#get out my machete and battle with time again

[an-inky-fingered-lass]

illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs

A collection of non-chronological moments from a different sort of happy ending. Family feels, pointless fluff, and important conversations. Rated G.

Read on ao3.

chapter 1 -- strawberry-stealing squirrel

“Hey.” 

May blinked contentedly at him, lit up with warm lamplight. “Hm.” 

Coulson got into bed beside her, slow and aching. There was warmth in that too, somehow. May curled up, setting her head against his shoulder, her weight solid and still somehow light against his side. She wasn’t actually reading any more, just flipping idly through pages. 

There was moonlight fading gently through the curtains. It was like they could see all the world’s stars out on the porch, most nights -- but it was chilly out there on this one. The stars would still be there tomorrow.  

“You tired?” 

May’s voice was soft. She was in better shape than he was, these days, because of course she was, but the hot water bottle half-tangled in blankets said she ached, too. 

“Mm. A little.” 

Tired meant something kind of different, these days. It was the years weighing down his bones, the way everything was somehow going so much faster the more they slowed down. It was a good feeling, most days, the way certain kinds of melancholy wrap around you like a blanket. 

May hummed again. 

“How are you feeling?” 

That slight shift of her weight was surprise. May leaned over to put her book down before she answered, switching off the lamp. She still insisted on sleeping on the side by the door, still carried those old specialist reflexes; unlikely reaction times and the almost cat-like effortlessness to it. He’d lost most of that to those months of deterioration, years ago; but the vigilance, the automatic, constant analysis was still there. They still went people-watching every once in a while, mostly to watch the world go by and be judgy old people in peace (May zeroed in on every leather ensemble that passed and ran background checks on stores instead of people, these days). They’d fought their wars.

May moved slower these days, limped more days than she didn’t, but she could still take Yo-yo’s entire STRIKE team. She didn’t teach much any more, but Yo-yo still wheedled her out to do demonstrations every once in a while. She said it kept the youngsters in their place. 

Phil got to spend every day beside her steadiness, steadfast as the mountains, and that was as safe as he could ever ask to be. 

“A squirrel stole all the strawberries off the plant,” May stated, as she curled up beside him again. Coulson wrapped long arms around her as she huffed, one arm draped warm over his belly. “All three of them.” 

Phil jostled them both with a startled laugh. “That does not answer the question.” 

“I feel like the squirrel.” May told the darkness, and also him, prim and matter-of-fact. The drowsiness in her voice was getting thicker by the moment. “Like I stole something nice and I’m happy about it.” 

Phil was outright belly-laughing by then, trying to get the blanket untangled from around his ankles without having to sit up to tug at it. So much for philosophizing. May lifted her head in annoyance at all the jostling, dropped her cheek back on his chest once he paused to gasp for breath. 

“Ask me how I’m doing next time,” she muttered, mostly asleep already. “ Please. ” 

“Ohohoho, like hell. You, Melinda May, just told me you feel like a strawberry-stealing squirrel. I am never asking you anything other than how are you feeling ever again.” 

There was no answer. May could feign sleep as well as anyone -- better, actually, since she’d finally trained herself to stagger the length of each exhale so you couldn’t crack the rhythm by counting to it. Phil lay still for a long minute, grinning into the darkness, just listening to the quiet snuffle of her peaceful breathing.

She might actually just be asleep.

[weird-dere-writes]

Implied Latina reader <3

Imagining if Boothill began to have a rival of sorts 😏

Our Space Ranger is simply minding his business as he travels the galaxy trying to take down the IPC. He’s always on the hunt of course. He begins to notice though how more and more, a specific someone ends up going after the same bounties he does. It is purely by coincidence in actuality, but he begins to wonder if this is purposeful. If he’s being tracked or something.

It is of no threat to him, as he knows his way around gunshots and gallant conflict. But it does make him grind his teeth at times. Especially if the bounty is nabbed just before he gets the chance.

And who is it that torments our celestial cowboy so? He hasn’t yet learned her name or even an alias. But in what some would call a funny and he a bothersome turn of events, she would come to be called the Stellar Ranchera.

Sneaky little thing, she is. Always keeping things on the downlow until she’s on the heels of her bounty. Then… then is when everything becomes a show. She’s just as flashy and confident as he is, if not more in these moments. And those who catch wind of it, seem to snicker at the thought that Boothill finally begins to have a taste of what it is like to deal with him.

The first time the two come into contact, face to face, while going after the same bounty is quite interesting. When they realize who one another is, she smiles, and he pouts. They’re both running fast, jumping over obstacles, running against walls, doing flips and all as they try to out hunt the other, one phrase ringing in both of their minds.

‘The bounty is mine.’

‘The bounty is mine.’

As the chase goes on though, they start to focus more and more and each other rather than their target. The goal becomes to confront, outwit, and outperform one another.

The bounty is long forgotten as the two use a space to duke it out. Boothill is slinging his guns. The Ranchera, though she has a gun, prefers other tools. Her main weapon of choice is a whip. The other weapons she used were crossed in holsters on the back of her hips. Two machetes.

For a human, Boothill had to admit she was pretty adept at dodging bullets. Had his thoughts not been clouded with the want to defeat her, he would have said she did it beautifully.

The more the two went for each other, the more this battle seemed to be like a dance. Attacking and dodging strikes and blows in perfect sync. Twisting and turning and jumping and narrowly yet masterfully just missing one another. It’s quite the sight to behold. Though they seem to think identically, it almost seems she’s flawlessly antithetical him with every move. It didn’t help she seemed to be enjoying it more than anything; yelling these things he couldn’t understand. Something like… Bail? And… ‘hey so’. Or somethin’.

Amidst the fight, she manages to steal both his pistols using that handy whip.

“Not bad, for a southern boy.”

Boothill stops his pursuit momentarily and stares as she flips his gun around her hand like a true sharpshooter.

“And what am I t’ take that ta mean, Miss?”

She shrugs, “Oh it’s nothing against you, vaquero. ‘Sides, I’m kinda southern too. In another way.”

“Back-a-what?? Anyway, why’re you so intent on nabbin my bounties, nice lady?”

“I think I should be asking you that, actually. Not that you’d answer, pretty boy. Clearly these marks have my name on them.”

“Well,” he chuckles humorlessly, the pet name sliding right past his attention, “I’ll be forked. Didn’t know you could just claim whatever prize you wanted. It was my understandin’, that it ain’t yers ‘til ya catch it.”

“Maybe brush up on your knowledge then, eh?”

There’s only an annoyed chuckle as a response before he lunges at her. She again dodges as he grabs at her; gaining enough distacne for him to start using that built in gun in his arm. She only laughs as the onslaught continues. She fires a few rounds herself, from his guns she stole.

As fun as this was, she did have someone to catch that was still getting away. In an act that surprised him, she tossed his guns back to him. Landing somewhere with a smirk on her face. When he shakes off his stupor, that smirk of his appears on his face.

“Awwww, did you feel bad fer lil’ ol’ me?”

“Oh pobrecito, no, of course not,” she coos, clearly mocking him before a smirk returns to her face. His own smirk turned into an annoyed frown again.

“I just have things to do, is all. Until next time, I suppose.”

And with that, she runs off before he can stop her. He stands there for a few moments looking after her; thoughts that are confused, annoyed curious, and more filling his head.

He sighs as he holds one of his guns up to inspect it, “Darn target muncher…”

Where’d she have to be anyways?

It took a few moments for his own words to click in his head.

“Shoot! The bounty!!”

[thebunnednun]

Whispers of the Heart Dracule Mihawk x Fm! Reader (Part 4)

I do not own the artwork its by: @xuchuan25 Tell them they're amazing y'all!

Chapter 4 in the building y'all!!!! I just needed to see my Buggy.

Part 1 can be found: Here

Part 2 is right: Here

Part 3: Right over yonder

Don't be afraid to send me any requests my loves and if you are waiting for the next installment I have another Mihawk story:

*Shadows of the Blade (Dracule Mihawk x Assassin reader)

If you like sexy swordplay and themes of overcoming trauma then this is the story for you!. If you wanna skip to the good stuff try chapter 3.

Backstory:

You've been Dracule Mihawk's personal maid and housekeeper for what feels like an eternity. Let's cut to the chase – you're a badass, sweetheart. Sexy, cool, and confident, with a reputation that precedes you. Been friends with the stoic man for eons by now.

Everyone knows you or knows of you, and it's not just because you keep Mihawk's castle running like a well-oiled machine.

So what happens when you develop feelings for your old friend and boss?

What does he do when he comes home to find you in his room without your panties?

Also, muneca-chan= baby doll

ON WITH THE SHOW!!~

________________Chapter 4: A Clown's Counsel___________________

"Everything is going to be fine," you murmur softly, your voice echoing faintly into the open air. 

Your heart pounds with a mixture of excitement and nervousness as you stand alone in the vast, empty waters of the ocean. With a determined expression, you whisper reassuring words to yourself, trying to quell the rising tide of anxiety.

"You've locked down the castle securely. You just need to make this quick trip and return before Mihawk, Perona, and Zoro even realize you're gone." Taking a deep breath, you glance around the dimly lit deck one last time before turning your attention to your bag.

With meticulous care, you rummage through its contents, double-checking that you have everything you need for your journey. Each item holds a significance, a memory of past adventures and encounters that fuels your determination.

'I am a pirate queen of all the oceans. I was raised on an island in the Grand line and chose to live a life of peace. I can fucking sail a boat!'

After hanging up with Shanks last night, you decided to get up and moving if you were going to make your trip in time. Mihawk rarely ever sent word of his return home, unless he wanted a specific dinner and wine waiting for him.

You knew you'd have anywhere from a few days to two months before you saw him again. With a long sigh, you held your face in your hands for a moment of calm. 

The weather had turned for the worst overnight leaving you to sail the nearby waters in the middle of a rain storm. But, you honestly didn't mind one bit. It reminded you of your home island and like the homesick tall-child you were, you stood there on your little boat without a jacket or umbrella.

Call you crazy, but you wished for it to rain harder so all the confusing emotions inside you could be washed away somehow. Looking behind you, your eyes caught the slight glimmer of two familiar objects looking out of the bag behind you.

"Mhm," walking over, you reached inside, allowing your fingers to grasp the handle of two familiar old friends. The golden ridges caught the light from your dimming lantern.

Two identical machetes gleamed back at you, a parting gift from your mother. Your native tongue etched into the blade, they possessed a soft hum, almost whispering out to you. The temptation to harness your belt on and feel them resting on your hips again was almost irresistible. But instead, you drew your bag closed over them and set it down once more.

Constantly fighting for your life and the life of your crew mates was not something you missed about the old life. Yes, battles of honor were fun and sometimes even lead to creating new friends, however, there were too many attempts of pure murder. 

As a caption, you very much followed Gold Rodgers example of what a pirate should be. However, you also believed in not looking for fights. Now, you weren't out of practice by any means, Mihawk would never allow that.

But you could feel yourself adjust instantly to this old way of living and it kinda bothered you. However, resisting the temptation let you know that you were still you. 

You really have come so far in life. <3

Satisfied that you are well-prepared, you make your way to the shores of a nearby island, your footsteps echoing softly in the silence of the night. As you reach the edge of the water, you pause, your gaze scanning the horizon with a sense of anticipation.

Knowing that discretion is key, you reach into your bag once more, retrieving a carefully crafted cloak. The rumors of your death would fool the general public, but not other pirates or worse- fame hungry pirate captions.

You disappeared under the deck for a moment to find an old mirror. Then with practiced precision, you transform your appearance, concealing your identity behind a clever facade. As you adjust the final details of your disguise, you feel a surge of confidence wash over you. A small smile reaches your lips before a giggle slips out.

'Shanks would love this.'

With your transformation complete, you set off along the shoreline, your eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of activity. This island was Buggy's last known location, and you are determined to find him. Every step brings you closer to your goal, your senses heightened with anticipation.

'Now or never.'

As you navigate the sandy shores, the salty breeze caresses your cheeks, invigorating your spirit with a sense of adventure. The moon hangs low in the sky, casting a soft glow upon the landscape, guiding your way through the darkness.

With each passing moment, your anticipation grows, fueled by the promise of reunion and the thrill of the unknown. Your senses are sharp, attuned to the subtlest of sounds and movements, as you scan the surroundings for any sign of life.

And then, in the distance, you catch a glimpse of movement—a flicker of movement amidst the shadows.

A big top. 

Without a second thought, you take off running in that direction. Unworried about the rain, you can barely hear the sound of your feet hitting the muddy ground over your pounding heart. Your breath quickens with excitement as you draw closer, your footsteps quickening with each stride.

"No you fucking shit head, it's WRONG!"

"Found you!"

Finally reaching the tent, you poked inside to see where that lovable asshole was. Ducking under the bleachers, you watched as a tall familiar figure threw a barrage of insults at some huddled performers. Several freaks were passing and going throughout the chaos to practice their acts and hone their talents. 

Amidst a flurry of activity, stood Buggy, his presence commanding attention amidst the chaos. You pause for a moment, watching him rehearse with his performers, a fond smile playing at the corners of your lips.

"If you can't get the lion to dance by this Friday, I am going to eat him. I don't give a FUCK how chewy he is!"

There stood a timid man with an animal that cowered before the infamous caption of the East Blue.

Ever the drama queen, Buggy's appearance was as flamboyant and eccentric as ever. He stood tall and proud, his colorful attire adorned with sequins and feathers that shimmered in the light. His hair, a riotous explosion of bright blue curls, framed his face in wild abandon, adding to his larger-than-life persona. His eyes, usually twinkling with mischief and charm, were now almost bloodshot and darted around the room, taking in every detail with a keen sense of curiosity. 

You can't help but chuckle at Buggy's theatrics, a familiar warmth spreading through your chest at the sight of him. Despite his bombastic demeanor, you know there's a soft side to him that few ever see.

As the chaos around him continues, you take a moment to compose yourself before stepping out from your hiding spot. With a mischievous grin, you call out to him in a teasing tone:

"Now that's not nice and you know it." 

Buggy's head snaps up at the sound of your voice, "We're closed right now!"

"Oh, this dumbass." You roll your eyes under the hood before pulling it from your head. His eyes widening in surprise before a wide grin splits his face. Without a moment's hesitation, he strides forward, his arms open wide in welcome.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my favorite troublemaker," he replies, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. With a dramatic flourish, he strides over to you, sweeping you into a tight hug that almost knocks the breath out of you.

Finding yourself unable to keep your composer, you giggle into the chest of the shockingly 6'5 man and snuggle into his chest to quil the ache in your heart, returning his embrace with just as much intensity.

"How've you been, sis?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine concern as he pulls back to look at you, his hands resting on the apples of your cheeks.

You relish in the familiar comfort of his presence. "Oh, you know, same old same old," you reply, trying to play it cool despite the category 8 hurricane of emotions swirling within you. "Just thought I'd drop by and say hello."

Buggy quirks an eyebrow at your casual tone, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh really? Or is there something else on your mind?" he teases, giving your left cheek a playful pinch with his fingers.

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a laugh at his antics. "Maybe a little bit of both," you admit, your voice softening as you meet his gaze.

"I've missed you, Buggy. It's been too long."

Buggy's expression softens, his eyes reflecting the sincerity of your words. "I've missed you too, [Name]," he replies, his voice gentle as he squeezes your shoulders affectionately. "But something tells me there's more to this visit than just catching up."

You let out a sigh, knowing you can't hide anything from Buggy. "You know me too well," you admit, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "There's something I need to talk to you about."

As Buggy's eyebrows furrow in concern, his gaze searching yours for any hint of distress, you take a deep breath, gathering the courage to confide in him. "What's wrong?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You glance briefly at his performers, then lock eyes with Buggy again, a sense of urgency gripping your heart. "Got a place where we can chat in private?" you inquire, your voice barely above a whisper.

Buggy's expression flickers to something fierce, a glint of determination in his sea-green eyes as he analyzes you. Without a word, he stands tall, his shoulders squared, commanding the attention of his crew.

"Everyone is to keep performing," he announces firmly, his voice cutting through the air like a whip. "And when I come back, that lion better know how to tap dance or I'm making good on my promise!" His crew responds with a chorus of "Eye Sir's!" before Buggy ushers you away, leading you to a different part of the tent.

With swift efficiency, he pushes you inside a dressing room adorned with a star, the blue clown's symbol adorning the door. As you step inside, the door closes behind you with a soft click, enveloping you in a cocoon of privacy.

Taking a moment to collect your thoughts, you brace yourself for the conversation ahead, knowing that Buggy's keen intuition will leave no stone unturned. As you await his prompting, you can't help but feel a sense of gratitude for his unwavering support, even in the face of your deepest secrets.

The dressing room is a small, cozy space adorned with whimsical decorations that reflect the flamboyant nature of its occupants. The walls are painted a soothing shade of sky blue, with colorful streamers cascading from the ceiling, adding a playful touch to the atmosphere.

In one corner of the room, a vanity table sits adorned with an assortment of makeup and accessories, its surface gleaming under the soft glow of a dim lamp. A large mirror framed in ornate gold stands at the center, reflecting the room's eclectic charm.

Against the opposite wall, a row of hooks holds an array of costumes, each garment more vibrant and extravagant than the last. Sequins sparkle in the light, and feathers flutter gently as if caught in an unseen breeze.

In the center of the room, a plush red armchair beckons invitingly, its cushions adorned with polka dots in varying shades of blue. A small side table sits nearby, stacked with magazines and trinkets, offering a glimpse into the eclectic tastes of its occupants. The air is tinged with the faint scent of powder and perfume, a lingering reminder of the performers who call this space their own.

Despite its small size, the dressing room exudes an undeniable sense of warmth and camaraderie, a sanctuary where secrets are shared and dreams take flight.

Walking over to the vanity, you plucked a familiar red lipstick off the dresser before turning it in your fingers. "Ya know, I used to hate when you'd steal my lipstick," Buggy joked softly, crossing his arms over the swell of his chest. 

Upon hearing his words, your fingers instinctively squeeze the familiar red lipstick perched on the edge of the dresser. You hold it tighter, feeling its smooth texture against your skin, a sense of nostalgia washing over you. Looking up in the vanity mirror, you make eye contact with Buggy. His eyes sparkle with fond memories, a playful glint dancing in their depths.

You chuckle softly at his remark, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you remember the countless times you had playfully raided his makeup collection. "Well, you always did have the best shade of red," you tease back, your voice laced with affection.

Setting the lipstick back down on the vanity, you turn to face Buggy, the warmth of his presence filling the room. Despite the gravity of the conversation looming between you, his easy demeanor brings a sense of comfort, grounding you in the present moment. 

(You know shits bad when you gotta go to the crazy killer pirate clown for advice and comfort. Love and life advice at that!)

As you lean against the vanity, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm hue across your features, you find yourself lost in a moment of quiet contemplation. Memories of past adventures with Buggy flood your mind, each one a vibrant snapshot of the bond you share.

"You know," Buggy begins, his tone softening as he meets your gaze, "I've missed having you around. Things just haven't been the same without your antics to liven up the place."

His words stir something deep within you, a mixture of gratitude and longing intertwining in your heart. Despite the passage of time and the distance between you, the connection you share with Buggy remains steadfast, a beacon of light in the darkness.

"I've missed you too," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

"It's been lonely without you."

A flicker of sadness crosses Buggy's features, his gaze softening with empathy. "I know, sweetheart," he says gently, reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your face. "But you're here now, and that's all that matters." You gently grasp the back of his hand that cradles your face. Almost afraid that you'll wake up in that cold and empty castle again. The warmth of Buggy's palm anchors you to the human world.

In that moment, as you stand together in the quiet intimacy of the dressing room, you are reminded of the strength of your bond with Buggy. Through thick and thin, laughter and tears, you know that he will always be there for you, ready to offer his support and unwavering friendship.

No matter the situation, you'd always been there to defend Buggy and build each other's esteem up. Even Mihawk knew not to slip up when talking about the Flashy Jester if he didn't want to be shanked again. 

Speaking of Mihawk-

"So, you gonna tell me why you showed up all of a sudden instead of sending a letter or are we gonna stand here quietly together?" His voice snapping you out of your thoughts with the buzz of its low tone.

"Don't get me wrong muneca-chan, I love seeing you." He softly muses, stepping closer towards you until he pulled the stool from under the vanity out and sits you on it before dropping into his own red chair. 

"But something tells me there's more to this visit than just catching up."

You let out a sigh, knowing you can't hide anything from Buggy. "You know me too well," you admit, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "There's something really important I need to talk to you about. Shanks already knows before he called me last night, stop making that face, and you can't tell anyone else under any circumstances!"

Buggy's eyebrows furrow in concern, his gaze searching yours for any hint of distress. "What's wrong?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine concern.

Taking a deep breath, you gather your thoughts before speaking. "It's about love," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. "I... I think I have feelings for someone, Buggy."

"I think I'm in love."

Buggy's eyes widen in surprise, his expression shifting from concern to understanding.

"Ah, love," he murmurs, his voice soft with sympathy. "Love can be a tricky thing, especially when it comes to matters of the heart."

You nod, grateful for his understanding. "I just don't know what to do," you admit, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "I'm torn between staying here and following my heart."

Buggy places a comforting hand on your shoulder, his touch grounding you in the midst of your turmoil. "Listen to me, [Name]," he says, his voice gentle yet firm. "You can't let fear hold you back from pursuing what makes you happy. If you have feelings for someone, then you owe it to yourself to explore them, regardless of the outcome."

You take in his words, feeling a sense of clarity wash over you. "Thank you, Buggy," you say softly, your voice filled with gratitude. "I needed to hear that."

Buggy gives you a reassuring smile, his eyes sparkling with warmth. "Anytime, sis," he replies, giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze.

"Now, let's hear who the lucky one is!" 

Your smile stiffens before you whisper out quietly. Buggy frowns and leans closer from his chair.

"What's that, starshine?" 

As you gather your thoughts, the weight of your confession is lingering heavy in the air. Buggy's concern deepens, his brow furrowing as he leans in closer, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

With a sigh, you summon the courage to speak, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's... it's Mihawk," you confess, your words hanging in the air like a delicate thread.

Buggy's eyes widen in surprise, his expression a mixture of shock and understanding. "Mihawk?" he repeats, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"As in, Dracule Mihawk?"

You nod slowly, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as the truth finally comes to light. "Yes, Mihawk," you confirm, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging within you. "I... I think I'm in love with him."

Buggy's initial reaction catches you off guard. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and for a moment, a look of concern flashes across his face. "Wait, hold on a second," he says, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"Are you serious?"

You nod, feeling a pang of uncertainty creeping in. "Yes, Buggy," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know it sounds crazy, but... I think I might be in love with him."

Buggy's expression darkens, his features contorting into a mixture of shock and concern. "Are you feeling okay?" he asks, his voice laced with worry. "I mean, have you been feeling sick or something?"

You shake your head, a sense of frustration bubbling up within you. "No, Buggy, I'm not sick," you retort, a hint of irritation seeping into your tone. "I'm serious about this."

Buggy lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his wild blue hair. "Look, muneca-chan," he begins, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "This isn't something to take lightly. Mihawk is... well, he's not exactly the most approachable guy, you know? And besides, he's your boss, for crying out loud!"

You feel a surge of defiance rising within you. "I know all of that, Buggy," you say firmly, your voice unwavering. "But I can't help how I feel."

Buggy's frustration mounts, and suddenly he's popping his hands off in a fit of anger.

"Has he been trying to feel up on you? OW- OKAY! PUT THE PALLET DOWN THAT ONE WAS EXPENSIVE!" 

While you were holding his makeup hostage, the clown was now rubbing where his hair brush had struck his pectoral. Slowly, you sat back down in the chair as he regarded you like a wild hellcat. A pit of dread now knotted your stomach. 

"I'm not joking Buggy, I need thoughts!" 

"And prayers, you're gonna need them with that eagle- NOT THE FUCKING FACE!" You lobbed a jar of hair cream at him before breaking down in the vanity stool. "Don't be an ass okay! I didn't say anything about you and Shanks!" You gasped, hoping that your voice wouldn't crack any further. 

The weight of your words hangs heavily in the air, and you realize just how much you've been holding back. "I... I'm sorry," you stammer, guilt washing over you as hot, fat tears slip from the corners of your eyes.

Before you can even register it, Buggy has crossed the room in a few quick strides and scooped you up into his strong arms, returning to his chair and settling you onto his lap like a small child.

With your face pressed into his striped shirt, you let the dam burst, unleashing all the pent-up tears you've been holding back. Buggy's hand runs soothingly over your back, cradling your head to his chest as he murmurs comforting words.

Reaching into his sleeve, he pulls out a ridiculously long handkerchief, prompting some weak laughter from you despite your tears.

"You've been doing that corny ass joke since we were kids," you sniffle, gingerly wiping your nose before he tosses the hanky into the wastebasket.

"Yeah, well, it still gets a laugh outta ya, so I'ma keep on with it," Buggy replies with a soft smile. He gazes down at you with those piercing eyes of his, scanning your face with a mixture of concern and affection.

Buggy lets out another exasperated sigh, his frustration evident but tempered by genuine worry. "Look, muneca-chan, I get it," he says, his voice gentler now. "Love can make you do crazy things, feel crazy things. But you need to be careful. Mihawk... he's a complicated guy. He's got a lot of walls up, and he's not exactly known for being... well, open-hearted. I know you guys are friends and I was shocked he let you stay with him. But love is a whole different ball game."

You nod, feeling a bit more grounded by his words and presence. "I know he's complicated, Buggy," you say, your voice steadier now. "But I can't help how I feel. I just needed to tell someone, to get it off my chest."

Buggy holds you a little tighter, his grip reassuring. "Well, you've told me now, and we'll figure this out together," he promises. "Just don't go making any rash decisions, okay? Take your time, think things through. And remember, no matter what happens, you've got me in your corner."

His words, laced with both caution and encouragement, bring a small but genuine smile to your face. "Thank you, Buggy," you whisper, leaning into his embrace. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Anytime, starshine," he replies softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. "We'll get through this, one step at a time." He wipes the tears from your face with his warm thumbs, "But promise me you'll be careful, okay? I don't want to see you get hurt."

You can see the genuine concern in Buggy's eyes, and it touches your heart. Despite his gruff exterior, you know that he cares deeply for you, and his protective instincts are kicking in full force.

You nod, grateful for his understanding. "I just don't know what to do," you admit, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "I'm torn between staying here and following my heart."

Buggy places a comforting hand on your shoulder, his touch grounding you in the midst of your turmoil. "Listen to me, sis," he says, his voice gentle yet firm. "You can't let fear hold you back from pursuing what makes you happy. If you have feelings for Mihawk, then you owe it to yourself to explore them, regardless of the outcome." Your eyes glance over his right pec, knowing what picture was hidden inside that pocket. 

"But here's the thing about love, [Name]. It's not always easy to understand, and it's certainly not always convenient. But when you find someone who makes your heart skip a beat, someone who makes you feel alive in a way you've never felt before, well, you'd be a fool not to hold onto that with both hands."

Buggy's gaze softens, his features morphing into a look of genuine empathy. "Love is a complicated thing," he murmurs, his voice filled with compassion. "But if Mihawk is the one who holds your heart, then you owe it to yourself to pursue those feelings."

He gives you a reassuring smile, his eyes reflecting the depth of his friendship and loyalty. "You'll figure it out, sis," he says, his voice filled with confidence. "And remember, I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

His words struck a chord deep within you, resonating with the turmoil of emotions that had been swirling inside you since Mihawk's departure. Suddenly, everything seemed to fall into place, the confusion and uncertainty giving way to a newfound clarity. Buggy gives you a reassuring smile, his eyes sparkling with warmth.

"Anytime, [Name]," he replies, giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze.

You nod, grateful for Buggy's understanding and support. "Thank you, Buggy," you whisper softly , a sense of gratitude flooding your heart. "I needed to hear that."

As you stand wrapped in Buggy's embrace, you feel a sense of relief wash over you. His arms are strong and comforting, a reminder of the unwavering bond you share. But as he pulls back, a toothy grin spreads across his face, and you catch a glimpse of a familiar, sinister gleam in his eyes.

"And if he fucks up," Buggy says, his voice low and menacing, "there's gonna be one less Warlord in the sea."

The way he says it sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but chuckle nervously. Buggy's expression is a mix of protective determination and a hint of madness that you've come to recognize over the years. His blue curls frame his face, giving him an almost theatrical appearance, but you know better than to underestimate the seriousness behind his words.

His gaze sharpens, and for a moment, the room seems to grow darker as he continues. "I mean it, muneca-chan. Mihawk might be a badass with that big-ass sword of his, but he's no match for my flashy tricks. One wrong move, and I'll make sure he regrets it."

Buggy's eyes glint with a dangerous intensity, and you can tell that his big-brother instincts are in overdrive. Despite his eccentricities, you know that he would go to great lengths to ensure your happiness and safety. You reach out to place a hand on his arm, squeezing gently to remind him that you appreciate his concern.

"I know you would, Buggy," you say softly, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "But let's hope it doesn't come to that. I just needed to talk to someone who understands."

Buggy's expression softens at your words, the sinister edge fading as he looks at you with genuine affection. "Yeah, yeah," he mutters, rolling his eyes playfully. "Just remember, I'm always here for you, no matter what."

With that, he pulls you into another tight hug, his embrace warm and reassuring. You know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you'll always have Buggy by your side, ready to offer his unwavering support and friendship—even if it means taking on a Warlord of the sea.

"I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Probably live a very boring and un-flashy life."

"Oh no~, what a nightmare, HEY!"

He flashed you a smile as you held your recently pinched side. 

"Now, let's get you set up to spend the night. We've got a lot to catch up on." 

______________________________________________________________

And that wraps up chapter 4 of this series. Oh I am going to make you all work for 'that' delicious chapter.~

Part 5 is now posted.

At the time of this being posted, 5/19/2024, there is a poll ongoing for what, you, the lovely readers, would love to be called. Be sure to cast your votes!!

Make sure you check out the a03 account by the same name. Everything I have posted here is there in chronological order. I also have a few Buggy the Clown x Reader's posted in the masterlist! Give it a read if you please!

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. Drop a follow as well if you please. Don’t be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want.

I promise I bite~

Seen you soon my loves!!~ <<33

[nanomooselet]

My Brother's Keeper (VI)

You may have noticed that I didn't extensively discuss Rollo, Livio, or Legato, which is maybe odd considering they are (and pretty blatantly so) parallels or foils to Wolfwood and the twins. And it's mostly because I'm trying not to let this damn thing become even longer (it was supposed to be three parts. Three. It's clocked out at seven, and that's after I took a machete to it to stop it becoming eight. Goddamnit) and I did already go on about all of them in the episodes they appeared.

It's also because at this point, Wolfwood's story (for the moment) is done. When he makes the choice to leave July and Vash behind, that's the end, and the reason he returns actually isn't about him at all. The narrative focus is instead on Meryl and Zazie, making sure we know what both have to say about this. It's good to know Zazie's displeased by this turn of events and very unlikely to ever again believe a word Knives says. (Humans will eat your planet just like they did their own and real quick Imma use Vash to eat the planet myself first sorry-not-sorry BYE WORMS.) It's sweet that Meryl's love of Vash didn't result in her death by Knives's jealousy, as it did for Rem and nearly did for Luida.

Nick's concerns, however, have always been limited to the orphanage and Livio, and their fates are both now out of his hands.

Everything always comes back to the twins, in the end. I think in this analysis I've come to understand the key to Stampede, which is that almost nothing in it is only about the thing it seems to be about. It's always also in some way about the twins.

Wolfwood's part in Stampede is about how he was Knives's weapon and became Vash's follower. He goes from being Nicholas the Punisher full time, a walking dead man carrying his own tombstone, to being Nicholas D. Wolfwood, the awkward, scruffy, snarky dweeb who cares for his family with his whole heart and lives to see a kinder world. Inevitably he has been scarred and stained with blood - he remains the one who killed all those people on the cult's orders, and he'll bear the cross for them. But he's no longer limited to killing in order to save. There's a new path for him to follow.

It starts with doing what Vash would do: getting out of there while he still can before everything explodes. He just happens to scoop Meryl up as he's fleeing. When the twin angels ascend to do battle, the best place for mortals to be is anywhere but nearby.

He wasn't going to rescue Vash, and he never could have. Protecting Vash was the task Knives gave him, and that was out of an complete absence of respect for Vash as a person, a competent adult, a being of unimaginable power, an independent-thinking-individual-who-isn't-exactly-like-Knives etc. The very last fucking thing Vash needs is to wake up in the care of another paternalistic "older" brother - not that I believe Wolfwood would ever treat him the way Knives does, but frankly I can see why neither would want to take the risk.

(Also increasingly sure Knives is bsing about being the older twin. It's like how Wolfwood really is still a kid, and he acts like one, and honestly I think Vash treats him like one. Those startlingly fond, adoring expressions that blow you away a little bit? They're What Vash Is Like Always About Everyone. But especially kids. He's like that about Meryl, too, just less overtly.)

If anything, Vash saved Wolfwood. So Nick realises he has to survive, when before he kinda just wanted to die. He's no longer permitted some dumbfuck last stand. Fighting Knives is crazy and impossible, so let the impossible crazy man take care of it. It's his field of expertise. Love and peace ya'll. Woowoo's out.

Two things, however. The reason, in the manga, that Wolfwood didn't return to Hopeland (until he did), and the reason, in the manga, Chapel has none of the narrative's sympathy (not even Vash really gives a fuck when Wolfwood snaps his neck, and Chapel was already in a wheelchair at the time. I remember a bookclub post that declared God hates Chapel. I'm a layperson, but I'd call that theologically sound).

I mean, there are multiple reasons, but the most relevant is that in the manga, this evil-minded wrinkly fuck trained Wolfwood to kill. Wolfwood believed that being a killer rendered him unfit to ever again return home, until the day Chapel launched a direct assault on the orphanage using Razlo and Livio, revenge upon Wolfwood for taking up another cause - being Vash's friend - when his sole loyalty and purpose was supposed to be in death. He's disgusted that Wolfwood let Vash's ideals blunt his edge when previously he was near-"perfect".

I can't tell you what shape these events will take. But I can tell you they're still in the future. Stampede is a prologue, and the final phase has not arrived. Wolfwood's beginning is complete. His real story is yet to come. And I don't think he's forgiven himself for fulfilling the contract, even if Vash has.

The angel's eye, the Eye of Michael, still watches.

(And only the angel's? We'll see.)

Anyway, back to the twins.

(Part I)

(Part II)

(Part III)

(Part IV)

(Part V)

(Part VII)

[howdy-cowpoke]

TIMING: Promptly following ‘Horse Those Shoes’ LOCATION: Prickly Pear Acres PARTIES: Daisy (farm hand NPC) & Felix (@recoveringdreamer) SUMMARY: Felix can’t contain the jaguar any longer. Daisy is in the wrong place at the wrong time. CONTENT WARNINGS: none.

—

Immediately after Wynne took off running after Kaden and Monty, another sound drew Daisy’s attention. A shout, though it was not one of fear. She wheeled around, one hand reaching protectively for Felix, her bright eyes searching the chaos for the source. It was Denver, someone she’d never heard raise his voice before (or speak much at all, for that matter), shouting at someone through the smoke. Someone with a—what the hell was that? A machete? It was not one of the party guests or farm hands, and they were running at Denver through the hot, red haze of wildfire, weapon raised over their head. “Den!” she screamed, losing him in the smoke as quickly as she’d found him, but still managing to hear the yells of battle. In fact… those were all around them. Attackers were coming out of the woodwork like cockroaches, using the smoke from the fire they’d set as cover to sneak up on the undead farm staff and slaughter them. 

Daisy whipped around to face Felix now, fear in her expression. “We need to get you out of here,” she begged, desperate to keep them safe from what was clearly an attack meant for the people who worked and lived on this farm. She’d come back to help fight, but first she had to make sure Felix was okay. “Darlin’, please—” She could already hear it before they even said it. Their determined insistence on helping. She’d seen what they were capable of, after all, when they’d had to deal with that huge, beastly vampire creature that’d attacked the cattle. But she didn’t want them to have to get involved. “This ain’t your fight. Come on.” She was pulling on their arm, pulling them in the direction she thought was the main road. It was hard to tell with all the smoke.

—

The chaos around them was overwhelming. Felix would like to claim that it was the smoke that made it hard to breathe, but they knew the panic was probably equally responsible. Their eyes darted around the farm, catching on the flames and the panicked animals making escape attempts. They could hear the pained cries of ones not lucky enough to get away, too, and the sound of fighting beneath it all. This was an attack, they realized, not an accident. Someone had orchestrated this. Why? Monty and the rest of the people here were kind, some of the kindest people Felix knew. Why would someone want to hurt them?

Daisy’s voice drew them back to themself, their eyes landing on her panicked expression. “No,” they blurted out quickly, in spite of their fear. “Daisy, I — I want to help. You’re my friend. Monty is my friend. You’re all my friends. Please, let me —” But she was already pulling him away, trying to find the main road amongst the smoke. Felix let out a frustrated sound, trying to pull her back. “I’m — I can fight, Daisy.” And wouldn’t it be better to fight for a cause they believed in, even if they were afraid? 

—

Daisy grit her teeth as she felt Felix stubbornly pulling back, tears pricking her eyes. “I know you can, but I don’t want you to need to. We’ll be alright,” she lied. It was very clear that they would not be all right, if the chaos was anything to go by. “Please, Felix. Just get to the road, baby, get gone outta here—” She was trying to gently tug them toward her again when she heard a sound behind her and felt pressure in her midsection. Not really registering what was happening, the woman let out a soft gasp when the pressure increased, and she looked down. A long blade slicked with dark, thick blood was sticking out of her abdomen. Her eyelids fluttered and she looked up to Felix again, begging him with her wide eyes to just run. 

She knew they wouldn’t, though. That wasn’t the kind of person Felix was. 

The attacker that had come up behind her twisted the blade in her back and she screamed. It would have hurt a lot more if she wasn’t dead, but it still wasn’t pleasant by any stretch of the imagination. Still, it was far from a fatal wound to a zombie, and Daisy stumbled forward onto her knees as a rough hand shoved her, the blade slipping back out of her as she collapsed to the grass beside Felix.

—

“Daisy,” they said quietly, gesturing to the chaos around them without feeling the need to elaborate. They wouldn’t be alright without help, and most of the party seemed to be panicking. Felix could hardly blame any of them for that, felt the panic clawing at their own throat, too, but that didn’t mean they weren’t going to do everything they could to help. They had the ability to assist. What kind of person would they be if they didn’t use it? “At least — At least let me help get some of the people here to the road.” Wynne had gone off to help Monty with the horses, but there were other people who might need help. People who were Felix’s friends, too. 

So was Daisy. That made it all the more difficult when, suddenly, there was a glint of metal between them. Felix looked down with wide eyes, cursing themself for not having seen the attacker until the blade was already through her back. Daisy would be fine, he knew — Felix had seen zombies on this very farm come back from far worse — but they let out a cry anyway, tried to catch her as she fell. The man holding the bloodied blade seemed entirely uninterested in offering them a reprieve, though; already, he was swinging it at Felix’s head, forcing them to stumble away from Daisy. Panic clawed at their chest and, with it, the jaguar clawed, too. 

“I — stop.” There was a desperation to their tone. They didn’t want to shift here; there would be no controlling the beast if they did.

—

She’d been about to agree with Felix’s suggestion when the metal had slid itself through her midsection. Now, from her position on the grass, she watched as Felix narrowly avoided being slashed with the same blade, pulling away from her and begging their attacker to stop. 

“Hey!” Daisy shouted, pushing herself up again. “You’re here for me, ain’t you?” Her body was already fast at work repairing the wound, and her stomach clenched hungrily. “Focus up, come on,” the farmer hissed to herself under her breath, taking a step toward the younger man. “Come on!” The words were repeated as another scream, directed at the assailant, who seemed to hesitate for only a moment trying to decide between the two of them. She was right, after all. He was here for her, not whoever had been latched to her side. Though witnesses wouldn’t be a good thing to have, especially not ones that had seen his face. They both needed to go, probably. Yeah. 

The stranger was not a ranger, and therefore had no idea that Felix was not as they appeared. There was a chance, he knew, but he was going with what was certain first. And that was the zombie with a ravenous glint in her eyes. So, sucking in a sharp breath, the man threw himself at Daisy again, aiming to knock her down and get his blade to her throat. Daisy caught his arm, stronger now than she’d been a few minutes ago, wrenching  it down and around and kicking out his leg at the same time, sending him to the grass instead. She stood over him, furious. To kill him, she’d have to get in close. There wasn’t time to fuss with relieving him of his weapon, so she just dropped down onto him, wrapping her hands around his throat and letting out another wail as his blade buried itself into the side of her own neck. 

She looked to Felix. “Go!” she pleaded, knowing what could happen if they shifted. And she knew it wasn't always their choice, which was why she so desperately wanted them away from the danger. It was as much to protect them as it was to protect everyone else. 

—

Their eyes were wide and panicked as the attacker stared them down, heart pounding in their chest. Their gaze kept darting to the blade, to the glint of the metal and the dead blood that stained it. They’d never been stabbed by something so large before; the most substantial blade that had pierced their skin had been Parker’s, and those were closer to needles than they were knives. This would be far different. This would hurt. Felix didn’t want to hurt.

Daisy was on her feet in an instant, trying to draw the attention back to herself. Felix felt like a coward for the relief that flooded them, the feeling seeming like a betrayal to a friend who they didn’t want to see hurt, either. Worse still was the way the relief grew when the attacker turned towards her, ready to strike again. He threw himself at Daisy, and Daisy fought back. She got him to the ground, she wrapped her hands around his throat, and the blade went for her neck. Panic rose in Felix again as the stranger seemed intent on using all his strength to drive the blade further, to remove her head before her hands could suffocate him entirely. Daisy yelled at them to go, but how could they? They might not be brave, like some people were, but they wouldn’t leave a friend to die. 

Surging forward, Felix gripped the blade with their hands, slicing through their own palms in the process. They yanked it back, trying to pull it from Daisy’s neck. The man on the ground, his strength failing, didn’t do a very good job at fighting back. With Felix pulling at the blade and Daisy’s hands around his throat, there wasn’t much of a chance for him. With a final yank, Felix managed to pull the weapon from his grip, tossing it to the ground a few feet away. His palms hurt from where he’d grabbed it; he didn’t dare look at them. Later, they thought, Daisy could stitch them up. The Grit Pit wouldn’t grant them any time off work, but maybe they’d let them wear gloves or something. Maybe they could —

A force suddenly slammed into their back, knocking them to the ground. They landed on their stomach, the air forced from their lungs with the impact. A hand pressed on the back of their head, holding them in place while knees dug into their back, holding them down. Felix bucked, trying to get the weight off his back, but it held firm. There was a glint in the corner of their eye — more metal, they realized. The flat end of a blade pressed against the side of their face, the point sticking into the grass. 

“Please,” they gasped, “don’t — I don’t want to — You don’t understand what —” The blade moved, inching closer to their throat. The jaguar began to ripple through them, and they tried with everything they had to keep it down even as they felt the first subtle snap of bones breaking and reshaping.

—

It took a long time to strangle someone. They didn’t show that in the movies because it didn’t make for great action, but it took minutes. And when you were straddling someone and clutching their throat tightly enough to cut off their oxygen supply, minutes felt like a fucking lifetime. Especially when another stranger came bursting out of the smoke to tackle your friend to the ground. “No!” Daisy screamed, eyes wide with panic. “Leave ‘em alone! Leave ‘em the fuck alone!” She went mostly ignored, the black blood oozing from her neck sapping her energy faster than she’d like. Or it wasn’t her energy, she supposed, not judging by the death grip she had on the first man’s neck, but rather her consciousness. Fuck. 

Felix, to their credit, was dealing with the situation. Not in a way that either of them wanted, Daisy figured, but it was being dealt with. The person she’d grown to care so deeply for was shifting beneath his attacker, sprouting fur and fangs and claws and—she realized dimly that the man beneath her had stopped struggling. Looking down, she saw that his eyes were glazed over and staring off into space. She released his throat, hands hovering there for a moment as the sounds of an animal tearing into someone kicked up just beside her. The man did not move. He was dead. Slowly, vision blurry, the zombie dragged her gaze up to witness Felix—or, no, the jaguar—shredding his attacker’s front side clean open. She got to her feet, taking a wobbly step backwards. Her thoughts were becoming disjointed, her words hard to cobble together. She was losing herself, and Felix was already gone. She didn’t dare speak, didn’t dare draw the jaguar’s attention, instead taking another careful step backwards, hand outstretched defensively as if that would help. As if that would stop the jaguar from doing the same to her as it had to its assailant. 

—

They tried to fight it for as long as they could. In spite of the weight holding them down, in spite of the blade moving towards their throat, in spite of the clear and present threat to their own life, Felix didn’t want to shift. They didn’t want to become the uncontrollable animal that would certainly make the chaos of this already dangerous situation worse, didn’t want to put their friends at risk any more than they already were. But the jaguar that lived within their chest was a protective spirit; he had spent all his life, all of both of their lives, with one goal in mind. His survival was linked to Felix’s, and didn’t a wild animal want nothing more than its own survival? 

The pain of the shift settled in. It took their attacker a moment to register what was going on — Felix had one last coherent moment of wondering how much the man knew about shifters, if he’d expected to find any on the farm full of undead people he’d attacked. Would it matter if he did or didn’t? Whatever he might have known, the hesitation and surprise at the bones snapping and reforming beneath him was enough to seal his fate. Felix’s mind was pushed somewhere far away as the jaguar took over. And the jaguar wondered nothing at all; the jaguar only reacted.

His first action was to use the attacker’s surprise to his advantage and, with more strength than Felix possessed on their own, buck the man off his back. The man landed on the ground beside the jaguar, losing his grip on his knife. The jaguar didn’t hesitate, tearing into the man who’d meant to kill him. Teeth opened his throat, claws dug into his stomach. He was dead in seconds, but those seconds were doubtlessly painful as his innards were exposed and his throat was ripped out. The jaguar continued his assault even after the movements beneath him ceased, rage tearing through him with the same ferocity as his claws tore through the flesh beneath him. The jaguar was angry. The jaguar was always angry.

The sound of movement tore his attention from the dead man, his head turning abruptly towards someone else. A woman, standing nearby and looking at him. The jaguar didn’t recognize her, despite Felix’s fondness of her. Or maybe he did, but the fondness wasn’t shared. Or maybe the rage was too much to outweigh it, maybe the rage was all there was. The reasonings behind the movements mattered far less than the movements themselves as those movements drove them towards the woman, teeth twisted into a snarl.

—

Fear crept up the back of her neck as the big cat swung around to face her, maw dripping with the other man’s blood and she took another step back. She thought about how she’d just been telling Felix and Wynne that she almost never felt fear, but here it was all the same. She didn’t want to die, same as anyone, even though it had already happened once. And if the jaguar didn’t manage to kill her, what then? She’d heal, she’d get up, and she’d go on her own murderous rampage without thought or care. She’d cause just as much damage as the people that had attacked them, but without bias or control. She wanted that even less than death. 

He advanced, and she shrank back. “Baby, please,” she begged, knowing it was a pointless effort. Tears ran down her ruddy cheeks, her whole body fighting the urge to crumple to the ground and let the hunger take over. “Run outta here, Felix. You need to run.” He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He wasn’t in control anymore, and to this jaguar, Daisy was nothing more than a convenient target for his anger. Her outstretched hand came to her mouth instead, pressed over it to stifle the sobs. She wasn’t crying for herself so much as she was her friend, for the one that would have to carry this weight with them when they came back to their body.

She hoped they’d never find out.

She wondered how much this was going to hurt.

“It’s okay,” she told Felix through parted fingers, even though they couldn’t hear her. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

—

The woman’s words meant nothing to the jaguar, nor did the tears running down her face. He had no concept of the fondness Felix carried for the zombie; he had no concept of zombies at all, though his sharp ears picked up on the fact that her heart was not beating. It felt unnatural, felt wrong. That, coupled with the chaos around him and the lingering fear Felix’s presence had left behind, only served to stoke the fire of rage in the animal’s chest. 

The jaguar’s steps were slow, but deliberate. Like most cats, he had a habit of playing with his food. Maybe he would bat the woman’s body between his massive paws, or let her run from him just to chase her. The jaguar wasn’t often given this kind of freedom, after all; most of the time, when he awoke fully, it was within the confines of a fence, facing off against some other kind of shifter or some snarling beast. On those nights, he was not permitted time with his prey. The moment whatever flesh his teeth found stilled, a sharp pain would find his neck and a haze would settle over the world, shoving him back into his box until the next time he was needed. 

But there was no fence here. There was no sharp pain, no small human waiting to steal his consciousness from him. There was the jaguar, and there was the woman. There was the fire, the chaos. There were animals roaming, humans running. The jaguar’s tail swished back and forth, powerful legs pushing at the ground beneath him.

And then, opening his massive jaws and falling back on his haunches, the jaguar pounced. 

—

There was no world in which Daisy would raise a hand against her friends, least of all Felix. Even in this shifted state, even with the threat of dismemberment and death staring her straight in the face, she couldn’t fight back. She wouldn’t dare harm them, even though they would probably beg her to, if given the chance. They would wish that she’d defended herself, probably hoping that they might have regained control in the process, but… Felix was so far gone, Daisy knew there was no hope of that. They needed to be far away from this massacre for something like that to happen, and maybe if given the chance to satisfy that bloodlust, the jaguar would take off. Or it might hurt other people… she was in quite the moral dilemma.

There wasn’t any more time to debate what should be done. The jaguar was pouncing, and despite her deadened senses, Daisy could feel the animal’s claws bury themselves in her flesh as it landed on her. She stumbled and fell backwards, her eyes tightly shut as those jaws found her throat. This animal was an effective killer, but it was also a cat, and she just hoped that it wouldn’t drag this out longer than it needed to. Her arms reflexively pushed back on it, gripping its hide and trying to wrench it away from her, the fear setting in and overriding any sense of self-sacrifice she’d been holding onto. She didn’t want to die. She didn’t—

A strangle scream was ripped from her as the animal tore into her flesh, hurting terribly even with her already being dead—though maybe that was as much emotional pain as it was physical. Likely even more. She wailed again, sobbing at the same time, hating that this had happened. Fearing what might lay on the other side of this: permanent darkness, or an eventual wake from a feral state, her hands bloodied and corpses at her knees. Every option was terrible. But she was not angry, and in her heart, she did not blame her friend. She loved them, and would love them until she was no longer capable. 

—

Claws found flesh, and there was some strange sense of relief to it. The jaguar didn’t need to kill this woman the way he had needed to kill the man who’d held Felix down with a blade against their throat. There was no threat here, no reason for the way his teeth found her throat. It was the fear that drove it. The fear that came with the fire raging around him, the terror leftover from Felix’s certainty that they would die with a knife in their jugular, the unlimited pool of anxiety that lived in the chest of this body they shared. It was all too much, and so difficult for the animalistic mind of the jaguar to understand. Fear became anger in the mind of a thing not capable of much outside of it. And anger, to an animal, always ended the same.

The woman was screaming and, in a way, it felt good to transfer that fear he didn’t understand to someone who did. The jaguar tore at her flesh with his claws, his teeth at her throat. Powerful jaws closed around her neck, cutting that scream short. There was no raging pulse to be found; in a way, the jaguar was curious about its absence. He ripped and searched, black blood filling his mouth and staining his jaws. It was a disgusting thing; with his jaws still locked around the woman’s throat, he jerked his head back quickly and, with the damage already present from both his assault and the one committed by the dead assailant who’d attacked her to begin with, there was little hope at her body remaining intact. 

The jaguar’s jaws tightened around the throat, gnawing at bone as it detached and shaking the head in his mouth a few times. It was still; the body was the same. He sniffed at it, nudging it with his nose with a low yowl. Behind him, someone threw something into the fire. The crash was loud and startling, pulling the jaguar away from the corpse. Someone was screaming; it was cut short in the middle. The jaguar sniffed, snarling at the smoke before turning away from the woman’s body entirely and padding off.

He’d find his next meal elsewhere.

[rubbish-and-whatnot]

Can i have an Angst, Hanahaki reader with Ticci Toby? It's alright if you don't want to.

Ticci Toby x Hanahaki! Reader (angst)

(unedited. I hope you like it and let me know what you think. I'm almost always down for angst.)

word count: 1.2k

The shadows crept closer to the mansion, it was becoming increasingly clear that this would be a losing battle. Every time one of us would slash, crush, or bludgeon one of the beasts they’d dissipate then reform. Some humanoid, others bigger and nastier. The Proxies worked through as many as they could as tanks since they could take more damage than the rest, while everyone else picked them off as well as they could. The Operator is no where to be found, and the creeps were losing ground. 

I resented the fact that I was only allowed a small knife. Sure, they weren’t too keen on trusting me since I’m more a hostage turned barnacle on this residence, but it’s been just over a year. A pea shooter, at least! This was the last thing I needed right now. I crashed into the wall and grasped at my shirt. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. Jack was helping me manage the symptoms as much as he could, but he wasn’t confident in the surgery necessary for my condition. Jack, I needed to find Jack. A machete flew in and lodged itself at your feet in the snow. Jeff is thrown back and skids away from his opponent. Its red eyes lingered on him before moving on to me. A fit of coughing plagued me as my lungs and esophagus began to stretch further than intended, I fell to my knees. I hooked my surgical mask over my other ear, that’ll keep all of it in for now. The machete had heft in my grasp as I rose from my indent in the snow. 

The blade sliced through the shadow creature like butter. I charged through the battle field like a madman, hopping over bodies and broken carnage. Just one more tincture and it will be fine. It’s not too late. I don’t need to go to the hospital. Jack offered to put himself at risk taking me to the hospital, a real one. I told him that’s only a last resort. I won’t endanger his life over a little pain. My head whipped to and fro but he’s no where to be found. Was he inside? Was I headed the wrong way? I turned tail but skidded on a patch of ice. The figure in front of me softened the blow and kept me upright. Hands squeezed my upper arms just a little too tight. It was him. The reason for all this pain. 

Toby shouted words I couldn’t make out, my head began to spin. 

“Y/n! What are you doing out here?!” He shook me hard enough to get my attention, like it jostled something back in place in my head. My eyes fluttered as I felt weaker than ever in his grasp. 

“Jack- I need… Jack,” I rasped, my voice sounding like a chain smoker’s. He searched my face and nodded. After a quick scan it was clear he couldn’t find him either. 

“Tell me how to help you! W-what is that?” He reached out and pulled a purple petal out from my mask. I shove him off me and sprint in the other direction. He can’t know. It’s not his fault and I can’t make him change his mind. Tears burned my eyes and I helplessly pawed at them, but I had to keep going. The stems wriggled through my airways, tearing, scraping, growing. I began to hack, but it felt different this time. I touched the outside of the mask and examined my fingers. Blood. I had to think of something fast. Who was closest? Who was the most useful right now? Ben! My feet were heavier than ever before, I trudged and crawled to reach him. No no no no. I collapsed just a few feet shy. My vision was phasing in and out, I couldn’t even tell if I was coughing anymore. I just retched and curled into a ball, painting the snow with my agony. 

I think I saw Ben find me. He took off my mask and paled. He left for god knows how long. What was seconds felt like hours. Jack took up most of my vision when I opened my eyes again, the poltergeist nervously floated just behind him. 

“H…hospital,” I managed to make out. He scooped me back up and dodged the shadows. It was so comfortable I really wondered if it was so bad dying right here in the arms of a friend. Ben gave him cover as he darted across the lawn. Weapons flew over head and bombs went off like a real battlefield. Like real war. It was kind of nice. I came here a prisoner and now I had friends that were willing to risk their lives for my sake, who cared this much. I meekly reached up and touched his face. 

“Just hold on a little longer,” he yelled, it sounded like miles away. I glanced at what was ahead.

No. No, I said hospital Jack. Don’t do this! 

Jack didn’t take me to the hospital, that idiot brought me to Toby. I wriggled in his grasp to escape. I would crawl away rather than face this. Some words faded in and out. ‘She’s sick’ ‘Dying’ ‘Never seen anything like this before’. The doctor looked at me again and it was all a bit clearer, “Tell him. Tell him, you’re dying,” he begged. Jack lowered me to the ground and backed away. Toby knelt next to me not knowing how or where to touch- I must’ve looked so fragile. 

The fight was simmering down. The sun was starting to rise. 

“Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you need me to,” he grabbed handfuls of snow. I parted my cracked lips but nothing came out. It was him. It was always him. I don’t care how much it hurt. A part of me didn’t want to go to the hospital If it meant forgetting it all. The late night slushee runs. Chasing storms and watching the rain and thunder pass. Movie marathons under the same blanket. 

I hid the petals. I covered up the pain. If it meant one more day of normalcy. With him. There was only so much documented on hanahaki disease, but I always knew that untreated this was how it was going to end. Jack’s tinctures kept me going a couple weeks longer than estimated, but it was futile. The sky faded into a soft periwinkle, not unlike the petals that ravaged my airways. I was sick with morning glories. Sick of morning glories. I hope I never see one again. It was kind of funny though. They’re affiliated with the dawn, and the dawn is the last sky I’ll see. My back arched as Toby cradled my form. I took what energy I had left and used it to write my last words into the snow. The next minute was mere shutter frames of Toby crying and calling out for help. Others came and leaned in close to see what was going on. And then I was gone. 

The words sloppily written in the snow spelled out “I Love you.”

It was a mere minute too late.  

"What Does the Morning Glory Mean

Unrequited love

Mortality of life

Love that is in vain"

https://www.flowermeaning.com/morning-glory-flower-meaning/#google_vignette

[canyonkingdom]

on top

cw: ooc

tw: swearing

The good-for-nothing citizens of Broomstown were fortunately not in trouble, and the rescue team can finally have some time for themselves. All alone.

All...

alone...

Oh, well, it's not as bad as last time.

Right?

Once again proven wrong when Poli walked into the room with a can of gas in his left hand. He seemed to not give a shit about the dire consequences of his actions and gave even less of a shit when he accidentally tilted his can to Roy. The firetruck gasped in utter shock.

"Dude, what the fuck?" Roy shouted, desperately wiping off the gas on his frame. You could've used a towel, but no, hands are way better.

"You got in the way, asshole," Poli said callously. Helly then walks in with an AK-47- wait, an AK-47?

Poli and Roy looked at him with horror. Poli drops his can of gas. "PUT THAT DOWN-"

Helly uncharacteristically shoots the gun, pointing it at the calendar. His resting bitch face didn't budge. Poli dodged and Roy miraculously skims himself out of the situation.

"DUDE!" Roy screamed at Helly. "Didn't we tell you literally this morning not to use any of the weapons-"

Suddenly, Jin bursts through the room. Her laugh was deafening, and a machine gun was in her hands. The gun was pointed at the roof. Poli and Roy screamed.

"This is not normal." Poli muttered. No shit, Sherlock.

"There's nothing to do!" Jin shrieks as the ceiling filled with roles. Music to my ears.

"We're gonna spend a fortune on reparations-"

Jin threw Roy a machete, which didn't help as it landed on the ground helplessly.

"What-"

"Let's gang up on Poli!" Helly suddenly shouted. All faces turned the police car.

"Woah, woah, woah!" Poli said defensively, backing up against the doorway. "Who said that-"

"Let's just get on with it," Jin said.

Wait, what-

CHARGE!"

Poli ran for his life as gun sounds and metal clunking filled his ears.

Not as bad as last time, they said.

Poli makes his way out of the room. The hallways confuse him.

Then he thought.

Think faster bitch three idiots are literally ganging up on you-

"Alright! Alright! I'm going to the storage room!" Poli shouted. Footsteps get closer.

"It's him!"

Poli drives faster.

He transformed and stared at the door to the storage room. What a great time to stare into nothingness when you're being hunted down. Eventually, Poli shakes out of his trance and opened the door.

Weapons all around.

Poli zoned out. Only a glowing purple light shown.

"it's about time."

"Why are we doing this again?"

Roy was a pussy for cowering behind the two far superior human and helicopter holding weapons that could bust your fucking ass.

"The author made us do it, man." Jin replied in a joking manner.

The trio saw a purple light emitting from the storage room.

What a great way to loathe.

"We're fucked." Helly said.

"What?"

Suddenly, the ground started shaking like hell. Glass started breaking.

"What's happening?" Roy's naivete said, terrified.

Jin kept laughing like a maniac as she reloaded her gun. "He actually used it! Fuck!"

Poli, unnaturally swift, zoomed through the hallways. In his hands, there it was-

The Immortal gun.

"Oh God no." Helly muttered, "He's possessed."

"Dude!" Roy butted in, the machete in his hands almost swinging to the helicopter. "He literally owns the thing, we all know what happens when-"

"I'm on the top of the world!" A purplish laser shot out from his immortal gun. Amber and Helly dodge as they reload their own weapons. But Roy screamed as the laser shot through his face.

"AHHH- WHAT THE FUCK-" Roy started glowing in purple, dropping his machete as he floated in the air, still screaming horribly.

"Is... is that what it's supposed to do-"

Poli then shot the gun to an unobservant Helly.

"What-

-the-

FUCK."

Jin watched as her two allies went fuck that shit and left her with a rogue Poli.

"Let's battle." Poli said to the remaining person.

Jin hissed as he pointed her gun at the robocar. "Will do-"

Helly screamed like he was in pain. "Why am I in hell?"

...

What did the bitch just say.

"Are you stupid?" Poli laughed, but it will never replicate Jin's amazing evil laugh.

"Yes you are." Wads of bullets shot at the car.

Amber returned from Cleany's fiasco over an irremovable stain spot she sighed as she drove into the gate of the headquarters with her eyes closed, blissfully unaware of the chaos the team had created.

"I'm ba-" she opened her eyes to the burning remains of the headquarters.

They are all gonna die, aren't they?

-///-

this is for @light-everything-in-pink

the crack is not cracking lmao

and idk how the immortal gun is supposed to work so-

[cranberryvishnu]

Cranberry - With Bloody Tom and the Coffin Riders... VII

PART VII

The sprint to the building I had selected for myself was not far - but the deep snow made it feel like a bad dream. 

It was the feeling of running with desperate urgency, yet not moving in accordance with my efforts.

I slogged past the locals who had agreed to help in the resistance - but they were woefully unprepared for what was happening. Some of them had pitchforks!

Really?! Pitchforks?! 

We are not pursuing Frankenstein’s monster here! This is a battle for our lives and we have villagers from a Mary Shelly novel assisting us?!

Rubble from ruined buildings littered the dirty snow filled streets mingling with the bright, arterial blood spray and bodies of the unfortunate.

Finally, I reached the structure - it had a low overhanging roof above the front door. Without breaking stride, I leapt up onto a nearby wagon and used it to spring up to the roof.

It creaked ominously under my weight but didn’t break as I lightly ran up the large, pointed roof. From here I was able to get a better view of what we were up against.

I raised my binoculars up to get a better look -  it was not good. We were hemmed in on three sides with the snowy tree-covered mountains at our backs.

Out by the creek, I could see Eli. He was holding something half submerged in the water… it was something - large… it was… hard to see. Then I watched as he pulled a dead enemy up out of the frozen creek by the collar of his coat. 

I could even see the expression of horror frozen on the dead bandit’s face. 

Then - faster than I would have thought possible - Eli whisked the body around like a rag doll and used it as a shield to block a hail of arrows fired from the hillside. The shafts seemed to sprout from the dead man’s body as they struck his chest. 

Casting the dead man aside, Eli drew his Lancaster and fired a series of thunderous shots with deadly accuracy. I could see the antagonists on the hill flail and scramble as they were cut down. 

Behind him about twenty five yards away I saw two bandits break from the cover of the treeline to rush him. They had large, razor sharp machetes drawn and I was not sure that Eli was aware of them.

I snapped my Carcano to my shoulder, sighted briefly and fired - the CRACK, CRACK  tore across the valley - and that act - it woke something up in me.

Like a bubble of ancient vapor from the bottom of a swamp, the memory floated to the surface of my mind.

As I watched the two villains drop loosely to the ground, I was reminded of the way my little ragdolls would flop onto the floor when play time was over and I was called away by my mother and father to tea. 

Just squeeze the trigger once… plop. Twice…plop.

Time for tea.

In the distance I could see Eli was aware of my assistance. He looked my way and tipped his hat, then ran towards another attacking group further to the east.

Maybe he did not need my help. Maybe he would have seen them in time... Maybe not.

I did not have time to think about that - out of the corner of my eye I could see three horsemen approaching. Again, I sighted briefly and fired directly into the chest of the first horse in the trio.

CRACK-A-BOOM!

The poor beast went down in a flailing heap, causing the other two riders behind to crash and tumble into a screaming, thrashing chaotic pile.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Three more headshots - three more puffs of pink mist spattering the snow - three more rag dolls lifeless - I felt the heady rush of focus - I knew… I knew I could not miss!

Three more targets by the tree line! Without a thought - I was firing.

CRACK - CRACK - CRACK -

Three more headless puppets staggering in mindless circles as they spiraled to the bloody ground with their strings cut.

If I see you, then you are dead!

I heard a shot ring out right behind me - 

BANG!

As I turned to face my attacker - a brigand with a machete who fell across me knocking me to the ground!

I moved swiftly to shove him aside before he… he was already dead!?

There was a smoking hole in the center of his back. Thick, bright oxygenated blood was pumping out of the fatal wound.

I looked left - right… then I looked to the street below and saw…

“Bloody TOM! Thank you - you saved m-”

Bloody Tom didn’t seem in a chatty mood as he responded.

“If you’ve GOTTA be on that fuckin’ roof Cranny - then - watch your damn back!”

As if to emphasize his point he cycled another round into his Lancaster and… and I don’t know how he did this - but without seeming to look, he swung his gun at a 90 degree angle and [BANG!] blew a large hole clean through the skull of an invader who had been taking aim at him from behind a supply crate. 

I saw two more bandits panic and dash away from that position - I felt that excited rush as I brought them into scope - they were so close, and I could feel their fear - it tasted delicious! 

They didn’t have a chance. It was like hitting the side of a barn with the side of a barn… 

CRACKABOOM! CRACKABOOM! Two more floppy little dolls in the snow.

I moved to the highest point on the roof and took refuge behind the chimney as I scanned the open ground beyond the creek looking for Mr. Grimfrost.

[creek-cryptid-deluxe]

I'm sorry I've not posted in a bit. Here's a quick run down:

Official moving day is this Saturday (Nov 5).

Vin is acting 110% afool and has decided to treat me the way he treats all women in placesof authority... except I don't stand for it & have a spine & refuse to back down. His current thing is acting like I've not said anything and thus not doing as he is asked or repeating a question until L says something. He also says a lot of stuff to me (usually indirectly) with an absurd amount of malice. For example, he will act like he is saying something to Ari, but he looks directly at me & the content is something he thinks will hurt or upset me. I give no reaction at this point because the last time I raised my voice, he legit laughed in my face.

(Side note: Grandmama, if you are watching me from some afterlife THIS RIGHT HERE IS WHY I NEVER GAVE THE SPAWN SIBLINGS. I was done and now... this.)

I had 5 loads of laundry that became my Sisyphus's boulder for 4 days. I washed and folded them... then broken glass got all over them. I washed them... then they were strewn across the dirty kitchen table. I cried. I washed them AGAIN but folded and put them awayas each load was dried.

I'm on day 4 of an epic battle with ants in the kitchen & kids' bathroom. We are all 99% sure they started in Vin's room because he is a slob and he sneaks food into his room at night. We are having to take drastic measures in the form of putting a bike lock on the fridge & cabinets as well as setting up cameras in the kitchem & hallway for at night. I've had to wipe out 100s upon 100s of ants. And there's always more. I'm getting a quote from an exterminator today.

The weather has been fucking me up.

Halloween was fun. We trick or treated. Vin was Jason (but had his machete taken almost immediately for hitting his sister), Ari was Winifred Sanderson, and Zel was a corpse bride. I wore my regular clothes and was called a witch multiple times (dope) and L was an 80s hockey fan via a vintage hockey jersey...?

Friday we are going on a real in public date to see Cabaret at the local community theater.

L has casually mentioned wanting to marry me/get old together no less than once a day. Or he just says something like "when we retire..." or "once the kids are grown..." It's adorable. I love it.

[sashi-ya]

HI @sashi-ya I was waiting for this event to open up again 🥰🥰🥰 thank you so much!! Can I please request a NSFW Koby. Female S/O is a swords woman who helps Koby protect the Dressrosa royals from the pirates but then gets injured on the process so Koby is worried which turns to passion. Koby worshipping her. Oral, fingering, rough, losing control, multiple orgasm. Please and thank you so much ☺️

Hi babe!! Of course! It's the first time I write something with Koby so I hope you like it! I think it turned out good, I tried to stick as much as I could to the canon characteristics of Koby but with a spicy twist!. Thank u for requesting and your support!! ♥

🔥NSFW ~ Koby x F! Reader ~ My Captain

a/n: first time I write for Koby! I hope I didn't fucked up with the way I portraited this shy hot marine.

tw: violence. blood. rough sex. injured reader. oral sex. fingering. praising. unprotected sex.

wc: 2.1K for some reason it turned out to be longer than I expected (almost 700 words of background story, I'm so sorry)

The pink haired marine captain usually stutters while you talk to him. Maybe it really shows how in love with him you are, maybe he is just really shy.

You see him speaking with Rebecca, the lovely princess of Dressrosa. Apparently Monkey D. Luffy has been the only conversation topic you have heard from him, and you are getting a little annoyed. But, even so, you decide to join them anyway.

“Princess. Captain” you salute both of them. When looking at Koby, you bow by taking your hand to your forehead. He widens his eyes and nervously, bows back. Rebbeca stops talking about Luffy and changes -thank God- topics. “(Name) you use two swords, right?” she asks. “Yes! I do!” you smile at her showing the katanas tied on each side of your hips.

“She has mastered the art of nitoryuu” Helmeppo says while approaching you on the deck of the Royal Dressrosa ship, “The Prodence”. Koby looks at him, he seems really nervous. And suddenly his eyes turn red. You follow. Koby and you stand side by side. His fist up in the air, your katanas ready to slice whatever enemies are about to attack the royals under your care.

All of a sudden more than twenty pirates jump from underwater to your ship. They laugh at you with their dirty mouths. Soon you realize all of them have the Kurohige pirates tattoo on their chest. “These aren’t easy enemies” you whisper, back-to-back with Koby. White justice capes pressed.

Helmeppo has taken the princess to a safer place and is ready to join the battle. You have already sliced more than five pirates. Koby has hit some more. Yet, one of them directly attacks your captain, so you jump in front of him to protect him. Both of your katanas block the attack from a huge machete.

“(Name)!” Koby shouts. “(Name) move!!” Helmeppo screams. The machete has been a great distraction, and while you get your arms up, your torso gets completely exposed to another pirate. He shoots a gun towards you. But your captain is strong and fast enough to push you by snatching you from your arm, allowing the bullet just to graze part of your ribs.

You fall to the ground, blood sprouting from your side. It hurts, but luckily it hasn’t been a deathly injury. But Koby doesn’t know it yet, and he turns into fire when your white shirt gets quickly stained with crimson vital fluid. “YOU HAVE HURT MY… MY VICE CAPTAIN!” he shouts, and his fist gets covered in dark hard matter. Armor Haki to the face of each one of the pirates.

In a minute, all of them lay over the dock. Some unconscious, some spitting blood. The few teeth they still had, are now all scattered over the floor. “You disgusting pirates, you are nothing like true pirates. You are just scum!” you see him shouting at them, while Helmeppo takes you inside.

Viola takes care of your wounds instantly, and even if you are feeling ok. Just a light sore on your side she suggests staying on Dressrosa for some days before setting sail again. “Luckily, we are no more than an hour from arriving at home, you will be ok” she says, smiling so kindly.

The door opens with a slam, Koby’s hand covered in blood and a completely desperate face. “(Name)! I’m so sorry! Are you ok?” he shouts, running to your side. You smile, he looks so manly and worried about your wellbeing. A handsome captain who has fought for you…

“I’m ok, Captain! It was just a scratch!” you say, but he is not taking it and instead kneels on the ground next to you. Glossy eyes when looking at your scratches, the blood-stained shirt. The ripped white cape that rests over the floor.

An hour later you are already being taken outside the ship towards the royal palace. The sunflower field welcomes you again, and the summer island seems as lively as every day.

Once you have been properly treated, Koby bends repeatedly to thank the doctor at the door of your room. He stays there for the rest of the day, never entering once as he has been notified you are only wearing bandages.

But the night comes, and you get really thirsty. So, you stretch in order to reach a glass of water but the scratch on your skin makes you squirm and whine in pain. “Damn!”. In a moment Koby is already inside your room, running towards you. “(Name)! Are you ok? Do you need the doctor?” he asks, panting.

You giggle and turn back to the bed. “I’m ok, captain. I was just trying to reach for a glass of water” you say. “Right, let me help you” Coby tells you and grabs the glass. He takes it to your mouth and even if you are able to drink it on your own, you just let the poor man help you.

“Do you need anything else, (Name)? Just tell me, please” he says. “I’m ok Koby, but… do you mind staying with me tonight?” you ask, a little shy. He takes air and widens his eyes. “Yes, of course” Koby mumbles. “Thanks, Captain”.

He sits on your side and after some chatting you fall asleep. But somethings wakes you up…

You hear on your dreams the voice of your captain, softly whispering. “I’m… sorry (name). It hurts to see you like this. It must have been me, not you. Why did you put yourself in front of me?”. A barely sensed graze on the side of your cut eyebrow and the words that make you open your eyes straight away…

“I… wish I could find the courage to tell you how much I love you… Luffy was right, I’m still a crybaby”.

“You are not a coward, Captain. You just told me” you whisper. The man freezes in place, sunglasses falling from his head to his eyes. He quickly takes them off and a flooding number of unintelligible words escape his mouth. You grab his arm in a comforting way and pull him softly towards you.

Coby looks at you, lips separated, breathing hard. His eyes go from yours to your lips. And you just smile as he approaches them. And in just a second your mouths pressed. Shy kisses turn into tongues that playfully dance with each other in a steamy making out session. “Captain, I want you…” you whisper, showing him the bed so he could hop on it. “Are you… are you sure?” he asks, aware of your condition. “I am, come here”.

You move to the side while Coby quickly takes his coat and lets it over the chair. He jumps next to you, and softly holds your face. Noses pressing, both smiling. It seems as if the two of you have been waiting for this for so, so long. “Captain…” you mumble. “Don’t call me captain…” he whispers. “Koby…” you say. He looks so happy with your lips pronouncing his name…

A new kissing session starts, he is careful with your injured side. His hands go up and down your back, yours around his neck, playing with some strands of pink hair on the back of his head. And his shyness slowly but surely goes away, and while his lips travel all around your neck and collar bones, he praises every single aspect of you. “Your skin is so soft”. “Your perfume, your scent I can’t get enough”. “You are perfect”.

His sweet kisses all over your skin, and even over the gauze that covers your breasts. The little patches of skin in between the medical material are where Koby places more pecks. And little by little he goes down on you. Your stomach flesh spasms when the tip of his tongue traces wet circles all around. The increasing roughness of his actions turns you more and more on. He started as you were made of crystal, but the accumulated hunger for you is making him lose any type of control.

His finger takes your underwear in a single motion, revealing your wet sex to him. He licks his lips and takes off his glasses and bandana before pouncing into you. His soft pink locks of hair fall over his face, the X scar over his forehead and a sharp mandible drives you crazy.

“Koby… you are so hot” you moan while his index finger goes up and down on the slit of your core. He smirks so sexily; with a confidence you haven’t seen ever before in him. And while fixing his eyes on yours, he sticks his tongue out and licks you up.

You throw your head back, moaning. Your thighs want to close, but Koby buries his hands on them just to keep them spread. He bites the inside of your legs, leaving several marks on each side. “I think I’m gonna let you suffocate me in between these thighs, so perfect”. You bite your lip; he is absolutely a different person. The little shy captain is now such a man…

And he sticks one finger, and then another one inside you. His mouth sucks your clit, his tongue plays with your arousal liquids forming strings with it and showing you how naughty he is becoming. And he is doing it just for you, just to fuck you. And you just whine, hands pulling from his hair as he worships your pussy. You pray for all Dressrosa kingdom not to hear you moaning his name, yet at this point you are not really sure about it.

The tip of his fingers hit your g spot, he goes violently up and down, inside out, pressing your lower belly more and more. You just lose control, your spasm as your captain's fingers and tongue do wonders to you. “K… fuck… K-oby I’m coming…” you tell him. “Come for me, I want you to come as many times as you can” he orders you. “Come for your captain”.

“Yes, Captain. My Captain”

You arch your back, as you hit climax pulling from his hair as you do so. Koby enjoys the taste of your orgasm and doesn’t let you rest for a single second. He kneels in bed, you despite being in pain sit and help him rip his clothes off. Several past scars garnish a naked delicious body. A body he has always covered in front of you. You thank the gods to be able to finally witness such perfect anatomy. Marked abs that end on a perfect V. V that marks the path to paradise with a slight happy trail. Your feet pulling his trousers down. His member, erect, rock hard frees himself from the clothing. Dripping precum, ready to fuck you so hard.

His arms on each side of your head, dick lingering over your lower belly. Sights fixed, biting lips. Intense aura around both of you, not sure if that’s Haki or just desire. Either way, it feels strong, so strong.

“Fuck me, Captain. Do it now”.

And hell he does.

Koby smirks at you and attacks your mouth. He bites your lip and pulls from it, while guiding his dick to your entrance. At first he grazes his gland with your clit, you moan while he got your lip trapped in between his teeth. Mixing precum and arousal fluids, all of a sudden inside he goes. Really deep, so hard and rough.

Your legs snake around his waist as a response. Your hills buried on the strong small of his back as he pumps inside you. Fast, violently. Losing control of himself, forgetting about your injuries.

Rough thrusts that make you come, not once, but twice. Nonstop. All night long. A tremendous endurance, he hasn’t come yet just so you could orgasm more and more.

But even him has its limits, and those are four simple words that slip from your mouth… “fill me up, Captain”. And because he is there to worship and serve his goddess, he gives the most amazing last thrusts until you come once again, and he follows you. Filling you up, so good and warm. Seed spilling from your insides to the bed.

He flops next to you, all sweaty and agitated. You bring him closer so his head rests over your bandaged breasts. “I…” he blushes realizing how much he has lost control a few minutes ago. “Koby, I knew you were hiding something” you whisper.

“What? I wasn’t” he stutters. “Oh yes, yes you were. Have you seen how good you just fucked me?” you say, laughing. The poor pink haired guy closes his eyes and buries his face on your chest. “Stop it…”.

“Oh, by the way… I’m in love with you too, Captain” ... ♥~

[an-inky-fingered-lass]

A story about many things, but mostly about the love between mothers and daughters, through the generations: born and chosen, lost and found.

The wind picked up, bright leaves sighing against the baby blue of a breakable sky. Daisy glanced across at May’s still profile. 

“I’ll walk with you?” 

May glanced at her -- was that a flicker of surprise? -- and nodded. 

Coulson didn’t say anything, as they got out of the car. She saw them exchange a glance, brief and loaded and steady, familiar; May took the lead, hiking up the hilly ground. The flowers in her hand were splotches of color, her dark jeans and old leather jacket standing out stark against well-tended green. Daisy fell into step at her shoulder. 

She’d known that May came here every once in a while. Not often. May hadn’t asked them to come along this time as much as she’d made it clear she didn’t mind if they did. 

Daisy had negotiated her way into getting May to delegate some of her workload for the first time a few years ago, when there wasn't time for anything and May was busily pretending she wasn’t running herself ragged, trying to do a million things at once. She’d ended up on the phone with a list of florists local to various states, who’d made knowing aaah sounds when she said she was speaking on behalf of Melinda May. Lilies and roses, arrangements she didn’t even have to specify; she’d been handed a scrap of paper at least twenty years old, May’s spiky handwriting unchanged and the specifics unthinking in a way that told Daisy this had been routine for a very long time. 

They came to a stop; Daisy's breath stuttered slowly out of her lungs, in spite of herself. 

Continue reading on ao3.

[redheadedwhat]

The First Meeting

So, this is sort of a prequel to a story I have brewing. The story is more of a mishmash of ideas, but I’m trying to write it. Any comments or helpful critiques are welcome since I didn’t have anyone to beta.

----- It was September 1983, the beginning of Eddie Munson’s senior year. So far 1983 had not been great, but he was determined to make ‘84 his year. He had been minding his own business in Bio class, trying to take a few notes or at the very least make it look like he was paying attention. Unfortunately, that got old quickly so to alleviate his boredom he began to draw in the margins of his notebook, eventually settling on a pretty badass picture of Michael Myers stabbing Jason Vorhees. He’d been putting the finishing touches on his masterpiece when a voice next to him snapped him out of his stupor.

“That’s disgusting.”

He looked to the side to see the girl he shared his lab table with intently looking at his drawing. Before he could fire off a witty reply she continued,

“You really think Myers would beat Jason? Machete trumps knife every time, dude.”

“Marry me,” he blurted out before he could stop himself. He didn’t mean to say it, he was just a bit shocked. He had been so sure that he was going to get in trouble for grossing out his seatmate on the first day of class that when she actually knew the movies he was referencing his relief and excitement made him go temporarily insane.

The girl tilted her head to the side as if she was actually considering his proposition. “I don’t think that’s legal.”

“I’m Eddie,” he grinned, amused with her response and still somewhat shocked that he hadn’t scared her off.

She finally looked up from his drawing to give him an answering smile back, “Minnie.”

“Like the mouse?” Eddie asked, his mouth still working quicker than his brain.

“It’s a nickname for Amelia.” The girl explained, her attention now focused on her notebook where she had started her own drawing.

“How do you get Minnie from Amelia?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged, “I wasn’t consulted during the naming process.”

“Well, I think I like Mouse better.” He decided.

Minnie just shrugged again, her attention firmly on drawing her own Michael vs. Jason battle.

Eddie leaned in a bit closer, grin still firmly on his face. “Since marriage is off the table, you’re now officially my new best friend. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

She glanced up at his amused face briefly before nodding in agreement which made Eddie grin even wider. This was definitely going to be his year.

-----

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to keep this separate or put it with the other chapter I have, but I couldn’t make it work and I have no one to bounce ideas off of so I just chucked it up here to see how it goes I guess!

[mio-parasite]

❤️ Monsters in Latin America ❤️

Hello very good dear community of monsters lovers how are you? I hope you do well and if not I hope that your day will improve so that everything goes well.

I want to introduce you to some (not all as there are too many) lovely monsters of Latin America, I want to spread a little about my own culture and expand the repertoire of monsters to love, care for... Etc, I hope you like this bit Latin American story any questions you have about these creatures can contact me.

And I want to apologize if my English is very bad

Well without further ado, I introduce you to these lovely monsters from Latin America.

El Athrathrao o Basilisco

It is born in a henhouse, from a small round egg of coarse and rough cascara, of grayish white color, called lloilloy egg or lloe egg, which according to legend is believed to be laid and incubated by a rooster. If this egg is not removed, within a few weeks it will become a basilisco.

In the daytime, the basilisk chilote hides under the house of the owner of the henhouse, and at night he would come out of his hiding place while all the people sleep. At that time he would emit a hypnotic chant similar to cockcrow, which would cause people to stay asleep. After singing, he would go into the rooms to be able to feed himself, absorbing the breath and sucking the saliva of those who sleep. The affected person would lose the desire to eat, so he or she would get thinner and thinner, and his or her face would become pale. With the passage of time, a strong and persistent cough would appear and his breathing becomes more and more difficult, and finally he dies. The same thing happens with every one of the inhabitants of the house.

La Pincoya

She is a mermaid of extraordinary beauty (with a slightly tanned white complexion and blond hair), whose job is to protect the sea, sow it and rescue the castaways.

When the pincoya dances facing the ocean, it is warning that there will be an abundance of fish and shellfish. And when you do it looking toward the coast, there will be shortages.

To be favored by it, one must be content; That is why the fishermen are accompanied by happy friends.

It is also said that if you fish or shellfish a lot in one place, the pincoya gets angry and leaves that area, which then becomes sterile. The pincoya is sometimes accompanied by her husband, the pincoya.

The mermaid lived in a huge cave and used to swim in the lagoon and the puchanquin river. From the rocks, with a whistle, he made emerge from the bottom of the waters a solid trunk of gold, which he climbed to comb his golden hair. Sometimes, during the night, he would sing haunted love songs, which no one could resist.

In addition, many people sought the woman for favors, until she disappeared from the place. It is believed that it was called cuada from the huelde lagoon to bring prosperity and abundance to distant beaches.

Since then, the waters took on the dark color they have today, and although many have tried to imitate the siren's whistle, the golden trunk is still submerged waiting for its owner.

El Muqui / Muki

The muki, or anchancho, is a goblin in the mythology of the central andes in Bolivia, Peru, Ecuador, and Colombia; Which is characterized by being a miner and, as such, its existence is limited to the underground space: the muqui lives inside the mine.

Its name comes from the quechua "murik" (" he who asphyxiates "). However, 'muki' also means' humidity ', so it is said to also appear in places where there is water. From puno to cajamarca, passing through pasco and Arequipa, the descriptions of this creature are always the same: it is of small stature, does not exceed half a meter. Their favorite victims are unbaptized children, whom they hide in FIG and banana trees to make one of them.

Piuchén

Piwicheñ is a Mapuche voice that means "to dry people", this mythological creature is better known as Pihuchén, Piuchén or Piguchen.

It generally has the appearance of a flying snake, emitting high-pitched whistles. But also its changing appearance has something of a human, snake, bird, fish, quadruped, frog and bat. It is usually covered with grass, bushes and twisted cylinders, like hooked horns. It produces a substance so irritating that when it is transmitted through the air or water, it causes skin eruptions very similar to scabies.

It has incredible longevity, its wings grow when it has reached its mature age, in old age it transforms into a bird the size of a rooster or a young turkey, equally bloodthirsty. It has such a powerful force that it can topple large trees and raise gigantic waves that wreck ships.

He is used to living in lakes and rivers, where his presence causes panic, those who have the misfortune to contemplate him will soon die. At other times, he petrifies his victims with his intense gaze, and then sucks their blood.

Trentren Vilu y Caicai Vilu

Trentren vilu (terrestrial snake) and caicai vilu (sea snake) are two colossal and powerful snakes that have the ability to cause earthquakes and volcanic eruptions (trentren) and tsunamis and floods (caicai).

Legend has it that one day caicai awoke from his sleep and, seeing how ungrateful men were to the sea that gave them so much resources, unleashed his fury and used his tail to cause tsunamis and flood the earth as punishment. Trentrain, however, came to the aid of the terrestrial creatures and saved those he could on his back to put in the hills, those he could not save he turned into birds, fish and Marine mammals and drowned in sumpall. Caicai, for his part, did not stop and raised the waters even higher, to which he responded by raising the hills even higher.

Seeing this challenge, caicai attacked trentrum, thus beginning a Titanic battle that lasted for a long time until they finally ran out of strength.

By the end of the battle, the geography had changed, resulting in the numerous islands and canals of southern Chile.

Exhausted and defeated, caicai returned to sleep, leaving millalobo as ruler of the seas. For his part, trentrum also went to sleep.

However, with the passage of time, the men became ungrateful again, also causing the displeasure of trentin, who from time to time moves in his sleep causing earthquakes and eruptions, while caicai by moving his tail causes tsunamis.

Yaguareté-Abá

Tiger man or leopard-man, this being is a character known in northeastern Argentina and the great chaco, this arises from the great adoration of a sorcerer towards these animals and is based on the metamorphosis from human to beast, or the reverse.

The transformation of the sorcerer begins with the use of a jaguar leather and a sauma with hen's feathers. And that because of these they were given the power to shed their skins and transform into a creature half jaguar and half human. Later, they go hunting and after eating their prey they return to their human form performing the same procedure.

He is extremely aggressive and only eats human flesh, from mule or cow, he liked to loot ranches and he liked to force young women to clean it. The only way to escape from his escape is to manage to remove his hide and spit in his face because they are blind and vulnerable to attack, after death they return to their human form. This must be accompanied by bullets or machetes that are blessed but this is not all - you must behead him after killing him to make sure he does not come back to life.

La Fiura

She has the appearance of a disgusting woman, with large breasts and tiny stature (40 to 50 cm) and long black hair. Her face has hideous features, with sparkling eyes that are almost hidden behind her huge nose. Her limbs are thin and hooked, and she has the ability to lengthen and twist them in all directions by nervously moving the misshapen fingers of her huge hands. She wears red clothes, and uses to adopt strange postures and hideous grimaces with her face.

It is said that he wanders in the woods and sneaks through the bushes, in search of the fruit of the thorny chauras, which he eats gluttonously; and people can tell that the Fiura has passed through a place by observing the depositions it leaves on the protruding roots of large trees. It is also said that taking great care, it can be observed when she carefully combs her hair with a highly polished crystal or silver comb that shines in the sun's rays, while bathing in small lakes. After bathing, she sits on the moss, and remains naked for hours or goes to dance on the scraps. It is characterized by possessing superhuman strength and by the ability to make use of the stench of its breath to twist or break the limbs of animals or people who observe it; her power being such that she can have her effects at a distance.

Millalobo

The millalobo (golden Wolf) is a creature resembling a newt, with the upper part of a man and the lower part of a sea Wolf. The millalobo was born from the union between a woman and a sea Wolf which saved her from drowning during the mythical battle between trentrain vilu and caicai vilu.

Millalobo is the most powerful being of the seas after caicai, who chose him to rule the seas on his behalf.

According to chilota legend it is said that upon seeing him, caicai decided that he was a creature of his liking and chose him to delegate his power and rest after his battle with trentrain.

Millalobo lives on the seabed and rules with his family, his wife huenchula and their three children; The pincoya, the pincoy, and the mermaid chilota. Various mythological sea creatures are under his command and help him in his tasks, which range from planting and caring for the development of shellfish and fish, to managing the Marine climate; In addition to guiding and caring for the dead produced by the sea.

Millalobo is said to be the creator of the caleuche and the evil creatures of the seas also pay him respect.

[doopy-n-loopy]

Your content is super spicy, I love it! Here's my question- what would Christian Brutal Sniper be like as a yandere? Very violent and obsessive, I'm guessing. NSFW headcanons, pls!

Oh my god you've unlocked SO many memories for me

I had to look some of the videos up again cause I forgot what his personality was like

Yan!CBS (TF2) × Reader headcannons

// gore, violence, obsessive tendancies, stalking, objectification, n oncon, just yandere shit in general

[non-sexual]

CBS probably saw you on the battlefield at first. I'd like to assume you're an enemy (apart of BLU) so it would make it much more interesting. When you and your team kidnapped you, he held a grudge against you and your team but for you he felt more... Like desire almost. He wasn't too sure what it meant but it didn't take him long to figure out. When he came back to life, he killed everyone but you. He made sure to play mind games with you and scare you more than half to death by leaving dead bodies everywhere

He didn't kidnap you at first since he liked to draw out your mental suffering, seeing him decapitate your team mates in front of you

CBS doesn't harm you too badly, at times he'll trace his machete over your skin to draw blood and whimpers from you or slap you but nothing that leaves a permanent mark on your body

To him you are precious, not in the way that he loves you though, no, he could care less about your well being. But in the way that he sees you as an item that he owns.

He doesn't care about the team mates around him, he warns them that if they hurt you he'll kill them himself, usually leaving you mostly unscathed during battles

When CBS got tired of only seeing you once in awhile, that's when he decided to kidnap you. Not without Spy's help, of course

After being kidnapped, he barely pays attention to you unless if he wants to pleasure himself. That means you usually miss out on meals, if spy wasn't there you would probably starve

He threatens you with his machete and other weapons he has so you don't leave

[Sexual]

You are an object for his pleasure, a toy to be played with, so of course he's not going to respect your boundaries and force himself on you

At times he'll mess with your sanity and force you to sit on his lap and compliment him, he'll also make you beg for the things he wants to do to you

After you've been kidnapped, he'll be much more violent. Leaving marks all over your body by hitting you, biting you, etc. not only to mark you as his but to make you pay for doing this to him. It is your fault you made him feel this way, after all

Expect hands to be all over your ass and crotch most of the time he's around

You better hope that when he sees you he's tired because as I said, when he pays attention to you that's only because he wants to pleasure himself. And CBS isn't gentle with how he treats you, he's very rough with sex and it can leave you crying and unable to walk for several days, even bleeding in some cases (which Spy has to treat to make sure you don't get an infection or die even)

Alright so that's all! I'm gonna be honest, I wasn't expecting someone to bring up CBS in my asks so lol that was a trip down memory lane! Either way, this was very fun to write! You can request anything again💕

[klbwriting]

Unexpected Allies - Chapter 19

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: Kaz/female!Reader

Summary: Just...sorry

Notes: This was just the worst

Taglist:  @mcntsee @amwitherspoon @cxlpxrnia @fcvcritecrime​ @aysegust​ @sagewrites111​ @spawn0fsatan​ @itsemy01 @thedelusionreaderbitch

It took nearly another week for the Shu army to arrive, a day after that the Frejdans arrived and Kaz felt his plan falling into place.  He had told Jesper that the next morning he had to make sure that Y/N was away from the Darkling, get her out of the Little Palace.  He promised chaos so that the sharpshooter would have an easier time getting her out.  Kaz didn't what would happen next but he knew there was no other way to get her to save Ravka like she wanted.  The Darkling would never stop, only Y/N could stop him.  Inej noticed his mood getting darker as the day before the start of the war ended.  She sat next to him by one of the fires and waited for him to acknowledge her. "Its going to hurt her," he said softly.  Inej nodded. "You are doing something noble Kaz, it has to be the end of the world," she said.  Kaz sighed and shook his head. "What have I become?" he said, leaning his head to his cane.  Inej reached out and gently placed a hand on his shoulder.  He noticed once again that touch wasn't bothering him much anymore.  He could thank Y/N for that, but of course he couldn't.  He knew she liked what he sent her, Jesper reported that she wore the necklace everyday, but that still didn't make him feel better for what happened.  After tomorrow who knew if he'd ever get to apologize to her.  He didn't have a contingency plan, if this didn't work it was all over.  He stood finally.   "Kaz, you're a good man," Inej said.  He glared at her.  "That look doesn't quite scare me as much as it used to."  He scowled and walked away but secretly he was pleased.  He could be both a ruthless killer and a good man.  He hoped this would be enough.  

Y/N wasn't sure when the fighting started.  She was woken up by the Darkling himself coming into her room and dragging her from bed, pulling her into the hall where she heard shouting and saw Grisha running everywhere.  Jesper came running and handed the Darkling a saber made of steel.   "Thank you Fahey, take Y/N to the roof, I am going to take care of Mal before dealing with the rest of the resistance," he said, face full of rage.   Y/N felt genuine fear as her chain was given to Jesper.  Jesper was about to take off when another Fabrikator joined them.  "Make sure they get there Rege."  He nodded and followed them.  They turned towards the roof but stopped just short of the stairs.  Rege ran up a few steps before realizing they stopped.  He turned, about to yell when a loud bang rang out and he collapsed, a small hole bleeding from his front.   "The kefta, they're bullet proof..." Y/N said, turning to Jesper.  He winked at her. "I may have been working on something fun just for the Grisha," he said.  She smiled at him.  He took the chain and shackles off her but wasn't able to remove the collar.  "Come on, let's go, Kaz told me to get you out of here." "Jes, what if he gets killed...I can't lose Kaz..." she said as they headed through another of her tunnels towards the east side of the palace.  They could flank on that side, take some of the Grisha by surprise.  Jesper stopped just before the went out the door. " Y/N, I promise you that you will see Kaz again.  You'll be with him by the end of the day, I swear it on my guns," he said.  She nodded and hugged him again.  "Now let's kill the Darkling, you know to use a machete?"  He held out the weapon that was leaning on the wall, ready for her.  She took it and nodded.   "He remembered it was my specialty," she said and Jesper nodded as they exited and ran out.  Most of the Grisha on this side of the palace were distracted by the Frejdans that were attacking so Jesper and Y/N slid into the action easily.   Y/N was quite capable of handling herself without her powers but she couldn't deny that the weakness she felt from not using them was taking a toll on her fighting.  She kept having to remind herself of what she was fighting for to keep going.  She kept an eye on Jesper, and he on her, working together to make their way to the center of the fight where the Darkling was commanding a small group of shadow creatures, clearly trying to get to Mal.  Mal was commanding the resistance fighters well, shooting his rifle and taking out anyone in his way, Matthias was using his druskelle training to keep the Grisha at bay, looking like a true warrior.  Jesper caught sight of Wylan throwing bombs from behind a garden wall and he started to make his way over there.  Inej had somehow climbed to the roof and was taking out Grisha along the torrents, the Inferni firing from above dropping to the ground, throats slit before they fell.  The only person Y/N couldn't see was Kaz.  She was trying to keep an eye out, hoping he stayed  back, had planned the attack and let the others take their time to battle.  She didn't want to be powerless to protect him.   The Darkling was approaching Mal so Y/N fought harder than she had before, getting to her brother in arms and facing off against the creatures the Darkling made, striking them down with the Grisha made steel they held.  It seemed to reflect the actual sunlight in such a way that it destroyed the shadows, making the Darkling create more instead of just making them reform.   "Glad you could join us," Mal said as he shot a creature behind her.   Y/N turned and sliced a Grisha before they use the wind against her friend.  "Is that collar still a problem?" "Yes, I can't use my powers at all with  it," she said.  "And the Fabrikator disappeared before I could get him to take it off." "O we've been handling it, Kaz and Nina have figured something out with him," he said.  She almost stopped but then a Grisha hit her with a water sprout and she swiped out, taking off the Grisha's arm.   "Kaz is here?" she asked.  Mal shook his head. "No, they're hoping you can do this yourself," he said.  Suddenly the Darkling was there, swatting Mal aside, sending him off with his  creatures. "Mal!" Y/N screamed before the Darkling was on her, hand around her neck. "I see that you tried to trick me puppy...but now I think you've shown how useless you really are," he said, throwing her to the ground and moving to cut her.   "STOP!" she heard his voice and turned.  So did the Darkling.  He finished the cut and Kaz fell.  Suddenly everything stopped for Y/N. "KAZ!" she screamed.  She looked at the Darkling and screamed out her agony and the collar broke.  She felt everything rising in her, all her pain and anger came out, darkness engulfing everyone.  Only she and the Darkling were here now, facing each other.   "Impossible...how did you..." She started firing fire at him, no gloves needed, the fire just appearing.  She shot wind at him, knocking him back.  Tears were stinging her cheeks, creatures trying to tear her apart but she felt none of it.  She was shattered, her soul destroyed, what did she have holding her back now?  The Darkling looked at her in awe as she squeezed her fist.  He was able to  send a creature to knock her off balance.  He dove at her and she pushed a tide against him, throwing him to the side. "This is the power you have...you are so strong.  Your love is dead, give in, this darkness is who you are.  Imagine if I could teach you how to truly use this power," he said.   Y/N stopped for a moment and the Darkling rose, watching her. "I am darkness, but I'm not just darkness," she said.   "But you should be, Y/N, imagine what we can do together, we can take the world and make it how we want it," he said, approaching her, taking her face in his hands.   Y/N slid the hidden knife from her sleeve, another gift from Kaz.  She stabbed up, aiming between the ribs where he had shown her, making sure to pierce the heart. "I want Kaz in my world," she said, pushing the dagger further up, the tip poking out the other side.  She yanked it out and the Darkling fell dead to the ground.  She fell to her knees, the darkness still all around, it was spreading.  This Fold she was creating was going to keep going unless she pulled it back.  But how could she?  What reason was there for light anymore?  Kaz was dead, why should everyone else get to live.   " Y/N, this isn't you," she heard his voice in her head.  "This, this is my darkness.  Well, at least, the darkness I thought was in me.  You brought out the light in me." "I can't Kaz...what is the point of light if you won't be there when I bring it back?" she whispered. "The point love, is that someone has to lead the Dregs, are you going to let Jesper do that?  Or Inej?  God Jesper would never have money for them to eat and Inej is going to disperse them to be a diplomat now," he said.  She laughed and felt some light struggling to come out.  "I love you Y/N, just remember that, I love you for being the light in my life, don't let me down.  Don't give up on me."   "I love you too Kaz," she said to the darkness.  She fell to her knees as she pulled back the dark and released the light.  The fighting had stopped, no one sure what had happened.  Once the light was back it took only seconds for the Second Army to see that their commander was not only dead but now they were outnumbered.  They fled.  The resistance stopped, looking at Y/N on the ground.  She let out a strangled sob as she crawled to Kaz's body.   " Y/N..." Mal said, moving to pull her away.  She shoved him back. "Please...Kaz please!" she begged even though she knew there was nothing to be done.  The cut had hit home.  She leaned over his face, forehead to his as she sobbed on him.   " Y/N...I'm so sorry," she heard Jesper say. "You promised!" she yelled at him.   "I know...I...I'm just sorry." Inej came over then, putting her arms around Y/N who finally fell to sit back.  Jesper joined Inej in hugging her. "I'm so sorry for this Y/N," Inej whispered, "so sorry."

[dotthings]

Dean Winchester

Dean’s heart, all it contains, is the most powerful weapon he has and he doesn’t know it. When he loves he loves big and he loves fiercely and he cares so deeply, in different relationships and in different ways. The scope of his capacity to love isn’t something he’s aware of, he just feels, he just acts.

Dean doesn’t see all the things he himself is, or how those who love him see him.

Dean inspires strong love and devotion in others towards him and doesn’t understand the depth that this happens, or how, or why.

Dean is nurturing and yet he is so much more than a nurturer.

Dean’s a warrior. But wielding a rock salt shotgun and a machete, being his father’s blunt instrument, isn’t all he is.

Dean uses strategy and sigils, experience and lore, and appeals to the goodness within beings to fight evil as much as he uses weapons.

Dean’s into metal and classic rock and his big muscle car and cultivates a persona of the cool rebel tough guy yet he’s a massive geek who has Scooby-Doo underwear, has watched all the Trek, digs horror movies as a way to decompress and gain mental control over the real horrors he has to fight, and wears silly socks.

Dean is a fierce badass who has been to both Hell and Purgatory multiple times and radiates cool and has dark shadowy spaces in him, deep fears and anger and immense hurt and pain and he is the softest, kindest, forgiving, cuddly, adorkable, uncertain, vulnerable, sweet marshmallow nerd.

Dean’s been an adoptive dad to so many kids and wants to be a dad, doesn’t realize how he already is. He talks to them with respect, understands their fears, protects them, guides them, recognizing their competencies and resourcefulness.

Dean sees the potential in people. Their goodness. Who they could become. Their ability to be courageous. He believes in them when they don’t believe in themselves.

Dean’s a trickster, a charmer, a con artist, a hustler, he’s been a fireman, an FBI agent, a park ranger, a PA, a construction worker, and is excellent at all of it.

Dean hasn’t learned how to play guitar but holds the secret that he knows how to sing well.

Dean’s great at engineering and made his own EMF meter and is great at fixing cars, rigging traps, outsmarting his opponents.

Dean is deeply insecure and weighed down by deep self-loathing yet his sense of self is a powerful force that sometimes battles with his insecurities and fears. 

Dean inspires others as an innate leader, an anchor, a big brother, a role model, the steady rock in the storm.

Dean sometimes is the storm.

Dean will smart-mouth at enemies where he is massively out-powered, especially when he is out-powered, while his heart’s hammering in his chest and he’s frightened but his inner fire is unstoppable.

Dean’s used to living on the road, in bad motel rooms, in his car, yet savors the shelter and stability of great water pressure, his memory foam mattress, the safety and comfort of the bunker, in no small part because the bunker can shelter and protect all those he loves, his blood family and his found family, when needed.

Dean explodes feelings all over the place all the time with his heart blazing on his sleeve and he’s the actual worst at maintaining the no-chick-flick-moments facade. He avoids and tries to hide as long as he can, yet he shows love freely, he shows it often in action but he also uses his words. The feeble attempt at repression is how he copes with the torrent of his own intense big emotions.

Dean’s immensely brave yet deeply frightened, most of all of losing those he loves, and of failing to save people in general, but also he is scared he is not loved, at the same time he is scared to see how much he is loved. 

Dean’s scared of becoming something he doesn’t want to be yet also at times needs to escape into being something different, to have the weights lifted for a time.

Dean thinks he’s doomed yet has so much capacity for hope.

Dean mostly has hope for others but sometimes, sometimes, hope for himself, hope in his own goodness, for his own potentials. He finds purpose in saving people and fending off monsters but he wants more than just that, he has yearnings and wishes outside of that sense of duty. He has hope that maybe he can pursue some of the things he wants, find out what else he is, and that maybe he won’t have to die young on a hunt, where his only happy ending is someone else’s. That he can have his own.

Dean keeps breaking free of every attempt to confine him, to label him, the roles his father tried to limit him to, that Heaven and Hell wanted him to dance in, that God himself wanted him to play. 

Dean knows that joy is an act of defiance, he knows how to savor things, because life can be brutal.

Dean refuses to give up. He keeps getting up again and again after the hurt, keeps loving despite the fear of loss, keeps putting one foot in front of the other and keeps trying to do good.

(screencap by screencapped.net, my edit)