#or maybe its not even egg island's :) that did it

[ghostly-omens]

oh i was right that's fun. eye dude really did get shipped the quesadilla island residents to look after and instead of doing his job and giving them a perfect island experience he went rogue and started the hell-games and the federation has no idea lmao. the federation thinks its a third party interfering but so far it seems all signs point to it being egg island's equivalent of cucurucho becoming the joker

[thestuffedalligator]

The giant was in an iron cage that had once held an elephant in the menagerie.

Here in the dungeons, it was still too small for it to sit up in. It was lying on its side, knees drawn up to its chest, facing the opposite wall.

Gretta had been forbidden to see it. Well, no, that wasn’t right – nobody had even told Gretta that it was here. Her sisters and the staff of the castle had apparently been expressly forbidden to tell her, but Margit had a soft heart and told her the night before that they had finally caught the giant.

It stung that even her little sister had been told and that she hadn’t.

She didn’t sleep after that, and she spent the long morning looking for an opportunity to slip away. Now in the gloom of the dungeon, she stood in the entranceway and watched the slow rise and fall of the giant’s breathing.

She could feel the heart in her chest beating, a quick thud-dump, thud-dump, thud-dump that shook her whole body. Once upon a time the giant was a menace that had pillaged and ransacked the whole western coast of the kingdom. It was a story her mother had told her and her sisters and had made Margit burst into tears in the middle of the night–

“I know that heartbeat.”

Gretta froze. The words had been slow, and low, and had made pebbles on the stone floor shiver.

Chains started to jingle together. “That is a heart I’ve not heard beat in three long years,” the giant said as it started to turn in its cage. “I’d know it anywhere.”

The giant settled on its other side. In the low glow of the dungeon’s torches, its grin gleamed like rubies.

“Hello again,” the giant rumbled. “Do you remember me?”

Gretta swallowed. She remembered–

She remembered being lulled to sleep as the carriage rocked on the highland road. She remembered the door being pulled off its hinges with a shower of splinters. She remembered the grey hand as wide as a wagon wheel reaching out to her–

She remembered waking up with a long, delicate stitch along her sternum.

Her hand reached unthinking to feel the long scar under her shirt.

“Yes,” she said. “You’re the giant who put its heart in my chest.”

“I missed the sound of it. It’s beating fast, so very fast.” The ruby grin flashed again. “Are you frightened of me?”

Gretta stared. Then she set her shoulders and turned her chin up to a haughty angle. “I’m not frightened of an animal in a cage,” she said.

The grin vanished. “Fine,” it said. The chains rattled again as it turned to stare up at the ceiling.

“I want to know why you did it.”

There was a very long, thoughtful pause. For a moment she was worried it wasn’t going to speak.

“I’m sure you guessed,” it finally rumbled. “The queen did – she only caught me to confirm what she already knew. A giant cannot be killed while its heart is outside of its body.” Another sound of metal as it shrugged. “Other giants bury their hearts or hide them in an egg in a duck in a well in a church on an island. I wanted something more… certain.”

“And that’s why you chose me?”

The giant was silent. The heart in her chest continued to beat, thud-dump, thud-dump, thud-dump…

The giant sighed. “It was never meant to be you,” it said. “I meant to grab the seventh daughter.”

Gretta blinked. “Margit?”

“Oh yes. Sweet, simpering, insipid Margit, who still sings with the birds and cries over baby animals. The kingdom would’ve had a conniption over having to kill her to kill me – if they did, it would be such a heinous death that they would remember it for generations in song and story. And I would’ve gotten my immortality either way.

“Instead I got you.” The giant looked back at Gretta and gave her a look of such contempt she nearly reeled. “You,” the giant said again, and she had never heard the word said with more disgust. “Who cares about you.”

“Excuse me!”

“Sixth of seven daughters,” the giant said. “Not the eldest, not the youngest, not even a proper middle child. An extra. A spare. Worthless, except for maybe an interesting marriage.”

“You have no right to–”

“They’ll just kill you.”

The dungeon was suddenly deathly still.

“They won’t be happy about it,” the giant continued, turning to stare at the ceiling again. “They’ll be very somber and austere and I have no doubt that Margit will cry over you, as she does over all little animals about to die. But they’ll say that you’re more valuable dead than I am alive, and so for the sake of the kingdom you will be given the noble task of dying. And that will be the end of us both.”

Gretta opened her mouth. She closed her mouth. She opened her mouth again. “Is that it?! If you’re so sure, why don’t you – why don’t you break out of your chains? Ransack the castle? Run back to your mountain, do something?”

“What an odd thing to say,” the giant said. “You know that if I live, I can escape to murder and pillage and ransack again. Surely, any good princess would want only the best for their people.”

Gretta said nothing. The heart in her chest went thud-dump, thud-dump, thud-dump…

She could feel the giant’s grin. “The queen had me captured so she could confirm what she already knew,” it said. “It seems to me that you’re here to do something very similar.”

Halfway up the stairs from the dungeon, Gretta ran into her mother.

Gretta stared. Her mother blinked. Gretta considered her options.

She set her head at a haughty angle. “I know you caught it,” she said.

There was a very long, thoughtful pause.

“What did it tell you?” her mother asked.

Gretta looked at her mother. She looked at her mother’s hand on the hilt of her sword.

She felt the beat of her heart go thud-dump, thud-dump, thud-dump.

“Nothing I didn’t already know,” she said.

She ran away that night.

[honnelander]

busgirl

once again i got carried away and wrote way more than i planned too lol thank you to the lovely anon who requested this and i hope i did your prompt justice request: what if the reader’s a merchant’s daughter who was supposed to marry a suitor but she runs away and ends up meeting sanji

WARNINGS: none

word count: 3.4k

pairing: opla!sanji x fem!reader

summary: reader is arranged to be married but she won't stand for it. so what does she do? she runs away and meets one particular chef, begging him for help

masterlist

taglist: @smol-book-nerd @shuujin @smolracoon25 @mischiefmanaged71 @amanda08319

You never imagined your life turning out like this: still living with your father at this grown age, never having gone beyond your small island town ever in your life, and waking up every day just to relive the same day over and over again. It was torture.

Every single day of your life has been the same since you left school: you woke up before the sun rose, made breakfast for you and your father, helped prepare the wagon for its daily trip into town, then spend all day yelling in the town's square trying to sell any shoes you could (your father was a shoe merchant), pack up the unsold product at the end of the day, head home, make dinner, then go to bed soon after cleaning up just so you could wake up and do the same things all over again. You hated it.

But what could you really do to change anything? You were born to a poor shoe merchant and ever since your mother had died, things had become even tighter for your small family, of now, two.

Your father never had much, barely a penny to his name, so that meant you also had no money to your name either. Sure, you could've started a side hustle of scams and cons, maybe trying your luck at playing poker at the docks whenever pirates showed up, but how could you just leave your father like that? Just leave him all alone once you scraped together enough berry to buy a one-way ticket out of this town? As much as you were tempted, you couldn't. It didn't feel right. And besides, you were always too exhausted at the end of the day to do anything else anyway.

But then one day, your father said something that would change your life forever.

The day started out like any other. You had cooked a quick meal of toast and eggs for yourselves and once you finished your plate, you moved to get up to put the dishes in the sink for later.

But before you could get out of your seat, your dad grabbed your wrist gently, telling you to stay seated. "Actually, y/n, no need to rush this morning. We're not going into town today."

"What?" You were taken aback. You couldn't remember a day where you both didn't do this daily routine. "Why?"

Your father couldn't look at you in the eye. Instead, he kept his focus on his half-eaten breakfast, which was also weird. He normally finished eating before you. "Y/n...you know I wouldn't do this unless I had no other choice," he started.

You felt your heart drop to the bottom of your stomach. What was happening?

"But business has been really slow lately, and I tried to hold this off for as long as I could," he continued.

"Hold what off?"

He kept talking like you hadn't said anything. "But there really was no other choice." He swallowed and finally looked up and the look in his eyes scared you. You've never seen your father look that upset before...the only other time he had looked like that had been when mom died.

You tried to swallow but your mouth was dry. "Dad, what's going on?"

"And you know I always will love you, right?"

"Dad," you said a little more sternly, your heart beating a thousand miles a minute. "What is happening?" After a moment of silence, you repeated yourself. "Dad, answer me."

His next sentence hit you like a ton of bricks. "Y/n, I arranged for you to be married."

You couldn't move. "What?" you breathed.

Like always, your father continued on like you hadn't said a word. "He's a nice man, a decent man. His name is Olaf and he's from the North Blue, comes from money..."

You felt your dad tighten his grip on your wrist and suddenly you felt like you were being suffocated. You ripped your hand away from your dad's grip, the sting of betrayal hurting more than any cut or wound ever could. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you fought your hardest not to let them fall. "You sold me?" your voice quivered.

Those three words finally got your dad's attention. He looked into your eyes again, hurt evident in his gaze, but you realized you didn't care. Not anymore. "No," he replied firmly. "You know I would never sell you to anyone. I would never do that."

A humorous laugh escaped your lips. "Oh? But you'd put me in an arranged marriage instead? For money?" When you blinked, tears fell down your cheeks. "Are we really that poor dad?" you spat.

"Y/n-"

"Why didn't you tell me how bad off we were before? Before-" you stuttered and waved your arms around, "before all of this? I could've- I could've done something, anything." You ran a hand through your hair as you exhaled, a sardonic smile appearing on your face as you looked up to the ceiling, up to whatever God had subjected you to this cruel fate.

"There's nothing you could've done, y/n."

"You don't know that!" you exclaimed. Pure hot red rage adorning your features as your furious eyes snapped down to look at your dad. "I could've hustled, I could've conned the guys down at the dock for some money. I could've done something instead of nothing!"

"And then what? End up dead in a dark alley once those men found out you stole money from them? End up raped?" Your dad's anger matched yours, his voice growing louder with each sentence. "Maybe become a pirate? There is no way I would ever let that happen to you y/n."

Your dad hated pirates and you knew he would rather die before he ever let you become one.

You flung your arms up in exasperation. rolling your eyes as you let out a frustrated groan. "Oh I don't know dad," you yelled, "maybe I could've joined the Marines or something!"

But your dad didn't like the Marines either. He believed pirates and Marines were the same person, just in different clothes.

"I wouldn't let you do that either, you know that y/n."

Suddenly, a thought stuck you: you were an adult, so why was your father still making all of these major life decisions for you? It didn't make sense.

But you knew one thing: you certainly weren't going to marry some rich guy you didn't know from the North Blue. Not if you were still living and breathing.

You glanced at the open window behind your dad, seeing the early morning tinges of a sunrise lighting up the sky. Perfect, you thought. Docked ships normally didn't leave port until the sun broke the horizon, so you had a chance to hop aboard any ship that would take you far far away from here. Away from your miserable life and a father you were realizing you hated.

The sky started becoming brighter by the minute and your heart rate started to spike. You estimated you had around 20 minutes or so until the sunrise broke and if you were serious about running away, it was now or never.

Suddenly, you stood up from the kitchen table and realized that your father had stopped whatever he was saying to look at you with a curious expression.

"Y/n?"

"Y-you know what dad?" your voice shook and you swallowed your nerves. "I...I think you're right? This Olaf guy probably isn't that bad and would probably give me a better life than I ever could," you ground out and forced a smile that you were sure looked more like a grimace. "I'll do it."

If today had been a normal day, your dad would've been tipped off that something was up but he was just so relieved that you were actually agreeing to all this.

Your dad had a relieved smile on his face as he said, "That makes me so happy to hear that y/n. You have no idea."

"Y-yeah, me too," you agreed with a small nod. You reached down to pick up your plates but your hands were shaking.

Your father placed a hand on your arm. "I understand you're nervous sweetheart. Why don't you go lie down in your room? There's some time until Olaf gets here. I can handle the dishes for today."

Perfect. You agreed and nodded quickly. Thanking your dad and giving him one last look before you went up to your room and never saw him again.

--------- -----

Your lungs were burning as you ran towards the docks. You could feel sweat running down your back as you pushed yourself to run as fast as you could, arms pumping and feet kicking out dirt behind you.

The sky was beginning to turn a lighter shade of orange and a ping of fear gripped your heart.

What if you didn't make it? What if all the ships were all boarded up and ready to set sail by the time you got there? It wasn't uncommon for ships to leave a tad early since most of them had a full day at sea before them but you were so close, you just had to make it. There were probably around five minutes or so until you reached the docks and you just had to get over this ridiculous hill.

But your legs were tired and your sides were cramping and you could feel yourself slowing down due to exhaustion. You weren't a huge runner to begin with but you were literally running for your life- so what choice did you have?

If you made it through all this, you vowed to yourself that you would get better at running. Who knew the next time your life would depend on it?

As you reached the top of the hill, you took a quick second to breathe and survey the docks before you but what you saw nearly stopped your heart. There were normally a dozen or so ships that littered these docks but it looked like most of them had headed out early with only a few ships remaining, and the ones that were left? They looked like they were nearly ready to leave port as well.

With newfound urgency, you sprinted down the hill, yelling out to any sailor who would listen to your plea.

"WAIT!" you screamed. "Wait for me!"

But no one acknowledged you. You started to wave your arms around, your travel bag bouncing around as you continued to sprint.

"PLEASE! I beg you!"

As you got closer, you could start to make out the names of the few ships that were there. There was one ship called "The Happy Farewell" and you figured since they were closest you would try them first.

"Get lost girl," the ship's captain sneered. "I got no use for a girl like you."

"But please, I need to leave. You don't understand," you begged.

The captain clicked his tongue as he shook his head. "Don't we all?" he muttered. But he spared you one last glance before boarding his ship and something in your expression must've been wildly desperate because he sighed before nodding towards the ship two docks down. "Zeff's."

"What?"

"Go to Zeff's ship, girl. The Baratie. He doesn't have the heart to turn away desperate souls like yourself."

Your head whipped towards the direction the captain was looking and you saw the decent-sized Baratie standing there.

"But you better hurry," he warned. "They're setting sail as soon as we leave."

You quickly looked back at the captain to thank him but he was already walking up the plank to board his ship, barking out orders to let down the sails and hoist up the anchor.

Shit. You had to hurry.

You sprinted two docks over and once you reached the dock The Baratie was tied to, you saw a couple of men in white coats loading up the last of the crates of food onboard. You had just made it.

It was weird to you that these pirates were dressed up in matching white coats and blue bandanas around their collar but, hey, it could always be worse and you weren't in a position to be picky. You would even join a circus crew at this point.

You made your way over to the closest "pirate", a tall blonde guy that had hair almost covering his left eye. He was inspecting one of the crates, clipboard in hand and checked things off as he examined it.

"Excuse me," you huffed, trying to get this man's attention. "But I need your help. I need to speak to the ship's captain."

"Don't we all," the guy replied with a good-humored laugh and crooked smile, not looking up from his clipboard.

"Please," you urged. "It's important."

The man looked up from his clipboard and did a double-take, clearly not expecting a young woman like yourself, who looked like they just ran away from demons, asking to speak to the captain this early in the morning.

His eyebrows rose as he looked you over, his smile disappearing. "Are you alright Madam? Is something the matter?"

As his eyes scanned you over, you noticed how good-looking this guy was. And here you were, all sweaty and disheveled, your hair probably sticking out in all different directions. You prayed to whatever God was out there that you didn't have sweat stains on your shirt.

What a day this was turning out to be.

You ran your hands over your hair, trying to smooth down your flyaways and hoping you looked a bit more presentable. "I will be alright, when I speak to the captain."

"Anything I can help you with?"

What the- was this guy hitting on you? Your wandering eyes snapped back to look at this man when he asked that, looking to see if he really had the audacity to hit on you while you were begging for help, but you saw no trace of flirtation whatsoever, just concern.

"Ah- no. Unless you have the power to give me a spot on this crew."

The man's eyes lit up (you noticed they were blue). "Ah, so you want to join the Baratie? Become a chef yourself?"

You looked at him in utter confusion, blinking a couple times to make sure you heard him right. "Huh? A chef?" You looked at his outfit a little more closely and turned to examine the other men who were dressed similarly. You didn't notice it before, but they weren't just wearing any white coat, they were wearing a chef's white coat. "You guys are chefs?" you asked dumbly.

The chef, as you now noticed, rubbed his jaw as he tried to hide his smile at your obvious question. "Yes, Madam. We're chefs."

"So you're a pirate chef?"

The blonde cook couldn't hide his laugh at your series of questions, his blue eyes sparkling and white teeth showing like he had just heard the funniest joke. "No, Madam. We're just chefs. Not pirates or pirate chefs."

You felt stupid and felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. "Oh." But if they were all chefs on this boat, did that mean... "Wait- do I have to be a chef in order to get on this boat?"

"Ah well, if it were up to me," he sighed, "I would give you a spot on the ship regardless if you could cook or not." He twirled the pencil between his fingers as he crossed his arm in thought. "Although, we do need some new waiters. The dining room always seems to be short-staffed..."

You opened your mouth to quickly volunteer yourself even though you never waited tables a day in your life but the blonde chef kept talking.

"Or," he thought out loud," if you really wanted to be a chef with no experience, there are ways you could get into the kitchen. We do need a new busboy. Or girl," he quickly corrected. "Move your way up and learn..."

The sun broke the horizon, the morning orange light now fading into yellow. You swallowed. You were out of time. If you couldn't get a spot on this ship then your life was over.

"I'll do it," you quickly interrupted and nodded. "I'll- I'll do anything. A chef, a waiter, a busboy or busgirl- anything. I'll even clean toilets if I have to. I just- I need to get on this ship."

Your desperate plea silenced the chef, pulling him out of his musings and you could see concern wash over his features. But before he could say anything else, a voice called out from the top of the ship's plank.

"Oi! Sanji! What the hell are you doing down there, son?" the man with a tall chef's hat and braided mustache called out. As he made his way down to the dock, you noticed one of his legs was a wooden peg instead. "The sun's broken the horizon. I don't know how many times I need to tell you this, but next time we pull out of port late, I'm shoving my leg up your ass and you're off the line for a week."

Sanji shook his head, for once not caring about the threat of not cooking, and looked at his father figure, nodding to you. "Zeff, you need to speak to this girl. You have to let her join our crew."

You watched as Zeff followed Sanji's nod and looked down at you with raised eyebrows. It was like he just noticed you were there. "Her? For the last time Sanji, I'm not letting one of your one-night stands join the crew," he said with an exasperated sigh and turned back towards the ship. "Pretty or not."

"Wait!" you called out, grabbing Zeff's arm and immediately dropping it when he turned to look at you in disbelief. "I, I don't know him," you quickly said, pointing at Sanji and taking a big step away from him to prove your point, "My name is y/n and I desperately need a spot on your ship, Sir. Please."

Zeff studied you for a moment, eyes scanning your face. "People like you normally aren't 'desperate' to join my crew."

"But I am, Sir. I," you inhaled a shaky breath at the thought that this man could also turn you away. "I can't stay here. I need to leave. I'll do anything. I can even scrub the toilets."

Zeff regarded you with a short sigh. "Lass, there's no way I would have you scrubbing toilets. I'd make him do that way before asking you," he said and jabbed a thumb at Sanji, silencing Sanji's scoff of disbelief with a look. His face became serious as he asked, "You're serious aren't you?"

You nodded. "As serious as I can be sir."

The head chef became quiet, looking at you like he was trying to figure out what you were running away from, but it wasn't any of his business. At the end of the day, everyone had a past and he wasn't there to judge.

"Alright, lass, you want a position at my restaurant that badly? You got it. Your first service as a busboy- girl, whatever- starts tonight." He pointed a finger at you and with a stern voice asked, "Everyone on this ship earns their keep, alright? And no talking back. Understood?"

Relief flooded your veins at his words, you couldn't control the smile that stretched your cheeks as you nodded. "Yes, chef."

The corner of Zeff's mouth twitched upwards in amusement and he nodded once. "Good." As he turned around to head back onto the ship, he glanced at Sanji. "I like this girl. Wherever you found her...good job, son." He started walking back up the plank onto the ship and called out, "Get those last few crates up on here, boy. We got to leave, we have a dinner service tonight!"

You frowned as you watched Zeff walk away, a little annoyed at the thought that 'Sanji found you' instead of you finding him. When you looked over at Sanji, you saw him still watching Zeff make his way up the plank, beaming slightly at the head chef's praise.

"You didn't find me. I found you," you said to your newest crewmember.

Sanji looked over at you, a small mischievous smile on his face. "And aren't you glad you did?"

Before you could correct him or slap him, you heard Zeff calling out to you from the ship's deck. "Oi! Y/n! What are you doing down there? I'm not paying you to just stand there all day with Sanji! There's a pile of dirty dishes with your name on them in the sink."

"What? Already?" you grumbled as made your way up the plank to board the ship.

From behind you, you could hear Sanji's laughter and you could hear it until you made your way inside.

[imaginesmai]

Right around the corner - Azriel

(1), (2), (3), (4), (5)

Plot: four times someone notices something weird about Azriel, and that time someone figured it out.

Remember, I'm taking requests! This Azriel fic is an Azriel x reader, but she doesn't appear yet. Let me know if you want a second part with a formal introduction to the family!

Through the years, Cassian had learned a few things about Azriel. He could proudly say that, even if he wasn’t a spy master himself, he was quite observant. Picked things here and there about people, noticed small habits and routines. For example, he knew that Rhysand liked his coffee boiling hot, that Mor always brought something red from wherever she traveled, and that Feyre ordered the colors she painted with in certain way.

From all of them, he spent most time with Azriel, so it made sense that Cassian knew him. Or thought so.

Cassian knew Azriel sometimes talked to his shadows, even argued with them. The male liked his boots clean and couldn’t stand blood on his clothes. He preferred tea over coffee and liked bad jokes, even if he always scoffed at them.

Cassian thought Azriel was a picky eater. That he hated berries, because he had never seen his friend eat any.

So, when after a tough monthly shopping session for the house, he found a berries box, he opened it without a second thought. It was what he always did – eat from the box before he put it away, infatuating Rhysand, who liked everything in its place.

He only had time to open the box and touch the first berry before Azriel snatched it from his grip, tucking it away.

“Don’t touch it” he grumbled, still focused on putting the eggs away.

“Why not? Rhy’s not here. He won’t mind” he would mind, thought. Not that Cassian had cared about it. “It’s just one berry. I barely ate lunch”

“That sounds like your problem” Azriel gave him a wary look when he tried to get closer. “Don’t”

“They’re berries. Give them to me” Cassian replied, putting his palm up and waiting for his snack.

“You’ll have to wait until dinner”

Cassian frowned, because it might had been one berry, but berries were brought because he liked them and usually ended up in a bag in his room, either way. The only problem he had faced so far was Rhysand disappointed face when he found the empty box laying on the counter.

He rounded the kitchen island until he was next to Azriel. Once more, he reached for the box of berries. That time, he was met with a cold, aggressive grip on his wrist by one of his shadows.

“Dude. What’s with the berries?” he asked, staring at his unmoving wrist with morbid fascination.

“I bought them for me, they’re not for the house”

“You don’t… like berries”

Azriel seemed surprised at the statement, and finally looked at him. And for the first time in a long time, Cassian realized he had surprised him. That he had caught Azriel in a lie, or maybe in an omission of the truth. A truth he didn’t want or feel like sharing.

Maybe, any other day, Cassian would have let it go by. If it had happened with any other food, or with any other person, it wouldn’t have made him suspicious. But Azriel actually looked surprised, and Cassian had tried enough to know it was impossible to catch him in a lie.

“Well, I do now” he shrugged finally. “So keep your nasty hands out of the box”

Before Cassian could reply, the shadow holding his hand curled back into its master and Azriel winnowed away, berries in hand and a soft smile on his face.

-

Even though Mor didn’t like Azriel the way he liked her, couldn’t love him like he wanted to, she appreciated him as a friend. As a good friend, who was there for her always and through everything. And it was selfish of her, she knew, but she had grown used to the details of being loved. Appreciated, cared for. Wanted.

When she caught his gaze across the room, she was used to watching him blush and look away. When they went out to have fun, she was used to his eyes fixed on her back, not subtle at all. And worst of all, she had been kind of taking advantage of the presents he gave her every now and then.

They weren’t short of money, and Azriel had bought her many things through the years. Something she stared at, something that made him think of her. Multiple things that warmed her heart, not in the way he wanted to.

It was only logical that when she found Azriel at her door with a velvet box, looking nervous and shy, it was just that.

“Az. What a surprise” she tried to smile. Tried not to think about his dejected face once she told him she appreciated the gift but wanted to be alone. “Isn’t it too late for you to be up?”

“Yeah, I… it’s been a rough day” he shrugged.

The first indication that something was different was that he didn’t shy from her stare, nor hid the box behind his back. The second was that he didn’t leave it at her hands like a timing bomb.

Mor raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue. She had been about to go to sleep, after a long day for herself, and supposed half of Velaris was already deep into it.

“Maybe you want to come in?”

She couldn’t physically let him down, drop his expectations and hurt him. More than once, she had given him false hopes in fear of losing the friendship. And when she opened a little bit farther the room of her apartment, she intended to do that.

To accept whatever he had brought her, to hug him tight and thank him, and to let him know that she was really tired and would see him tomorrow, maybe. Then, she would go to bed feeling like a horrible person.

Mor didn’t expect Azriel to open the box himself, and show her something she knew wasn’t for her.

Inside the box, was a beautiful blue sapphire necklace, encased in a silver tear that shone under the moonlight. Everything Azriel had got her, everything anyone got her, was always red. Because that was her color, that was her soul. Not blue and delicate, like the piece of jewelry he held in his hands. 

Azriel didn’t have to say anything else before she noticed the problem.

“It broke and I don’t know how to fix it. It’s… really important for me. And I need it for tonight. For right now” he rambled, like she had never seen him do. “I stayed working late and now the shop is closed”

“It’s beautiful” she whispered, having seen nothing so soft, so beautiful lately. “How did it break?”

“Doesn’t matter. Can you fix it? Like, right now?”

Azriel could have asked her to go through her own jewels and pick the most beautiful to give it to him, and she would have said yes, because she owned it to him. So she nodded and ushered him inside, with her eyes fixed on the necklace.

She didn’t mention that it was too delicate for him, that it was obviously for a woman. Mor ignored her conflicted thoughts about it as she touched the broken chain.

It only took her thirty minutes to find a chain similar to the original one, and another ten to convince Azriel to take it and don’t worry about it. Any trace of sleep erased from her body as she stared at him. At Azriel looking at the fixed necklace with a crooked smile.

“Who is it for?” she asked finally, as she opened the door for him once more. “Anyone special worth mentioning”

“No one. It’s a family relic, from my mother I think” he explained, looking between her and the open air. As if he couldn’t stand staying in the ground a second longer. “Thank you for fixing it. See you tomorrow, Mor”

Two thoughts were on her mind as she closed the door. The first one, was that she knew for a fact that blue was his color, not his mother’s color. She wore green, purple, black. Dark colors, if the portraits were correct.

The second thought, that was confirmed when she looked at her stunned face in the mirror, was that Azriel hadn’t acknowledge her outfit. A thin, black nightgown that barely covered her thighs, and that other nights had sent the shadow singer stuttering apologies right and left before leaving in a rush. 

-

Amren stared with half-closed eyes at her friends, noticing the change right away.

She usually wouldn’t entertain that type of activities, thinking ‘family game nights’ were a waste of time. But since Feyre appeared in their lives, she had to admit she liked her family better. She liked the way Rhysand softened around her, how at ease he was and how relaxed she made everyone.

True to her habits, Amren had chosen the farthest chair and the most expensive wine, and was watching the night unfold in front of her.

At the begging, she had thought it was weird that Azriel, almost as closed off as her, had walked in with a bright smile on his face. His hair had been ruffled in a windless, summer night, his shoulders wider.

It took him almost an hour to identify the new smell in the room, and find the source around his wrist. Almost unnoticeable between all of the scents combined – yet clear enough for her.

She stared at the black rubber band around his wrist, similar to the ones Cassian wore but not quite the same. Amren made it her mission to unfold the different smells and identify the new ones.

Rhysand’s was dark and fresh, like the night. His was intertwined with a sweeter one, Feyre’s, that smelt like vanilla and power. Raw, beautiful power that Amren admired.

Cassian’s was wild and abundant. He smelt like war camps and sweat, but somehow, like home too. Nesta’s scent was there too, even if the female wasn’t around. Amren could identify her just fine – and the new scent wasn’t hers.

After filtering the rest of presences, she finally focused on the band. Azriel was still unmated, that much she could tell. His was like ashes and candles. And behind all of that, she finally found it – baked bread, fresh food, vegetables.

“What are you looking at?”

Her line of sight was interrupted when Azriel pushed his sleeve farther down his arm, covering the rubber band. He knew where Amren was looking, and Amren knew that the question wasn’t rude. Still, Azriel’s voice held an edge she had only heard in Cassian or Rhysand’s voice before.

She smiled lazily at him before answering, making sure everyone was busy trying to guess what Rhysand was gesturing.

“Nothing, boy”

“You were staring quite hard for being nothing” Azriel replied. He fixed his hazel eyes on her, a hard edge on his features.

“I thought I smelt something on you” she purred, enjoying way too much the way the spymaster tensed. “Have you grown a sweet tooth lately?”

Amren usually didn’t stick her nose where it didn’t belong. She liked her life quiet, and minding other people business wasn’t her thing. Every now and then, she did like riling up Cassian or messing with Mor, but she had yet to play with the shadowsinger.

She respected him just as much, if not more, as the rest of the family. Understood the difficulty of his job, the people’s souls he carried behind. Most of their interactions were friendly and cordial, nothing more.

However, that night she felt like she had found something wort digging in.

“Do they know yet?” she asked him when Azriel didn’t answer.

“That I stopped in my way here to buy food?” even if the irritation and protectiveness fell from his face, a muscle of his jaw twitched. “Yeah. Cassian already ate half of the banana bread”

“He did, now?”

They silently stared at each other for a long minute. She dared him to deny it once more, to tell her that the smell under his sleeve was just from a quick stop to the bakery. He dared her to ask about the rubber band and give him an excuse to leave the game night.

Finally, Amren looked away and answered correctly to what Rhysand was trying to represent with gestures. Cassian got up and quickly started an argument about how to gesture correctly, while Feyre just laughed her ass off and Mor scurried off to bring more wine.

The next time Amren looked at Azriel’s wrist, the rubber band was gone.

-

The clock chimed five times in a row when the door finally opened, and Rhysand looked up from the papers on his desk. Apparently, he had to write a formal apology to the summer court in Cassian’s account, and certainly, he wasn’t any close to writing it than what he was in the afternoon.

Now, at five o`clock in the morning, his worry had gotten the best out of him. Rhysand had promised himself that, if by the time the sun came up Azriel wasn’t back, he would start destroying Illyrian camps until he found him.

“Before you say anything” Azriel rose a bloodied hand towards the high lord, and no matter how old Rhysand was, he felt his heart plummeting to the ground in worry. “Not my blood. Not even a scratch”

“Hard to believe. You’re leaving a puddle of it in my carpet” his voice was stained, his anger and worry mixing together.

“I…”

For the first time, Rhysand watched Azriel lost at words. The male looked down at his clothes, that were indeed soaked in blood and gore. He was still carrying all his swords and knives. And from where Rhysand stood behind his deck, he could see none of them had been left unused.

He had received a note from Azriel a day ago saying he was going to check on some Illyrian camps for illegal wing clipping, and that he would be gone for a few hours. Since then, Rhysand had had to deal with the worry and panic of not knowing if he was alive, since he closed his mind to Rhys.

Azriel looked back at him, and any type of sermon would have to wait until the morning. Rhysand got up and circled the desk, until he was in front of his friend. Who looked at him with sorrow and pain.

Rhysand didn’t let the surprise of seeing the shadowsinger, the spy master, so vulnerable. He only gripped his shoulder tight.

“What happened?”

“They didn’t even deny it” Azriel admitted, his voice tight. “One of the girls in the village was brave enough to show me where they keep them”

“Keep what?” even if he asked, Rhysand had a feeling he knew.

“The wings. They kept all the wings pinned to a tavern’s wall, like fucking hunting prices. Rhys, they were so… so many. So many”

He knew his brother’s history with the camps. Had seen what they do to women for himself, had fought for years against it. Still, Azriel had always been the calmer one. Cassian often went into carnages when he found an illegal clipping, but Azriel was the one to ask first and kill later. To organize trips into the mountains with reinforcements and not take decisions by himself.

The Azriel covered in blood in front of him, with tears shinning on his eyes, was new.

Rhysand was at loss as words, torn between beating him for his stupidity of leaving alone and going back himself to look for survivors and kill them slower.

“What you did… Az, anything could have happened to you” he tried to reason. “You know better than to do this on your own. What happened?”

“I got a strong hold. Knew where to find them.”

“How?”

Azriel didn’t answer, and Rhysand didn’t need to pry into his mind to know he would find it closed. Sighing, he pulled Azriel close. It didn’t matter that he was staining his clothes too, that Feyre was still waiting for him in bed and that he was ready to drop dead from worry.

Rhysand hugged Azriel and let him grip his vest until it wrinkled, until he was ready to talk. He trusted him with his life, and he had a feeling whatever was what had brought Azriel to that camp wasn’t ready to be shared yet.

He didn’t count the minutes that passed by until his body relaxed between his arms, didn’t acknowledge the wetness on his neck.

“I need to do something”

“What? Unless it’s a fucking bath and – “

“No, I won’t – it’s not what you think” Azriel took a deep breath and locked his eyes with Rhysand. The high lord nodded. “I’ll talk about it tomorrow, I promise. But just tonight, I need you not to ask question. I won’t be sleeping in my dorms”

“You need to take a bath and rest”

“I will take a bath and rest”

Rhysand knew Azriel had an apartment, somewhere. He knew where Mor lived, where Amren had bought a house, but his brother had lived as long as he could remember in the wind house, with him. He didn’t have many personal details, but in the room at the end of the corridor he kept his weapons and clothes.

He even kept the horrible scarf Nesta knitted him last year that everyone else had thrown away.

Before he said anything else, something in his soul told him to shut up. To accept his request, the only one he had done in a long time, and leave the details for the next morning.

“I guess it’s time for me to go home too” he smiled softly. “Just – clean off that blood. And don’t forget to report in the morning. We need to talk”

“We will”

Without further explanation, Azriel disappeared between his shadows. And Rhysand was left with the sudden smell of burnt bread under his nose.

-

What Feyre missed the most about her human life, and from the spring court, were the quiet walks in nature. The smell of leaves and grass, the sounds of the animals and the absence of other voices. Velaris was a busy place, and even if the people were more than nice, she missed quiet.

Nyx had made sure that his mom never knew quiet again.

He was a happy baby, loud and cheerful, and slept less than any person Feyre had known. Always wide awake, smiling and babbling. Before he even turned one, she had grown used to taking midnight strolls down the Wind House like another routine.

That night, Nyx was playing with her tattooed fingers and munching on his pacifier, still managing to babble some words. Rhysand had gone to bed late and was sleeping in their room, unaware of the night walk. And Feyre, who held Nyx tightly against her chest, felt like falling asleep on her feet.

She was considering turning around and letting Nyx lay awake staring at the ceiling when the baby stopped moving.

“Time for a diaper change?” she guessed, used to that type of silence. “I’ve never met a stricter person when it comes to schedule. Most people use the bathroom at day, you know?”

“Bah”

“Yeah, most people sleep at night, I guess” she sighed.

Still, when she felt his diaper, she found it empty, and after a quick inspection of smell, she discovered it was clean. Through her sleepy haze, she frowned and looked at Nyx. He was pointing to the open door to the kitchen, to the table next to the entrance.

As the rest of the house, the kitchen was empty. Not even Azriel’s shadows, who usually snuck around and entertained Nyx for a while, were there.

Feyre walked inside the kitchen as Nyx became more restless, until the baby was close to the object he pointed at. Then, almost dropping from her embrace, he put his chubby hands on the surface and tried to crawl to his destiny.

“Nyx, baby, it’s late. You already had dinner” she sighed, trying to pull Nyx back.

But as soon as she separated his hands from the table, Nyx let the pacifier drop and whined pitifully. He smacked one rebel hand against Feyre’s cheek, showing her his utter disapproval of the action.

All Feyre needed was another slap to the face before she gave in and let Nyx have his way. She let the baby sitting on the counter, and holding his back, she bent down for the pacifier. When she rose again, Nyx had found his prize – something that certainly didn’t belong to their kitchen, since the most complex food she could make was soup.

Large and thin like a fork, Nyx was holding a kitchen tool made of plastic. It ended in soft peaks, similar to a brush. Similar to the baby brush Feyre used with him.

“Did you winnow that here?” she asked Nyx, not expecting an answer. “Please tell you didn’t steal anything”

Lately, Nyx had picked up his father’s power and was starting to conjure things he wanted or needed. It was cute, whenever it was a toy or a plushie. Last month, it was a very distressed Cassian that fell on Feyre, and it was not cute.

But before she could think about Nyx winnowing the tool, she recognized the already familiar smell of bread and cinnamon. Feyre smiled as Nyx brushed its end against his face, and the baby giggled.

During the next ten minutes, she brushed the tool herself against her baby’s hair, tummy and neck. It might had been a little unhygienic and certainly not very mom-like, but it was getting Nyx to drop his eyes and lean against her.

She ended up carrying the baby asleep on her arms, still gripping the new acquisition tight on his fist.

As Feyre let him rest on the crib and tucked him in, Rhysand finally woke up. He apologized softly for not getting up and urged his mate to get in bed with him. Just before he could fall back into a blissful sleep with his family safe besides him, Feyre spoke.

“Remind me tomorrow to wash that thing and give it back to Azriel’s mate. She’ll be happy to know it also works as a baby wand to sleep”

Feyre drifted off with his back to Rhysand as the male got up from the bed, processing the new information.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

[enchantedanimal]

All of the QSMP eggs as dragons!

Now for my design notes/headcanons! (There's a lot lol)

- The color pallettes are (for the most part) based off of their parent/parents. In lore terms, l'd imagine that more time they spent around their parents before they hatched, the more their color developed to mimic them. It would usually be used as a survival strategy with their dragon parents, however sometimes their personality overcomes this and they develop their own color.

- Being dragonets, none of them can fly due to their currently underdeveloped wings.

- Tilin's yellow spots would make Quackity think that Wilbur was supposed to be the other parent.

- Tallulah's colors/features are close to that of a duck. It would likely be a coincidence, but it'd be enough to Quackity to feel like the island was mocking him.

- Tallulah's "hair" is feathers. She's the only one with feathers, and it may either be a cause or effect of her being left in the attic (possibly being mistaken to be an egg from a different species and not a dragon, or the coldness of the attic caused feathers to form).

- Tallulah and Tilin have the same colored eyes since Quackity once said that she reminds him of Tilin.

- Chayanne has fins bc he likes doing mlg water bucket clutches and fishing with Missa.

- Chayanne's tail fin, Leonarda's ear, and Richarlyson's wing are ripped in a spot due to loosing a life. Bobby lost one of his after I designed him but one of his horns would be chipped, and forgot Ramón only had one as well so let's just pretend he's got a scar on his left leg lol.

- Its kinda subtle, but Chayanne has protruding bottom canines, similar to my (and many others') Techno design.

- Fun fact that usually in my style I have the neck spines start from the top of the head. Ramon is purposely "bald".

- Ngl I don't have much to say about Trump bc he died so quick (rip) and I never saw much about him; but his hat is too big for his head.

- Bobby is a wyvern bc it's easier to slap everyone with his wings. He also headbutts and slaps ppl with his tail (those hurt more).

- Bobby's colors are less based after his parents, but the orange/blue complementary colors are kinda more of a nod to Jaiden being an artist (which doesn't make a whole lot of sense now idk my brain just defaulted to that), but feel they match his personality as well. Also his scleras (part of eye that's not the iris/pupil) are black unlike the rest who's are normal.

- Leonarda has a tiny mushroom pin on her hat and their back has mushroom-like spots for the hat she always wears.

- People keep saying that Leo somehow looks like Foolish which is funny bc that wasn't even intentional- in fact was worried that she would be one of the only ones who didn't resemble her parents enough. I did try to make her slightly taller but I'm going to guess that it's the jawline lol

- [Edit bc I just thought of it] Leo's wings are bigger bc they've grown faster due to using them more to glide off of Foolish's/Veg's builds

- Dapper is built to be more bipedal than quadrupedal (their dewclaws on their back feet act more like a normal toe for better traction/ stabilization). This makes it easier to grab (or steal) things for their collection. And hold a taser.

- Richarlyson is based after an iguana! thought it would fit well (it's kinda hard to base him off of 5 different people lol)

- Had to go off of a secondhand info + auto translations (I can understand a decent amount of Spanish but have no idea when it comes to Portuguese so this could be off) but think there was something about Richarlyson having a bad leg both in and out of rp, and think maybe Cellbit said something about him having a prosthetic for it and I thought that was so so cool! It's based semi loosely off of a dog hind leg prosthetic and a human running one; probably wouldn't actually be functional but tried to keep the general shape of the leg.

- Richas and his dads cover it in stickers :)

- Juanaflippa's tail and probably the lower half of her front legs (which aren't visible) are semi transparent from Charlie (yellow comes from Mariana), and it shifts around a bit! It looks more like slime than it feels like it. I've been calling her Bananaflippa endearingly

- Gegg intentionally looks like Juanaflippa a bit (but he's way more slimy)

- Gegg's inventory basically consists of him absorbing random things which are sometimes visible (he is so full of avocado toast). He's like Bob from Monsters vs Aliens or smth idk haven't seen that movie in forever.

There some smaller less exciting details and other headcanons I have for them (such as extra accessories they'd have like Tallulah wearing sweaters) but that's about it! Feel free to ask about anything I like talking about them lol

[disneyprincemuke]

✧.* the chocolate bunny that hopped away / ls2 *.✧

the chocolate bunny that oscar had given luna is missing, and you could have sworn that you put it away safely.

you hum as you tiptoe on the ground, craning your neck for a better look into the cabinet for its contents.

that’s weird, you think, the chocolates are gone.

easter has come and gone and luna has just gotten baskets upon baskets of candy and chocolate. and like a responsible mother, you were not just going to let her indulge in sugar all the time. it’s already enough that she’s an energetic 5-year-old as is.

“hey, babe.”

you drop your feet on the ground and whirl around at the voice. you furrow your eyebrows. “did you eat luna’s chocolates?”

“good morning to you, too.” logan stops right by the kitchen island, blinking at you blankly. he has an empty coffee cup in hand, just freshly picked from the clean array of choices of cups. “and what? no, i didn’t.”

you sigh, “don’t lie to me. who else would have eaten luna’s huge ass chocolate bunny? she’s going to be so upset if she looks for it and i can’t give it to her.”

“i’m not lying,” logan shrugs, turning away from you to head for the coffee machine. “maybe you misplaced it? i can help you look for it if you need to.”

you clench your jaw and put a hand on your hip. misplaced chocolate? that’s unheard behaviour even coming from you — you’ve been meticulous with hiding things since becoming a mother.

“no, i put it right here after we had that egg hunt yesterday,” you frown, pursing your lips. but seriously, babe. if you ate it, just admit it so i can go to the store and get some more. otherwise, you will have to explain to your daughter why her big chocolate bunny from uncle ozzy is missing.”

logan turns around to you, head tilted. “i didn’t eat the chocolate bunny.”

“then who else would have eaten it?” you ask with a small and knowing smile. “there are only 3 people in this house — if luna didn’t eat it, and i didn’t eat it, there’s only one other person in here that could have eaten it.”

logan shrugs, “maybe there’s a fourth member you don’t know about?”

“hey, that’s totally not funny!” you shriek, smacking his shoulder lightly. “come on, babe. just admit it.”

“i don’t know what you want me to say,” he laughs comically, turning as you approach him by the coffee machine. he picks up his coffee cup and pulls you in for a hug, pressing his lips to your forehead tenderly. “i didn’t eat the chocolate bunny.”

you narrow your eyes down into a glare. “i know you ate it. and i will get you to admit it.”

“alright, let’s get you ready for bed,” you mutter, following luna towards the bathroom. “let’s brush our teeth!”

“thank you for the chocolates, mummy,” she giggles, hopping away from you.

you look over your shoulder at logan, still sitting on the couch, already staring at you. “of course, lulu.”

“i didn’t eat the damn chocolate bunny,” logan repeats softly to you with a small scowl. “when are you going to believe me?”

you walk backwards down the hallway of rooms, shaking your head disapprovingly at your husband. “i will get you to admit your crimes, sargeant. you will not eat the chocolate bunny with no consequences.”

“i won’t have any,” logan smiles, pushing himself off the couch with his arms spread, “because i didn’t eat anything that wasn’t mine.”

“i cannot believe i married a big fat liar.”

“and i married someone who accuses me with no evidence.”

“yeah, because you ate it!”

“did not!”

you were in bed reading a book when your bedroom door opened, logan walking in with slouched shoulders and a tired grin on his face. “it took forever luna to go to bed.”

“probably because she has an inkling that you ate her chocolate bunny from uncle ozzy,” you retort with a small and proud smile. you lift your attention from your book to your husband. “all the arrows are pointing at you.”

“i didn’t eat it,” logan hums, shaking his head. “maybe you ate it and you’re just looking for somebody to blame?”

“you wish. i’m a good mother to our daughter,” you tease, putting a bookmark between the pages and putting your book down on the bedside table. “you, on the other hand…”

“i’m a good father because i didn’t eat the chocolate bunny,” he insists. he crawls on to the bed over to you, landing on your torso with his arms wrapped around your waist. “maybe it sensed it was gonna get eaten and hopped away.”

you furrow your eyebrows, resting a hand on his back as he lays with you. “or maybe it’s resting in your stomach.”

“i didn’t eat it.”

you’d been walking past luna’s bedroom when you heard her speaking. assuming that she’s gotten on a call with either lily or logan’s mother.

“i have a secret,” you hear luna giggling. you peek through the small gap in the door to find your daughter lying on her stomach with her feet in the air.

on her ipad screen, you see lily’s face with a small grin, nodding enthusiastically. “really? you’re gonna tell me?”

luna nods. “yes. but you can’t tell anybody.”

“okay, i promise.”

there’s a pause, another giggle drawn from luna’s lips. “i have chocolates under my bed.”

you tilt your head and straighten your back. chocolates under her bed.

you peek into the room again just to be sure. because you could swear, that for the past 2 years, there is no such thing as under luna’s bed. her bedframe is enclosed and touches the ground — there is absolutely no space for her to keep anything under her bed.

and that only means one thing: the chocolates are directly underneath her heavy mattress.

you walk away from her bedroom and make a mental note to check under her bed. you just need to find a way to get her out of the room to get yourself in.

and when logan walks through the front door, you know just the way to distract the 5-year-old. you hop over to your husband with a sweet smile. “call for luna — i need to get in her room.”

“oh, so now you’re sweet to me,” logan furrows his eyebrows, resting a hand on the small of your back. “how suspicious.”

“no time for that,” you scoff, guiding him towards luna’s bedroom. “i’ll explain later.”

“fine, but only because i love you,” logan mutters, dropping his bag right by the wall. he pops his head into luna’s room with a bright smile. “i’m home, lulu!”

“i gotta go,” luna giggles excitedly, glancing over her shoulder to beam at logan. “bye auntie lily!”

they say their farewells before luna puts her ipad on the ground and scrambles off the ground to run over to logan. “daddy!” she says in a shrill shriek, arms in the air before she jumps into logan’s arms. “you’re home! can we watch tv?”

“sure!” he cheers, catching her in his arms. he stands and places the child on his hip before turning to you with an expectant grin, nodding his head towards the room. “what do you wanna watch? a movie? a show?”

you slip into the bedroom when they take a seat on the couch. at first, you were skeptical about trying to find a way that luna could be lying to lily at all.

you check under her bed again, only to find what you were expecting: the very sad excuse of an ‘underbed’ area between the bed and the marbled floors of your apartment. so if the chocolates aren’t there, does it actually mean that luna’s been hiding it between her mattress and the bedframe?

you sigh softly and rest yourself on your knees, mentally preparing yourself to be absolutely thrown into a wild goose chase by your daughter. you muster the courage and push the mattress up. and would you have it: 4 packets of reese’s buttercups greet you and… the damned chocolate bunny.

you grab the chocolates into your hands and stumble back out into the living room. “luna sargeant, i hope daddy was right about there being a ghost in our apartment because there’s no way i just found these chocolates under your mattress.”

@33-81 @darleneslane @happy-nico @localwhoore @namgification @nikfigueiredo

[writingoddess1125]

Yes Buggy and his hot wife are Roger and Jessica Rabbit, but if I may submit this comparison to the council:

✨Buggy and his wife are The Grinch and Martha May Whovier✨

Oh It Is ON!

In the spirit of the Winter Holiday Spirits! We are doing a Christmas Spin on My Effect Series!

So get you a egg nog with 90% rum maybe some holiday 'cigarettes' sit back and enjoy this clusterfuck idea! 🍃 🚬

P.S IM REALLY HIGH WHILE WRITING THIS SO ITS PROBABLY ALL OVER THE PLACE! ENJOY!

The Grinch and Martha May Effect 🎄

If you like my shit, support me on Ko-Fi because recession!

Link to Main Masterlist

• This Crusty Bastard has had the heart of the most beautiful women in the world.

• And didn't even realize it-

• You had all met on Gol D Roger's ship- Buggy being a snot nosed apprentice with his gaggle of friends- While you being one of the few girls on the ship was a cup bearer for your father. Silvers Rayleigh.

• This made you incredibly off limits to all, Sheltered by a life of luxury your father provided as your only real 'job' was to fill his cup. Even Gol D Roger the famed Captian spoiled you in cute dresses and expensive bows.

• Turning you into the Doll of the Oro Jackson.

• A Princess Wrapped in Silver and Gold

• You still remembered the first day you ment him-

• Both of you 13 years old, fresh faced kids still needing the guidance of adults.

• You'd snuck off from your normal areas, wanting to explore the ship some more. That's till you saw a boy- His face covered in what seemed to be gunpowder as he filled homemade bombs with total care.

• His blue hair peaking out of the red hat and drawing you to step a big closer to get a better look.

• The Tull of your sparkling dress catching the corner of his eye as he spun around quickly holding a knife out.

• Then, Ocean eyes met Your own and time seemed to slow. Ever so slightly- Your cheeks warming as you gave a soft smile.

• "Hello" Your little voice slipped out, Buggy stating at you with unsure interest. A crooked smile on his lips as he greeting you quickly- "H-Hi!"

• "Is something wrong with your nose? It looks kinda funny" Buggy glares hard at you, making you blink in question at his reaction.

• Buggy covering his face, his ocean eyes starting to cloud with tears like a storm eyed he stared at you. "Whats so funny about my nose!? Huh!"

• "Well don't get angry- I don't mind. I think its cute. Im sorry if i offended you" You smile so sweetly, feeling bad for making his sad as Buggy felt his face start to glow.

• "You think.. My nose is cute?" He questioned, making you nod honestly. He giggled into his hands, a high pitch squeaky laugh that made you smile and your heart flutter.

• "Whats your name?" He grins at you, Hearing you actually want to know about him. "Buggy! What about you pretty girl?" Your face flushing at his words.

• "I'm-"

• "(Y/N)!" You heard your name being called before you could speak, recognizing the voice of your father.

• "(Y/N)- That's such a pretty name.. Will I see you again?" Buggy asked, his eyes sparking at such a chance. Your delicate hand reaching forward and tucking a strand of his blue hair back into his hat. "I will try"

• And try you did. For a year the two of you would meet, talking on the deck of the ship for hours till you had to sneak away again. Buggy even using his Chop Chop abilities to help you get back to your room.

• It was tragic to say, but you'd never get a chance to see Buggy for many many years after your 14th birthday- Your Father sending you to an Island to keep you safe as you entered your teens.

• The disbanding of the Roger Pirates aiding in this as well-

• The death and heartache Seeming to follow you as you found yourself handing in the hands of Sir Crocodile.

• Crocodile having had an interest to whoo you for years- as he too had met you on Gol D Roger's ship, finding you the only person more then suitable to be at his side.

• You had never truly accepted his advances, Despite his power, status and more. He didn't have your heart, and you wouldn't give him any part of yourself in compensation.

• Decades it had been like this, still the girl wrapped in silver and gold. Hoarded like treasure for everyone to admire, however nothing more.

• But it seemed the tides were beginning to change- After Crocodile time in Impel Down- as well as the formation of the Cross Guild- You would meet your blue haired friend once again. Just in a unique Flashy way

• AKA by his head being punched off by Crocodile and accidently flung into your waiting chest.

• "(Y/N)?-" He mumbled against your bust, your cheeks flaring deep crimson as he floated his head up to lock eyes with your flushed face.

• He got his ass beaten for that by Crocodile of course-

• But for you it was like your heart was Kickstart again!

• At the Cross Guild, you'd always attend. Crocodile assuming it was because you were warming up to him, But in truth it was to see Buggy-

• The two of you talking to each other constantly. He was so fascinating to you-

• Like you two were children again falling in love- Sitting out under the stars talking for hours. You tucking strands of his blue hair back into his hat, him fixing any Imperfections on yohr dresses as you sat next to him. Which often lead to Buggy giggling into his gloved hands while turning away from you

• You accepted him as he was, and adored him for it. You loved his mind, his passion, even his laziness and lewd humor.

• As time went on, you noticed the same for him. How he would ask you YOUR interest, what things YOU actually liked.

• Something no one had asked you since you were a child. Most just assuming your taste and interest.

• Hell when he came for meetings he would bring you something you'd actually want. Not just shiny things to make you look more valuable.

• "Hey (Y/N)!" Buggy cloaked towards you excited as he held out a old dirty crate to you. "I remeber you said you really liked weird plants, so I found these old books and scientist-y samples of the weirdest! Hope you like them!"

• You'd almost cried at the gift, so overfill with you you hugged Buggy. Before spending hours going through the crate and organizing it all to your liking.

• However with the sweets, came the sours...

• There had been countless times you'd walk into the Guild and see Buggys face. Beaten and bruised- How Crocodile and Mihawk kicked his ass as their own personal stress relief or just to show dominace.

• It broke your heart.. truly- Buggy humiliated like that infront of everyone time and time again... You would try to comfort him after the meetings but he would just run away- You swore you saw tears in his eyes a few times.

• You'd want to many times to have him run into your arms, so you could whisper how good of a man he is and deserving so love.

- It had been a particularly festive day in the Guild Hall, Crocodile dressing in a nicer suit as better food was served and fancy alcohol was served. You even being gifted a dress by the Desert King himself to wear today, you didn't refuse but felt rather uncomforble at how attentive he was acting with you.

And uncomfortable that he had purposely sat Buggy so far away from you..

As dinner was being served, Crocodile stood up from his seat next to you. Slapping his hand on the table to gather everyone's attention.

"I have an announcement-" Crocodile voice boomed through the room, you glancing up as the hook handed man gestured for you to stand. Which you silently did-

Oh No...

"(Y/N)- Daughter of Silvers Rayleigh. A women of greatness and deserving of only the finest of riches"

No...

"I ask for your hand- I swear I will give you all the wealth you desire"

Please No...

"From Riches, Silks and even the One Piece if your little mind wishes for it"

NO!

"Will you Marry me?"

Something inside you just snapped. Staring at Crocodile face that had the crooked cigar hanging from his lips.

Crocodile taking your silence positively as he handed you a velvet box with a massive diamond ring inside of it.

You stared at the ring box that had been placed in your glove hands and felt... nothing. Absolutely nothing...

Before A fire of rage filled your insides-

"We- We aren't even dating!-" You shouted, everyone looking to yoh in shock as you looked around wildly.

"What makes you think I want to stay by your side!? You were just ment to protect me not use me as a Scudo Girlfriend! I'm not yours nor will I ever be!-" Crocodile face starting to turn red, his eyes glancing around him before setting on you with a harsh glare.

"So I-I can't accept this" You finally hissed out, bright red in the face from both embarrassment and anger. Everyone in the Guild Hall staring at you in total shock.

"Besides My Heart... Belongs to someone else-" Crocodile eyes widen as he clenched his hands in rage. You handing the ring box back to him delicately, before turning to look at Buggy who had been picking his nose diassociating heavily at the dramatics. Only coming back to reality when he saw everyone was staring at him-

Buggy stares confused, 'Why are you all looking at me?' He looked behind himself first, Then around to see who you could be talking about, that had your heart. Realizing quickly he was alone and you actually ment HIM!

"Wait Me!?"

• After such a stunning yet shocking reveal, Crocodile cut you lose. Feeling you embarrassed him infront of everyone- Which had been the greatest day of your life!

• As you fly into Buggy's (Who got beaten senseless once again) arms. Who accepts you happily into his life-

• Frolicking away to his Circus Themed Ship in what can only be described as total Joy!

• "HAHAHAHAHA I WIN!!" He yells out, holding you in his arms as he flips off Crocodile once more and holds you in his arms.

• You adore his Flashy Crusty ways, the way he weirdly cackled and utter lack of emotional control.

• Oh How you love your Crusty Clown!

[nickloonie]

things that make more sense to me after. the reveal (ii16 spoilers)

how everyone lived in hotel OJ instead of. going home? i always wondered why trophy would willingly live there, he isn't friends with anyone there let alone OJ

obviously cabby's memory loss, saying that it hurts when she tries to picture her parents and the fact that she had files about every contestent when in her first couple of lines she didnt seem to recognize the show or the contestants

mephone's connection with bot as they were actually the only REAL contestant (its funny how they went from being the only. non-organic contestant to the only organic one)

MULTIPLE characters feeling like they didnt have anythinh outside of ii, the show was their whole life, etc - i think this especially applies to balloon because he expresses that feeling multiple times - and hes right

another thing is i think this makes cabby the smartest contestant. obviously she was already a genius and won her season but she was the closest one to being aware of what was going on, even though she wasnt. she was the only one who had TRIED to picture her parents or other aspects of her life

and it also makes sense how both winners so far did something to keep them close with the other contestants. they literally can't go anywhere else. i think clover is the only one who ever went away from the islands mephone built (in season 3 - everyone who went to meeple headquarters and mic, taco, fan and test tube in the egg's ship) and out into like. real world territory

every time mephone has been awkward or avoided talking about a "secret"

the ending of season 3 - i really love season 3 i am NOT a hater and it was a good ending but there were some parts i didn't really understand or that felt a little bit off that make a LOT more sense now

anyways i think the ii team did an amazing job foreshadowing this and i just know there are a ton of hints i would never find but! i am very excited for act 2. maybe. or maybe ill kms i dont know

[jams-sims]

Because its so late, I think I can say this. As much as I fucking hate purgatory. As a DM to a story I think its the most natural out for characters and Muns. Oh! my character can have either lived or died on the purg island? Do I feel like coming back? If the answer no. Easy out, no over the top feeling, no need to do a final stream if I dont want to. Just a stark sad tragic exit that leaves it mark. Because no one expected people to die on this silly fucking island. But deaths, mark very important and poignant moments. The island is curel and its consuming its islanders.

Max's death is one of sacrifice for his friends and the eggs. He was in a hole of loneliness, I think that loneliness took him as well. But I think qMax's death was a simple stepping stone while q!jaiden death will be a full on turn. See-

Jaiden death is probably the most fitting for her character because it is the most tragic. Q!Jaiden died when bobby died. She speant her days in a home just cluttered with his images and his likeness. She was being used by the Feds and I think deep down she knew that. Her connections were severed do to grief, her platonic husband while also spiraling found hope. He got married had a new kid and while he made sure people put some respect on her name when it came to Bobby. He had moved somewhere she could not get to him.

An in a way, I think that's all she truly needed. Her last connection, Roier was happy living his full life in a castle. An what did she have to go back to? A sunset in a house full of memories in a field of flowers surrounded by nothing. The week spent in purgatory felt like a century of suffering.

Something in her finally broke and maybe she didn't make it to the final part where everyone else was. Maybe she walked slowly, legs and feet numb. An she got to a clearing, the world is doused in chaos once again. An her ears are rinning with sirens. An all of it fades away as she stops, she stops limping along, she falls back into sitting on the cold earth.

She realizes their nothing waiting for her back on the island. What was the rush for? What was all the screaming and crying, the begging the longing. She's tired. She so tired of it all. All of it and what was it for? A new start that would never truly be hers.

She relax for the first time in a long time and the sunset looks beautiful. And she hopes that roier stays happy that all the eggs get to live happy and healthy lives.

She doesn't even hear the explosion. She closes her eyes. An when she opens them she in the air, weightless and flying. She has food she hasn't eaten in a long time. She tells Bobby not to worry, she happy now. Only to feel a swift kick to her shins. As Bobby takes her hand and she gets to tell him about all the thing she did after his passing.

She finally get to go back home.

[fruitcoops]

Hopelessly Devoted

O'Knutzy Week Prompt C2: "Hello, There". Prompts by @oknutzy-week-2024, and characters (of course) (with love) by @lumosinlove <3

TW for joking mentions of romance-novel smut

Leo had never seen someone work as hard as Finn O’Hara. He saw it in the straight line of Finn’s back and the solid set of his shoulders, even when he was calm. He saw it in everything he did—in love and, up until recently, in hockey. He was unequivocal dedication, embodied.

He was sure Finn would say the same about him; he was sweet like that, pretty face and prettier words that were always so honest they made Leo’s ribs hurt with the pounding of his heart. Finn liked to call him brave. Leo had started believing it after the last decade had proven it true in more ways than he cared to count.

And, Christ, Leo counted everything. Endless cycles of goals-assists-saves-loss-win-horror-victory that left him bolting upright at two o’clock in the morning well into his first season of retirement. Netminders kept perfect track of the game and every player coming at them. Remus’ mental playbook of every player in the NHL was only uncanny because he was out of the goal. Leo still remembered the tics and tells of most everyone he’d ever faced.

But what was there to count, now? Beautiful mornings? Those happened every day, though he hadn’t been awake for sunrise in three blessed years. Exotic vacations? He had a wonderful time on their honeymoon (all three of them), but he’d always prefer visiting one of their families.

The pan sizzled softly when he flipped the bagel with a practiced flick of the wrist. Leo smiled to himself. Maybe he should start counting Finn’s annual bacon-egg-and-cheese total. He’d probably come up with the same number if he bought a calendar and ticked the days by hand.

Finn’s commitment to his mid-morning snack was rivaled only by his unwavering passion for bodice-ripper novels, and the evidence of said passion filled their kitchen with a flurry of furious clicking while Leo slid the bagel carefully onto a plate.

See, Leo thought it was a joke, at first. A funny little prank Finn was playing on his new rookie roommate, tucking raunchy paperbacks into the bookshelf between Brontë and Dickens to make him blush. Har-dee-har-har, you got me, I’m such a prude.

Finn had not been joking.

And then it was endearing, like all the other Finn-isms of which he was so fond. It was just…such a silly hobby for an athlete—a former frat boy, no less!—to have in an environment like the NHL. It felt absurdly right that Finn, with his big smile and open heart, would unabashedly love books with oil-paint cover art of a lady fainting into the arms of a conveniently topless bodybuilder. Leo had tucked it into his heart and let it lie.

Finn retired.

Finn was utterly horrific at sitting still.

Finn started with Marie Adkins’ 1942 classic A Rogue for a Lady and ended with Eleanora Zimmerman’s yet-unpublished installment of Zoe Cross’ Cross-Continental Affairs: Volume III, officially clearing the romance collections of all three public libraries near them. His whoop of joy when Ms. Zimmerman answered his email inquiry with a PDF of her manuscript had startled Logan so bad he spilled coffee across the kitchen island and into his lap.

But reading—devouring—the books wasn’t enough. Finn’s systematic rip-through of every literary soap opera he could get his hands on came with an elaborate Goodreads account as well as a nightly debrief.

Leo fucking loved it. Listening to Finn parse out his opinions like an Ivy League lecturer quickly became the best part of his day, especially when the season wound down. It was permanence and consistency while his head whirled with thoughts of this one, just this one single last year and then I’ll really be done, this time for sure. Finn loved hockey like everything else: with no holds barred. He left it, and he was okay. More than okay—he was thriving.

But no hobby was without its faults.

So fucking stupid, Finn had muttered with a sharp shake of his head. I just can’t. It’s a disappointing plot and, worst of all, it’s poorly paced.

Leo and Logan had shared a look across their spaghetti. Finn could give no greater insult to books known for their overdramatic style than ‘poorly paced’.

Well, Logan had said, carefully, almost casually. We all know you’d write it better.

Damn right I would, was Finn’s forceful answer as he stabbed a noodle onto his fork.

Then do it.

Leo had to admit even now that he hadn’t expected that. Perhaps he should have, from Logan. There’s an issue? Solve it. His ‘no more running, no more bullshit’ oath when they were first starting latched into most things he did.

Finn had wavered about it for three days. Once (and only once) he nudged Leo awake at 7:30 in the morning, still sweaty from his run, to ask him if he thought publishing under his real name was a bad idea. He had been forced to mull that one over on his own when Leo banned him from post-shower, mid-coffee cuddles for the crime of dripping sweat onto his pillow.

Finn decided to start writing a book on a Thursday morning in the middle of March, bought a new notebook and a nice pen, and promptly didn’t write a word until his birthday in August.

I’m a failure, he had moaned into Leo’s chest, half-suffocated by the thick fabric of his hoodie. I’m so stupid.

No, baby, you’re not stupid, Leo had soothed. It was a little hard to breathe with the full weight of him splayed useless across Leo’s body, but that was nothing new.

I’ll never write a word. I’m cursed to keep reading forever and being mad about shitty romance with bad, boring characters. The 70s did it best.

Leo remembered sighing in sympathy. But they’re all straight.

But they’re all fucking straight! Finn had groaned. He didn’t move from his puddle of misery and writer’s block until Logan came home and knocked on the back of his head with a pack of pre-sharpened pencils and a cow-print composition book.

Goodreads reviews became graphite smudged on Finn’s hands and cheeks. Small spiral notebooks cropped up around the house, and eventually settled as Finn’s stalwart companions on his morning jogs. When the pencils wore down to nubs, he bought the crappiest pen Leo had ever seen in his life—when that ran dry, he bought another, and a third, and then all the notebooks grew into a teetering tower on Finn’s desk overnight.

A stapler followed, and red pens.

March rolled around again and the tapping of Finn’s laptop became a comforting ‘hello’ when Leo came home from practice. Finn didn’t talk about his book, but Leo didn’t mind. As long as Finn was happy, he could be patient, even if curiosity chewed at him day and night.

When do I get to read it? Leo had finally begged in the heat of June, turning over in bed four nights after his final NHL game. He was restless already and hardly sleeping. He needed something other than endings to occupy his mind.

Finn had smiled at him. The point of his nose pressed to Leo’s. I sent the manuscript out last week. The first copy is yours, Peanut.

Leo had kissed him for that most thoroughly.

“Hello, there.”

Leo smiled into a hidden freckle behind his ear and wrapped his arms around Finn’s chest, giving him a squeeze. “Hey.”

“This for me?”

“You sound surprised.”

“Yeah.” Finn’s head rested back on his shoulder. Leo took the weight happily. “But not really. Ugh, my eyes hurt.”

“Wear your glasses.”

“I wore them yesterday.”

“Didn’t realize they had a recharge time.”

“You know, plastic and glass can be really high-tech these days.”

Leo covered Finn’s eyes with one palm; his lashes fluttered and his chest shook with a laugh. “Glasses,” he insisted, dragging his hand up to Finn’s forehead to tilt his face all the way up and meet his gaze. “Keep this shit up and I’m not putting special sauce on your bagel sandwiches anymore.”

Finn’s soft doe eyes went bright. “What special sauce?”

Leo quirked a brow at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“C’mon, that’s not—”

“Glasses or I eat it and you never, ever get to try it.”

Finn gasped. “You’re starving me.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“Fucker.”

“You’re just mad yours never turn out as good as mine.”

“Poltergeist.”

“It’s because you don’t heat the pan enough.”

“I do!” Finn protested, sitting up and turning sideways in his chair to face him. “I did everything right when you showed me. It doesn’t taste right.”

Leo shrugged. “You’re cursed. Sucks to suck.”

Finn groaned and thumped his forehead against Leo’s collarbone. The hair at the back of his head was soft when Leo scratched through it; the muscles of Finn’s neck relaxed on a slow exhale.

“Same or new?”

“New,” Finn mumbled.

Leo hummed. For three weeks, he had been waiting for Finn to scatter his attention to the handful of ideas that had been left in the void. He refused to send books to his publisher until he could read them aloud to his captive audience of two without turning five shades of red and blowing a frustrated raspberry at the draft. Many had not yet passed that test. “From your list?”

“Nah.”

He nuzzled his nose into the top of Finn’s head. “ ‘S it about, then?”

“A prince.” Finn raised his head slightly. A kiss found the neckline of Leo’s shirt. “And a knight.” A second alit on his bicep, lingering long enough to feel his lips move. “And the sun.”

“That’s cheating,” Leo whispered through his smile. “You’re not supposed to write about us.”

“The New York Times bestseller list disagrees.” Finn lifted his head. His nose scrunched. Confidence rouged his cheeks, and Leo wasn’t a writer, but he’d pen poetry about that any time. “My self-imposed rules can wait. I have a good feeling about this one.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Finn raised his eyebrows and leaned close like he had a secret. The plate with his cooling sandwich chimed at a tap from his pen. “It’s funny. Something tells me they’re gonna end up together in the end.”

Leo looked at him for a long moment, then darted a kiss to the bridge of Finn's nose. "Are you putting porn in it?"

"Are you going to let me eat my bacon-egg-and-cheese with the special sauce that you made because you love me so much and you think I'm so cute and sexy?"

"Yes."

"Sunshine, I will write all the porn you want."

"Hmm." Leo let his eyes drift to the laptop screen (just a little peek, a tiny one, not even a real spoiler) but Finn's hand lowered it before he could catch more than a glimpse. He made a disgruntled noise and straightened. Foiled again. "Wear your glasses and I'll make you one tomorrow, too."

[aquaquadrant]

I’m having thoughts again (the horror). You may have answered this before and I just can’t remember or find it buuuuuut

Is/was there ever a dragon in Hels? If there was could they spawn it in again or is she just dead?

“a dragon?” the player huffs a laugh, giving you an odd look. “you know dragons aren’t real, right? it’s just fantasy shit, like the sun and moon.” they shrug. “anyway, uh, if- if you’re not gonna buy somethin’ then stop wasting my fucking time and get the hell out.”

~*~

“ah, i see you’re a fellow intellectual.” the player nods sagely. “data analysis has found plenty of evidence supporting the existence of an ‘end dragon’, through communicator codes such as ID tags for items called ‘dragon’s breath,’ ‘dragon head’, and ‘dragon egg’, not to mention the achievement ‘free the end’, which is supposedly earned after slaying this dragon. so while we can only extrapolate so much from nonfunctional comm commands, i’d say the idea of a dragon existing in other worlds is quite substantiated.”

they pause.

“did hels ever have one? well, that’s the question, isn’t it. while the existence of glitched end chunks throughout hels has been proven on multiple occasions, no one’s ever found an end island with the obsidian pillars required to spawn and sustain a dragon. of course, it’s possible someone found it long ago and destroyed it, or perhaps no one’s found it yet, or perhaps it exists in a different form entirely. if you look at how biomes spawn in hels…”

~*~

“what, hels ain’t bad enough for you as it is?” the player wheezes, shaking their head. “kid, if there’s a dragon in hels, you’re better off if you never meet it. we got enough problems without throwin’ a damned dragon into the mix, ya hear?”

~*~

“never heard of such a thing. seems like nonsense.” the player hefts their axe onto their shoulder. “now, move along before i kill you.”

~*~

“there was a dragon in hels, yeah,” the player says nonchalantly. “this old player took me in when i was a kid, used to tell me stories. i mean, he never saw it. it was more of a ‘i know this guy who knew this guy who knew this guy who knew this guy who heard that someone saw it’ kinda deal… well? do you wanna hear it or not?”

they smirk.

“… that’s what i thought. so yeah, it was this massive red dragon- or uh, maybe it was like orange with red flames on its scales, fucking sick, right- with huge teeth and insane fire breath and… actually, it might’ve been acid? or poison? fuck, whatever, the point is that the thing was nasty, alright, it used to swoop down on the early settlements and mow those motherfuckers down, eating players- or, wait, i think maybe it would just throw them? uh, i dunno how but- wait, where you goin’? hey, this is valuable information, you know! … fine, whatever, asshole.”

~*~

“how the hel should i know?” the player demands, folding their arms. “this world’s infinite and old as balls, and we don’t exactly have a consistent method of widespread information distribution. someone could’ve killed it yesterday and i’d have no fucking clue.”

~*~

“yeah, there was.” the player nods. “it was before my time, but i heard our admin killed it. whoever the fuck they were… makes no difference to me, but it’s a cool thought, right?”

~*~

“hm. been a long time since someone asked me that.” the player leans forward, eyes flickering in the firelight. their gaze is haunted. “are you sure you wanna know?”

they pause.

“… alright, then.”

“now, this was back in the early days of hels, long enough ago that some of the oldest players still remembered havin’ an admin. we didn’t even know ‘bout the end chunks. then one day, there was this sound. every player in the world heard it, no matter where they were. it was louder than any thunderstorm, louder than any explosion- the kinda sound that goes clean through you, splits your ears and rattles your bones.”

“it was a scream, only not like any i’d ever heard before. there was a raw, guttural quality to it- like a wounded animal- yet the power was undeniable. but there was some distortion to it as well; an underpinning of static like the whole thing was bein’ broadcast through a beat-up jukebox. just thinkin’ of it sends chills down my spine.”

“then a peculiar thing popped up in chat. someone had made an achievement, only we couldn’t tell who or what. all the text was scrambled, like those funny words you see on an enchantment table. never met anyone who could read it. but needless to say, this sparked an entire movement bent on discoverin’ what the hell had happened.”

“some of the more adventurous players went explorin’ and found the end chunks. players who knew a thing or two about data analysis started huntin’ through their comms, usin’ the data of an endstone block someone brought back. didn’t take long after that to figure it out.”

“they found there was a dragon that belonged to a separate realm from overworld and nether. the end, they surmised. y’know, where endermen came from. the dragon lived there, sustained by end crystals that were said to float atop obsidian pillars on the end island it called home- its nest, as it were. so, unsurprisingly, it was called the ender dragon.”

“and if you killed it, you opened a portal. where it’d lead was anyone’s guess, but it was a way out of hels.”

“i was young, then. young and hungry. i banded up with some other players and we consulted an expert- the founder of data analysis, actually- to extrapolate the coordinates for the main end island. only he didn’t find just one; he found ten sets of coords, spread out over hundreds of thousands of blocks, nearly a million blocks. he predicted that each obsidian pillar had spawned on a separate end chunk, and that each one would have to be tracked down to kill the dragon. we had to destroy the crystals first, you see. he thought it was a waste of time, a fool’s errand, but we didn’t listen. so we split up, takin’ one set of coords each, and set off.”

“they were all ‘bout the same distance from each other, so no one had an easier go of it. i took one northeast of spawn, seven hundred and twenty-nine thousand blocks out. the journey took years. not sure exactly how many, i stopped keepin’ count sometime after the fifth. the other players on the mission gradually stopped replyin’ to my whispers- i think some of ‘em gave up and turned back. wasn’t sure if i was the only one still goin’, ‘til i eventually saw their death messages in chat, one by one. mobs, lava, fall damage, the usual. some might’ve died on the way; traversin’ hels alone on foot is no cake walk, even without the concern of PVP. never heard from any of ‘em again.”

“but i’d gone so far that givin’ up wasn’t an option. even if no one else had made it to their pillar and destroyed the crystal, even if killin’ the dragon would be impossible, i had to see it through. so i kept goin’. it was a lonesome existence, bein’ that far from spawn; i went months without sayin’ a single word, at times, damn near lost my mind. but it weren’t all bad. i reached the unloaded chunks, saw naturally-spawned passive mobs for the first time in my life. i saw rare biomes i’d never heard of, even came across one of those glitched end ships with an elytra. journey went quicker, after that, but it was still several years before i finally reached the coords.”

“the pillar was exactly what you’d expect. a tall, round obelisk made of solid obsidian, rooted on a floatin’ chunk of an endstone island. there were some endermen millin’ about the place, far more than in any other biome i’d seen- ‘cept maybe the warped jungles- but no sign of the dragon. the crystal was at the very top of the pillar in an iron cage, so i flew on up there, thinking at least i’d do what i came to do.”

“soon as i set foot on the top of the pillar, i heard a strange sound. it was that little zippin’ sound you hear when an enderman teleports- only it was a louder, deeper, slower sound that seemed to shake the world. like i could actually hear the distortion of space and time itself. the air suddenly filled with a haze of purple particles, so thick i could hardly see, move, or breathe.”

“and then she appeared.”

“the dragon was all black, black as the void ‘neath bedrock, with spines down her back and huge, bat-like wings, deadly sharp teeth and claws. she was big enough to swallow me whole and we both knew it. but what really put me off was that she was glitched.”

“it’s the best way i can describe it. her body was flickerin’ around all crazy-like as if i’d gone cross-eyed, so she appeared in multiples at times, countless wings unfurlin’ from the distorted mass. anywhere i looked directly at her would suddenly seem… pixelated, almost, like her form was fracturin’ into pieces, like i couldn’t fully ‘preciate the whole. but i remember her eyes. they were pure white, so bright it hurt to look at ‘em, and as she moved they seemed to blink in and out of existence around her, like they couldn’t quite settle in her skull. like twinklin’ stars against the night sky, beyond the bedrock ceiling.”

“she was beautiful.”

“the dragon perched against the tower, claws grippin’ the obsidian on either side of me, curled her slender neck down ‘til we were face-to-face, and roared. it had that same quality as that sound i’d heard all those years ago, and i knew at once it’d been her death rattle. in my daze, i remember wonderin’ who could’ve possibly managed to kill such a creature? what kinda player would even want to?”

“i’d been well-prepared for the fight. full enchanted gear, potions, gapples. but starin’ up at her, i couldn’t bring myself to use any of it. i just stared at her, caught in a moment that felt like an eternity as she stared back, before i realized her breath was poison.”

“i ended up back at the world spawn. didn’t matter i’d set a respawn anchor nearby the end island- this seemed to overwrite it. lost everythin’, of course, but i didn’t care. my death message in the chat was glitched, too, in that same strange language. now, i didn’t share my experience with the rest of the world; only to those who asked, and only in the hopes of dissuadin’ them from makin’ an attempt of their own.”

“which brings us to the end.” the player finally sits back, studying you with a shrewd gaze. “now, you listen to me. that dragon ain’t somethin’ to be killed, understand?”

you nod.

“good.” the player’s expression changes. “so, i’m afraid you’re not gonna like the next part of the story. but nothin’s free in this world, least of all knowledge.”

the player moves, there’s a flash of metal, and suddenly there’s a sword in your gut. engrossed in the story, you hadn’t even noticed them equip it.

“sorry,” the player tells you with a grin, “but that dragon ain’t the only monster here. send my regards to spawn.”

as darkness consumes you, your last thought is that the white spots dancing across your vision suddenly look like dragon eyes, blinking from the void.

~*~

[emeraldtart]

Descendants AU where the villains are surprisingly good parents. Out of spite but then it turned genuine.

It started off with some of the good characters of Auradon said that its impossible for villains to love or even comprehend what love is.

You know what the villains think? Aight, bet.

Some of the villains are genuinely good parents, like Hades since he is the god with the less shenanigans out of the entire pantheon.

Since this is an AU, I've thought of making Mal close with the Underworld family rather than being directly related to Hades (maybe she's very distantly related, some generations back from her father's side?)

Hadie's real name was Zagreus, but since he looks after his father a lot other villain parents calls him Hadie as a nickname. When he reached adolescence only the adults knows his real name.

Hades and Captain Hook might be the best dads on the island, and they have a friendly rivalry on who's the top dad on the island is.

Spoiler, it was Facilier who won that title.

Captain Hook is probably one of the first to be on board the idea of trying to raise a child (or three) properly, because his nemesis is a boy who brings children to a dangerous island and 'thins them out' when they get older, of course he'd grow a conscience.

Hook's wife lives in our world, along with their three children, but when the barrier was erected the magic pulled the children to the Isle.

His wife also happens to be Mary Darling's sister, which make Wendy and her brothers cousins with the Hook kids.

The Hook siblings' mother never knew what happened to them. She thinks that The Boy Who Wouldn't Grow Up took them as revenge for being bested by Hook long ago.

Hook having his three children (Harriet, Harry and CJ) suddenly ended up on his bed at three in the morning surely isn't how he expects fatherhood to come back to him.

Mal is technically the oldest Villain Kid on the Isle, because she was a dragon fae she came from an egg, and her egg was laid more than a century before the villains were banished to the Isle of Lost.

Her egg was supposed to hatch about 100 years ago, but due to the whole fiasco with Sleeping Beauty and some of the fairies hating what Maleficent did, they cursed her egg so it won't hatch until Sleeping Beauty woke up.

And the fact that the father was a human and there was no magic on the Isle rises the possibility of the child dying within the shells of their egg.

It caused Maleficent so much grief during that 100 years time. Even when she was banished she worries that the people of Auradon were right; she doesn't know how to love. That's why her child don't hatch.

Mal's birth was the greatest thing to happen to Maleficent, next to the happier times in her past.

The Evil Queen/Grimhilde is best friends with Maleficent. She was by Maleficent's side when she was grieving the fate of her unhatched child.

Grimhilde is the best at gossip because of her mirror.

She and Cruella probably make a living on making children clothes.

Gaston probably struggled in how to take care of children. Before, he wanted boys yes, so he can teach them how to hunt and be a man. But when he realised that parenthood started even before the child is born he knew he needed help.

Unfortunately none of the villain dad group could help Gaston with his horrible naming scheme.

At least Gil was spared from the confusing fate of sharing his name with his dad.

Ursula also needs help when raising Uma, since she has no idea how to raise a half-mer daughter.

She figured it out, mostly. But sometimes Uma just went and do some of the weirdest things that are neither Merfolk things nor human things. Eventually the entire island just chalk it up to an average child's weirdness.

Jay and Carlos are neighbours, and they stick to each other's sides, thick as thieves. Carlos sometimes take scrap fur and sew them into a blanket they use for fort.

The Core Four and Sea Three are friends, although the shrimp accident happened because Gil's brothers think it'd be funny.

That was the day the island learned that Mal has way too many teeth in her mouth and too little reason not to use them.

When Ben became king and asked the Isle children to come to Auradon, he doesn't realise what he had brought to the kingdom.

Harry asked Smee in forging three more letters so the Sea Three can go to Auradon too.

Mal made a magic copy of the original letter and printed it to avoid magic detectors.

Jay swapped the fake with the original, and nobody realise that there aren't supposed to be seven Isle kids in the kingdom.

Ben did and asked why there's seven of them, to which Carlos said, "What do you mean? Of course there's seven of us, it says so in the letter. Everyone of us gets it,"

There's still plot with Audrey being bitter with her breakup, but instead of the entire island save the cast falling asleep, everyone (on Auradon and Isle of Lost) falls asleep and the Core Seven has to navigate the dreams and reach Audrey.

Maybe the Core Seven sees their parents' lives before the Isle.

Maybe at one point they end up in London, somehow the magic Audrey used connected them to that world via Hook's wife.

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2024: Day 11 - Fauna

Dilly the Duck Goes Missing:

Of all the various animals on the Island of Sodor, none was more famous than Dilly the Duck. Originally, the duck had been used as a prank, and hidden in Donald’s tender by Duck – but now she was a permanent fixture at Haultraugh Station, where she assists the stationmaster. The stationmaster loves working with Dilly – she’s very good with children, and has harassed several horrid passengers and fare evaders until they were much nicer!

However, one day Dilly didn’t come to the station. The stationmaster waited for her until he was needed elsewhere, and then Duck waited for her as long as his drink break would allow on his first passenger run. Dilly didn’t show her beak for either of them! More worryingly, she didn’t make an appearance when Donald blew his whistle and called for her. Instead, a male duck flapped angrily at him for a couple seconds before continuing out to sea.

“Ah hope she's alricht,” worried Donald as he gazed out over the tidepools. “It's no like Dilly no tae come bi the station.” All day, the engines waited and watched, but even as Douglas clanked through with the last of the empty ballast trucks, there was still no sign of the duck.

Duck and Donald were the most worried that night in the sheds. “It’s not like her,” sighed Duck. “Normally Dilly likes to stay nice and close to the station and bum food off the passengers.” “Maybe she’s hibernating?” suggested Oliver brightly. “Driver told me lots of animals hibernate, like bears!” “Bears don’t hibernate!” snorted Duck, “or else we’d be down a mainline engine for half the year – and besides, Dilly’s a duck, not a bird. If anything, she’d migrate.” “An Dilly's niver migratit before, sae thare's na point suggestin it either,” Donald finished firmly. Oliver pouted. “I was only trying to help,” he grumbled.

The engines talked about it for several more hours, but try as they might, none of them could think of a reason why Dilly had seemingly vanished.

Over the next few days, the engines kept a keen eye out, but still they couldn’t find Dilly. Instead, they were randomly hounded from above by a very irate male duck. Douglas blew steam at it, Oliver swore at it, and Duck and Donald just wished that that duck was actually Dilly. The male duck managed to get into just about everything and cause a fuss – be it getting stuck in the rafters, locked in the waiting room or even trapped inside the water tower! Everyone was just about fed up with the male duck and its dim-witted antics. Until one day, the male duck physically grabbed Donald’s driver’s hat.

“Oi!” shouted Donald’s driver, and he leapt down from his engine in hot pursuit. The male duck took Donald’s driver on a wild duck chase across the tidepools that dotted the coastline before suddenly dropping the hat. Donald’s driver skidded to a stop and stared!

“Dilly?!”

Donald’s driver returned to the station looking very amused indeed. “No wonder we couldn’t find Dilly,” he chortled. “She’s laid eggs!” “Like Duck did once,” grinned Donald, just to watch his old friend snort indignantly. It turned out that Dilly and the male duck had had a clutch of eggs together, and had made a nest overlooking the line by the edge of one of the tidepools. The male duck – who everyone unanimously agreed to name Ditzy – had wanted someone to help Dilly look after the eggs so she could go find herself some food.

It didn’t take long for Dilly, her nest and her eggs to all be moved to a new, specially-built bird house by the edge of the station where the stationmaster could care for the eggs while she got right back to terrorising rude passengers and begging for bread. As for Ditzy? He’s now also a permanent face around the station, though he spends most of his time being an absolute ditz and getting stuck in the water tower. Worse yet, Ditzy recently figured out doors, and once managed to hitch a ride all the way to Tidmouth before anyone realised!

And when the little ducklings were born, they instantly became the single most doted-upon animals on all of Sodor!

Back to the Master Post

[factual-fantasy]

24 ASKS! :D THANK YOU!! 🧀

Not in my AU she's not! For 2 reasons-

For 1, my AU is built from Mario games and media I personally know/am familiar with. I know a little bit about Mario sunshine and saw a comic where Delfino island was Daisy's vacation island. So I took that info and crafted it into my AU lore! My Daisy's kingdom is populated by Delfino's, and it sits along the coast nearby the Mushroom Kingdom.

The other reason is I only heard of what Sarasaland was like two days ago. I've never played any of the games its from and had no idea it existed. So I didn't add it to my AU and I definitely cant add it now-

But even if I did, I'd have the same problem. Why is Daisy the ruler of these little.. dancing.. skeleton.. guys..?? If she isn't one of them?

@neo-metalscottic (Post in question)

AAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DD And yeah, that was Wendy and Roy! Though her exact reasoning for crying hasn't been fully thought out yet. I was thinking that she was having trouble putting on her make-up and ribbons.. maybe that was something the Koopalings mom would help her with before she.. well.. :( (Also, I do intend to finish/expand on that comic/idea very soon! :}} )

As for Iggy and Lemmy, they're not twins in my AU! Though they are close, they are very apart in age. I don't know what "older lore" you're talking about.. if you're referring to a game or a show, I have never seen it. :( All the Koopalings personalities and dynamics are just going to be made up/decided by me :)

As for their closeness, what brings them together is their eyes and their love for magic/Kamek.

I had this idea that Iggy was born blind, and Lemmy was born with a lazy eye/cross eyed. Kamek was able to use his magic to restore a fair bit of Iggy's sight and reposition Lemmy's eye. The result is their eyes and faces have unusual colors and patterns.. but they can see! And they are very thankful to Kamek for that.

Also that exposure to magic at such a young age has really drawn them into it.. they're both supposed to be really interested in magic and learning how to use it. Thus their closeness with each other and Kamek!

@tallchest13-blog (Sent after this post I believe..?.. orr was it this one-- maybe this one??)

XDD Thank you so much!! I'm glad to see so many folks are interested in my interpretation of the Mario bros!! :DD And good luck with your discord RPG! :}

Well since there are a ton of pirate/seafaring cookies in the game, I assume water isn't a problem. :0 Though it is for Louis becuase he cant swim- (His claw arm is very heavy so he sinks-)

(Link in question)

GOLDEN FREDDY??? XDDD

Tbh that gets a bit of an eye roll form me. I miss the old days when Golden Freddy was just a terrifying Easter egg in the first game.. things were so simple back then.. 😭

@jaybleu25 Ah no worries, I understand. Here, take a look at my 1:AM red scribblings XD

And if its not clear, the last 4 images of that post are all Roy and Wendy :} Hope this helped!

(Post in question)

AAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DD And yup yup! That's Wendy! :DDD

(Link/video in ask)

Oooo :00 what a beautiful song! :DDDD

(Post in question)

I can see the braid refusing to stay together and eventually unweaving itself. Its all flowy and free~~💫💫

<XDD ?? Huh??

I suppose in the actual games the treasure is like that. But I like to imagine my crew finds actual gold treasures 🤩✨✨

The only version of Robin hood I'm familiar with is the Disney Fox version. I'm not sure what you mean by his "merry band".. 😅

Hmm.. I don't think so. But maybe Tuna has..? Or maybe that's how Louis could have lost his original arm-

@raven-bearden-the-interviewer42

Probably Seafoam's love.. 🥺💙

(Link in question)

I feel like Coco would be the one to get pied trying to protect Red. And Tuna would have been the one to set up the trap XDD

@couchwow

XDD All I could think is of how terrifying the brown creature in the second image is. I MEAN LOOK AT HIM!-

WHAT IS THAT??? XDDD

@neo-metalscottic (Mario bros post in question) (Princess post in question)

AAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :D I'm glad you like them! Though I wonder what about the old designs I would combine the new ones.. I fixed/altered all the flaws I saw with the old designs. I'm not sure what I'd keep-

As for Luigi and the Poltergust, he doesn't ever get that. Since Mario is never captured by the Boos, why would he need it? And I haven't decided what to do with E.Gadd yet, if anything at all..

As for Mario and Bowser.. I was thinking that Mario kind'a just said that in the heat of the moment. But he would be willing to take him down permamntly if he ever showed his face again.. but right now Bowser is definitely not causing any more problems for a while.

Mario and Luigi scared the daylights outa him. The hero's of Legend are real, and they're here. Bowser is probably scrambling for means of defense atm and wouldn't dare send anyone over there to cause trouble.

As for the Chain Chomp.. even if Bowser wanted to release it and wreak havoc on the bros/the mushroom kingdom.. I don't think he could. Kamek was unable to control Petey Piranha and rein him back in when he escaped. What make's him think they'll have any control over the Chain Chomp if they release it? It'll probably just turn around and eat Bowser's castle instead- and once its out, how will they trap it again?

And oh yeah, they could beat it. All they'd need is 1 super star and the Chain Chomp would be flattened in a matter of seconds. ⭐💪

@yoylecake420

I know absolutely nothing about him or the game he's from. :( He's made of wood I think..?

@astaherussy (Post in question)

WAAAHAHAGH THAK YOU!! :DDD

And don't worry! I don't intend to rush anything <XDD --I'm trying to take my time thinking the lore through and filling in plot holes-

(Post in question)

<XD Well I don't wanna ramble about the lore until its a little more set and stone. I don't wanna say "this is my idea!" and then 15 minutes later go "well actuallyyyy...."

Maybe so! XD I wonder if its like that in the games.. 🤔

Ooooo I could see that! :00 That could be Urchins weapon maybe!

(Post in question)

XD I guess great minds think alike? That, or Rosalina is just really cool-

@sparkdrawsstuff

I'm sure they've faced all that and more! :00 Also thank you!! :))

[kwanisms]

Kinkuary 27 Yeonjun — orgasm denial/edging // sex toys

➥ service top!Yeonjun x pillow princess!Reader

summary: Yeonjun loves to buy new toys to use on Y/N almost as much as he loves edging her.

wc: 3.9k

warnings: afab reader, adult dialogue, established relationship, sexual content (minors dni!): mention and use of sex toys (mainly a glass dildo, wrist restraints, and a vibrating anal plug), slight marking, oral (f receiving), service top!Yeonjun, pillow princess!Reader, fingering (m receiving), anal play (m receiving), there isn't as much in this one but I hope I got everything but if I didn’t, please let me know!

a/n: its a tas late so sorry about that and ngl this was really hot and I loved writing every second of it! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you liked it! There will be more parts coming after this. All the late pieces will be posted between this and the final part and then Kinkuary will be over!

It’s been a wild month and I hope the last part will conclude the month for everyone! I'll be moving onto finishing the Tales from Camp Holiday Special and the timestamps from the new years & 6k event before finally starting Under Your Skin. If you havent seen the preview for UYS, you can read it here.

As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only. banner made by me. I do not allow reposts or translations of my works. All my works are ©️ kwanisms.

Permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @candidupped @dejavernon

Kinkuary full taglist: @baldi-2 @wonderfulshinee @lacie220900 @sup-dallyboy @drunk-on-dk @violagoth @mixling-blog @kosmoreads @yourfavoritefreakyhan

Txt taglist: @niktwazny303 @rapmonie2047 @rdiamond2727 @kangfication @beomgyusbabygirl

Strikethrough means I cannot tag you

MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED.

Last chance to join the taglist! Taglist will close before the last 4 parts go up!

════════════════════════════════

When he first suggested using toys in the bedroom, Yeonjun never expected this. Now looking over the spread on your shared bed, he was wondering who would be on the receiving end tonight.

"What do you mean toys?" you asked, eyeing your boyfriend suspiciously as you made breakfast. Yeonjun, who was sitting at the kitchen island, shrugged as if he hadn't just brought up wanting to introduce adult toys in your sex life at approximately 830 on a Thursday morning.

"What kind of toys?" You asked after a beat of silence, flipping the eggs in the frying pan so they wouldn't burn. "You know," Yeonjun answered softly. "The usual kind."

You let out a sigh. "No, I don't know," you replied, cheeks burning with embarrassment. While sex was nothing new between the two of you, sex toys were another story entirely.

You had almost no experience when it came to toys of the adult variety. You'd purchased a dildo one time but found it extremely daunting and were too scared to use it and subsequently tossed it out when you did a deep cleanse of your apartment.

That was before Yeonjun entered your life and if you were being honest, he was more than enough. You didn't feel like you needed toys, even when he was on tour. Being patient and waiting until he returned made the sex even better in your opinion.

Now that he was suggesting to use toys, you thought maybe he felt like you weren't enough. Like he needed more.

"Do…" your words failed you as you tried to ask. Yeonjun looked up to see the pained look on your face and thought maybe you'd hurt yourself. He got up but the next words that came out of mouth hit him like a punch to the gut.

"Do I not satisfy you or something?"

He didn't miss the waver in your voice as you tried to hold it together. "Oh baby, that's not that I meant," he said, rushing to your side quickly. He turned the burner off and took your face in his hands, tilting your head to look him in the eyes.

"You're more than enough baby," he explained, pressing a kiss to your forehead first then your lips. "I just want to try something new. I think it could be fun," he added, nuzzling your nose with his.

"Please don't think this means I don't think you satisfy me. You do, I promise," he continued, pulling you into a crushing hug. "I think using toys could be really fun, especially with each other."

You sniffled softly before hugging him back. "O-okay," you answered quietly. "But I don't know anything about them," you added. Yeonjun hummed in response. "I don't know much either but we can learn together," he replied, kissing your forehead.

"It'll be fun, I promise."

You'd both sat down together to look at websites with a wide range of toys, read countless articles and then, for 'added excitement' as your boyfriend called it, you separately bought from the website.

Your face was burning the entire time you added items to your cart, removing them and then adding them back as your indecisiveness took over. Finally, you settled on the agreed upon number of toys.

"We'll each pick four. We may not use them all at once, but I think it'll be nice to have a selection," Yeonjun explained as you sat at the dining table, each on your phones on the website.

You had picked some smaller items after Yeonjun told you to stay away from the vibrators and dildos as he was going to take care of those. You settled for a baby pink ball gag, a pink set of restraints before your eye was caught by the 'for him' section.

You opened it before you could stop yourself.

You scanned through the options, finding a lot more than you expected but you found something promising. You and Yeonjun had mainly discussed toys for you, not him but the moment you saw the cock ring with attached vibrating anal plug, you didn't know what came over you and before you knew it you added it along with a 4 piece anal training set to your cart.

That with the restraints and gag were your four items and you were done, burning with embarrassment from your purchase but hopeful that Yeonjun was right and this would be fun.

It took only a few days for your purchases to arrive and the two of you decided date night would be a perfect chance to test the new items. While you waited for Yeonjun to come home, you got ready, taking a shower and making sure to clean yourself up.

Afterwards, you put on a lingerie set you saved for special occasions and threw on a simple oversized sweater to hide what you wore underneath.

You still had some time to kill so you opened your package and inspected the items before cleaning them and adding batteries to the vibrating plug. Something about it really made you want Yeonjun to pick it later tonight.

Once you finished, you hid your selection back in the box before waiting for your boyfriend to finally arrive home. He brought with him dinner and apologized for running late, he wanted to shower after practice first. You told him you didn't mind as you pulled plates out of the cabinet for the food.

Nestled on the couch with your food and drinks, the two of you settled in and watched a movie while you ate. He'd gone out of his way to pick up some food from your favorite chicken place this time and you reminded yourself to reward him later.

After dinner and the movie ended, the two of you cleaned up, putting away any leftovers and putting the dishes in the washer. While you were wiping down the counter, you felt your boyfriend’s hands on your hips as he pressed against you from behind.

"You smell really nice," he murmured, lips leaving light kisses along your neck. "I took a shower earlier," you answered, shivering slightly as his breath tickled your skin. "Hmm, without me?" he joked, pressing into you, his hardening cock grinding against your ass.

You let out a soft breathy moan, tilting your head to the side to let him mark and kiss your neck as his hands gripped your sweater, pulling the fabric up to reveal your lacy underwear.

Yeonjun cursed under his breath, grinding harder against you. "You planned this, didn't you?" he groaned, his hands dropping your sweater and moving up to grab your breasts over the thick material, making you moan louder.

Without speaking, Yeonjun turned you quickly to face him, lips crashing against yours as his hands reached down to your thighs. Your arms went around his neck, aiding him in lifting you onto the counter as his lips moved down your neck.

"I need this off," he groaned, pulling away to lift your sweater, pulling it off and letting it drop to the ground as he took in the sight of what was on underneath.

The blue and lavender ombre lace was a perfect contrast to your skin. The cup of the bra had thin straps connecting from the middle of the bra and curving up over your breasts to connect to the straps holding the bra up.

The panties were the same blue and lavender ombre with scalloped edges and a small bow with a tiny silver heart charm in the middle of the waistband. A similar silver heart charm dangled from the middle of the bra cups. It was a set Yeonjun had bought you for your birthday and you had worn for him on his.

It was hands down your favorite set but more importantly, it was also your boyfriend's favorite set.

Yeonjun groaned, grabbing your hips and dropping his head onto your shoulder. "You're gonna kill me," he whined before standing upright. You smiled, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth as Yeonjun cupped your face. "You're so fucking beautiful," he whispered, thumb pulling your lip from between your teeth.

Your words were cut off as he kissed you again, your lips parting and letting his tongue explore your mouth. You loved the way Yeonjun kissed you, whether it was just a small peck like he did when he was on his way out the door or like now, messy and full of tongue. He'd shown you time and time again he knew how to use his mouth for more than just singing or rapping.

"We should probably take this to the bedroom," Yeonjun mumbled when he finally pulled away to breathe. You nodded, cheeks flushed and arousal pooling in your panties.

Yeonjun pulled you from the counter, keeping you steady as you landed on your feet before taking your hand and leading you to the bedroom. You giggled as he tripped in his haste and moaned when he pushed you against the wall, kissing you again.

"You're so eager," you noted as his lips left yours, kissing down your neck again. You felt his hand sneak between your bodies, pressing the fabric of your panties against your slick center.

"I'm not the only one," he answered back with a smirk.

"Bedroom," you reminded him as he nipped at your jaw. "Right."

Yeonjun dragged you into the bedroom, over to the bed where he promptly lifted you and dropped you quickly, climbing on top of you as you giggled, a grin on his face as he hovered over you.

"Did you clean your toys?" you asked suddenly, sitting up and pushing Yeonjun back. His eyes squinted before widening. "Shit, no," he said rolling off the bed and onto the floor with a curse, mak8jg you laugh as he got to his feet clumsily and hurried to grab the box with his name on it and rush into the bathroom.

You waited patiently on the bed while he ran the toys under the faucet, adding ample amounts of cleaner before rinsing them and shutting off the water.

You climbed off the bed ro grab your box and hurried back as he reappeared.

"You got off the bed," he accused as he entered the room. You nodded with a cheeky grin. "I had to grab my box!" You said, holding your box up to show him.

Yeonjun rolled his eyes but said nothing as he climbed onto the bed, setting a plain pink towel on top of the sheets. "One at a time?" he asked, looking at you. With a smile and a nod, you played rock paper scissors for who would have to go first.

Yeonjun lost with a groan but opened the box and pulled out the first of his four purchases.

It was a beautiful clear and pink glass dildo with a heart on one end. He set it aside and nodded towards your box. "Your turn," he said, practically bouncing with excitement.

You chose to pull out the restraints first. Yeonjun eyed them, reaching forward to grab them from you. "These are… unexpected," he said as he inspected them. "Well," you started softly, playing with your fingers before continuing.

"I like it when you pin my arms above my head, so I thought these could mimic that. Then you'd have two free hands," you explained. Yeonjun smirked, setting the restraints aside and leaned forward to kiss you. "You're so cute," he cooed, taking your face in his hands.

"Junnie!" you whined as he squished your cheeks. "It's your turn," you tried to change the subject. Yeonjun sighed and reluctantly withdrew to pull the neck item out of his box. Your eyes widened upon seeing it.

The fluffy pink fur nearly obscured the small silver plug attached to the base of a luxurious cat tail. "I don't know," Yeonjun said, trying to explain his thought process. "I just really liked the color and thought it would look really cute on you. Well, I guess 'in' you is more accurate," he added.

Your cheeks burned as he set the tail aside and motioned for you to continue. You decided to grab the training set and show it off next. Yeonjun whistled as you set it down and blushed furiously, an action that made him chuckle and lean forward to kiss your cheek.

The next item out of his box was a headband with match ears for the tail. "It's a set," he explained, putting the ears on himself first. You giggled as he looked at you with a wide grin. "They're really pretty," you commented as he took the headband off and set the ears aside.

You chose to show off the gag you'd purchased. Yeonjun nearly choked on his own spit when you pulled it out. "Obviously I don't think we'd use this right away, but I like the color and you know how loud I can get sometimes." Yeonjun said nothing as you set the gag on the towel with the other items. He pulled his final item out and you nearly did a double take.

He had produced a dildo unlike anything you'd ever seen.

It was long and had a somewhat average girth. It was white and light blue marbled with a baby pink base. The shaft was textured with what looked like suction cups, the tip pointed and the entire length curved backwards slightly.

Aesthetically, it was probably the prettiest dildo you'd ever seen but the texture was as horrifying as it was confounding. You'd never seen anything like it.

"Trust me," Yeonjun started. "I know it looks intimidating, but I checked the measurements and it's not much different than me. The differences are the color and the texture," he continued.

"If you don't want to use it right away, we don't have to. I just really liked how it looked. All the others look the same. They all look like dicks and this… this is so unique." You leaned forward, kissing him on the lips and interrupting his rambling. "I'll keep an open mind."

Yeonjun smiled, relief washing over him as he set the toy aside and waited for your last one.

You suddenly felt nervous and wished you'd already shown it to him.

Sensing your unease, Yeonjun set the now empty box aside and took your hand in his. "It's okay," he reassured you. "Nothing can be weirder than the actual tentacle dildo I bought."

You laughed and took a deep breath before pulling the final item out.

Yeonjun had been shocked by your purchases before, but now he was confused as he looked at the item in your hands, taking it slowly. "What is it?" he asked, making you laugh at the sheer confusion on his face.

"It's a cock ring," you said softly. The confusion melted immediately, replaced with the shock you expected. "And this??" he asked, wiggling the anal plug. "A vibrating anal plug," you answered, laughing again as his jaw dropped. "A plug... for me?"

You nodded, giggling as his cheeks turned pink. "I uh… wasn't e-expecting that," he coughed as he set the item aside. "We don't have to use it," you said, mimicking his words. "I just couldn't stop thinking about it." Yeonjun glanced down at the items, eyes landing on the anal training set. "Is that why you bought this?"

You shook your head. "Not really," you answered. "I've always wanted to try anal, you know that." Your voice was soft as you spoke, making Yeonjun smirk as he watched your face flush. "We can definitely do that," he commented, making you look up.

"Really?" you asked, your eyes shining with excitement.

"Of course," Yeonjun answered. "I need you to do something for me first," he continued, looking stern for a second, making your eyes widened in shock and confusion at his sudden change in demeanor.

"W-what's that?" you asked, gulping as he leaned forward.

"Gimme your hands," Yeonjun said, holding one of his hands out for you to place both your hands in. "First things first," he continued, grabbing the pink restraints.

"I'm gonna bind your wrists and pin them down," he said as he started doing just that, placing your wrists in the restraints and tightening them just enough so you couldn't escape but not so tight they were u comfortable.

He then guided you to lie back, pinning your hands above your head as his lips kissed down your neck. "Keep your hands up there, baby girl," he whispered before continuing to kiss down your body, hands ghosting over your skin as he kissed down your stomach.

"You won't be needing these," he said softly, pulling your panties which were glistening with your arousal down your legs and setting them aside. As he settled between your thighs, taking your hips in his hands and locking his lips, Yeonjun glanced up to meet your gaze. "I want you to count," he said simply.

"C-count what?" you stammered, cheeks burning under his gaze.

"I want you to count how many times I make you cum with my tongue."

You lost track some time after the fourth or fifth orgasm.

Yeonjun had gotten two out of you before he finally started using the toys you'd both gotten. He was so entranced by the way your cunt took the glass dildo and even more so at being able to see through the clear glass and getting a small glimpse inside at your walls.

It was odd but also extremely erotic for him. The way your back arched off the mattress as he drove the toy into you repeatedly. He had the perfect view and he wouldn't regret the decision to bring this up and bring something new to your sex lives.

Although he wanted to use the plug tail and ears he chose to keep it simple tonight, just using the restraints and this one dildo on you. He would have been content to use just these but then you just had to bring it up. The last item you'd shown him.

As he got rid of his clothes, you brought it up.

"Do you want to try it?" you asked softly as he looked down at you, lying bare before him and almost totally at his mercy. He glanced sideways at the toy and then back at you.

He just knew he was going to regret this.

"Okay."

He'd taken his time to undo your hands, trying to stall as long as possible. It wasn't that he didn't want to do it. He was just… nervous. He'd never ever had anything put inside him other than at doctors appointments or physicals so doing this now was throwing him off. He waited as you opened the bedside table and grabbed a bottle of lube you kept on hand just in case.

Yeonjun waited as you moved behind him and urged him to bend over. He sighed and did as you asked, bracing himself. "You have to relax, Junnie," you reminded him. He nodded and waited but instead of the toy, he felt your finger instead.

It was cold and wet but it surprisingly didn't hurt. It was just weird. It was the first time he'd experienced this but it was the first time he'd had a sexual partner's finger inside him.

He let out a deep breath as you slowly worked your finger inside your boyfriend, concentrating on not hurting him. "I'm gonna add-" you started but Yeonjun shook his head. "Just do it, baby," he said quickly. "If I think too much, I'll change my mind."

The second finger was much more uncomfortable. It still wasn't painful, just really weird. At least until your fingers moved, the pads of your fingers pushing against the inside of his walls, making his head drop and a low moan to escape his lips.

You froze, fingers stilling before you repeated the action, causing your boyfriend to moan again. "Stop teasing me," he whined. "Just put the plug in and get it over with." You shook your head. "Not yet," you answered, ignoring his whines as you continued to scissor your fingers the same way he did when he was preparing you to take his cock for the first time.

"Fuck," Yeonjun hissed as your fingers continued to wiggle and squirm. "Does it hurt?" you asked, pausing momentarily but when he shook his head, you continued fingering and scissoring his hole for a few more minutes. "I think that should be enough," you said more to yourself than to Yeonjun as you pulled your fingers out and wiped them on the towel before grabbing the cock ring.

"I think it needs to go over this first," you said softly as you slowly slipped the ring over the tip of his cock. "Here," Yeonjun said, taking over and sliding the ring down his shaft. "And then these," you added, blushing as he followed your instruction, slipping the second ring over his balls before handing the plug to you.

"Just… be careful," Yeonjun said as you coated the plug with lube. "I'll go slow," you confirmed as you pressed the tip against his hole and slowly pushed it in. "Just breathe," you reminded as his breath hitched. You heard him exhale slowly and pushed the plug in.

It wasn't huge and it slid in easily. Once it was fully in, Yeonjun let out a moan as you sighed in relief. "You okay?" you asked softly. "Just get back over here," he replied. You obliged, settling back down on your back but not before grabbing your phone.

"What are you doing?" Yeonjun asked, eyes wide. "Turning the vibrator on," you answered as you opened the app. Yeonjun was about to answer but the sudden vibration against his prostate made him lose all conscious thought, a moan escaping as he dropped to his hands. You shut the vibrator off and looked up at him.

"Y-you can't just sneak it up on me like that," he mumbled. "Too much?" you asked, pouting when he nodded. You looked at the app on your screen and turned the number down to 1 before turning it on. "What about that?" you asked.

The light buzz of the vibrator was much less noticeable but still enjoyable as Yeonjun regained his focus. "That's a lot better," he said as he shook his head, sitting upright and hooking his hands under the backs of your knees, pulling you closer.

"Don't look so smug," he said as he took his length in his hand and lined the tip with your slit. "You may not even be able to focus when I start fucking you," he added, pushing into you slowly, both your eyes sliding shut as your warm walls enveloped his cock.

You pressed the plus sign on your phone screen, increasing the vibration by one. Yeonjun let out a low moan, head dipping as he lost his focus for a moment.

"Remind me to buy you a vibrator next time."

"If you keep increasing the speed on that, I'm not gonna last," he said, grabbing your hips and thrusting into you, making you cry out as he set a steady rhythm, thrusting into you, trying to focus on the feeling of your cunt gripping his cock and not the vibrating plug in his ass.

Your walls clenched around him again. "Then I guess it's a race to see who cums first," you moaned as your boyfriend snapped his hips forward, meeting his gaze as a smirk formed on his face.

"Let the game begin."

[zenscrypt]

"on feathers and dreams"

read it on ao3!

Rated: T (Teen and Up Audiences)

Content Warnings: possession, brief self-harm (ender king hurts purposefully hurts phil's body), drowning, brief vomiting

Summary:

“This is what happens when mortals steal from gods, crow,” the King snides, narrowing his eyes as he clenches the fist tight. “Now, quiet down. I think it’s about time I’ve rested, now that you’re out of the picture.”

Somewhere in his monologue, the King doesn’t pick up footsteps somewhere behind them -- but Phil does. His ear feathers twitch.

A soft voice calls out, “Phil?”

-- A self-imposed exile leads to a reunion.

You.

His skin writhes with an intruder's presence.

“What about me?” he rasps, aching eyes watching the ocean underneath him. The sun had set moments ago -- maybe hours, but he’s stopped counting -- and now, the waves lap at the cliff walls with a hypnotic motion. How long has it been now? Weeks? When was the last time he slept? Ate? Did anything besides stare vacantly at the endless horizon and entertain that nagging voice in his head.

Every part of his body aches since that moment in the forest -- he had to wrench the control away at each second, demanding the movement of his own body. His eggs had run from it. His body remained frozen so he wouldn’t chase after them with the dagger in his hand. The backpack is gone. He’s powerless.

Even his voice comes out wrong. His vocal chords are wrung from two warring voices fighting over them, a deep snarl so unlike what his body is used to, and his normal voice. It’s all… wrong.

Let me out.

The voice hisses, sharp and ringing in his head. It has no face, but he still raises an incredulous eyebrow. “Is that the best you can do?” he scoffs. “No. You’ll have to beg harder than that if you want to escape so badly.”

A quiet sea breeze rustles through his feathers. It all feels still, peaceful, static. Normally, he would be lulled to sleep by this, but something in his body refuses to let him sleep.

When he looks up, the void stares back at him.

What a familiar face. Distantly, he thinks of it as home. The night sky, free of twinkling stars and suffocating clouds, just a vast emptiness for him to soar through. This island was nice, but it was only a vacation.

The End was where he belonged.

Let me out.

“You can keep demanding that,” he sighs, disappointed. It’s like he isn’t even trying. He’s bored by each attempt because it hasn’t changed. Has it been days? “I won’t give it back so easily at your request.”

You will pay for this.

“Will I, now?”

Give me back my body.

The voice rumbles now, deep in the back of his head -- and his wings flare. “Your body?” he hisses sharply. Indignation rushes through him. His body? Does he even hear what he’s saying? “What makes you think this body is yours? It’s always belonged to me. Has your greed gotten to your head?”

You are so full of shit.

There it is.

His lips twist into a grin that stretches too thin on his cheeks. “Oh, crow,” he croons, “do you really think your insults will do anything to you like this?”

Fuck. You. Ender.

He laughs, louder, booming off the cliff face. “Face it, Philza. You’re useless like this.” The King taps his claws — his claws, not flimsy talons, dripping with the tears of the void — against stone and rolls his neck back, spreading out his wings. His wings. “Be patient. I haven’t had my fun with you yet.”

Do not hurt my kids.

“And what will you do about it?”

The King’s mind falls silent.

He hums. Typical. All bark and no bite from this little pest. “Try to take your body back. Speak for yourself if you think you’re strong enough,” he goads, returning his gaze to the void.

Die.

A laugh erupts from The King’s chest again. That really is the furthest he could do, isn’t it? How pathetic. “I will repeat this until it finally sticks to your feeble little brain, Philza: we are one and the same. You conquer every new land you’ve traveled across and steal every last piece of valuable treasure from its habitat -- and you say it’s for protection. For your safety. For your eggs. Do you really believe that fantasy that you’ve made up? Do you really think I would believe these lies you tell yourself? We both know the real reason you claim all of these things for yourself. Right?”

I didn’t take them.

The audacity. The King’s wings flare out again, feathers standing on end with rage and the pulsing amethyst light branding into his skin. “Do not lie to me, Philza.”

I didn’t take your fucking wings.

“Do not lie to me!” he roars. His fist slams into the ground, knuckles first -- and the King hears bones snap and break with a grotesque pop. This mortal body is just a puppet for the King to control, so Philza is the only one to feel the pain receptors firing. He hears a sharp, pained cry in his head and Philza’s pitiful voice finally quiets. Insolent brat.

The King lifts the damaged appendage with a flat stare. The stone underneath his first had cracked under the force, but Philza had a fast metabolism, so the hand slowly began to repair itself before the King’s eyes. It was hardly fascinating. Dragons could regrow heads.

Once it fixes itself entirely, the King rolls the wrist to test it out. It must still feel tender or sore, because he feels an involuntary flinch in his wings. He has to bite back a snarl. Of course Philza picked his wings for that.

“This is what happens when mortals steal from gods, crow,” the King snides, narrowing his eyes as he clenches the fist tight. “Now, quiet down. I think it’s about time I’ve rested, now that you’re out of the picture.”

Somewhere in his monologue, the King doesn’t pick up footsteps somewhere behind them -- but Phil does. His ear feathers twitch.

A soft voice calls out, “Phil?”

---

He didn’t hide his location on the map. It had to be a sign.

Missa had to believe that.

He told Phil he would protect him. As best as he can, with all of his willpower. Sure, he isn’t the strongest and he can barely hold his sword right sometimes, but he made that promise to Phil and he intends on keeping it.

“Tallulah… Tallulah told me,” he says to the black wings shadowing Phil’s seated form. The moon sits high in the clouds and against his back as Missa takes a step forward. It’s almost eerie, how still Phil’s body went at the sound of his voice. Just moments before, it was bellowing with a voice so unlike Phil’s, Missa was convinced somebody else -- something else -- was here.

Rose-weaved signs flash in his head. [ he… he hurt me ] [ but papa is still in there ] [ i know he is ] [ i dont know what to do apa ]

Chayanne had disappeared too. Part of Missa hoped he would find his little egg here too, along with Phil, bantering as they farmed in a new location or sparring with Phil’s cawing laughter and Chayanne’s adorable quacks. It was… wishful thinking at best. He couldn’t just ignore Tallulah’s fears.

There’s no response, so he continues cautiously, “You don’t have to say anything. I just… want to know if you’re alright. I don’t think you should be alone.”

Phil’s head lifts. Blond strands roll over his shoulder, but he doesn’t look completely over to meet Missa’s eyes. “How did you find me?”

He… sounds fine. Maybe too fine — it comes out flat, lacking any of his usual inflections, and cold. If Missa hadn’t known any better, he would’ve taken that answer the second he heard it.

But he doesn’t. “I came as soon as I heard,” he murmurs, trying to see past the shadows of Phil’s face. There’s the faintest glow of something violet illuminating his face from a downward angle. Underneath his black feathers, a pattern of light pulses slowly, like a heartbeat. Missa doesn’t tell him -- them? -- how long it took. They don’t need to know that; as long as they-- Phil knows that Missa was looking for him, that’s enough.

“You’re too late.”

“Maybe I am,” Missa says without missing a beat, confident as he takes another step forward. Phil’s wings begin to spread and, despite the warning signs, Missa advances. “I’m always late, aren’t I? Phil-- I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t respect my promise like I told you I would. I woke up for Tallulah, spent as much time with Chayanne as I could, but-- I couldn’t do it for you. I’m sorry.”

The Ender King scoffs. Missa shoves aside the queasiness rising inside his empty ribcage, because they’re using Phil’s voice but it sounds nothing like him. He knows better. “Your apologies mean nothing to me. He’s too far gone to hear this. Leave me, or else.”

Or else. Or else what? Missa’s resolve burns through the dread that tries to freeze him in place. “Tallulah wanted me to tell you, if I found you,” he continues with another step, and another dangerous twitch of those obsidian wings, “that she forgives you for attacking her. You’ve always looked out for her and Chayanne -- that’s why you’re doing this now, right? You just want to protect them. She knows. She forgives you.”

Tallulah doesn’t.

That’s the thing. She was terrified at the thought of following after Chayanne to try and find her papa, conflicted because of the fear this deity instilled into her and her love for her father. She didn’t take to any of Missa’s reassurances -- she was as stubborn as her feathered parent, albeit so much more intune with her emotions.

More importantly though, Tallulah told him that Phil knows she wouldn’t forgive so easily. It takes time for her to recover from her wounds, no matter how fresh they are. Phil would know this.

When Phil’s body finally turns to look at Missa, his eyes are wide. “She does?” he whispers, in utter disbelief.

Missa nods. “I missed you,” he adds quietly.

…There’s truth to that one, unfortunately. It feels too easy, and he hates that it works. Phil’s body sways as they stand up -- and Missa rushes to close the gap between them, reaching for Phil’s hands. They’re almost unrecognizable now, covered with black scales and nails sharpened into something far stronger than this sharper-than-average, black-painted nails.

He’s always loved Phil’s hands. The few nights where they were under the same roof, he asked if he could paint Phil’s nails for him. It was something that brought unnamed nostalgia to Missa, a memory from his past life he couldn’t exactly grasp, and it was a fun night where they learned they could paint Chayanne’s nubby paws as well. Phil’s hands were always nice and well-kept.

Like this, they’re completely gone. Not to mention the black mass pulsating on Phil’s shoulders with that violet glow he spotted earlier. His nonexistent stomach twists into knots. He rubs his thumbs along gnarled knuckles and, holding eye contact, asks Phil, “Are you okay?”

Phil’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. The wind lets his hair sway, his wings ruffle, and the act is laughable. Missa almost feels insulted. “I’m fine,” they reassure Missa with no reassuring inflection. “Now, what did th-- Tallulah tell you?”

Missa glances away. “She… everything, Phil. It- it freaked me out a little bit, but-- are you sure you’re okay? I just wanted to come here to make sure everything was fine. I’ll leave if you want.”

Phil’s wings twitch again -- Missa’s starting to realize this must be an involuntary twitch, because the sigh they let out sounds… aggravated, and the wings tense against Phil’s back again. Missa tries not to let his surprise show. He’s still in there.

Behind Phil’s body, past his wings, the edge of the ocean meets the starry sky. It’s an impressive sight. They’re fairly high up.

“I told her not to tell any more people,” Phil’s voice says with another displeased sigh. His eyes lift back to Missa’s. Gone are the beautiful azure he loved so much, replaced with a cold, amethyst purple. When they look at Missa, it’s like they’re looking through him. “How much do you know? The King won’t be happy when he hears about this.”

You don’t seem like it, Missa thinks, unimpressed. He swallows and glances away from Phil’s changed eyes. “I- I mean, I can pretend I don’t know anything? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t snoop.”

He’s still in there somewhere. Missa needs to get him back.

He… isn’t a fan of the idea he’s come up with though.

Phil’s eyes soften. He reaches up carefully with his unbroken hand, cupping the underside of Missa’s cheek in his black, clawed hand delicately, as if he were a flower. His touch is ice-cold against Missa’s wispy skin. “I’m sorry, my love,” he whispers, violet eyes searching his. “This is all my fault.”

Alright. That’s enough.

Missa slams his hands into Phil’s chest.

Lo siento, querido.

The cliff’s edge drops off directly into the ocean. Missa saw it as he paddled his boat to the island and worried, for the longest moment, that Phil’s distant figure was going to jump. Would he have flown, if he did? Did the deity Rose heal his wings like Chayanne told him? Would it be Phil that finally gets to spread his wings -- or somebody else?

Phil doesn’t fall. His only tether to stability beside his feet, desperately scrambling against the stony edge, is Missa’s hand, clenched around the collar of his kimono.

“What--” The King snarls -- his voice booms suddenly, unnaturally deep in Phil’s light voice and echoing over the cliffside.

Missa holds firm, staring down violet eyes stretched wide as saucers. He can’t hold this for long, but he keeps his stance balanced. There’s a chance this might not even work. Missa could be wasting his time.

Better him than Chayanne.

Phil’s wings pump through the air for his own balance. The flaps are stilted and uneven, strangely enough -- it’s not instincts trying to keep him upright. Something is holding them back. Is something trying to… keep them closed? Hope wells inside Missa’s chest.

The loud, thunderous voice quiets back to Phil’s as if nothing happened. “What do you think you’re doing?” they say incredulously, feigning innocence.

“Let me talk to him,” Missa says firmly.

They bat his eyes. “Talk to who? I’m right here, love.”

It’s all wrong. How smart does this thing think they are? Missa’s arm starts to shake with the strain of holding Phil’s weight -- so he gives the thief a thin, weak smile. “Philza never calls me love.”

Cloth slips from his hands, and Phil’s body plummets.

Without missing a beat, Missa dives after him.

(He really hopes the Ender King is allergic to water.)

There’s barely enough time for Phil’s body to rotate and catch the airs in his wings for flight. Those huge, black shadows billow in the wind as the thing controlling his body thrashes, suddenly out of his element, eyes stretched wide and fear in their grimace. Those wings have been broken for so long. Maybe, if they had the chance, they could’ve flipped around and taken control of his flailing body as they fall.

Missa can’t let that happen.

It’s a horrible feeling, taking hold of Phil’s wings in the air. Claws flash, but Missa grits his teeth through the pain and the cold drip of his blood down his face to hold Phil’s body as tightly as he can. Lo siento, lo siento, lo siento, lo siento.

Faintly, as the ocean below swallows them whole, Missa wonders… if Phil could fly, would he take Missa with him?

The water around them makes everything go blurry, sluggish, heavy. Missa is naturally weightless, but the armor he’s wearing lets him sink further down. More claws swipe at him until their squirming gets to be too much -- they break free with a sharp knock against Missa’s jaw and shove him away.

The Ender King’s eyes are terrified. They’re holding their breath, eyes wide and furious when they glare at Missa, but quickly, they look back up to the surface above them and try to swim for it. They kick Phil’s legs and pump his wings frantically -- Missa panics, thinking they’ll manage to escape the second they break free from the ocean’s grasp -- but then, Phil’s wings stiffen up. Their eyes shrink even further.

“No!” they screech, and all of the air rushes out of them in large, globe-like bubbles. As loud as the voice once was, the water muffles the booming effect, as if trying to silence his cries. “Stop-- give me back my body, you--”

All of Phil’s limbs freeze in their scramble. Missa watches as they try to suck in another breath and only take in the seawater, sputtering and seizing. It’s horrific, trying to watch somebody you love try to fight for control with no room to breathe. What is he supposed to do? What can he do?

The King continues babbling, voice growing shrill without any oxygen in his lungs, “Not again! Not again, I can’t-- No--”

Missa counts the bubbles rushing from his lips until there’s no more. The ocean grows still. Quiet. Phil’s body sinks.

Limp.

He’s going to die.

The realization spurs Missa into action immediately. He went unconscious, but Missa only has a minute until Phil dies and respawns somewhere else.

Hurried, frantic Spanish spills out of him as he takes Phil’s body in his arms and swims up to the surface -- Phil’s head lulls onto his shoulder the second they both break free. Land- land-- where--

There! Where Missa left his boat, a small shore under the cliff roof, but far away. Too far for Missa to reach with Phil’s -- heavy -- body in tow. Hastily, he searches his inventory.

It’s cluttered with random items he picked up along the journey after Phil’s map marker, but a singular enderpearl catches his eye. Thank the gods he decided to take it with him for some reason, as if he could’ve spoken with the Ender King through it or some shit-- it doesn’t matter. Missa grabs it and, without missing a beat, launches it in the direction of the beach.

As it flies, Missa wraps his arms around Phil’s body and squeezes him as tight as possible against his chest. Please teleport with me, please teleport with me, please--

Pop! Missa hits sand with a heavy weight in his arms.

It worked. He has no time to celebrate. Carefully, he adjusts Phil onto his back, taking as much care as possible with his wings, laying them out flat and not kneeling over sodden feathers, and his trembling hands hover over Phil’s body. The death counter ticks in his eyes. Fourty seconds.

And counting down.

Dios mio. What does he do?

Breathing-- is Phil breathing? He peels off his gloves and throws them somewhere in the sand, bones rattling in the dark wisps that make up his skin and making it nearly impossible to stay still to check for air. He hates how pale Phil looks, and the dark circles around his eyes, and the way his face is too slack -- is he breathing? If Missa’s hands would stop shaking--

Twenty-five seconds. Phil still hasn’t moved. Tears well in Missa’s eye sockets. Why hasn’t he moved?

Pulse-- check for a pulse-- please, why isn’t he-- it’s the best thing Missa can do, carefully pressing against Phil’s neck, trying to remember where the pulse point is. Twenty seconds. He bites his tongue to hold back a whimper. Phil, please--

Thmp. He can barely feel it. Thmp… thmp… thmp…

Is that--?

Water gurgles.

Immediately, Phil’s body seizes and water splatters from his open mouth -- Phil’s eyes shoot open as coughs rip from his throat. Missa retracts his hands with a surprised squeak, eyes stretching so wide it hurts but-- Phil?

He rolls to his side to dry heave, a painful, guttural noise that Missa hates, oh, Gods, please let him be fine. His whole body shakes with each retch. Missa, twitchy, anxious -- needing to do something because is it Phil, is he okay, how can he help -- finally gives into his urges and reaches over to brush Phil’s long hair out of the way as he vomits the seawater out.

When he finishes, Phil lets out a shaking breath and slowly, on shaking limbs, pushes himself up into a sitting position. Missa’s hands follow him carefully for support.

As he catches his breath, Missa hovers still. The silence wanes on. He can’t see his face -- his eyes, Missa just wants to check, dreading the sight of that same purple glow that’s still stuck under his feathers.

“Phil?”

His wings shift. Weakly, Phil’s head lifts to meet Missa’s seeking eyes.

Blue.

“Hey, mate,” Phil croaks, looking exhausted.

It’s-- Missa can’t help it -- an overjoyed sob escapes him, tears finally bursting from his eyes. “Philza!”

“Mis-- ouff--”

He doesn’t have time to return Missa’s exclamation the way they normally do before Missa collides into him all at once. A caw startles out of him -- so crowlike Missa is swarmed with adoration and endearment and relief. Phil’s okay, he’s alive, he’s back -- Missa has to bend down and shower his face in loud, blubbering kisses, vocalizing each with an exaggerated, “MWAH!” that makes Phil burst out into breathless laughter. It’s the only distraction Missa can give himself, trying so hard to keep his trembling bottom lip shut.

For Phil. For Phil.

“Okay, okay!” Phil laughs, craning his neck away for space but Missa only takes the opportunity to press his lips underneath his jawline and blow a raspberry against his skin. “What the fuck-- Missa! Chill out!”

His words are meant to be sharp, but he’s giggling like he’s drunk and Missa feels like it. It’s infectious; he feels silly laughing into Phil’s neck, needing to cling onto every inch of Phil’s skin he can reach, relieved and happy and so, so, so-- scared--

A sob tears out of him.

Missa has never been the strong one here.

“Oh, mate,” comes Phil’s achingly sweet murmur into his hair. Missa curls in on himself, into Phil’s embrace, letting the terror finally sweep over him.

Gods above, he almost killed Philza. He knows how painful death is for him, even if they respawn-- but if he respawned, he would be with Chayanne and Tallulah. He would’ve put them directly in harm’s way if he didn’t save Phil in time. They could’ve died because of him.

Missa wants to be strong for his family. He tells them, over and over again, he wants to protect them the way they protect him. He wants to be there for them when they need it. He wants to love them as much as he can.

But he can’t. He’s gone so often, and he can’t help it -- can’t help it when Death calls back to him in his sleep and he loses himself in his past again -- no matter how much he tries. If this plan of his failed, his kids would’ve been through the same thing. Gone, except, unlike him, they won’t be able to escape.

How can a protector do that? How can a father do that to his kids? He doesn’t deserve the title of a husband, much less a parent. All he does is sleep and dream, and-- and--

“I’m sorry.”

Missa hiccups. Phil’s voice vibrates against where he’s buried himself against his throat, his hands loose where they’re wrapped around Missa’s back. He leans just as heavily onto Missa, muttering, “This is all my fault.”

What?

Phil sucks in a breath -- and Missa hates that it sounds shaky like his sobs, which can’t be right. “I should’ve- I should’ve known he was coming after me. All of the warning signs were there. I took that stupid backpack without even thinking about it, and look where that fuckin’ got me. I’m-- god, I’m fucking stupid. The worst fucking dad.”

What? No, no, no-- Missa lifts his head away with his eyebrows knitted together, finding Phil staring resolutely away from him, his teeth gritted and eyes glimmering in the moonlight. That doesn’t make any sense. Why is he blaming himself? What is he blaming himself for? A deity possessing him? Is he being ridiculous?

“Phil, what are you talking about?” he whispers.

He watches Phil grind his teeth and give a very forced, controlled exhale through his nose. His eyes shift down to the sand underneath him, the space on his opposite side where Missa isn’t is, down into his lap. When he opens his mouth, his jaw trembles as he laughs something harsh and bitter, spitting, “I’m fucking terrified, Missa. I don’t know how to get myself out of this.”

His voice cracks in the middle of his words, and the second he finishes, Phil shatters.

Missa watches his face crumple in dismay. “No, no, no, querido,” he moves quickly and shushes him gently, gathering Phil in his arms. A strangled noise, torn between a sob and wail, gets muffled into Missa’s cloak and Missa cradles Phil’s head closer, pressing his lips to the golden crown of his hair. Skeletal fingers run through his scalp as delicately as he can.

How long has this been going on? How much has Phil been holding this all in?

Has he told anyone this?

Everybody must think of Philza as the most collected person on the island -- even Missa thought that, because who couldn’t? He held himself together well, kept to himself, and offered kindness whenever somebody needed help. He’s always been the one protecting -- because he never let anybody else do it for him.

He grew up so alone. Of course he would expect to manage on his own, but--

Missa screws his eyes shut, feeling more tears drip from his sockets. He can’t handle this problem by himself. And now…

Taking in a shaking breath to calm himself, Missa pulls away from Phil’s embrace. His face is red and splotchy, eyes swollen, and he makes another strangled grunt, covering his face with his hands to wipe away the tears and mucus. His shoulders still shake with labored breath and the occasional hiccup. He looks miserable.

Distantly, he wonders if he’s the only person that’s seen Phil like this.

Missa’s hands gently sweep away his to cup his jawline, tilting his face up. Tears stain his cheeks -- wet streaks that replace the sticky, dried-out marks from the seawater that was on his skin -- and Phil still can’t look him in the eye. He doesn’t seem like he’s used to this attention. This kind of vulnerability.

That’s fine. Missa brushes away the fresh tears that bead from his long eyelashes. He holds Phil, just like this, taking him in. He doesn’t want Phil to hide this from him, not when he’s here.

When blue irises finally focus on him, it’s shy. Missa’s chest flutters. Even like this, he can’t help but feel enamored by the crow in his arms. He had no idea someone so strong could look so bashful at someone like Missa.

Love is a strange thing, he thinks as he leans down and fits his lips over Phil’s.

It’s a simple message, a reminder. Phil tastes like seawater, but Missa drags him deeper, willing to drown himself in it for him.

Phil pulls away first -- his breathing still isn’t steady, and the kissing probably isn’t helping, but he stretches to meet Missa’s lips again anyway. It feels like a response -- Missa was fine as long as Phil heard, but he wants to return it-- him-- his head spins.

He doesn’t care if his feelings are reciprocated or if Phil even knows how far Missa is willing to go for him, always. Relief pours over him like honey and he sighs into the kiss, letting Phil take the lead.

There’s a bit of a challenge, namely Phil needing to breathe. He parts long enough to take in a breath before diving back in, and it’s-- endearing, tickles Missa in a way that makes him giddy, but he knows he should probably put a stop to this if Phil wasn’t going to, for Phil’s sake. He’s not the one with lungs here after all.

(He also wasn’t the one to almost drown.)

Despite this though, Phil chases after him the second he starts to pull away. His nose knocks into Missa’s skull, the edges of his nasal cavity -- and still, that doesn’t deter him. Missa’s endeared laugh gets muffled by Phil’s smiling lips; he can’t help but give into his fluttering chest and Phil���s touch.

Eventually, they part, just not very far. Missa rests his skull against Phil’s forehead -- at his insistence -- to listen to him steady his breath. Behind them, the waves lap at the sand. They’ve gradually dried over time thanks to the enchanted armor they wear, but Missa feels ready to collapse like he’s weighed down by bricks.

He can’t imagine how Phil must be feeling.

“Missa…?”

He blinks, sitting back on his (hurting) knees (ow, he’s been on them too long), peering at Phil. The crow looks like a mess still, but under the moonlight, Missa doesn’t care. Phil gazes at him, hesitant -- an expression Missa’s never seen on him before.

They… have a lot to talk about, don’t they? If Phil even feels comfortable enough to talk to him about it. Something nags in the back of Missa’s mind -- a horrible voice in his head that usually points out all of his insecurities -- that this feels too perfect. The Ender King disappeared too fast. They’re too happy.

Chayanne is still missing. Tallulah is no doubt worrying about him, and Phil, and now Missa. The sand underneath them is bathed in that eerie purple glow from the mass on Phil’s back -- he said something about a backpack? -- and Missa still feels the edges of his fears still gnawing at his bones. Phil isn’t okay, and there’s no telling the next time Missa may wake up.

Phil’s voice carries in the breeze. “Can… can you stay here tonight? With me?”

Oh.

A warmth, fuzzy and like the sun, coils in his ribcage. Missa nods, maybe a bit too aggressively, with, “Sí, sí, si me quieres aquí. Anything, Philza.”

Phil’s smile crinkles the edges of his eyes, his crow’s feet, in a way Missa thinks only he’s seen before. “Thank you. Th- thank you, Missa.” It sounds as if the world is lifted from his wings. Maybe it has.

It isn’t much, but it’s something. They find a spot underneath a tree, far from the beach or the stony cliff, and Phil lights up the area as much as he can despite his exhaustion. As they work together, they talk. This isn’t the end of it. The water scared Ender off, but it didn’t get rid of the mass on Phil’s back, or the darkened claws that were Phil’s hands.

It was enough for tonight. Phil hadn’t slept as a punishment to himself, afraid Ender would take control in his sleep -- but that ended in his downfall the moment his consciousness lapsed with the sleep deprivation. Ender swooped in, and Phil was too exhausted to try and fight back.

So it comes to no surprise that Phil’s asleep the second his head hits Missa’s lap.

Blond hair weaves through Missa’s skeletal hands as he chuckles quietly. With two fingers, he picks up a lock of his hair and presses his lips to it, murmuring to Phil’s sleeping face, “Buenas noches, querido. Que descanses.”

The moon above them wanes into something full, bright, whole -- a lunar eclipse just ending. It watches Missa slowly drift to sleep as well, hearing Death’s distant call.

For the first time in his existence, Missa fights against the natural calling of his undead body. Maybe it’s a pointless fight. Maybe Death will still claim him in the end. Maybe he’ll give into the urge with his fears too heavy and pressing in his mind and submit himself to the void.

He fights because he wants to wake up next to Phil. He can’t leave him alone after tonight. He wants to help him with this, in any way he can.

Just like he promised.