, gesturing to the gun in Gordon’s hand even as he crawled towards Scott. To his concern, his big brother had simply continued to lie on his back, staring at the ceiling.

“No idea,” Gordon said, shoving it into a holster on his back. “Think it’s a new fire extinguisher.”

John laughed. He couldn’t help it. All the stress, tension, fear and pain of the last few days came rushing out of him in an explosion of mirth he didn’t feel. Gordon’s hand rested lightly on his shoulder as he dropped to his knees beside them.

“Easy, Johnny,” he said softly. “We’ve got you now: you’re safe.”

John looked at Scott, and his laughter died as quickly as it came. Scott’s eyes were closed, and it was only the rise and fall of his chest that reassured John that his brother was even alive.

“What did they do to him?” Gordon whispered, fear in his tone as he checked Scott’s pulse.

John shook his head. “He was trying to protect me,” he said, upset and frustration in his voice. Scott should never have been put in that situation: he shouldn’t have even been here!

“This isn’t your fault, big brother,” Gordon said gently before touching his comms. “Thunderbird Two? Our wayward strays have been located. Need an evac from ‘round back pronto.”

“F.A.B. Are they-?”

“Just… get here, Virg.”

Gordon cut the line before looking at John.

“Can you walk?”

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” John protested. “It was Scott who-,”

“Those bruises are telling a different story,” Gordon cut in, his tone firm. “Can you walk?”

Recognising the note in his brother’s voice, John lay off arguing and nodded.

“Good man. Corridor is clear behind me: let’s go.” Gordon stood, pulling Scott over his shoulder. John wanted to tell him to be careful: he suspected Scott had at least one broken rib. But there was little choice. With Scott unconscious, this was the only way of getting him out.

He followed Gordon down the corridor. The door at the end was open, and John found himself screwing his eyes up as he stepped into the bright sunshine. Once his watery vision had cleared, he saw Virgil hurrying towards them, the bulk of Thunderbird Two a reassuring sight behind him.

“Get him inside,” he told Gordon, not pausing but pivoting on his heel to change direction. John hurried to keep up, his chest again protesting the smoke inhalation, and he could sense Virgil watching him closely.

But his brother didn’t ask. He didn’t need to. Once they were onboard Two, there was nowhere for John to hide from Virgil’s ministrations.

“Focus on Scott,” John told him even as they hurried up the ramp. Gordon had already disappeared inside. As Virgil sealed the hatch behind them, John took a long look at the non-descript building that had been his hell for the past few days.

“Let’s just get you home,” Virgil said, brushing past him and heading towards the med-bay. “Both of you.”

As the outside world was shut out, John sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted.

Home.

Best thing he’d heard for days.

The End.

[jhezan]

The Play Times Octopath Traveler II

Play Time: 9️⃣0️⃣Hours ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ - 10/15/2024

I didn't 100% the first Octopath Traveler, and I just finished the last chapters of the 8 traveler's. So, it's nice to see the little crown in the title screen—that shows that you're done with the game. I finished all of the quests in II, but I didn't bother to 100% it. Besides, there's no percentage progress indicator in the game, so as long as you just finished all the quests, I think it's completed—or maybe "beaten" is the right term—already. I didn't bother to purposely trigger all the banter scene, collect the music, steal and scrutinize all NPCs, search every corner for chests, etc. Octopath Traveler II is definitely much better than the first one, but no one can take the spot of my Favorite Octopath Traveler Character—Therion. It might be nice if there's a DLC where we can interact with the first eight travelers in the first game, but I don't think they're with the same setting? A multiverse-thingy maybe? Anyway, the QoL, and mechanics are definitely gotten better compared to the first one. And hopefully, in the Octopath Traveler III—let's just hope that there will be a III—more QoL and mechanics, and more interaction between the eight travelers. More collectibles, and more content. I don't care how much long would it take to beat the game, as long as it's enjoyable, that's what's important.

My Favorite Traveler: Throné Anguis🗡️

I like assassin-type character, and what's the most assassin-like class in the game?—It's the Thief. That's why I choose her as my main character (the first chapter that I finished). Her story is good, but it has a little impact on me—I love mystery stories but not dark. Her skills are mid, because she's probably built for being a debuffer unless you've unlocked the Aeber's Reckoning which hits really hard as long as you have enough Phys. Atk. and Speed. Her Latent Power is the most awesome to all though in my opinion—two turns in one wave is a game-changing mechanics, especially in late game where the boss is too thick. Overall, I love her.

My OTP: Temenos X Crick (If only he lives...)

I love the chemistry of this two. The brain and the brawn. But when I researched about this two, I saw that Temenos' canon age is 30, and Crick's 22. Well, who cares about a little of age gap. Besides, Temenos doesn't looks like 30 at all! Gender doesn't matter, but I think we should consider the age... but 8 years gap is probably not that high—as long as it's not 18 and 10.

Ranking each Traveler, in terms of:

Design Partitio - Look at his drip! You'll know the reason why. Castti > Hikari > Throné > Osvald > Temenos > Ochette > Agnea

Story Temenos - I love murder-mysteries. Partitio > Throné > Castti > Agnea > Hikari > Ochette > Osvald

Character Personality Mama Castti - Oh, to have a mother like Castti. Temenos > Throné > Partitio > Osvald > Hikari > Ochette > Agnea

Overall Strength Throné - She's just over leveled in my case, because she never left my party, not once. In short, this is just biased-ry. Castti > Temenos > Hikari > Agnea > Ochette > Osvald > Partitio

Others Best Physical Damage Dealer: Hikari (Next is Throné) - I don't like Hikari that much, but I can't really lie that he's not strong, just because I like Throné. Best Elemental Damage Dealer: Temenos (Yes, Not Osvald) - And then after Temenos (w/ Alpione's Amulet and 1 HP and a lot of SP) uses his Sacred Effulgence to one shot all enemies, he proceed to says: "Fighting is... not what I do." Best Support: Castti - Everyone can be a good support with a proper Secondary Job—the best one is Cleric in my opinion, because of Aelfric's Blessing which grants you the ability to act again at the end of a turn. But no one except Castti has the Concoct ability, which is overpowered and good for bosses.

[daidi-dragan-glas]

The Texas Quote of the Day is one of the best true-life cowboy quotes you'll ever read:

"From 1874 to 1877 I was taking care of my father's cattle, and after a while the neighbors began putting cattle with me, paying me a dollar fifty a head for six months. I herded them in the daytime and penned them at night, and for the first time in my life, I could rustle a little cash. In 1875 I made twenty-nine dollars that way, and my brother Harry and I had one hell of a time. We bought a bottle of whisky, shot out the lights on the street corners, and run our horses through the streets of Lincoln whooping and yelling like Cheyenne Indians on the warpath. We'd have gone to jail for sure if some of Gus Walker's trail men had not been with us. They got the blame, as everything was laid to the Texas men, but they left next day for Texas and so it all blew over. This was my first experience standing up to the bar buying drinks for the boys, and I sure felt big.

That summer, I remember, Ace Harmon, who was one of John T. Lytle's trail bosses and a god to me, said: "In a year or two Teddy will be a real cowboy." And I growed three inches and gained ten pounds that night....

From the time I was fourteen and staying out with the cattle most all the time, I got to be more and more independent. The boys took turns staying out there with me, but Lincoln was only twelve miles from camp, and when we had a little money, one of us would slip off to town on his pony, leaving the other one on herd. We'd hang around the saloons, listening to those men and getting filled up with talk about gunfights and killings. One time I remember I was in a saloon, and I heard a fellow talking about the Yankees. He said: "I was coming down the road and I met a damn blue-bellied abolitionist, and I paunched [shot] him. And he laid there in the brush and belched like a beef for three days, and then he died in fits. The b*stard!"

He told that before a whole crowd of men. I don't know that he ever done it. But that was the way he talked to get a fight. Those early-day Texans was full of that stuff. Most of them that came up with the trail herds, being from Texas and Southerners to start with, was on the side of the South, and oh, but they were bitter. That was how a lot of them got killed, because they were filled full of the old dope about the war and they wouldn't let an abolitionist arrest them. The marshals in those cow towns on the trail were usually Northern men, and the Southerners wouldn't go back to Texas and hear people say: "He's a hell of a fellow. He let a Yankee lock him up." Down home one Texas Ranger could arrest the lot of them, but up North you'd have to kill them first.

I couldn't even guess how many was killed that way on the trail. There was several killed at every one of those shipping points in Kansas, but you get different people telling the same story over and over again and the number is bound to be exaggerated. Besides, not all that were killed were cowboys; a lot of saloon men and tinhorn gamblers bit the dust. While I saw several shooting scrapes in saloons and sporting houses, I never saw a man shot dead, though some died afterwards.

But in the 1870s, they were a hard bunch, and I believe it was partly on account of what they came from. Down in Texas in the early days, every man had to have his six-shooter always ready, every house kept a shotgun loaded with buckshot, because they were always looking for a raid by Mexicans or Comanche Indians. What is more, I guess half the people in Texas in the seventies had moved out there on the frontier from the Southern states and from the rebel armies, and was the type that did not want any restraints."

----- Teddy Blue Abbott, "We Pointed them North: Recollections of a Cowpuncher," 1939. Teddy Blue rode the trail from South Texas to shipping points in Kansas and Montana three different times. It's apparent from reading Lonesome Dove that Larry McMurtry was VERY familiar with Teddy Blue's book, which was written in Teddy Blue's plain-spoken vernacular. It's a very entertaining read. This photo of Teddy Blue was taken in 1910.

[fagpulp]

starting an o.ff fic teehee a little bit of it below haha

Excerpt from Sugar Cats News, circa 1961:

“Last night, West Bismark, known baseball protege and model, Valentin Vader aka “The Batter”, was arrested after bludgeoning and  beating small-time crook, Everett Smirk. Mr.Smirk was presumably caught trespassing by Vader, and subsequently beaten as a result. Local police had little to comment, but our reporters managed to grab the excerpt listed below:

“”It’s sadistic is what it is, playing judge and jury like that. Noone should extend the hand of the law with their own. Mr.Smirk should be alive tonight.””

Mrs.Vader, otherwise known as Eloha Vader, and her son Hugo were seen cowering in the doorway as Valentin was taken away. Readers, I can only imagine how shaken they must be, how frightening it is to know your own husband and father turned out to be a bloodthirsty killer. My condolences for this broken family. May justice come down on Mr.Vader the same way he did on his victim(s?).”

Damn ‘em, damn them to shit and fire and hell-

“I’d stop yanking on those cuffs of yours, Mr. Vader. You’re supposed to have calmed down by now. Imagine what the bosses will say.” Says that therapist who’s been so goddamned coy from the start. Valentin yanks again, then goes into a slouch.

“They hurt my wrists.” 

“They’re cuffs, what did you expect? Take the medicine, act happy, no more cuffs; Just like promised.” He slides the accursed bottle to the front of his desk and gestures at it. “They aren’t going to let you just do what you want, you know?” He says. Valentin thinks he’s fighting off a smile, but if he says that he’ll just… get the drugs doubled, or something. 

“They hurt my head.” 

“You barely take them, of course-”

“They make me dizzy and they make me tired. I can’t take ‘em.” He retorts.

 They’ve had this argument before, and they’ll have it again if no one understands that they hurt him-

“ We aren’t changing them, Mr.Vader. Not until there is improvement-” The therapist is cut off as Valentin yanks on the cuffs hard and loud. “-and until you can get it together.” He leans back in his stuffy chair and crosses his stuffy arms. 

“That’s the deal, that’s the situation. Like it, or no more stardom; nothing.” He spits some on the ‘th’. “Now, I’m going to give you these, and you’re going to get-”

Valentin rubs his wrists as he strolls down the desolate sidewalk. Why couldn’t he be sent somewhere nice… maybe Joas. Joas would have hedges and at the least, street lamps that didn’t flicker. 

But no.

He’s in Vesper and he’s being thrown around by Enoch’s men like cats do a bird, and he’s going to keep being thrown around until he can’t stand. 

Damn ‘em to shit and fire and whatever else they’d hate.

Valentin turns the bottle around in his hand, over and over. Maybe the next time he read the label it’d be different and the pills inside wouldn’t make his stomach turn sour… maybe the next corner he turned would be to his house, to his wife and kid. 

But no.

His kid is sick in some high quality hospital and his wife is in a different house that she won’t tell him about. Few months makes a hell of a difference; press isn't on his tail, his wife and child are off places unknown, and he’s getting on a train to an empty house. 

“Hey, I know you from somewhere, don’t I?” 

Valentin grits his teeth and shifts his head towards the voice. If it’s another brown nosing reporter, he swears he’ll lose it. 

“Zacharie?” Relief. A friend in this hell.

Valentin met Zacharie at agame of his in ‘57. He was leaving through the back and Zacharie was selling half priced, off brand baseball cards to eager spectators. They must’ve gotten along because of their propensity for illegality.

“One and the same. How’s life? I’m gonna pretend your face hasn’t been plastered on every wall and crevice there is.” He says. 

“Anyone normal wouldn’t say that.” He quips. 

“Luckily for you and I,” Zacharie grabs the handrail, hand just below Valentin’s. “I’m not.” 

“Luckily.” He replies. The tram shakes. “So what are you doing, talking to a murderer.” 

“Alleged, dear Valentin, alleged.”

“Alleged.” He won’t disagree now, Zacharie’s the only friendly… well mask he’s seen in some time. Zacharie wore a strange mask for as long as Valentin could remember. Maybe he should think about wearing one too; it’d help with the ‘paparazzi’ at least.

“I happen to be on my way home. You know how the wife gets, not home by sundown and I'll come home to a walloping.” He says, shrugging. “I just thought you could use some company, since it's some time to Bismark, friend. If you’ll let me leave here alive, that is.” He breathes a laugh, and looks at Valentin for any reaction. Valentin remains stoic, but his tone turns icy cold. 

“It’s best that we don’t talk too much. Leave the air some space.” He replies, his jaw tensing along with his grip on the rail. Zacharie raises his hand in apology.

“Too soon.” He says.

They stand in silence, the only noise coming from the tracks and the jingling jangling of Zacharies bag on his back. A small vanilla card drops to the floor, Valentin does not alert him and Zacharie does not seem to be aware of his loss.. They are friends, Valentin thinks, but they are not friendly. Not now. 

The train slows, stops, and sits impatiently for its two passengers. Zacharie walks away and Valentin follows. He stops to pick up the card and pockets it, Zacharie probably wanted him to take it. 

Probably. Most Likely. 

They’ve stepped off, shaken hands, and separated before he reads the card. 

SUGAR CATS NEWS

News for keeps.

He sneers and rips it. Of course Zacharie reads that crap. Of course he was there for giggles and shits. He’s huffing and puffing all the way to his house before he’s calmed down enough to realize that everyone’s read Hip Cats schlock. It’s the only news source the, damn them to hell and whatnot, guardians hadn’t shut down. Forlorn now, he walks up to the darkened doorway. 

Here’s to tomorrow. 

Yesterday was better. His head ached and his limbs felt funny. He knew this was all he got to expect for the next forever; no one was going to listen to him complain. 

[coolcarsntrucksngunsnusa]

The Texas Quote of the Day is one of the best true-life cowboy quotes you'll ever read:

"From 1874 to 1877 I was taking care of my father's cattle, and after a while the neighbors began putting cattle with me, paying me a dollar fifty a head for six months. I herded them in the daytime and penned them at night, and for the first time in my life, I could rustle a little cash. In 1875 I made twenty-nine dollars that way, and my brother Harry and I had one hell of a time. We bought a bottle of whisky, shot out the lights on the street corners, and run our horses through the streets of Lincoln whooping and yelling like Cheyenne Indians on the warpath. We'd have gone to jail for sure if some of Gus Walker's trail men had not been with us. They got the blame, as everything was laid to the Texas men, but they left next day for Texas and so it all blew over. This was my first experience standing up to the bar buying drinks for the boys, and I sure felt big.

That summer, I remember, Ace Harmon, who was one of John T. Lytle's trail bosses and a god to me, said: "In a year or two Teddy will be a real cowboy." And I growed three inches and gained ten pounds that night....

From the time I was fourteen and staying out with the cattle most all the time, I got to be more and more independent. The boys took turns staying out there with me, but Lincoln was only twelve miles from camp, and when we had a little money, one of us would slip off to town on his pony, leaving the other one on herd. We'd hang around the saloons, listening to those men and getting filled up with talk about gunfights and killings. One time I remember I was in a saloon, and I heard a fellow talking about the Yankees. He said: "I was coming down the road and I met a damn blue-bellied abolitionist, and I paunched [shot] him. And he laid there in the brush and belched like a beef for three days, and then he died in fits. The b*stard!"

He told that before a whole crowd of men. I don't know that he ever done it. But that was the way he talked to get a fight. Those early-day Texans was full of that stuff. Most of them that came up with the trail herds, being from Texas and Southerners to start with, was on the side of the South, and oh, but they were bitter. That was how a lot of them got killed, because they were filled full of the old dope about the war and they wouldn't let an abolitionist arrest them. The marshals in those cow towns on the trail were usually Northern men, and the Southerners wouldn't go back to Texas and hear people say: "He's a hell of a fellow. He let a Yankee lock him up." Down home one Texas Ranger could arrest the lot of them, but up North you'd have to kill them first.

I couldn't even guess how many was killed that way on the trail. There was several killed at every one of those shipping points in Kansas, but you get different people telling the same story over and over again and the number is bound to be exaggerated. Besides, not all that were killed were cowboys; a lot of saloon men and tinhorn gamblers bit the dust. While I saw several shooting scrapes in saloons and sporting houses, I never saw a man shot dead, though some died afterwards.

But in the 1870s, they were a hard bunch, and I believe it was partly on account of what they came from. Down in Texas in the early days, every man had to have his six-shooter always ready, every house kept a shotgun loaded with buckshot, because they were always looking for a raid by Mexicans or Comanche Indians. What is more, I guess half the people in Texas in the seventies had moved out there on the frontier from the Southern states and from the rebel armies, and was the type that did not want any restraints."

----- Teddy Blue Abbott, "We Pointed them North: Recollections of a Cowpuncher," 1939. Teddy Blue rode the trail from South Texas to shipping points in Kansas and Montana three different times. It's apparent from reading Lonesome Dove that Larry McMurtry was VERY familiar with Teddy Blue's book, which was written in Teddy Blue's plain-spoken vernacular. It's a very entertaining read. This photo of Teddy Blue was taken in 1910.

[gaps-between-stories]

Fic Preview

A sneak peek at an upcoming chapter in Safe Ship, Harbored, my introduction of Anne Bonny and Mary Read to the canon timeline!

“Why are you here, Vane?” 

“Well, now that you mention it, I did just hear the most interesting rumor. The same time that Edward Teach disappeared from English custody, I heard you brought on a completely new crew. You’ve kept the same crew for years, eh? So I heard that, and I thought to myself, ‘that doesn’t sound like Anne Bonny to me.’ And then I heard that you’d been seen with a second ship for the first time since, well, you know. And I thought ‘how strange, the last time Anne Bonny sailed in a fleet was with Blackbeard.’” He leaned forward in his seat with such a disingenuous grin that Anne wanted to smack right off his face.

“But then I thought ‘Anne would never align herself with a British puppet, let alone three.’” He held up three fingers for emphasis. “Because this Act of Grace headache wasn’t just Teach, was it?” Vane’s eyes settled just beyond Anne, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Mary start to move towards them. 

“Couldn’t have been easy to hear that Israel Hands coordinated the entire ordeal, eh?” He asked with a smile that didn’t extend to his eyes. Mary stiffened at the thinly veiled accusation. Vane turned his attention back to Anne. 

“Such a shame what happened to Calico, don’t you think? The British weren’t too happy with him once they lost the great Blackbeard from their custody. They strung him up pretty fast after that one. I heard his neck didn’t even snap, poor bloke. All over a piece of paper.” Vane let out an exaggerated put-upon sigh – it didn’t fool Anne. 

It took every fiber of self-control that Anne had to keep her reaction neutral. 

“And well, I just remember how close the lot of you all were, back in the day. What an impressive fleet that was,” he let out a low whistle. “So I just thought that I should pay you a visit, make sure you’re handling all of this alright. I can only imagine how betrayed you both must have felt at the news.” 

Anne refused to take her eyes off of Vane, the knife in her stomach twisting with every sentence. He was right, Anne was pissed, but he didn’t need to know that. 

“Unless, of course, you happened to know where Edward and Israel are? There’s quite a few folks in Nassau who’d certainly like a few words with the two of them after all of this. Ever since Blackbeard disappeared the British have been a total pain in my ass, like they’ve got something to prove. But we’ve all got bosses to answer to, eh?”

“Haven’t seen any of them in years. Not since St. Lucia. We spotted this ship,” she gestured to the Revenge, “sailing wild so we approached. She’s been abandoned, no one was onboard.” 

He considered her a moment, deciding. Anne could see the wheels turning in his head, practically hearing the series of decisions he was making internally as he silently compared the sizes of their crew, debated how much blood he was willing to clean out of his fancy new coat. “Hmm, well enough,” he finally settled. 

“Are you satisfied with your wellness check?” Anne barely kept her voice level. 

“I’ve actually got a proposition for you,” his tone lightened, only slightly. “You see, I’ve got a group of very angry captains who don’t appreciate the Crown breathing down our necks. We’re gathering in a fortnight, in Havana, to decide our next plan of action. I’d love to see you there,” he grinned again. 

Anne shook her head as she stood up, effectively ending the conversation. “I’m not going to war,” she decided, firm. 

Vane smirked as he returned his hat to head, standing as he did. “Why don’t you take some time to think about it,” he offered, the honey of his voice laced with poison. 

“This isn’t my fight, Vane. I’m not going up directly against the Crown.” She began moving back towards the bridge between the William and Ranger.

Chuckling, Vane turned back to look at Anne. “Oh, I almost forgot to ask, what’s Montserrat like this time of year?” 

For the first time since he boarded her ship, Anne’s demeanor slipped. Her blood ran ice cold and she couldn’t stop her breath from hitching fast enough. Vane’s eyes crinkled when he knew he won. 

“I’ll see you in two weeks, Anne,” he told her cooly, before stepping back up onto the gangplank.