#legend will fight you over food

[feroluce]

I've decided Ingo and Irida can bang once, under sex pollen circumstances, because it would be hilarious.

My ideal is that it's actually only Ingo who gets sex pollened, so poor Ingo is kind of a hot mess and meanwhile Irida is totally fine and normal and just trying to take care of her Warden. Hisui has different values and views than Unova, and Irida just. She does not care. She doesn’t see what the big deal is. She thinks Ingo is the weird one. And I think Ingo would be appalled by his own behavior later and be embarrassed about it and he's cute and funny when he's suffering through his own self-imposed Catholic Guilt akldjlafsjdlka

Ingo has some weird reaction to a pokemon attack or whatever on his way to the main settlement, so he isolates himself in an empty hut reserved for clan members from outside of the icelands. Irida eventually goes to check on him, because this is extremely unusual behavior. Ingo is typically pretty social, and as clan leader, he always goes to her to announce his arrival first thing.

Irida finds him basically in a rut, Ingo has shoved himself into a corner of the bed up against the wall and bundled up under all the blankets, all she sees at first are two silver cat eyes staring out at her. He feels weird, like he's burning up with a fever, and he can't sit still, he keeps shifting around uncomfortably. Irida asks what's up with him and Ingo takes way too long to answer, he keeps trailing off like he can barely think and just staring at her.

Irida finally declares that she knows what's wrong with him, she's seen this before! And if they leave this alone, it'll get way way worse before it gets better, but luckily Irida knows what to do for it! Ingo sags forward with relief because oh, thank goodness, he feels wretched, like the worst flu and just miserably uncomfortable, it's already been a couple hours and he can't take much more of this.

And then he sits back up and nearly keels right over again because WHY ARE YOU STRIPPING?!?!?

Irida: ??? You've seen me bare before, we've been in the hot springs together more than once?

Ingo: BUT THIS ISN'T THE HOT SPRINGS. ///

(Ingo says this facing the wall with his hand over his eyes because he turned around so fast it made him dizzy skzjskskx)

Ingo is very determinedly staring at a spot on the wall and he nearly jumps out of his skin when Irida just casually crawls up onto the bed and sits behind him. Irida tells him he can suffer through it if he really wants to, of course. She doesn't really get why he would, but she's seen people make that decision before. The clan will watch over him until it passes. Ingo asks how long it will last, because he already plans on doing so.

Irida: Days.

Ingo: ...

Irida: Several days, sometimes.

Ingo: ......

Irida: The longest recorded was maybe almost a fortnight?

Ingo: ............

It's only been hours and Ingo is already feeling desperate, and he's going to be like this for days? Possibly over a week? And Irida mentioned it would get worse? Ugh, just kill him.

But then Irida presses up against his back and even through all his clothes and the blankets, Ingo can feel her body and it's weirdly relieving for his current condition, like a heat pack on a sore muscle. Irida tells him he can do that, OR he can just let her help him. No one's ever died of this or anything, but it can get dangerous. Irida wants to help! Ingo is one of hers now. And she doesn't want to risk the life of one of her people.

Ingo doesn't really say anything, but he uncurls a little bit and stops gripping the blankets around him quite so tight, which she takes as a good sign! He has his knees drawn up to his chest, so she has to straddle his feet and lower legs a bit to make it work, but Irida manages to wedge herself between Ingo and the wall so she can at least get him to look at her and give her a straight answer. Ingo tries to start speaking a couple times, but he can't quite seem to string words together, he trails off just like earlier, staring at her like how Irida has seen people stare at the hot springs after being half frozen in the wastes of the icelands.

Irida nods and tells him physical touch is supposed to help, takes the hand that Ingo hadn't even realized he'd reached out, and sets it on her shoulder. She manages to get him to give her his other one, too, and sets it on her waist, and Ingo sighs. It really does help. It's not even that it feels good, it's just that he feels less bad.

Irida presses in closer, happily and proudly rambling poetic about how it must be a blessing of Almighty Sinnoh, that the cure for something so terrible is simply for two bodies to share the same space together so closely they interlock, isn't it nice?

The next morning, Ingo wakes up all groggy, and just kinda lays there blinking at the ceiling for several minutes until he realizes he hears someone else in the hut with him. So he rolls over and almost immediately has a fucking heart attack because there's Irida, still naked, kneeling in front of the fire and poking at with a stick trying to get it going again.

Ingo finally croaks out a quiet little please help me and Irida pats his arm and tells him of course she will. He's her Warden, he can lean on her when he needs to. 💕

She has bruises! And handprints! And oh god, did he seriously leave those bite marks on her?! NOOOOOO-

He behaved as though a depraved animal! A beast!! He shouldn't even be allowed near people anymore!!

Ingo is facing the corner, moping and red-faced and dealing with his Catholic Guilt, and meanwhile Irida is trying to decide what she wants for breakfast VSKDKXJKSKXKX

===========================

(About three weeks later, just when he's almost able to look her in the eye again, Ingo goes to Irida to report on some happening in the highlands. Irida pats him and tells him good boy. Ingo lights up and all but purrs for a second before his brain catches up like WAIT WHAT, NO.

Irida: Oh. Is that not ok? You liked being called that that one time.

Ingo, steaming red face in his hands: MY LADY, PLEASE.)

((Gaeric is unfortunately within earshot when this happens, and he laughs so hard he wheezes, and then when he and Irida depart, he slaps Ingo on the back so hard he stands straight for a few minutes afterwards ndodjwkskmdkx))

[cuprohastes]

The humans said "We sent our very best to the stars."

Well we looked at what they sent: And thought, if that's their best, what are their worst like? They were scavengers and opportunists, fast talking con artists, barely restrained psychopaths with mayhem on their mind.

Honestly we were expecting the worst: That 'human' would be a curse word, that we'd have to root them out painfully and banish them back to their dirty heavy world.

But they cleaned up Antichor. They dredged the oceans, got the ecosystem back up, cleaned the mine lakes, remediated the sludge swamps, turned the hulks into gleaming ingots.

"We knew how. We had the experience." They said.

The humans started showing up in the weirdest places. Conflicts of all sorts... and they always had questions. "Why are you doing this? What if tehy did this. What if you did that?" And it was so odd - Within weeks of the Humans showing up, common ground would be found, or reasons to get along would appear.

"Well, we're used to it. We know how to deal with conflict." They said.

And the human liars, dressed in bedazzling clothes, singing and laughing... They spun lies! For entertainment! Of better worlds, and drama, of excitement, of adventure. Thay made such spectacles - Fire in the sky of a thousand colours - smoke and lasers, costumes and music, feats of synchronised movement the Civil Worlds had barely imagined could be performed by any being let lone these strange humans...

"We know how to have a good time!" They said.

When there was a nasty little war of expansion over on the Veran worlds, we thought we'd be barely in time to document the mass graves and the scraps of planetary genocide. Expansion wars are the worst of crimes but what can you do? The settlers who are squatting on the graves of the people who came before aren't usually the ones who ordered the invasion or carried it out. And there's always some justification that can be argued over for centuries: none of which brings the dead back.

We were horrified to find the Human fleet there. Finally proof that the Humans were the worst sort of mercenary.

But the ships had aid: Shelters and food. Medical personnel. And those that did fight did so under strange rules that allowed for surrenders and retreats in good faith.

The Verans talked of the Arnath Invasion fleet: Unstoppable, claiming thier worlds before they even landed, their leaders ranting and cursing those who lived there - But then the Humans arriving like heroes of legend, in flame clad dropships, spending their lives hard, making the Arnath throw incredible effort to get nowhere... Of the mighty Rangers, each one a hero. The Bulwark infantry who wouldn't yield a single step until the civilians had been evacuated. The Medical teams as caring as any, who'd stand and fight as hard as a soldier to protect their patients.

And even before we arrived, the Arnath were losing - Humans arriving on their world and asking "Why?". Arguing with the Archons with the skill of philosophers, litigating on behalf of the Verans with cunning arguments. The clowns and entertainers with unexpected savagery, showing the population their own "heroic" soldiers burning crops and firing on children, turning the population against thier bloody handed leaders.

The soldiers returning, not hailed as heroes, their crimes documented.

"We know these crimes. We won't stand for them." The humans said.

And we started to wonder... what else did they know?

What we know now is... you can always ask the Humans, because they always send their best.

[jetpackgeneratedcat]

It took literal months, but I finished it!!

Top left: linked universe logo

The jojo's lu logo is sooooo detailed. It is one of the things I love about Jojo's asethetic with linked universe. The detail she adds brings so much life and information about the world of Linked Universe. Great example is all the embroidery on the chain's clothing. Let's you know about civilization, that an item may be magical, etc. It is difficult to keep small details in watercolor, but I think I caught most of the main details in the painting.

Middle left: Soulful legend

This was the fourth of the images I did for the painting, and the first image I really started to get into the painting. I think legend is my favorite to paint because he makes composition so easy. The red tunic adds an easy focal point. I did learn from this that I do not like masking fluid and likely won't use it again. It added to many hard edges that I wasn't intending. Very happy with the sky!

Bottom left: Evening snack

In this image, I liked the idea that wind and sky don't know what Ramen is because their worlds don't have enough space to produce wheat. So sky and wind are super excited about this new food, while legend has no idea why they are so hyped for noodles. I also liked the idea that four found a green pepper in the ramen as a topping and is a hater (this is from a note that jojo left somewhere saying that the chain will eat anything but four in the Manga does not like green peppers, idk where this note is to link it though....). I didn't end up drawing the Ramen noodles as it was just getting too small of a scale for me to be comfortable drawing the thin lines for the noodles in.

Bottom right: Testudo

I am very hyped in the future when we see more collaborative fighting with the chain and them working together effectively. I absolutely love the scene in shifting shadows part 3 where lenged and hyrule work together with the beam and hookshot.

Middle: Legends storage

This is a reference to one of jojo's earliest works where the chain goes to legends storage for him to pick up some gear. I love that scene and I tried to put as many references as I could. The one thing I need to figure out is how I want twilight to look. I can't wrap my head around it. Need to sit down and just try out a bunch of different faces for him. My Pinterest inspo for twilight is all over the place. I want twilight to look different from time because when Malon was trying to guess who was the descendent, she did not consider twilight (she looked at wars and wind (so I typically draw time, wind, and wars looking similar). For my own personal headcannon, twilight and time are very similar in their manner (the way the walk, stand, etc) and personality (their stubbornness (as seen in sunset pt3)) but not necessarily in looks.

Middle right: Boat boys

The first image I did. I like how the water turned out, but I will not be using masking fluid for the same reasons I noted earlier. I did trace the boat (i think this is the reference [L240632 Hornet Class. J. Arthur Dixon Ltd. Beken and Son]). I do regret not doing anything creative with the boat, but I just wanted to get into painting and needed some confidence by working directly from a reference. I also forgot that legend might not be so keen to be on a boat again based on a comment jojo left in 2022 or something. I think she mentioned something in a discord event back then about legend not too willing to be on a boat again. But that doesn't really matter, I put that boy in a boat whether he likes it or not lol.

Top right: Winter storm

Second image I did for this painting. I did trace most of the horse because I do not care to learn horse anatomy (ref. [Winter Save By David Stoecklein]) Favorite part about this is the lighting on the rope from the lantern. I think it turn out well.

Top middle: Heavy armour

Third image I did for the painting and the one I realized I need to spend more time painting people in neutral or back lite lighting. But for my first time I think it is good. I really want to see what jojo does with the armour sets! I like the idea that war's armour is clean and pristine while wild's armour is rusted and beaten from the calamity. In this painting I played with adding pink to the golden armour and I liked it. In the middle picture of the collage (legends storage), you can see i added pink to time's armour.

That's everything! ❤️

[evilminji]

Broadway :3c

And I hear ya. (Insert spooky joke here) There is a sprawling WEB of central hubs, for The Arts. For trade. For getting drunk and having a good time. The Zone is large and it is endless. You'll NEVER reach the far end. It can never reach you.

All things, in gentle sweeping waves, across eternity.

So when folks want to have "a market" or "a movie theater" or "the waterpark"? You gotta PICK a point on the endless map. Figure if you are close or far enough away for others like it, to make it worth the effort to build.

You might even be the first to do it for GALAXIES in any direction! People might fly for WEEKS to come to your place! Move their Lairs to be closer too it. Like dust gathered by gravity, slowly creating planets and stars. A mega Lair. A CITY.

They rise, they fall, the Zone shifts all the while.

But!

Does the dead starlet stop singing? Does getting gunned down, stop the show?? I think NOT! Where is her STAGE? What musicals? What dramas? What operas and tragedies and forms unknown to human kind??! Ballet dancers who CAN defy gravity! Singers who have no NEED for air! The haunting blend of instruments, that could never in life have met! From empires long turned to ASH!

The greatest show in DEATH!

Ember was a world wide hit. Yes, her voice was hypnotic. But that could be FOUGHT. It was SKILL that carried the game. And she was hardly "I was Literally The Greatest My Planet Ever Produced" skilled. She was good, great even. Not "I was Born For Greatness" Excellence.

And like?

.....eventually? Danny's gonna ask after "cultural-y" Culture stuff. Clothes and food. Music and the arts. To help his parents get used to the whole "our son is half-dead" thing. To show he's not some mindless monster now.

And? Ghostwriter? Probably an absolute legend. Does he know where you can find some CULTURE? Oh THANK ZONE! He thought you'd NEVER ask! You unsophisticated-! *fist fight in a library* Still a dick, though. Always and forever.

And just? Imagine Broadway stretched out into a floating city. That never sleeps. Never stops. Shows ever changing. Some on a cycle, some only once. Dream-like. Beautiful. Eye catching.

And yeah, Danny didn't think he LIKED musicals. It was more of a Jazz thing. But? This was important! Gotta get the whole family in the Speeder. We're going to see a play, guys! We'll pick when we get there! Family road trip! Educational! We can make notes!

His parents are trying to be supportive. Big, fixed, strained grins. Trying to pretend to be excited. But they... DO seem reluctantly intrigued? And Jazz is all but vibrating in her seat. It's basically her "before you go away to college" present. And she is THRILLED.

The longer she excitedly speculates? The more into it she gets their folks. This IS gonna be new! Exciting! Never before seen Ghost Culture! Music! As a FAMILY! Think we could find souvenirs? Ooooh, wonder if they sell CDs??!

Then? They GET there. And it's... it's like seeing the Las Vegas strip for the first time, except multiplied into a city. Made of even MORE styles and eras. At angles gravity would never allow.

The air filled with laughter and excitement, people rushing to shows or humming bits of tunes. Street stalls. Fountains. Flowers growing everywhere.

They could stay for months and not even reach a fraction of these buildings. His parents are taking countless photos. His sister squeeling with joy as she races for an information kiosk like they just arrived at Disneyland. He, at least, remembers to lock up the Speeder. Grab their day bags.

When did HE become the responsible one?

The argue over shows. Obviously. Wouldn't be Fenton's otherwise. HE wants to see the alien one. It's from mars! But it's his sister's trip, as his dad points out, so she gets to choose. She picks a musical set during the Fall of Krpton. He's... reluctantly kinda interested. I mean, EVERYBODY likes Superman, right?

It's... it's amazing. Terrible, but amazing. I mean? A coming of age story cut tragically short? Oof. Hello, massively projecting then getting FEELS about it! Yeah, sure, rip my heart out why don't you? He's fine. No, really! Just drowning in his own emotions over here. The refrain of "A Life Well Lived"? *gargling dying whale noises* he's FINE. Not grappling with anything! Go on without him!

Thankfully?

They DO sell CDs.

He... he may end up, kinda, getting a bit of a collection. Going on the weekends, hoping show to show. Wandering to whichever catches his eye in the moment. Buying the CDs for one's he likes. Which? Honestly is a lot of them. Even though there's all sorts of genres and languages. Cause it... it RESONATES you know?

The grief. The anger. The "I have died but I wasn't FINISHED. It isn't FAIR.". And? Something about ghost speak flows so BEAUTIFULLY in song? It's hard to explain. But he... he needs them.

A pair of headphones, a CD, and a clear night sky? Nothing touches it. It's like a trance made of light. Like he can just drift.

The problem? Is the CDs are kinda... Zone made? They're radioactive, for one. Nothing a Fenton CD player can't handle. But... they? Also? Kinda fuckin GLOW? Like... very, very noticeably. And not in a "ha ha, cool glow in the dark paint!" Sorta way.

.........but like FUCK is he leaving his music behind when he goes to college. Gotham will have to deal. It's already a burning shit-nado, it can handle this. Probably. He'll put um in a lead lined box. Actually, speaking OF.... he needs to get a few more of those... *goes back to packing*

Which? Is how? The Bats are treated to some of the most HAUNTING music they've ever heard, belted and crooned from Some Guy's speakers, out an open window, on the "stop for a mid-patrol drink of water and a snack" building. It's one of the intersections of their patrol routes. And THAT? That is some dude listening to a Romani ballad about death and the circus. Now it's a musical about the trenches of an obscure war.

Okay, that was DEFINITELY Kryptonian. Like... coherent Krypto- *Bruce gets a call from Clark on his "work" number DEMANDING to know where that is coming from. Who is that voice Bruce?!* huh.... Well Then.

@hdgnj @hypewinter @nerdpoe @lolottes @babbling-babull @spidori @mutable-manifestation @the-witchhunter

[chillinglyadventurous]

The Game - Stanley Pines

Nothing better than pretending to be strangers and letting Stan try to pick you up.

The bell above Greasy’s Diner jingled as you walked in, the place buzzing with the usual sounds of late-night activity. It was packed for a Tuesday evening with the crowd chattering and the clink of dishes creating a comfortable atmosphere. You scanned the tables, pretending not to notice a familiar figure sitting alone in the booth in the corner. Stan was already leaning back in his seat, the picture of ease and casual confidence. You fought back a smile.

This had started as a little game between the two of you. Even though you’d been together for years, Stan sometimes liked to act as though he didn’t know you, trying to pick you up like some babe at a bar. It was a fun kind of charade and you were more than happy to play along.

Tonight, you were the new face in town, alone and looking for a bite to eat. You had wandered into Greasy’s Diner, where a man with a cocky grin and a loud shirt was already eyeing you from across the room. You walked past his booth without acknowledging him, moving up to the counter where Lazy Susan greeted you with a warm smile.

“Evening, hon,” she said, pouring you a cup of coffee before you even asked. “You here by yourself?”

“Seems like it,” you replied, taking a sip.

You could feel Stan’s eyes on you, watching from his booth, his gaze steady and pointed. Before long, he pushed himself up from his seat and made his way over, clearing his throat a bit louder than necessary as he leaned against the counter beside you.

“Well, well, what’s a babe like you doin’ alone in a joint like this?” His voice was loud and thick with his usual swagger and you could feel him slipping into character.

You turned to look at him with a deliberately unimpressed expression. “And what’s it to you?” You arched an eyebrow, looking him up and down, pretending you didn’t know every inch of him already.

Stan gave you a grin, clearly relishing the banter. “Just thought I’d offer some company,” he said, shrugging one shoulder. “I’m Stan Pines. You mighta heard of me. Local businessman, town legend, modesty’s one of my finest traits.” He winked, making you bite back a laugh.

“Oh, that Stan Pines?” You replied, feigning surprise. “The guy who’s always claiming he can take down any man in town in one punch?”

He straightened up, all mock indignation. “Now, I don’t just claim it. I’ve got the track record to prove it. You ever wanna see it sometime, just say the word.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting a grin. “You really think that’s a good pickup line?”

“Worked, didn’t it?” He smirked, sliding onto the stool next to you. “Come on, tell me your name, sweetheart. I gotta know who I’m sittin’ next to.”

“Oh, you gotta know, huh?” You took another sip of your coffee, considering. “Maybe I like keeping you guessing.”

He chuckled, tapping his fingers on the counter. “Playing hard to get, I see. Alright, alright, I’ll guess.” He leaned in, “You look like a ‘Marge’ or a ‘Nancy.’ Maybe a ‘Judy.’”

You scoffed. “Wow, are you just naming every woman over fifty? If you think I’m some retiree trying to relive her glory days, then maybe you should head on back to your booth.”

“Oh, don’t be like that, honey.” He gave you a sidelong glance, a little sparkle in his eye. “You’d have to pay me to leave now.”

You both paused as Lazy Susan set a plate of fries in front of you. Stan was quick to snag one, popping it into his mouth as if you hadn’t just met, as if this were just another night where the two of you were sharing a plate and laughing over greasy food. But, tonight was different. You had to remind yourself to keep up the act.

“Hey!” You swatted at his hand. “I didn’t say you could just help yourself.”

He held up his hands in surrender, looking utterly unrepentant. “Hey, that’s just part of my charm, doll. I got a whole list of other great qualities if you care to find out.”

“Oh, yeah?” You folded your arms, leaning back in your seat as you gave him a look of mock scrutiny. “Like what?”

“Let’s see,” he said, scratching his chin in an exaggerated way. “I’m the best dancer in town. I’ve got an eye for adventure and I know every local mystery from here to the outskirts of Gravity Falls.”

“Mysteries, huh?” You leaned forward a little, playing along. “You mean like the ones people make up to entertain tourists?”

“Oh, they’re real, baby, trust me,” he said, lowering his voice as though letting you in on a secret. “Monsters, ghouls, haunted vending machines. You name it. Stick with me and I’ll show you all the secrets of this place. That is, if you think you can handle it.”

You gave him a skeptical look, unable to hold back a grin. “Sounds like a scam to me.”

He gasped in mock offense. “A scam? Me? That hurt.” He put a hand over his heart dramatically. “I’m just trying to make your stay in Gravity Falls as enjoyable as possible. Besides, if I were scamming you, you’d already be paying for this meal.” He gestured at the plate of fries with a wry smile.

You laughed, shaking your head. “So, what’s the real story here? You hang around Greasy’s hoping to pick up tourists?”

“Nah, not usually,” he admitted, his voice a little softer, a bit more genuine, though the playful glint in his eye never faded. “Only the real interesting ones.”

“Oh, so I’m interesting now?” You laughed, letting your expression soften too.

He gave you a smirk, his gaze warm. “Yeah, yeah, don’t let it go to your head.” But, he was looking at you like there was nowhere else he’d rather be. It was a look you recognized, one that made your heart skip just a little, even after all these years.

You shared a few more minutes of banter, ordering more food, letting the act play out like the comfortable routine it was. Stan told you all about ‘his’ adventures in Gravity Falls, some of which you’d lived through right beside him. You threw in a few questions here and there, asking him things you already knew just to hear him talk about them.

As the night wore on, the crowd in Greasy’s began to thin out and you noticed Stan glancing around, perhaps realizing that the game might be coming to a close.

He leaned in, his expression more earnest, his voice dropping to a quieter tone. “Listen, I know I can be a bit much, but I like you, sweetheart. You’re something special.” There was a warmth there, the kind that only came after years together, the kind that reminded you this was more than just an act.

You grinned, unable to keep up the pretense any longer. “You know,” you said, pretending to think it over, “you’re not so bad yourself.”

He gave you a grin, his hand reaching out to cover yours. “Glad to hear it. Wouldn’t want you running off on me.”

You sat together in comfortable silence, just letting the familiar rhythms of the diner settle around you. After a moment, you leaned in closer, letting the rest of the diner fade away.

“You know,” you said, voice soft, “I wouldn’t mind doing this again sometime.”

He squeezed your hand, his thumb tracing a gentle line over your knuckles. “Oh, don’t worry,” he replied. “I’m just getting started.” He squeezed your upper thigh. “Let’s get outta here, toots. I ain’t ready for this night to end.”

[thebowieconstricker]

Sweet Mornings

Lucifer Morningstar x reader oneshot

masterlist link

Request: Them cooking together and it ending in either him cuddling her so much that they forget about the food and it burns, or baking and that ends in a food fight and kisses. Bonus points, if it burns down the Hotels kitchen and Charlie freaks out.

Okay so this is the CUTEST FREAKING THING EVER??? Love this request sm sorry it took a million years whoops lol enjoy

Tags: Literally just pure fluff, pancakes, kinda language, whipped-cream-related violence, gender neutral reader

~~~

Warm, soft mornings in bed with your beloved partner were becoming more common ever since you and Lucifer had become a couple. Not only was he excellent at cuddles, but his wings made the most delightful blankets to fall asleep under. On this particular morning, you were slowly waking up, and the first thing you noticed was the gentle grip Lucifer had on your form, clinging to your waist even in his sleep. You glanced at the clock to your right as you laid on your back and softly giggled. It was 3:00 in the morning, aka the “devil’s hour”, as some called it, and here he was, asleep in your shared bed. You shifted a bit to stretch and Lucifer made a small noise.

“I’m just moving a bit.” You whispered, bringing up a hand to brush through his blonde locks.

“Mmm, nah, just stay here.” He reached his arm back over your stomach and grabbed your hip, pulling you against his side.

You smiled affectionately, and while you looked at his quite literally angelic face, you thought of an idea.

“Hey, Luci… you wanna make pancakes?”

His eyes sprang open and his eyebrows shot up. A wide grin broke out on his face and quicker than you could blink, he had pulled both you and himself up and off the bed. With a snap of his fingers, the two of you were dressed in comfortable robes with silly slippers. He wore a bright yellow pair with duck faces, because of course he did. Your slippers were of your favorite animal, which was one of the many gifts Lucifer had given you.

With a wave of his hand, Lucifer had magically transported the two of you to the kitchen downstairs. It was a rather large kitchen, plenty of shelves and cabinets stocked with ingredients. You adjusted your robe and began to move towards one of the cupboards when you felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around your torso. Following close behind was the warm face of your lover, nuzzling into the back of your neck.

“Honey, we can’t cuddle and make pancakes.” You rolled your eyes with a smile on your face. You could hear the smirk in his voice as he replied, “Who says we can’t?”

He snapped once more and suddenly, all of your necessary materials and ingredients appeared on the kitchen island.

“There ya go, now you’ve just gotta stand there.”

You laughed and shuffled to the island.

You quickly realized that this was going to be far more difficult than you originally anticipated. For some reason, Lucifer was determined to make the simple activity of pancake-making as tedious as possible for you. When you measured the flour, he insisted that you had poured too much, leading you to re-measure six times. The eggs that you cracked always had a bit of shell in them, and instead of helping, Lucifer would just magic you more. “I’ll keep my arms right here, thank you.” He said from behind you. He did, however, beg you to add more sugar. You finally had to put your foot down after the 3rd empty bag. Why did you trust his horrible advice? No one knows, but according to legend, he apparently knows what he’s doing when it comes to pancakes.

After you had finally created some kind of batter, you struggled over to the oven with Lucifer’s arms still around you. You carefully poured the mixtures onto the skillet after putting the eye on the ‘high’ setting, and with the warm, sweet smells from the food and the demon snuggling your back, you were starting to get pretty sleepy.

That’s when you noticed it. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw that Lucifer had magicked some whipped cream in a can. Obviously, for the purpose of a topping, but you had other plans. You were sure that Lucifer’s eyes were closed behind you (you had even heard him snore a couple of times). Stealthily, you reached for the whipped cream and uncapped the can. You shook it and poured a bit into your mouth, just for fun. Then, you made your real move. You sprayed a good amount on your hand and put the can down.

“Hey, Luci, is it brown enough?” You asked innocently.

“Hmm..? I uh-“ He rubbed his eyes behind you and leaned over your shoulder to take a look at your pancake. “Yeah, you should probably flip-“

You swung your hand around and threw the whipped cream so it landed squarely on his face.

“AH-“

Lucifer’s arms eat go from your waist as he stumbled backwards in shock. His arms reached for his face to feel the whipped cream. Realizing what it was, he smiled wickedly as a forked licked the sweets off his hand.

“Oh, you have no idea who you just fucked.”

You doubled over as you cried with laughter at the sight of him, and laughed even more at that statement.

“It’s- it’s fucked with, Luci-“

Suddenly, whipped cream had landed on your face, splattering on your robe. You heard his musical laughter in front of you and, just like that, it was on.

Lucifer had summoned cans and cans of whipped cream on either of your sides and the two of you ducked behind and hopped over the kitchen island, throwing whipped cream at each other and throwing any other food you could find in the kitchen. You found a sleeve of graham crackers and started chucking those at some point while Lucifer grabbed some of his fire breathing ducks to melt the sugary ammo before it hit him. You took one of your shoes off and began chasing him with it, half laughing and half threatening him, when he finally, finally, held up a white napkin, and called, “I surrender!”

You kept laughing as you tackled him in a hug, the two of you falling to the ground.

“I’m sorry, Luci, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” You playfully said to him.

“Hurt? I’m offended you think I could even get hurt-“

“Then why’d you surrender?”

His arms snaked around your waist once again and he smirked.

“I guess I missed ya.”

You rolled your eyes and kissed him swiftly, the two of you too wrapped up in each other to care about the hectic state of the kitchen. Your hand went to his hair and carefully caressed it, trying to tidying it a bit. When you finally broke away, he looked at you breathlessly.

“Don’t get so excited there, you just had some whipped cream on your face.” You said to him, smiling.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow and another can appeared in his hand, spraying some on his lips without missing a beat.

“You dork.” You said, and kissed him again.

Then, suddenly, a voice from across the room.

“OH MY GOSH GUYS THERE’S A FIRE VAGGIE GET THE EXTINGUISHER-“

So, the two of you may have forgotten about the pancakes.

[mya-valentine]

thanks for answering my question 🦭!! So, can I request Kinich x reader who has healing powers and always takes care of him after every commission, and how Kinich tries to pay them back, but reader feels like it's their duty to help people so doesn't find it necessary? I imagine it being funny, like Kinich desperately trying to find or do something that reader could accept but failing every time lol + Ajaw always making fun of him

Stubborn Gratitude: Kinich's Quest to Repay His Healer

In the bustling land of Natlan, Kinich had forged a name for himself as a steadfast warrior, one who never backed down from a fight and bore countless scars to prove it. He’d taken on the most dangerous commissions, his sheer force and unwavering resolve becoming a legend in their own right. But while Kinich’s strength was indisputable, so was the fact that he needed someone to help him afterward. That someone was you, the village’s resident healer.

Every time Kinich returned from a commission, banged up and bruised, he’d end up on your doorstep, covered in scrapes, bruises, and occasionally more serious wounds. Without a second thought, you’d welcome him in, a soft glow emanating from your hands as you worked your magic, mending his cuts and soothing his aches.

For you, it was second nature. You were a healer, dedicated to helping those in need, and Kinich—however stubborn—was certainly one of those people. But Kinich was far from comfortable with the arrangement. He believed in paying back kindness tenfold, and the thought of continually accepting help without offering something in return didn’t sit well with him. He just didn’t expect that trying to pay you back would become a whole new battlefield.

And, of course, it didn’t help that he had Ajaw, his spirit companion, a mischievous jaguar with a glow that was almost as bright as his smirk. Ajaw seemed to enjoy watching Kinich’s attempts to repay you fail spectacularly and never missed a chance to comment on it.

After a particularly exhausting commission, Kinich returned to the village, dragging himself to your door with a stubborn determination. The knock on your door was almost apologetic, as if he already knew he’d once again be relying on your kindness. You let him in with a welcoming smile, motioning him to sit down as you prepared your supplies. But this time, as he settled on the chair and you began to heal his wounds, he cleared his throat, voice gruff.

“[Name]… I want to thank you. Again. And properly this time.”

You looked up, a hint of amusement in your eyes. “Kinich, we’ve been over this. You don’t owe me anything. I’m just doing my job.”

“No,” he insisted, as if he’d finally come up with a foolproof plan. “I’ll find a way to repay you. Just watch.”

From the corner, Ajaw’s laughter echoed like a chime, the jaguar hovering around with a particularly toothy grin. “Oh, this’ll be good. Get your popcorn, [Name]. Kinich thinks he can win this time.”

Kinich shot Ajaw a sharp look. “Be quiet.”

Ajaw stretched, rolling his eyes. “Sure, sure, ‘repay her,’ let’s see how well this goes. I could use a laugh.”

Ignoring Ajaw, Kinich left your house that day, determined to return with a proper show of gratitude. Over the next few days, his attempts came in the form of various gifts: flowers, food, herbs he’d foraged on his travels. Every time he brought something to you, however, you accepted it with a smile, but gently reminded him that he didn’t need to go to all the trouble.

The final straw came when Kinich attempted to clean your house, hoping to repay you with hard work. Ajaw, ever the critic, floated beside him, making sarcastic comments the entire time.

“Look at the big warrior now,” Ajaw snickered, watching Kinich fumble with a broom that looked painfully tiny in his hands. “Taking on the dust like it’s a horde of monsters. What a hero.”

“Be quiet, Ajaw,” Kinich muttered through clenched teeth, trying to sweep a corner without knocking over a decorative vase. His face was twisted in concentration, looking as though he was performing some advanced battle maneuver rather than just cleaning a floor.

Ajaw snorted. “What’s next, going to dust the shelves? Make sure to slay those cobwebs before they get you.” He floated over to you, grinning mischievously. “You see what I have to deal with? This is your fault, you know. If you didn’t baby him every time he got a scratch, maybe he wouldn’t be so insistent on this ‘repayment’ nonsense.”

“Hey!” Kinich protested, voice rough with frustration. “I am not a baby.”

Ajaw made a mocking face, his eyes gleaming with smug delight. “You keep telling yourself that.”

Meanwhile, you tried to suppress a laugh, shaking your head. “Kinich, really, you don’t need to do all this.”

But Kinich wasn’t listening. Determined to prove himself, he doubled down on his efforts, even as Ajaw floated around, making sarcastic quips about his “mighty broom-wielding skills” and “noble dust-slaying quest.” Finally, after knocking over a few too many items, Kinich gave up, letting out an exasperated sigh as he plopped down in defeat.

Ajaw, of course, was right there with a snicker. “That went well.”

Even Kinich had to admit that his attempts weren’t going as planned, but his resolve only seemed to grow stronger. He would find a way to repay you… somehow.

The next attempt was even more chaotic. Kinich decided to bring you some food, thinking a nice meal might be more to your liking. He arrived at your doorstep carrying a carefully wrapped bundle, looking a little too serious about what was inside.

You accepted the bundle, feeling touched by the gesture. However, as soon as you unwrapped it, the charred, vaguely recognizable attempt at a meal was clear as day. Your eyes widened, but you bit back a laugh, trying to keep a straight face. Kinich, however, looked completely serious, waiting for your reaction.

Ajaw hovered beside him, barely containing his laughter. “Looks like you’ve really outdone yourself, Kinich. What is that, a… rock roast? Very artisanal.”

“It’s… edible,” Kinich said defensively, though he looked slightly embarrassed.

Ajaw cackled, spinning in the air as if he could barely contain himself. “Edible? That’s generous. It looks like it fought back.”

You stifled a laugh, patting Kinich’s arm. “It’s the thought that counts.”

But Ajaw wasn’t done. “Thought doesn’t make up for the taste, I’ll bet. If you really want to repay [Name], maybe you should leave the cooking to someone who doesn’t turn food into… whatever that is.”

Kinich glared at him, and for once, he seemed close to genuinely losing his temper. “I’m trying to thank [Name]. Maybe you could help instead of laughing.”

Ajaw grinned, smug as ever. “Why should I? You’re doing a fine job all by yourself. I haven’t laughed this hard in ages.”

By this point, you were laughing so hard that tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. Between Kinich’s stubborn attempts and Ajaw’s ruthless commentary, it was too much to take seriously. “Honestly, Kinich, you don’t have to do any of this. I appreciate it, but just seeing you healthy and well is enough for me.”

Ajaw floated over to you, his smirk widening. “See? Listen to the nice healer. She doesn’t want your sad excuse for cooking or your housekeeping disasters.”

Kinich sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. But even as he resigned himself to his failed attempts, you could see a flicker of relief in his eyes. The truth was, Kinich’s efforts—awkward and misguided as they were—showed his true character. And though Ajaw continued to make fun of him, it only made you admire Kinich more.

In the end, Kinich settled for what you had suggested all along. Rather than gifts, he simply offered you his sincere gratitude, leaving behind the expectations of repayment. But that didn’t mean Ajaw let him off the hook. For days afterward, Ajaw continued to rib Kinich about his cooking disaster and “legendary” cleaning skills, much to your and everyone else’s amusement.

And though Kinich never quite managed to “repay” you in the way he had envisioned, he became more comfortable with simply allowing you to heal him. Perhaps the greatest gift you’d given him wasn’t just healing, but the understanding that kindness didn’t always require a price.

But Ajaw? He made sure to keep Kinich humble, teasing him endlessly about his “failed attempts” whenever the opportunity arose.

“Next time, maybe just give her a nice rock you found,” Ajaw suggested, hovering nearby with a wicked grin. “At least that wouldn’t try to poison her.”

Kinich sighed, but this time, there was a smile on his face. He had finally learned to accept your kindness without feeling indebted, and with Ajaw’s constant mocking as a reminder, he’d never forget just how hard it had been to reach that point.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[gatorbites-imagines]

Whitebeard fucker here lol I’ve been summoned. Could you write something with a reader whose used to being the biggest guy around meeting whitebeard and going “ohhh” and wanting to climb that man like a tree? Any and all kinks are up to your choosing monsieur gator!! Also happy birthday man!

Edward “Whitebeard” Newgate x male reader

Headcanons

Bit my lip so fucking hard when I saw this request. Whitebeard enjoyers come assemble!

Thanks for the birthday wish :) I ended up getting a lot of comics and manga, so I’m very happy.

Reader possesses a devil fruit I made up I call the sun-sun Fruit. Hes also like 16 ft 9. Hes also at least 40+ years old. Old man yaoi.

You had known of Whitebeards existence ever since you started traveling the sea, who didn’t? The guy was a legend known as the strongest man alive, someone to avoid if you did the type of business you did.

You were a bit of an everything man. Information gathering, Intimidation, bodyguarding, assassin, anything that paid you a lot and you didn’t have to hurt the innocent, Youd do it.

The world government were cautious of you, but always let you get away with things others wouldn’t, as you also took jobs for them if need be. You played on every board, siding with pirates, with marines, with the poor, and with the rich. As long as they had good reason for asking for your help.

Your Sun-Sun fruit always helped with this as well, making you an extremely powerful fighter, possessing the ability to gather and store solar energy and light itself. After mastering it you could easily create explosions big enough to destroy islands, coat your body in solar energy, or coat your weapons, as well as many other things.

Your preferred weapon were spears, your most beloved weapon a naginata that had been gifted to you after a job well done, some celestial who fanboyed over pirates wanting to give you a big reward. The naginata was supposedly cursed, but you two got along a little too well most days.

All in all, you were well known in your own circles, but nowhere near as much as someone like Whitebeard.

That was also the reason you turned down your latest request to kill Whitebeard. You might have been strong, but you were never an idiot. You might have stood at almost 17 feet, towering over anyone you had ever met, but even you know Whitebeards crew was so loyal it was lethal.

The people giving you the request has been annoyed about you rejecting it, but they could do nothing to stop you as you left, on your way to the next island. There was never a destination in mind if you didn’t have a contract, so you just called it joy sailing.

It was mere coincidence that you found yourself sailing through Whitebeards territory. You had no need for a crew, as you had mastered the skill to create stand-ins with your sun-sun fruit, creating human shaped beings out of condensed solar energy.

The ship you traveled in wasn’t too big either, especially compared to the moby dick. But they had easily spotted you, and your “crew” had spotted them in return. For some reason the whitebeard crew were interested in you, though their interest made your heartrate skyrocket as the moby dick neared your own much smaller ship.

When it became clear they weren’t there to fight, you agreed to link up your ships, even if it was just because you knew they could end you before you would be able to run for it.

Stepping onto the ship, part of you was curious at their lack of reaction to your towering height, even as they had to turn their heads all the way back to look at you to ask questions about your “light crew”, or one of them demanding to know what your favorite food was, or where you got your naginata.

When you finally met Whitebeard though, it all made sense. The guy made even you feel small, even though he wasn’t towering over you the same way you were the rest of his crew. Maybe it was his presence, as he laughed and patted you on the back, greeting you by the nickname the masses called you.

But all you could think about was how seeing someone taller than you made you feel. Just feeling his large hand patting your shoulder, or seeing how he was still taller than you when you sat, was enough for you to think about booking it again.

You had no idea why, but for some reason you stuck around with the Whitebeard crew for a while. To the point where they started acting like you were part of the crew. Even when you tried to turn it down, they’d just give you a knowing look before ignoring your complaints.

In your opinion, you were too old to join someone’s crew, especially with you being known as a “backstabber”, as you never picked one specific side.

And yeah, you knew why you were sticking around for so long. It was all Whitebeard, and that weird, fluttering feeling he gave you, and the arousal he caused, but that was not as important…for the most part.

It was only after the crew had settled on the island to restock that you thought about leaving for real. One of your contacts had called you on your den den mushi, and told you about a very high paying job. You might have been so rich your ancestors would live in luxury, but you could never get enough.

Unluckily for you, Whitebeard had overheard the call. He had looked sad about you wanting to leave, but had invited you to join him for a drink before you packed up and went on your way.

That’s how you found yourself sitting beside him in front of a bonfire, just the two of you, both of you decently buzzed and flushed. Your devil fruit power made you mostly immune to alcohol, the heat of the sun burning the alcohol away before it could work, but whatever stuff Whitebeard had on him seemed to have the right kick.

Later you would blame the alcohol for your reaction when Whitebeards hand settled on your lower back. You had abandoned your jacket a while ago, some of Whitebeards crew running off with it to use it for some drunk game they were playing.

Your devil fruit also worked best without too much clothes in the way, meaning Whitebeards hand was right on your back, and your thirsty self had arched into it with a soft groan, your head flopping to the side to rest against him.

Whitebeard had chuckled, but it wasn’t his usual loud guffaw, but something deeper and smoother, like melted dark chocolate or the best whiskey you had ever drank.

His hand had rubbed and massaged your back until you felt like putty, small sparks of light and solar energy flickering across your torso as your control slipped, Whitebeard huffing amusedly at the small jolts it sent through his arm.

You would blush in the future when thinking about it, denying it ever happened, before blaming the alcohol once more. But in that moment, it was impossible to not spill all the thoughts you had about him. How he made you feel so hot inside, how much you fantasied about him, his hands, his height, his cock.

Whitebeard had seemed almost charmed, and maybe he was. It wasn’t every day that someone his age and especially his size had someone fawning over them. Maybe that was why he pulled you into his lap, with your back resting against his chest, as his battle worn hands traveled across the front of your torso.

He murmured and purred into your ears as one of his large, calloused hands groped and pinched at one of your pecs, making you gasp and arch into the touch, legs jolting until his other hand came down to hold your thigh in place.

The praise falling from his lips had you feeling much drunker than you were, vision blurring for a second before you were able to focus again, your own hands grasping at his pantleg as you huffed out a breath.

The veins across your body lit up every now and then from the stored solar energy in your body flickering, causing Whitebeard to chuckle that deep chuckle once more, making some comment about that being a nice party trick.

You were about to snap back a rebuttal, something rude about his own devil fruit power, but before the words could even leave you, the hand gripping your thick slid under your waistband.

Embarrassment flooded your system as you keened, head falling back onto his chest as your hips jolted. And how crazy was that? He was so tall your head fall onto his chest, not his shoulder, not above his own head, his chest.

It had your throbbing even more, immediately coating his palm in a layer of precum, making Whitebeard tsk teasingly, before rubbing the palm against the head of your sensitive shaft, only making you drip even more.

What could you say. You were sensitive. Being your size made it pretty hard to find a partner who could keep up with you, or someone you wouldn’t hurt on accident. And as your fame grew, less and less individuals even wanted to give it a try.

That was why you were keening and whimpering in Whitebeards lap like some kind of virgin, at least that’s what you told yourself to keep your dignity.

It didn’t explain the way you jolted and spilled into his hand when Whitebeard grabbing your chin, turning your head so he could kiss you. Your eyes rolled back, and solar energy flashed across your body as you came, gasping into his mouth, your breath so hot It would have harmed anyone not as sturdy as Whitebeard.

With his lips still pressed against yours he mumbled praise, telling you stuff that had you melting even further into his embrace, hips still jolting and twitching into his hand like you didn’t want it to end.

As you rolled your hips you could feel his own erection, and you almost wanted to pass out from just how big he felt. You had never met anyone who was bigger than you in that way, yet here Whitebeard was, pretty much offering it to you on a silver platter.

The night was spent with Whitebeard wringing more than just a couple of orgasms out of you, at some point leaving you so overstimulated and pleasured that your body had phased out, turning into solar energy.

Whitebeard had cackled loudly at the sight, seeing how you were in so much pleasure you couldn’t even stay solid. When you finally came back to yourself, he placed a big kiss on your cheek and then your mouth, making some teasing comment about it all.

The next morning you couldn’t look his crew in the eye, the knowing looks boring into your large broad back, that for once was wearing a shirt, to cover most of the hickeys their captain had left on you.

And if you just so happened to turn down the job offer your informant gave you, and if you just so happened to attach your ship to their fleet, and you just so happened to start being referred to in the same parental way as Whitebeard, who would be the wiser.

You honestly had no idea how to react when Whitebeards, and you guessed now your, crew started referring to you with a fatherly title in the same way they called Whitebeard Pops. You hadn’t wanted to be open about your relationship with Whitebeard, but to the crew it was so damn obvious.

Even when you and Whitebeard became official, and maybe even married at some point, you still took jobs every now and then, never getting enough of the thrill of money. But it was a lot less, and you pretty much cut all contact with the world government.

Sure, that got you a bounty and a high reward, but you honestly couldn’t care. After all this time you realized, maybe a crew wasn’t so bad. It also helped to have a partner that made you feel safe and cared for, whilst also leaving you limping in the best possible way.

[reallyromealone]

FLUFFTOBER DAY 2

Title: hot chocolate

Fandom: the legend of Zelda

Characters: link, Purah, purahs assistant

Fic type: fluff

Pairings: link x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, link and reader are married and have a child, Link gets to own a restaurant after saving the world

Notes:

Summary: after calamity and the world at peace, link and (name) open a small restaurant together with their adoptive son, link makes a new drink that seems to be a crowd pleaser

💀🎃💀🎃💀🎃💀🎃💀🎃💀🎃💀🎃💀🎃💀🎃💀

Autumn blew through Hyrule and a nice cold breeze washed through Hateno, (name) thankful he knit soft sweaters for the small family of three.

It was a shock to everyone that Link didn't want to return to his knightly duties but if one person understood it was Zelda, the Princess smiling with a fondness to her old friend when she learned his desire to open a restaurant "Save me a seat, won't you?"

And that's how (name) ended up helping his husband in the shop while their little one played outside with his friends.

The store was fairly empty, the lunch rush just ending and (name) taking it as a chance to sit down and relax, looking around the coazy restaurant with a smile, It was a testimony to his husbands hard work after all.

"(Name)! Please feed us!" Purah cried out, the woman having spent every waking moment learning about the sky islands and rebuilding her people's heritage after everything "Link, darling?" (Name) Turned his head towards the kitchen where his husband was hunched over a table creating something, turning the blond made a soft humming sound to ask what he wanted "Purah wants food" his words lazy and a bit sleepy, the hero of Hyrule quickly whipping up some food for them.

"What's this?" (Name) Asked when a mug was placed before him, the two Shikah scientists devouring their late lunches. Like leaned over (name) from behind and rested his head on the others shoulder, (name) sniffed the warm drink and hummed at the sweet scent that came back before sipping it "amazing!" (Name) Beamed at his husband who looked like an excited puppy at the others praise.

"Papa! I'm back!" The voice of their little son called out, (name) glancing at the four year old who immediately ran to his parents "I'm hungry!" The boy pouted, he wasn't hungry for lunch so the two let him go burn some steam off before coming back. Link moved to lift the boy into his arms "can we have sweets papa?" (Name) Heard his little one whisper to the blond "here baby, try this" Purah looked invested in the drink while the little boy took a sip of the chocolate drink and beamed at the flavor.

"You know he's gonna want that every day right?" (Name) Whispered to the hero who shrugged "can we have sooome!" Purah teased and the blond man rolled his eyes handed the boy back to (name) before going to grab some more hot chocolate for the scientists.

"Papa...." It was late, the moon high when link cracked an eye open to see his sons little face infront of his own "can I have more hot chocolate?" He whispered, proving (name)s words correct. Link stared pointedly before pulling the boy into a hug and turning, pinning the boy between both parents "in the morning..." Rarely did link speak but his little family were always lucky to hear it.

"And sword fighting?"

"Absolutely not' (name) grumbled sleepily.

[axelsagewrites]

Where Am I?*Part Three

Pairing: modern!f!reader x (to be determined...) Ubbe, Ivar, Sigurd, Hviserks, Bjorn

Word count: 1482

Series Summary: After falling head first the reader wakes up face to face with a group of strangely dressed men who look eerily like the vikings she studies

Part one Part two

Masterlist Here

You weren’t too sure what to expect when Ragnar said they would show you hospitality, but this was definitely something alright. You’d been given a dress that fit into the time period a bit better and made you stick out less than you had before. well, that was if you ignored the fact your hair was completely different from everyone else and everyone, but the Ragnarsson’s took at least three steps back whenever you approached.

When his brothers realised Ivar had been sneaking in to talk to you their protests began, “That’s not fair!”

“Why didn’t you tell us she could understand us?”

“Why did she talk to you and not us?”

You didn’t even feel the need to mention he’d bribed you with food. Ivar was good enough at arguing for himself. meanwhile as they bickered at the dinner table Bjorn sat at the other end staring at you the whole time. it defiantly wasn’t completely unsettling. Ragnar meanwhile was asking you a million questions you didn’t know how to answer.

“So how does a lighter work?”

“A spark happens when you press down and lights the gas,” you tried to explain while you ate your stew.

Ragnar nodded as he thought it over, “I think I understand. But what is a gas?”

“Uh…”  you said but Bjorn cut you off, effectively silencing everyone at the same time.

“How do we know you’re not a witch?” he said making Ivar roll his eyes and for once Ubbe and Ivar seemed to agree with something.

“If she was a witch surely, she would’ve escaped by now?” Ubbe sighed.

“Besides,” Hvitserk said, cheeks pink from his fourth glass of mead, “She’s far too pretty to be a witch,” he said, throwing a wink your way making your own cheeks heat up. The way Ivar glared at Hvitserk though put you on edge.

It was Sigurd turn to roll his eyes at his brother, “You’re a pig. And besides she hasn’t done anything. How do I know you won’t kill me in my sleep?”

“If anyone is going to do that it will be Ivar,” Ubbe said so nonchalantly you felt your jaw drop.

Especially when Ivar chimed in, “This is true,”

You could see the growing annoyance on Bjorn’s face as his younger brothers had their petty fights, something you would soon have to get used to. Clearly Aslaug was used to it however as she sank more into her wine. You had to admit the wine at least was nice. “I don’t know how I can earn your trust Bjorn, but I swear on my life I didn’t come to hurt anyone,”

You half expected him to laugh or roll his eyes at you but instead he cocked his head to the side, “Who told you, my name?”

You watched as everyone paused what they were doing to turn to look at you. “How did you know any of our names?” Sigurd asked.

You debated lying, saying Ivar told you but you didn’t feel like that was a good hole to dig. Instead, you swallowed hard, “Well everyone knows your name. you’re Bjorn ironside. Son of Ragnar. The Ragnarssons are famous,” you tried to say it nonchalantly while being very aware each one of them had a knife or axe.

However, flattery seemed to work, “And me as well?” Ragnar asked, a spark behind his eyes, “After all I am Ragnar Lodbrok,” he said making his sons all roll their eyes.

“Well of course. there are legends about you. they write tv shows about your lives,”

They all seemed so proud of themselves, even Aslaug had a smile behind her cup. You felt satisfied with your excuse until Bjorn asked, “What is a tv show?”

“Uh…”

-

Later that night Ivar showed you to a room that looked far less like a prison than the one you’d been in before. “We’ve got your-whatever these are,” Ubbe said as he and Sigurd walked into the room with a bag each and Hvitserk came in behind them with a flagon of wine.

“They’re just bags,” you said as you took them and moved to sit on the makeshift bed they had.

Privacy clearly wasn’t a thing here as all four boys sat down and began passing the wine around, “What’s in that one?” Sigurd asked, pointing to your guitar case.

You opened it and pulled it out, “Is it some kind of lute?” Hvitserk asked but you could see Sigurd was the keenest.

“I guess?” you said, placing it on your lap and gently strumming the strings, “It’s called a guitar,”

“Play us something?” Ubbe asked before taking a swig out the wine.

You sighed as you looked at the strings and tried to think of a song before your fingers found the strings and you began to strum.

“I’m like the water when your ship rolled in that night,

Rough on the surface, but you cut through like a knife,” you began to sing Taylor swift softly as you played Willow. All four boys seemed mesmerised as you sang and even Ivar stayed quiet until the last night, “I’m begging for you to take my hand,

Wreck my plans, that’s my man,” you finished, placing your hand over the strings and looking up to finally meet their eyes.

“That was beautiful,” Sigurd said, “Did you write that?”

“Yes,” you said without thinking. After all a little white lie never hurt? Besides its not like Taylor would know or anyone could prove you wrong, “Yes I did,”

“You’re very talented,” Ubbe said, passing you the wine.

You looked at it sceptically before finally taking a drink. It’s not like they’d need to poison you anyway. You were already screwed. You all began to drink and laugh the night away as you played a few more songs on the guitar, even letting the boys try have a shot. What you didn’t see however was Bjorn standing beside the door to your room, smiling softly whenever you sang.

-

 The next day Ubbe offered to give you a tour of Kattegat so you could get to know the place. “This is the market,” he said as a little girl ran away from you to her mother making you bite back a laugh, “Sorry about that. They’ll be less frightened of you soon,”

You chuckled at his words making a smile stretch on his face, “Its ironic. Out of everyone here I’m the least frightening one,”

“I don’t know so much,” he said. You narrowed your eyes at him with a curious smile making him chuckle, “Weve never met anyone like you. you are so…” he paused searching for the right word,” rare,”

“That’s the nicest thing I think someone has ever said to me,” you said.

Ubbe gave you a soft smile as he led you around the stalls. You tried to refuse it, but he did buy you a knife, promising to show you how to use it just encase. Even the way he insisted made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

As you were walking around the market you did bump into someone. “Bjorn!” Ubbe called to his brother who wore an uncomfortably stoic look as he walked over. “I was just showing her round Kattegat,”

Bjorn nodded, his eyes scanning your frame, “Good. Can’t have you getting lost now, can we? Think my father might have a fit if we lost you,” something about the way his eyes studied you had a heat creeping up the back of your neck.

“I hope all his questions don’t bother you,” Ubbe said, giving you a sorry smile.

It was true that every conversation with Ragnar was like an interrogation. He wanted to know everything you could tell him about the future and honestly you didn’t know how to explain how a television worked. “I don’t mind. Its sweet,” you said making them both chuckle, “What?”

“Most people would not describe my father as sweet,” Bjorn said, a smile finally cracked onto his lips.

“She’s also friends with Ivar so she may not be fully right in the head,” Ubbe teased.

“Ivars not that bad,” you rolled your eyes, but both their eyes seemed to bulge out their skulls, “He’s a lot nicer when people aren’t constantly picking on him,” you half joked though you did hate how they teased him. especially Sigurd who whenever Ivar wasn’t around was kind but whenever he walked into the room you could cut the air with a knife.

Ubbe just tutted at you, “Oh you have much to learn sweet, foolish, girl. It’s a good thing we found you when we did,” You did your best to roll your eyes and blow him off but for the rest of the day you found your mind wandering. What would it be like to date a Viking?

Part four here

Taglist Sign Up Here

General taglist: @strvngestark @headinfantasy @meg-ro @427120lxld @obx-josie18 @ravenmoore14 @tessakate @justtilly @jjkjbhj @clairacassidy @valeskafics @perla434 @selenestar78 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @urfavnoirette @randomstory56 @qardasngan @https-luvvia @im-the-fucking-lunar-prince @bryandechartisasmolbean

Vikings Taglist: @fleureeee @ellabellabus07 @youn-jo @batmandallyboy @retro-baby69 @lenasdmns @thelirofnorthlands @tessakate @hypocritic-trash-baby @ringpopdust @bellroclucky03 @thefirebreather00 @sashadevil766 @eldritch-bunny-teeth @re-per @weasleytwins-41 @daughter-ofthe-forest @dreamspirit666 @sununicorn @vlynccx @goldenheart703

Series taglist: @chimtaesty-main @fan-goddess @finannn @paninibit @fleureeee @ellabellabus07 @obviouslyitsriley @jasontoddorjasongrace @cathattery @daenaera-t

[yandereunsolved]

Could you please make a headcanon about the Links reactions to the readers' cooking, please? ( part 1 ) ( @sweetlicorice )

yandere Links present: Cal, Four, Hyrule, Legend, Ravio, Sage, Sky, Time, Twilight, Warriors, Wild, Wind

cw(s): yandere themes, mentions of food drugging, self-deprecation

Cal: Cal is astonished for a moment as he takes his first bite. The melody of flavors mixed in his mouth. It's safe to say that he is always giving you possessive glances whenever you make food. He swallows it down so vigorously that you fear he's about to choke. It doesn't matter if you have the cooking abilities of a royal chef or a Bokoblin. He just loves it because you made it.

Which means he's always first in line. He's ever so anxiously bouncing his leg. It's barely noticeable—just a miniscule amount of movement from his rigid body. You are still able to tell. He gets extremely upset if anyone but him gets the first plate. Time allows Cal to always get the first plate, just for the sake of keeping him calm. Time nearly has to tear Wild and Sage off of Cal as they fight for their position in the food line like a bunch of rambunctious children.

Four: Four always makes utensils and various kitchen accessories for you. He gets elated when he sees you using them. He has a smirk on his face; the hours meticulously spent shaping the metal into the correct shape were worth it. That also means he gets to be the first to taste test things.

Both Wild, who helps you cook, and Wind, who sticks near your cooking, are always noticeably upset. Wind will always try to steal the spoon out of Four's hand so he can try it first. However, this has only led to you feeding Four the first bite of whatever it is you have made. Every single Link is outrageously jealous of this. Four just looks up at you with innocent doe eyes and states, 'Mhm'.

He always gives honest feedback about how good the food is. If he is a little harsh, then he'll always make sure to craft you something to make up for it. He doesn't mind his bluntness around the other Links, but he wants to be softer towards you.

Hyrule: Hyrule thinks about drugging your food a lot. When I say a lot, I mean a lot. He enjoys every one of your dishes. He just wants alone time with you. If he put some sleeping potion in your ingredients, then he could have you all to himself. He could even kidnap you if he wanted. 

Besides those thoughts, he's one of the Links who prefers helping you pick and gather ingredients instead of just watching you cook. Wild is naturally skeptical of Hyrule just wanting to 'help' you gather ingredients. It has led to many arguments between the two of them. 

That doesn't stop him from picking berries and mushrooms with you. That doesn't stop him from lighting up when he sees you using the shared variety of fruits you both have gathered. That doesn't stop him from wanting to wipe the small amount of left-over food from your face. He wants to kiss you. He wants to kiss you when you cook for them so badly.

Legend: Legend's reaction to your food always gets him in trouble with the others, especially Time. He always has some snarky remarks. He always rolls his eyes and eats it begrudgingly. He couldn't get all soft on you yet! He hates the hurt look in your eyes. It looks like he just kicked a puppy in the stomach. Yet he has to do it. He has to stand out. He can't just be another one of the lover boys trailing at your heels. You have to earn his soft side first. You have to choose him. So until then, he'll continue to act aloof towards your cooking. 

It doesn't change the fact that he's the one who always steals the leftovers before Wind or Sage is able.

Ravio: Ravio pops in and out to try your cooking. He's always bringing you odd ins and outs that may help you cook. Most of them are enchanted, and occasionally a cursed object slips in there. Ravio always ends up getting attacked by the entire group when that happens. It isn't on purpose! He just sees an item that is slightly kitchen-related, and he gets so excited because he wants to give it to you that he forgets to check if it is cursed or not. 

Ravio is the outsider Link, as always. He has a menagerie of skills that outclass multiple Links. Which makes him a greater foe amongst the infighting of Links.

He always gets super giddy when he gets to try something of yours. He always softly inquires if he can take some home. He just wants to feel your food fill him. It'd almost be as good as if he were the one filling you.

Sage: Sage is in the middle of Legend's and Wind's reactions. He does his best to stay calm, but he still ends up clinging near you when you cook. Even if he has to set up camp, he still stays near you. He'll sit on a log and fiddle with something passively, acting as if he isn't staring at you with an all-consuming obsession sparkling in his eyes. If someone asks him to help with something, he doesn't say a word or move. He grunts and just continues to absent-mindedly do whatever he is doing. He may not outright compliment your cooking, but he'll smile towards you a bit and give you a satisfied nod.

Sky: Sky always compliments your cooking. He's always respectful and uses his manners. He may throw a light-hearted sarcastic remark or two in there for good fun. It never has anything to do with your cooking abilities. They are just subtle digs at the others. 

He is confident that he will win your heart in time. He's just happy to be warmed up by your food.

There is a sense of possessiveness toward what you cook. He guards his plate the way Twilight guards you at night. He doesn't want one of the others trying to knock his food on the ground or eat. That's a common occurrence. When you aren't looking, the others may try to steal another Link's dinner just so they can have more and the other Link can have less.

Time: Time makes sure that none of the others are overwhelming you when you are making their meals. He uses Twilight to drag the other Links off if they are making you uncomfortable. His trademark disappointed stare always works very well. 

He always has a very dad-esque reaction to whatever you made. He smiles and either ruffles your hair or pats you on the back. His heart palpitates in that moment. He feels as if he is going to lose you if he lets you out of his sight for a single moment. He desperately wishes for two eyes so he can see you in your full beauty. You'll never have to worry about missing any ingredients for your dish or dishes that you are making.

Daddy Time has got it. He'll go into the deepest depths of the most accursed Hyrules to get the ingredients himself. Fierce, or Malon, is always willing to help them. They may be more obsessed with you than he is, considering they don't get to interact with you as much.

Twilight: Twilight feels his hylian ears twitch whenever he hears you cooking. His body becomes alert to it. His pointed nose was taking in the delicious aroma. His mouth waters to the point where he is almost drooling. He is able to continue doing his assigned task, but he is also thinking about chowing down on the food that you made. 

When eating it, he continuously looks at you. You'd be such a good mate. You can cook and help take care of the ranch. He can cook sometimes and also take care of the ranch. You can pet him and scratch right behind his ears, where he likes it. He doesn't even realize that he looks a bit unsettling as he unblinkingly stares through your soul while casually munching on what you cooked. 

Warriors: Warriors always stays away from you when cooking. So many of the other Links are trying to bother you. He doesn't want to be a pest to you. He doesn't even think he should get too close to you. Your food is like a gift from the heavens. It feels so homely and safe. It reminds him of something he has been deprived of. He doesn't love being in love; he hates it. He doesn't want to eat your food, yet he always cleans his plate and praises you.

H-He's from a non-canon game? He hears from you once, under your breath, while preparing some unfamiliar dish from your place of origin.

He begins to grow anxious internally. Is that a bad thing? Is he a bad protector? If you reassure him enough, then he'll get a little closer and watch you cook. He still prefers to stand guard, though. Only the goddesses know that the other Links are so whipped that they can't see any danger until the danger comes toward you.

Wild: Wild always makes sure to master the recipe you are making on the first try. He begins to panic and self-depreciate. You have to keep him from spiraling quickly. He is incredibly territorial about your cooking time with him. He's ready to pounce on whomever gets too close to the both of you. Even a simple update on camp being set up will have him harshly handling the ingredients, an angered blush spreading across his features. Pray to the golden three for Wind. Wild would definitely have killed the little pest by now if it wasn't for you. Wild just gets so clingy and insecure. He wants all of your attention. That little pretend pirate can go drown in the Great Sea for all he cares, actually, he'd prefer it.

Wind: Wind gets very excitable and also distracted when you are cooking. Whatever he was previously doing has now left his mind. He curiously looks around at the cooking prep you are doing. Wild is right next to you, glaring masterswords at Wind.

He always ignores Wild and just asks you a bunch of questions. He wants to know everything about the dish you are making. Is it from your homeland? Is it a delicacy or a simple meal? Is it hard to make? Can he touch it? Can he touch you? Can you be his? Can he take you away from The Chain and make you his pirate spouse? His thoughts often get away from him. His ADHD brain can't handle the stimulus overload.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Riddle Rosehearts - Platinum Jacket Voice Lines

When Summoned: It's an honor to be chosen as a supporter for this historical museum. I'll do my duty diligently while adhering to all the rules.

Summon Line: I made sure to review everything there is to know of the exhibits here at the Land of Dawning National Museum of Art. I am looking forward to seeing these works of art in person.

Groooovy!!: I cannot believe anyone would attend a tea party for which they did not receive an invitation... They'd only have themselves to blame if they lose their head.

Home: My utmost respect to 100 years of history.

Home Idle 1: When I gaze upon artwork that depicts esteemed people of lore like this, I feel humbled. I must also strive to achieve greater heights.

Home Idle 2: I saw Lilia-senpai staring at a painting intently... I'm a little... no, very surprised to see him look so serious.

Home Idle 3: I wouldn't say I find painting difficult at all. Although, the first time I was given an abstract assignment to complete, I did struggle slightly.

Home Idle - Login: The Land of Dawning's National Museum of Art exhibits countless masterpieces. This is a fantastic opportunity to improve our imagination skills.

Home Idle - Groovy: Rook-senpai had nothing but flowery praise to say of every single painting we came across. I see that's one way to interpret everything...

Home Tap 1: There are many tales of the Son of the God of Thunder in which he is depicted as one who could not control his strength. It seems he was not the type to tread carefully.

Home Tap 2: Silver was looking at the weapons wielded by the Thorn Fairy's men and was giving his thoughts on what form of fighting they each must have mastered. that is a perspective I hadn't considered.

Home Tap 3: Did you see the tea blends they have at the museum shop that are supposed to be made with specific luminaries in mind? I'm curious as to their flavor.

Home Tap 4: I saw Azul eyeing the painting of the girl wishing at a well. He sure looked like he was plotting something.

Home Tap 5: It is because we wear this formal attire without a single strand out of place that we look as regal as we should. It is out of the question to wear it slovenly.

Home Tap - Groovy: You wish to know what legends inspired these paintings? Fufu, I see you're quite eager to learn. Well then, allow me to explain everything to you in detail.

Duo: [RIDDLE]: Rook-senpai, I'm sure you know the drill. [ROOK]: Of course, Riddle-kun.

Birthday Login Message: Thank you for the birthday wishes. Make sure you attend the birthday party that will be thrown later, as well. It seems there will be a larger variety of dishes set out this time than previous years. It would be impolite to leave any food left over, wouldn't you say? Also... I'm sure it will be much livelier if you all were to come... At any rate, you must make your way to Heartslabyul later!

Requested by @farfalla049 and @sakurakudo.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Escape II

Bruna Vilamala x Eriksson!Reader

Hardersson x Sister!Reader

Summary: Your sister meets your girlfriend

In a feat of amazing strength and character, Bruna ended up tackling both Frido and Ingrid to the ground and distracting them for long enough for you and Lena to make a break to it.

You made good on your promise and took her to dinner at some up class fancy restaurant that you both ended up abandoning in favour of some greasy fried food that absolutely broke your diets.

You'd been with each otherever since, flying back and forth between Spain and Germany to spend time together. You go on holiday with each other. You go to the markets.

Your whole life used to be football and trying to make sure Lena didn't do something stupid like argue with the wrong player. Now Bruna slipped in too.

Football.

Bruna.

Making sure Lena didn't split her head open on a rock.

Bruna.

"Do you want to meet my sisters?"

Bruna's head is on your shoulder, staring at the tv as she flicks between channels. "What?"

"Well, I guess, Pernille's not actually my sister but she and Magda have been gross and in love for years so she's practically my sister too. Would you like to meet them?"

Bruna looked confused. "They know about me?"

"Was I meant to keep you a secret?" You teased, leaning down to kiss her. "You don't have to meet them if you don't want to. They'll be in town in a few days so I just wanted to put the offer on the table."

Bruna still looked a bit anxious. "You can't just say that like it's nothing. It's Magdalena Eriksson and Pernille Harder. They're practically living legends."

"They're idiots," You replied decisively," And they're just coming round so they can mooch off me and get in my business. They'll probably ask you if you really tackled Frido and then Magda might even give you a medal."

"I thought she and Frido were friends."

You shrugged. "They are but they like seeing each other in uncomfortable situations. True friendship and whatever." You flung your arm around Bruna. "Do you want to meet them?"

"I'll meet them."

Magda and Pernille arrived promptly in front of your apartment at ten in the morning a few days later and you rolled off the sofa with a groan. Bruna hovered by your shoulder, shifting her weight from one foot to another as you opened the door.

Magda grabbed at you easily, pulling you into a headlock and rubbing her knuckles over your hair.

"Hey! Hey! Get off!"

Pernille slipped through your grappling bodies to shake Bruna's hand - who was staring wide-eyed in shock at the way you and your sister immediately started fighting.

"Don't mind them," Pernille said," They'll knock if off soon. Have you guys got any juice?" She didn't wait for an answer, just heading straight for the fridge to pour herself a glass.

Bruna watched as you tore yourself from Magda's grip, jumping onto her back and trying to force her to the ground.

"Aren't you meant to be mature?" Magda said condescendingly, pinching at your cheek. "I don't think your girlfriend's very happy at seeing you act like such a child."

Bruna blushed heavily at being introduced into the conversation and opened and closed her mouth several times before settling on not speaking.

"Just because I'm younger and more talented-" You shoved Magda away and smoothed out your t-shirt "-Doesn't mean that you have to be so jealous."

"Jealous?" Magda scoffed," D'you hear that Pernille? She thinks I'm jealous! Hey, I made you into the player you are today."

"The only thing you made me do," You said with an eye roll, sliding over to rest a hand on Bruna's waist," Is run away to Germany to get away from your big head. But, of course, you followed me here too, you stalker."

Magda flicked you on the forehead before turning to Bruna.

"Terribly sorry you have to put up with her all the time," She said," I'm Magda, the prettier, more talented sister."

"You've got a girlfriend!" You lifted Bruna away. "Don't try and steal mine!"

Magda shrugged. "I can't help it if I'm more charming than you."

"Magda," Pernille said across the room in warning.

Magda quickly sent her a smile, suddenly red face and embarrassed. "But, of course, no one compares to you, Pernille."

"Hmm. I thought so."

"They're so gross," You whispered to Bruna though with the fondness of somebody who had been around this kind of stuff for years. You grinned at her, all confidence and cockiness. "I want to be like that with you in a few years."

Bruna's cheeks coloured slightly at your declaration. "I...I'd like that too."

"What are you smiling about?" Magda asked as your face lit up like a kid on their birthday.

"Nothing you need to worry about, nosey. I don't budge into your conversations with Pernille, do I?"

Magda groaned loudly. "How do you put up with her, Bruna? You deserve a medal."

"Don't mind them," Pernille said, finally inserting herself into the conversation properly after suitably raiding your fridge for refreshments," It's very nice to meet you, Bruna."

She jerked her head over to where you and Magda were bickering again, quick Swedish being traded between you two.

"Why don't we go and sit down and let them sort each other out?"

"Are they okay? I mean, do they not need to be interrupted?"

"They're always like this," Pernille said dismissively," Give them another ten minutes and they'll come back laughing. Now, I'm more interested in how you two met. Frido said that you tackled her?"

True to her word, it only took ten minutes for you and Magda to calm down, clapping each other on the back and laughing like you hadn't just squabbled and physically fought each other for the past half an hour.

Magda collapsed in the armchair next to Pernille while you slouched next to Bruna, an arm automatically wrapping around her shoulders.

"It's nice to meet you," Magda said eventually," I've heard all about you from Frido."

For some reason that made Bruna feel a bit nervous. "All good?"

"Excellent, more like," Magda said," Which is a little annoying because I was banking on you being insufferable. I've got this track record of hating all of y/n's partners but you're as clean as a whistle. Begrudgingly, I have to like you."

"High praise from Magda," You whispered in Bruna's ears," Congrats, babe, you're officially the favourite sister."

Her face flushed an even deeper red than earlier. "That quickly?"

"That quickly."

You leaned down to press a kiss to Bruna's lips, taking quite a lot of care to not deepen it while Magda and Pernille were over.

"If you two are done sucking face," Magda said," Can we order food now? I'm starving."

[ghcstao3]

siren ghost and sailor soap?

sort of inspired by the pirates of the caribbean sirens scene because it’s one of my favourite things of that series. also i got a little carried away

-

Over the many, many years of traversing the Seven Seas for his life’s work, Soap has become intimately familiar with the abundant myths and legends about the ocean and what lies beneath.

Of course, most of these hold no truth. Most of these are only mere stories to quell the anxieties of sailors, or to provide reasoning to strange occurrences seemingly otherwise unexplainable.

Sirens are, unfortunately, the exception.

Ruthless, ravenous creatures—they’re the worst fear of any sailor who knows the worth of his own life, and like most things that make mortal men afraid, they’ve been transformed into weapons.

Soap only knows that sirens are real because of what happens to many prisoners at sea—from the brig they’re moved to rowboats without paddles, abandoned and forced to sing until the sirens appear to lure them into the water, where flesh would be torn from bone with razor sharp teeth.

It’s a terrifying sight. The creatures are like sharks called to blood with the way they appear, like piranhas with the way they feast.

It’s horrifying. Fascinating. And Soap has vowed to never let himself end up on one of those boats.

But alas. Fate has other plans for him.

Soap had been reluctant to join the crew of Captain Philip Graves when presented with the opportunity, but the pay promised had been good, the work simple, and the destination somewhere he’s never been.

But what Soap hadn’t realized is that Graves likes to take prisoners. He likes to engage in unfair combat with other ships, and operates almost like a pirate, though not explicitly enough to be considered one himself.

Soap realizes his mistake far too late when he wanders down to the brig one night, otherwise unable to sleep. They’re two weeks into their voyage by now, and Soap knows there’s people in the jail—but he hadn’t known the state of them.

Most already without a secure amount of food outside their makeshift cell, they’re emaciated, wasting away in the hull of the vessel. They’re barely responsive when Soap knocks on the bars of the hold and pokes someone’s damp shoulder. Someone weakly latches onto Soap’s sleeve and begs for nothing in particular, and he feels awful for not having known about this sooner.

So he begins sneaking them food, brings them drink. Squirrels away what extra he can without anyone noticing he’s stopped finishing his meals.

Except someone must notice. Because, nearing the end of their journey, Graves is waking him in the dead of night and pulling him into the Captain’s quarters.

Soap swallows the pounding heartbeat in his throat as Graves slowly crosses the room to take a seat at his desk. He’s never liked the man, not one bit—but this just feels unnecessary. Taunting.

“A little bird tells me you’ve been keeping our prisoners fed,” Graves drawls. “Even though, from what I recall, prisoners are the enemy. I don’t suppose you really have been helping them out, have you, MacTavish?”

It’s a trap, Soap knows. Only a fool wouldn’t be able to tell Graves’s question isn’t really a question at all. Graves has his answer, and waits on Soap’s response if only to entertain him with the idea of escape.

Soap knows just as well that there’s hardly a point in trying to lie.

He lifts his chin as he looks straight into Graves’s eyes to tell him, “I have been. They’re still people.”

Graves chuckles lowly, rising from his seat. He rounds the desk, sitting back on its edge with his arms folded across his chest.

It might be intimidating, if Soap were anyone else. If he were a lesser man.

“Well, then—since you like ‘em so much,” Graves says, “surely you won’t mind joining them.”

Soap supplies Graves with no visible reaction. He doesn’t fight as Graves calls for his men to throw Soap in the brig, doesn’t put up any fuss as they try to cajole him.

If Soap has to be imprisoned for doing what’s right, then he at least won’t let Graves have the satisfaction of knowing Soap’s internal panic.

Because Soap knows what Graves plans to do with his prisoners. He’s known all along.

He predicts they’re maybe a day from port when they’re shoved off the ship and ordered into the decaying rowboat, left to drift away—not too far, however, as they’re still tethered to the ship. Because once all prisoners have been drowned, the boat will be reeled back and used again the next time Graves and his crew venture out to terrorize the waters.

No one has the energy to sing, to lure their cruel punishment to them. Soap’s half-convinced some of the others might just jump into the water on their own.

But they have to sing. Especially when a bullet ricochets off the boat and splinters the wood as encouragement.

Despite his time spent out at sea, Soap isn’t overly familiar with many shanties. He just follows along with whatever is mumbled in a weak tune, dreading as the volume builds with a second bullet, and the water below begins to churn. Glancing over the edge, Soap swears he sees the flash of a tail.

The first one appears shortly, singing along to the song like she’s entirely familiar with the melody. Soap feels the pull, though perhaps not as strongly as he imagined he would, if ever he ended up in these circumstances.

He wonders, briefly and distantly, if it has to do with the fact that he’s not really all that into women.

Soap snorts. Wouldn’t that be something.

But as more sirens appear, the pull grows stronger. Soap begins to feel swayed by the song, gone from muttered and off-kilter to something beautiful, hypnotic. The boat bobs with the weight of their new company and the prisoners that rush to the sides to get a better look at the sirens as if they aren’t the dangerous creatures they’re known to be.

Still, though, Soap isn’t completely compelled to join them in the water. He stays put in the centre and grounds his teeth—though he does gasp and reach out when the first prisoner is pulled under, and red soon blossoms across the surface of the water.

Then he appears.

The whole world seems to disappear for just a moment, when Soap looks into big, brown eyes.

The siren’s voice is deeper than the rest, soothing, and though Soap’s hindbrain screams at him that hidden behind the enchanting exterior, the porcelain skin and the straw-blond hair, there lives evil—he can’t help but lean in.

As Soap gets closer, the boat continuing to rock as more prisoners fall victim, the siren’s singing pauses just long enough for him to offer Soap a smile, saccharine, close-lipped. He reaches out an arm to Soap, calloused fingers caressing Soap’s cheek, cupping his jaw.

Soap can’t help but melt into the touch, its simultaneous warmth and coolness, subconsciously chasing it as it retracts, eyes fluttering shut with a short, pleased sigh.

But with the singing fading from the others, Soap’s eyes suddenly snap open. The siren still holds him, still leads Soap with that gentle touch and deceptively kind gaze, but Soap resists. He doesn’t know when he’d gotten to leaning halfway over the edge of the boat, but he scrambles backward to the opposite side, as far as he can get from this siren.

Soap comes to the startling realization that he’s the only one left.

“Don’t get shy on me now,” the siren croons. He props himself up on the edge of the boat, arms thick with corded muscle to show the real power of this creature. He leans forward, the boat tilting with his added weight. “I don’t bite.”

Soap glances nervously about the empty rowboat, gaze accidentally straying the bloodstained waters that surround them.

“I beg to differ,” Soap says weakly.

The siren laughs softly before slowly sinking back into the water. The boat sways. Soap shakes.

Everything goes silent for a suspiciously long moment before there’s a disturbance in the water and the siren appears at the side of the boat where Soap has taken refuge. He’s singing quietly again and Soap feels that pull, so he moves away, screws his eyes shut, and jams his fingers in his ears in an attempt to block it out.

It doesn’t work, not when the singing gets louder, and Soap’s attempt is rendered useless.

“Shut up,” Soap growls. “Please just shut. Up.”

The singing does cease, though only to make way for a deep, full laughter that is somehow tugging on Soap’s conscience with more force than any melody so far.

When Soap blinks his eyes open, the siren is perched on the edge of the boat, arms splayed one on top of the other, his head resting over them. He’s smiling, even once his laughter has died down, a glint of something in his dark eyes—maybe not quite sinister, but certainly mischievous.

“They’re not letting you back on that ship, you know,” the siren says, as if it isn’t obvious. “So you can either come with me—“

“And what? Be drowned? Eaten?” Soap snaps. “Thanks, but I’d rather rot right here.”

“Suit yourself,” the siren hums.

To Soap’s surprise, he actually disappears back into the water. And despite the waves—the ocean seems to have finally calmed.

Maybe Soap did have the tiny, illogical hope that he’d be brought back to the ship. Maybe Soap did have the tiny, logical hope that this siren would just put him out of his misery.

Either way, now he just sits in silence, listening to waves lap up against the hull as the rowboat rocks lazily with the current. Though the peace surely only stretches on for a few minutes, it feels like hours.

Stupidly, Soap goes to inspect the depths. To make certain he’s really been left alone.

Because that’s when he’s pulled in.

Soap barely has time to yell out before his mouth is filled with the overwhelming, stinging taste of salt, unfamiliar arms wrapping securely around his frame so he can’t wriggle free. His shouts are muffled by the water, and he feels the cold soak into his bones as he’s dragged deeper and deeper. The light fades, or maybe it’s the lack of oxygen.

The last thing Soap sees is the siren’s grin, all fangs and malice before everything goes black.

But then, after an unknown amount of time—Soap wakes up to the slow drip, drip, drip of water on a stone floor.

He’s in a cave.

He’s in a cave, and there’s a light source somewhere, and the siren is watching him.

Soap coughs, clearing water from his lungs. He chokes out, “Why… what did you—“

The siren shrugs. “I don’t eat people I like.”

Soap frowns, still coughing. “You…”

“Call me Ghost,” the siren says, then dives into the pool he’d been wading in at the entrance of the cave, and swims away—long, elegant tail flicking behind him as he leaves.

And while many, many thought swirl around Soap’s head as he gradually gathers his bearings about the situation, the clearest of them all is also the simplest; what the hell kind of a name is Ghost?

If only he could guess.

And if only he could know what’s meant to happen to him next.

[useless-catalanfacts]

Now it's been a week since the floods, but we must remember that the damage is not nearly over. It will take months and years for the affected families to recover. And that's not counting that 215 people have died and 78 are still missing. Many homes, streets, fields, schools, etc are destroyed. I'm glad for all the solidarity we've seen this first week, but they are going to be needing help for a long time to recover.

All the local organizations are thankful but for some days have been asking for people to stop sending them objects (tools, clothes, food, etc) because the collection points have so many that they can't manage them and they don't even need so many of some things being sent, for this reason there are storehouses full of materials that they don't need but people keep sending and some volunteers are having to stay there to coordinate the stuff that arrives instead of being where they're needed. So, please, don't send any more things unless you are coordinated directly with a local association there that asked for a specific thing. They say that the most useful donations now are money and not any more food nor second-hand objects. (Again, thank you very much because this overwhelming response speaks of the goodness and solidarity of everyone who immediately reacted by sending things! but let's do it in a coordinated way with the affected people to make sure it's useful).

Also, recently some well-meaning people have been sharing fundraisers to help the victims, but some of these posts seem to be made by outsiders compiling what they found on Twitter, which ended up spreading fundraisers that belong to far right-wing groups, the Catholic Church, and to associations that aren't well known in the area.

If you can make an economical donation to help these people who have lost everything in a day, these are some trustworthy associations:

Fundraiser by Fundació Horta Sud. This is a foundation created by many local associations of the Horta Sud area, one of the areas that has been the most impacted by the catastrophe. It's a well-known foundation that brings together many local associations. This and the next one are the fundraising that is most recommended by people on the ground working on immediate needs.

Casals i Ateneus dels Països Catalans (federation of social centres of the Catalan Countries) has many social centres in the affected areas and is coordinated with trade unions to provide immediate needs. The bank number for donations is ES74 3025 0002 4614 3344 7057.

Fundraiser to help small family-owned farmers (farmers are one of the poorest segments of population in our country, families own a small plot of land and they're very threatened by big corporations, they're at the forefront of fighting for climate and the rural communities' traditional way of living with nature). The fundraiser is created by the International Centre of Rural and Agriculture Studies (Centro de Estudios Rurales y de Agricultura Internacional). This is the fundraiser shared by trustworthy Valencian associations that work in favour of rural communities and traditional cuisine, such as Tasta'l d'ací.

Fundraiser for the grass-roots cultural associations and cultural heritage guardians, organized by the Federation of Local Studies Institutes of the Valencian Country, the Coordinator of Local Studies Centres of the Catalan-Speaking Countries, the Federation of "Ateneus" of Catalonia, and the Ramon Muntaner Institute. Many local archives, centres of local studies, "ateneus" (social and cultural centres with an important task as a library for the community and as historians of the area, among other cultural activities) and other cultural associations headquarters have been destroyed. They are very important for the memory, history and culture of small areas. To write articles about the history and legends for this blog, I very often use work published by these local study groups, because most of the time they are the only ones working in detail on the historical and cultural heritage of their hometown. Here is the information on how to donate, as shared by the organizers:

Translation: Let's help the Valencian cultural and heritage associations affected by the 2024 floods. You can send your donations to [the bank number] ES98 3159 0066 91 3048828523 Or the BIZUM code 10586 (starting on 7th November 2024). You can send the receipt of your donation to: solidaritatcultura@fedinespv.org.

You can find more associations that are collecting donations in this document by Suport Mutu DANA València.

Thank you very much for caring.

[evilminji]

Actually? WOULD Earth be the ones to petition Oa?

They are interstellar Space Interpol. You don't usually call them on different parts of your OWN settlements or systems. You call them in when someone is breaking THE Laws. Not necessarily YOUR laws, though obviously by breaking THE laws they clearly ARE. But THE Big Laws(tm).

Like Geneva Convention for Space type laws.

You have discovered Planet or King X is committing WAR CRIMES. Call Oa. Tax fraud? That's an inter-personal planet side issue they can't help you with. Pointing Nukes at your nursery settlement and threatening to blow up the infants there unless you give them sex-slaves?

Knock-knock! Taste HARD Light Constructs!

But if so? Then how would the situation get so out of hand on Earth? With the G.I.W.? Simple. Tell me, Mr. President, what do you know of the current day to day life of villagers in rural Siberia?

That they exist? Could you even NAME their village, if I referenced specific individuals? Likely not. And no one would realistically expect you too.

There are countless planets out there! With Leaders busy with local industrial conferences and infrastructure bills. Farming regulations. Talks with that planet a few stars over. Very busy. What do THEY know of Earth? Why would they NEED too?

But! As we know, Ectoplasm is EVERYWHERE. Not just earth. And? Thin spots are not just an Earth-centric phenomenon. Other planets most CERTAINLY would have them too. And depending on the species? The culture? To quote the wise sage Bill Wurtz "you can make a religion out of this!"

After all, chosen few, returned from death... glowing and more powerful then before? Immortal? It's a pretty reasonable conclusion to come too. They are clearly Gods Touched. Some sacred task they must complete.

It would likely even shape the ghosts of the region themselves. After all, they TOO, would believe they were chosen for some Important Religious Task. Be it study or collecting rocks. To what end? Unknown. Who are they to question The Gods?

But! Oh happy day! The old tyrant is no more! A chosen Hero! They go to greet him! Honor him, as you do. Traditional gifts and ballads. Maybe some sacred rocks. A fancy hat. But? Oh? The Champion is wounded! Gasp! Still? But the fight with Pariah happened-

And then they are given Grave Warning(tm). Don't go to Earth. Heretics attacking people. KILLING souls! Trying to KILL the king of all the Infinite! He is somber because his living parents were hurt. Preventing the END OF ALL THINGS!!!??

WHAT!?

These "People In White" tried to EXPLODE the very FABRIC of all realities!? Several of them faint. Truely, these Fentons MUST be chosen by the Gods! Heros. Legends. Such bravery in the face of such HORRORS. Please, let them be brought to their Living counterparts! The hospitals are quite good!

And you know what? Fuck it. Danny will take that. Because his Mom n Dad got hurt. BAD.

They learned he was Phantom at probably the SINGLE worst time imaginable and still chose HIM. Chose THEM. The GIW were coming for him. Gonna hurt Jazz. And his parents told them, with fire and blood, it'd be a cold day in hell before they let them so much as TRY it.

They BLEW UP their own life's work. Went literally scorched earth. And now? They're not doing so good.

Because the Zone isn't made for the living. No food, no water, and no real human-safe medical supplies. They've run out. Danny will take what he can get. He'd even go to Vlad but... his Portal's gone too. And the Buzzards said he looked... spirally. Very... "suicide runs until everything BURNS".

So, yeah. No one's doing so great.

Alien planet it is.

They are greeted with fanfare and respect. The best medical teams on the PLANET. The King and his family is there, to welcome him. It's... it's beautiful. Hardly some perfect utopia, but the air is lite. Art everywhere. The stars vivid and so easy to see, at night.

The King kinda reminds him of Mr. Lancer to be honest. Balding and a bit round around the middle, stern but endlessly fair about it, wants people to do their best and succeed in life. Maybe that's why Danny finds himself opening up. Because... because here is a real, honest to God, KING king.

Somebody who was actually TRAINED to do all this King stuff.

Unlike Danny.

And Danny? He's scared. People expect him to Lead now. To know what he's doing. To somehow just... suddenly KNOW how to do all these things he's never even heard about. He only barely just died. Has BARELY been keeping everybody safe.

BARELY stopped Pariah.

He doesn't know what to do. But he pours his guts out. All the things that have bottled up. And King Not-Lancer listens. Somber and thoughtful. There is little, if anything he can TRUELY do to help. But... there ARE things he can do. Lessons on statescraft, while he's here, for one.

As for the other? Well, as King, he does have the local Lantern's Call Sign. Not to be used lightly, mind you. But what Danny describes? And from what the Sacred Ones have reported? THAT must be reported to Oa. He can show Danny how to do that.

(He does)

[The Lanterns of Earth get a VERY exciting call from Oa. Are every different shade of pissed. But? Whoops! Looks like they ACCIDENTALLY put the Watchtower into a complete Quarantine! Well, dang. Guess we're all stuck here for two weeks!

Reset it? *sound of smashing computer terminal* Yeah, don't think that's gonna work! :)

WHO WANTS TO PLAY 20 QUESTIONS?? We'll start! :) Who here has heard of an organization called, and I quote, The Ghost Investigation Ward? :) ]

@hdgnj @ailithnight @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter