#or rather a whole truck of twists

[l-in-the-light]

This, so much. I even wrote a joke about Oda struggling to bend Law to be the evil guy he planned him to be, but tbh I never found a source for that "Law was supposed to be evil" belief either. I had a feeling those are rumours, because I read some interviews and One Piece magazine translations, and this never came up. Heh.

But I have few extra thoughts here, and I'm gonna use this occassion to share :D

I think I get why this scene looks so different from the sketched one. It's because in the sketch Oda didn't incorporate yet Sanji and Law's dynamics. Those fleshed out as he was going. Sanji seems like he's cornering Law here, but it's actually not what's going on imo!

Because look at the scene in next chapter. They're all *worried* for Law. Sanji included. We know Sanji, he might pretend to be harsh towards guys and say he doesn't care, but *he always cares* and worries and protects people (Usopp, anyone?). That's why the scene from above isn't Sanji cornering Law just because he doesn't trust him and thinks he's up to no good. It's actually Sanji using the last possible moment to talk some sense into Law, because he thinks Law is losing their final goal from sight, getting too passionate about Doflamingo. He doesn't even care if Law has some hidden agenda. He says all of that because, yes, he is worried Law is gonna do something stupid and possibly die in the process (and was he wrong? No, he wasn't).

Why would Strawhats care for Law? This is just an alliance! I heard that argument so many times already. Yeah, but Luffy cares, and they know their captain pretty well so they will care as well, for his sake, if not for anything else. Besides Strawhats are actually a bunch of good people, so of course they will care, even for "strangers". Sanji also saved Kinemon who happens to be a dude, not a lady, and Sanji has no connection to him whatsoever. He simply does that because he cares for people.

And Law isn't so scheming and shady there like Oda planned in his original sketch, because Sanji's line also changed. Now he isn't confronting Law because he's distrustful but worried instead, and I think Law realized that. He recognized the worry coming from the blond guy always smoking a cigarette who also respected his dislike of bread and made onigiri especially for him at breakfast. We can say many things about Law, but not that he can't recognize care when he sees (and receives) it. And I could bet anything he looks so surprised there because someone reminding him slightly of his favourite Cora-san (blond, always smoking, caring) is worrying for him and asking him "are you not overfocusing on Doflamingo?"; that must have hit close to home. It's like Cora-san himself appeared in front of him and asked that question to Law, through Sanji.

But Law is a stubborn bastard and he wouldn't change his goal anyway.

Ok so sometimes I see people claiming Oda originally planned for Law to be evil. Did he actually say that? I can't find much on it

This and "Law is Oda's wife's favorite character" ROFL

Videos like this might've been the culprit behind this rumor. Law being 'named after a brutal pirate and allegedly had terrible rumors about him', doesn't equate to "Law was meant to be evil." No matter how canon-coded it seems, something can't be called a "fact" unless there's a legitimate reference. So far, Oda has made no such statement about Law.

The video used a draft image to back the point that Law was depicted as "scheming and manipulative" during Punk Hazard, taken from OP magazine vol. 8:

Sanji's dialogue, roughly: "Your strategy is to go head on against Doflamingo and Kaido, and to weaken Kaido's military strength, isn't it? And we're *in it together* because we believe the outcome benefits us, as well.

What are you planning?

I don't mind going ahead (to Zou), but I won't leave my friends in danger."

Law: Sharp at bargaining, aren't you...

It's not from Punk Hazard, it was Dressrosa.

Not to mention in both draft and finalized versions, it was Sanji cornering Law, not the other way around. IMHO it didn't add or subtract much from law's character as we already know him.

It's very likely that Law was planned to be (more) morally grey and manipulative. But inflating it as Oda's statement makes it a misinformation. This fandom sadly has a lot of these, thanks to engagement farming content creators.

[lunarsworld]

✩*ೃ.⋆ super great!

pairing: smallville!clark kent x f!reader warnings: MDNI, smut, oral (f!recieving) a/n: i love smallville n tom welling so bam

⋆｡° ✮ ⋆｡° ✮ ⋆｡° ✮ ⋆｡° ✮ ⋆｡° ✮ ⋆｡° ✮ ⋆｡° ✮ ⋆｡° ✮ ⋆

fortunately, your english teacher assigned a group project for the class to help you boost your failing grade. unfortunately, you were paired with clark kent. the boy was sweet and all but you knew he had a side to him that nobody knew. you tried to get it out of him many times, but never prevailed. clark whipped his head towards you as soon as your teacher announced your pairing. “well, this is gonna be fun, right y/n”, he taunted. you rolled your eyes and stood quiet. “meet me by my truck after school ends, we’ll go to my place afterwards. save us both the torture and get the project finished asap.”

“wake up, we’re here,” clark said, while nudging you. for a guy who was supposed to be your enemy, his touch was pretty gentle. you grabbed your backpack from the floor of the truck and followed him into the barn. you wandered around the room, assessing every detail. to anybody but clark kent, you would’ve looked like a nosy prick probably trying to steal something. but clark knew you were just curious and wanted to know more about him, even though he couldn’t figure out why. when you were done snooping, you sat on the edge of his bed and he joined you.

a couple hours later once the project was finished, you and clark found yourself watching the sunset from the barn window and sharing random life stories. you started a tangent around 10 minutes ago and clark hasn’t shared a word since, although he never minded because he’d rather hear you talk about yourself. all that’s running through clark’s mind though, at that moment, is when to make his move.

at this point, it’s completely dark besides the candles and lamps lighting up the room. you stretch in exhaustion and yawn. “hey y/n?” clark murmurs, his tone kind of hoping you don’t acknowledge his calling. you turn your head to him, waiting for a response, “yea clark?” when he makes eye contact with you he almost forgets his question. nobody knew the effect you had on him, unfortunately you included. “why do you care so much about me? like you act like you hate me because you think i’m different but i just don’t get it.” you shake your head and giggle lightly. “clark, i never hated you. i hate when people mask who they are for others. and i know you do. and i also know who you really are. i think you’re super great and you shouldn’t hide it,” you say and he smiles in the way that makes you melt every time. “you think i’m super great, huh?” he repeats and starts stepping closer to you. he places his hands on your waist and looks at your lips, then your eyes. you try to mutter out a response, but it’s like your whole body is frozen except for the heat pooling in your stomach. he laughs lightly and then pulls you into a kiss.

your tongues clash together passionately, as if they had been waiting all their lives to dance together. he slides his hands under your turtleneck sweater and plays with the hem of it. in response, you pull his shirt off and then yours. he lays you down on the bed and continues kissing you, trailing from your lips, to your jaw, to your breasts, until he reaches where you ache the most for him. but before he takes off your skirt, he looks at you for reassurance. you nod your head but he scoffs, “i need your words, angel.” “yes clark i want this, need you, please c’mon.” you whine. he unzips your skirt and slowly pulls off your lace panties with his teeth. he kisses along your thighs, avoiding the spot you need him. “clark quit teasing.” you humph. as soon as those words leave your mouth, his latches onto your clit. he slides two fingers into you and continues to suck on your core. you groan and twist your body, trying to escape pleasure even though you’re chasing it. “angel, you beg for me to give you what you want but you’re runnin’ away from me. c’mon baby i jus’ wanna make you cum.” he says as you look at him. you look so fucking gorgeous, covered in sweat and looking all distraught. all because of him. “can you be a good girl for me n’ let me make you feel good baby?”

you immediately nod your head and relax again. he continues to go at it and it feels like his tongue is working at a super speed on your sensitive nub. he feels your body start to clench around his fingers so he starts thrusting them faster and deeper. “fuck clark i’m cumming.” you whine. “i know baby i can feel your pretty pussy squeezin’ my fingers. cum for me baby, i gotcha,” he groans. as soon as he says that you come undone on his fingers. he wastes no time cleaning up every drop of your slick, making sure none of it goes to waste. he comes up face to face to you and pulls you into a kiss. you giggle and begin to reach for his pants. “whatcha doin angel?” he questions, even though he knows. “you helped me, lemme help you.” you say. clark knows your intentions are pure and you just want to get him off too. “how about next time? you need your rest hun.” he says and you pout in return.

little did you know he wouldn’t let you suck his dick because he was embarrassed. embarrassed because he already came just by eating you out. too bad that wouldn’t be the last time that happened either.

[jakeotters]

scott x reader where they have insane sexual tension and everyone notices (and is fed up) but them so they keep forming elaborate plans to get them alone together

Next Time (scott miller x reader) part I - 18+ MDNI

warnings: sexual tension, swearing, scott being scott, not enemies but not friends to lovers, eventual kissing, eventual smut

a/n: i thought i’d put a twist on this request and make it a multi-part fic! i hope anon doesn’t mind that it’s not specifically the pov from the crew/other chasers but rather the tension filled journey between scott x reader :,)

my inbox is open for requests! rules for requests are on my pinned post :)

part two | part three (coming soon)

This wasn’t your first season chasing with Scott. You’d first met him at a little gas station in the middle Oklahoma. Scott’s rigid demeanor intimidated you, but your friend Javi had practically pushed you two together. Your first chase with Scott was tension filled and awkward, you could tell he didn’t exactly respect you.

That was 3 years ago, and now, you were more than used to Scott’s dull personality. The tension-filled relationship had only grown between the two of you, but neither of you cared to admit how you felt to each other.

“Which cell is it gonna be?”

You’re standing in a gas station parking lot, holding an iPad in front of Scott, a radar image pulled up on the screen. The rest of the Storm Par crew was dispersed around their vehicles and Javi was off somewhere, you assumed he’d gone to get snacks and drinks for the crew.

“You tell me.”

Scott’s answer was short and direct. You knew this game- he’d let you choose and then tell you that he thought otherwise.

“West.”

You inquired, your response just as short and direct as Scott’s.

“You sure? East looks better.”

Scott’s eyes met yours from under his sunglasses. You couldn’t see his eyes, but you knew they glistened with cockiness.

“I’m always sure.”

You rolled your eyes at him, putting the iPad at your side. Javi came running out of the gas station, plastic bags in his hands. He stopped to give bags to other members of the crew before making his way over to you and Scott.

“You guys want snacks?”

Javi held two bags in front of each of you.

You took a bag from him and peered inside— all of your favorites. You smiled.

“Thanks, Javi.”

Scott took the second bag and muttered something that sounded like a thank you before walking to your chase vehicle.

“Where are we headed?”

Javi asked, but you could tell he already knew the answer.

“West.”

You winked and smiled at him before turning and walking to the SUV.

—

“I’m tired of your little game, Scott.”

You broke the silence in the vehicle. It was a silence you’d gotten comfortable with, you knew Scott wasn’t one for small talk or casual conversations- especially with you.

“What game?”

Scott’s eyes were trained on the road in front of him, Javi’s truck not far in front of your SUV.

“The whole ‘East looks better’ bullshit.”

You adjusted in your seat. Typical of him to act like he didn’t know the way he treated you. You heard something that sounded like a scoff come from him.

You expected an arrogant response but it never came. You wondered if you’d caught him off guard with your declaration.

“It’s been 3 years, Scott. I can understand not liking me, but you should respect me. I think I’ve shown that I deserve that, at the very least.”

You knew you were venturing into dangerous territory by the way his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. But, you were almost eager to push his buttons- to tell him everything you’d bitten back for 3 years. You wanted to be mean to him, drill the words into him and break him down like the times he’d broken you down for making simple mistakes.

Again, no response. You wondered if he was doing this on purpose, making you sit in his silence while he plotted how he was going to pull you aside and belittle you after the chase.

“I don’t dislike you.”

After a few minutes, his words cut through the silence. Your mind did a full stop.

“What?”

“I don’t dislike you.”

Scott repeated. His eyes darted to you for a second before returning to the road. The words cut through you. Everything you’d ever assumed he thought about you had just been squashed.

The familiar silence returned. You weren’t sure what to say, or even what to think. You stared at the yellow lines that split the road into two lanes. It felt like they went on forever.

—

“Hey, good job today. Sorry we didn’t get anything.”

Javi handed you the key card to your room. The two of you stood in the parking lot of a cheap motel. The rest of Storm Par had either gone to their rooms or were dispersed throughout the lot, talking with other chasers or cleaning out their vehicles.

“Oh well. There’s always next time.”

You managed a half smile. Sure, you were disappointed, but you were tired and ready to be away from everyone.

“Yeah- well, goodnight. See you tomorrow.”

Javi smiled, patting your shoulder before walking off. You almost felt bad for keeping the conversation short but you were glad to be left alone. You started walking to your room, ready to be in the warmth of a bed.

“Hey.”

You heard a voice behind you. You swore you let out a curse under your breath before turning around. Scott was standing there, clipboard resting under his arm.

“What?”

The word came out harsher than you’d meant for it to but you didn’t care. This was supposed to be your time, you just wanted to be away from him.

“East looked better.”

You stood there. You bit your tongue, holding back the long line of curses that threatened to spill from your lips.

“You followed me over here to tell me that?”

You managed, turning to walk away from him. You wanted to be away from him.

“Not so fast.”

He caught your arm with his hand.

“You aren’t always sure.”

Asshole, you thought. You knew he was doing this on purpose, this was just another one of his ways of giving you shit, but you weren’t in the mood.

“Fuck off.”

You shrugged out of his grasp.

“Why? Is there somewhere you need to be?”

Scott tilted his head, crossing his arms in front of his chest, clipboard resting under them.

“Yeah, there is. Away from you.”

You spat, walking away from him again.

Scott watched you walk away for a moment before following you.

“I said I don’t dislike you. This is what I get for that?”

You scoffed.

“Then why do you treat me like shit?”

Scott shrugged.

“Because it’s fun.”

You stopped at the door to your room and turned towards him again. His arms were back to his sides. You were almost too tired to care about what he was saying.

“I see. Goodnight.”

Sarcasm dripped from your voice. You turned to put the key card in the lock. You opened the door and slammed it shut, leaving Scott standing outside like a dog on your doorstep.

You quickly changed clothes and climbed into bed. The softness of the sheets and warmth of the blankets instantly relaxed you. You closed your eyes, enjoying the peacefulness.

—

You didn’t know how long it had been before there was a knock at your door. You ignored it. There was another. You opened your eyes. Sighing, you turned on the bedside lamp and got up. You unlocked the door, not even bothering to see who was there before you did. Opening it, you felt every ounce of peace fade away.

Scott stood there in his black undershirt and a pair of sweatpants, a plastic bag in his hand. His curls hung in the low light of the hallway. It was rare you saw him in anything other than his white Storm Par button up and perfectly ironed pants. You hated to admit that he looked good.

“Wanted to give this to you.”

He extended the bag towards you. You blinked at him. Maybe if you blinked enough, he’d go away.

“Take it.”

Scott held up the bag. Wanting him to go away, you took it from him. You pushed the door shut when his hand stopped it, pushing it back open.

“Where’s my thank you?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Thanks.”

You rolled your eyes and shut the door.

You opened the bag. A few of your favorite snacks were inside, along with a note. Curious, you picked up the note.

There’s always next time.

- Scott

“Asshole.”

You said out loud, putting the note back in the bag and throwing the bag on the table by the door. You climbed back into bed and turned off the lamp. You closed your eyes again, sleep finding you not long after.

[lovebugism]

first time having sex with eddie pleasepleaseplease

bug's blurb sleepover (⁎˃ᴗ˂⁎)! 18+

The first time you and Eddie have sex, he gives you a paper ring.

It’s made of the delicate wrappings of a straw. He’d gotten it for his drink at the diner, ripped off the end of it, and blew it square in your face, then laughed when you tried to do the same to him.

You couldn’t get the trajectory quite right, though, and decided to count your losses.

When he retrieves the pieces of forlorn trash from your end of the table and twirls it around in his hand, you figure he’s just fiddling with it. That it’s some absentminded thing he’s doing because his mind is always so preoccupied with one thing or another. Then he reaches for your hand across the table and takes hold of your left hand. 

Your fingertips are ice-cold, he finds, from where they’d been clutching the ribbed glass of your milkshake. He holds onto them anyway, and slips the twisted piece of paper onto your fourth finger. It’s tied at the top like a ribbon with a large knot at the center like a ring. 

You don’t realize the sentiment in it at first. You think it’s some party trick, like tying a cherry stem with your tongue or making a paper crane out of a napkin. 

Then Eddie smiles at you, a big, dumb, and sparkling grin — “Let Henderson try to make fun of us now, sweetheart. It’s finally official.”

Your eyes widen at the realization. 

Eddie used to call you his wife as a joke. It started as a way to get free meals at fancy restaurants you couldn’t afford. Then he saw how it made you blush and he did it just to make you laugh. It became a habit he couldn’t break sometime thereafter. The rest of Hellfire teased him to no end about the whole thing.

But it’s official now, or so he says. And you know it’s not real, not entirely, but suddenly you’re sad that it isn’t. 

Eddie steals your milkshake and lifts the lip of the glass to his mouth rather than use the straw. He smears whipped cream all over the tip of his nose and his cupid’s bow. You realize you can’t imagine spending your life with anyone else.

The thought doesn’t scare you as much as you thought it would. And you know that you’re just a couple of kids who don’t know a single damn thing about the world, but you know that yours would be so empty without Eddie in it.

You keep the ring on the rest of your lunch and flaunt it like it’s the real thing. It may not be made of metal with a too big diamond at the center, but the sentiment feels the same.

He takes you back to the trailer a little while later. Eddie makes sure to tell you how pretty you look sitting in the passenger seat of his van while he goes a world over the speed limit. You scold him for not paying attention and he blames you for distracting him.

Wayne’s truck is gone from the drive when you get to Forest Hills. It’s the first time you’ve had the trailer to yourselves and the realization sends a sick feeling swirling in the pit of your stomach — an elation, an apprehension, a shiver of anticipation.

And things weren’t tense exactly, nothing between you and Eddie was ever tense, but it was a foreign edge of a different kind. Things were unusually charged, like, sexually. It was just the thought of having the place to yourselves, of what couples usually did when they were alone. It left the both of you silently stewing over whether or not to take advantage of it all.

But you manage to keep things fairly innocent despite the distant, lingering libido that purrs like a roused sleeping dragon in the backs of your mind. 

The post-lunch fatigue hits the both of you like a ton of bricks, and you peel off what little you’d put on for your short trip to the diner most innocently. In nothing but oversized t-shirts and less than sexy underwear, you crawl into his bed and slip off to sleep without thinking.

That, coincidentally, is when things bubbled over.

You wake first some hours later. The setting sun has started to coat Eddie’s bedroom in various shades of orange You rise only because of the way the boy shifts behind you, sliding his hips over your back and gripping your waist with his fingers only for them to go lax a moment or so later. 

He tangles himself with you and it’s all perfectly normal. Eddie tends to shift in his sleep and the only way he can ever be content, it seems, is when he’s holding you like a teddy bear.

What isn’t normal, though, is the very apparent erection nudging at your lower back. 

“Eds…” you murmur, voice still groggy and heavy with exhaustion despite your alarm.

The boy, still half asleep and unknowing of the brick in his pants, mumbles back a lazy “hm?” 

He shifts again as he becomes more aware of his surroundings. It isn’t until his sensitive cock brushes against you that he notices how alarmingly hard he’d gotten in his sleep. He tenses, utterly mortified, before he feels you rock back against him. 

It’s intentional this time, knowing, and it lessens his fear but certainly not his hunger.

You press yourself further into him and twist your neck to look over at him. With tired eyes and heavy mouths, he shifts over you and catches your lips in a kiss. It’s lazy and slow, simmering with a cozy warmth. It doesn’t take either of you very long to wake up.

He presses a hand to your shoulder and rolls you onto your back, propping himself on his elbows to rest his weight on top of you. In your adjustment, lies a five-second pause that manages to feel like a moment’s blink in time and an eternity all at once. It’s as blissful as it is terrifying, the moment just before the kiss, the feeling when you know it’s about to happen.

Your eyes dart between his darker ones in a silent question. Eddie answers it with a searing kiss.

His knuckles brush against your buzzing skin as he strips you from the top you wear. You lift your hips to remove your panties after, while he rises to remove his own shirt. He tugs it up and over his pale torso, spotted with patches of hair on his chest and belly and fading tattoos.

“This was bound to happen, huh?” he jokes with a grin.

You bite back your own wide smile that threatens to take over your mouth and watch with twinkling eyes as he maneuvers his boxers down his legs without standing up. His hard cock bounces to his stomach, grateful to have been released from its confines. It glows an angry red at the tip.

“Are you complaining?” you retort playfully as he leans back over you again — both of you fully naked, bare chest pressed to bare chest.

The ends of Eddie’s hair tickle your jaw as he shakes his head. “Hell, no I’m not complaining, sweetheart.”

Lust swallows the two of you whole and blankets the room in a heavy heat. It’s all tongue and teeth and scorching touches. You flip yourself over for him suddenly, pressing your face into his pillow, and leaving the rest of you perfectly on display for him. 

Eddie is all too happy to admire the view as he takes you. His eyes remained locked on your ass, trained on the way you swallow his cock and how you meet his unpracticed thrusts with ease and diligence. His nervous hands are nearly numb where they clutch the dip of your waist. 

You peek over your shoulder at him, a playful and eager glint in your eye. Your smile widens when one of his hands lifts to swat your outer thigh. 

He was no stranger to this position — doggy style. In fact, the few girls he had fucked before you, he’d taken this way. But none of them were girlfriends. They were one-night stands from The Hideout or girls who used him to pass the time. He never minded how impersonal it felt before now. Because even with his cock nestled within you, closer than he could possibly be to you, the distance still feels like too much.

The breathless moans you exhale into the pillow cease when his hips still.

“Could you—  Can you, uh… Can you roll over?” he stammers, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

As lame as he feels in his request, you comply without thinking. 

You feel empty when he pulls out of you, warm again when he gets you on your back and looms over you again. You don’t mind when he presses his weight into you. Instead, you pull him somehow closer, catching him by his jaw to pull him into a devouring kiss that has him chasing you back into the pillows.

Your legs hook around his waist, keeping him locked into you though you writhe something fierce beneath him. Your hips roll with each of his unhurried thrusts, exhaling heavily against his mouth every time he presses into you.

“Eddie…” you breathe through lusted pants. “Please. I need… Need more.”

He doesn’t know why you’re begging. He’s never denied you of anything before. He doesn’t plan on starting now. Eddie wants to give you everything you want all the time — even when he doesn’t exactly know how to.

He ruts his hips harder than he had been before, with a pace far quicker than the relaxed thrusts he’d been given you. And it becomes obvious how greatly he’d undermined his strength when his pelvis presses into you and drives you up the bed. The crown of your head meets the wall with a dull thunk that echoes through the quiet, golden room.

Eddie stills immediately, blanching and gaping in fear.

“Ow,” you whine lowly, then laugh at yourself and him and the situation entire. 

You let Eddie cradle the back of your head as his fingers dance through the strands of your hair, rubbing gently at the sore spot of your skull. “Not that much, Eds…”

It makes him feel like a fumbling virgin all over again.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, wincing for you. He presses a sheepish kiss to the tip of your nose, rubbing the buzzing skin of your waist with the hand not pillowing the crown of your head. 

You’re healed instantaneously by all of the softness of touch.

“It’s okay,” you promise with a distant smile. “I asked for it.”

After your assurance (and then some), Eddie gets back into the swing of things. Distantly, he’s still terrified of hurting you again, but he gets so drunk on the praises that spill so effortlessly from your mouth to care. 

Your honeyed words are entwined with moans of his name and fragile whimpers as you near your peak. It catapults Eddie to his own orgasm. When you come, you do it with your fingers wrapped in the umber strands of his wild hair. Your walls flutter and tighten around his cock and your hands tug at his curly strands, hard — it drags him down right along with you.

He tenses and stills against you, whining and whimpering with his eyes squeezed shut. He fights to keep himself from bucking too wildly against you while you milk him and moan his name like it’s some prayer. You drive him crazy without even trying, reduce him to a puddle of nothingness with ease.

He flops less than gracefully beside you all over again, pale chest heaving with uneven breaths and curls clinging to his sweating forehead. The two of you fight to catch your breath.

You’re not looking at him. Your eyes have long fluttered shut as you revel in the aftermath of your orgasm, feeling like you’re not all there. A lazy smile pulls at the corners of your mouth and you exhale sharply, stuttering breaths in the place of a laugh. 

He can’t take his eyes off of you. You look ethereal and filthy, a heavenly being and a succubus from hell. He’s amazed by you, confounded at how an angel like you could wind up in his bed like this, somehow more in love with you than he had been just minutes before.

“I’m gonna marry you one day,” he promises out of the blue, voice heavy and far away from himself. 

And Eddie so often speaks candidly. He’s honest to a fault, saying things he knows he probably shouldn’t — but that? That catches even him off guard. 

But you don’t seem all that surprised by his words. They make you laugh, actually, eyes squinting and nose crinkling when you finally peek over at him.

Eddie’s still too far gone to laugh with you, but the corners of his lips quirky slightly.

“I thought we already were.”

You lift your left hand to remind him of the ring he’d tied to your finger just hours ago. The paper has slackened around the joint. The knot isn’t as tight as it had been before, hanging loosely at the knuckle. The edges are frayed and ripping in some places. But it’s still there.

And when it tears completely, he’ll make you another. And another. And another.

Until he can replace it with the real thing.

[fluffypotatey]

evil swk only it's him finally fed up with everyone hurting mk so he kills the latest villain of the week and takes the powers of the Jade Emperor for his own thus: Monster (epic)

oops, hands slipped!

He meets MK on accident. Sun Wukong does not make it his ordeal to wander where mortals are near, but sometimes needs must. his little Suns have chosen to pester him about this specific brand of chips (how they ever got their hands on a bag of chips in the first place is a mystery of itself), so after hours of twisting his arm, Wukong obeyed their pleading cries and whines.

the accident came when Wukong found himself run over by a meager delivery cart. the boy, probably only two decades old, hopped off his death kart immediately, apologies spilling from his lips while Wukong debated throwing his disguise down the gutter and raising this whole block to the ground.

“—you have to understand! The Megapolis Grand Prix has a grand prize of an immortal peach and I thought I could both race and deliver, you know, kill two birds with one stone and all that but—“

“I don’t really care, kid.”

The mortal was quick to shut his mouth and nodded. Another apology was thrown out while Wukong dusted off the spare dirt from his clothes, and he was pretty sure the mortal made sure to follow him back to the safety of the sidewalk. It was a little overbearing, but Wukong was trying to keep a low profile for the sake of a stupid bag of chips. He would rather not bring Heaven or any other celestial’s attention to himself.

The things he did for his monkeys.

-

He met MK again on New Years. Again, his little Suns sent his out for a task— apparently, some idiot decided to teach them what noodles were and Wuking spent months suffering while they bemoaned and cried about it.

There was a plaza full of food trucks, so Wukong figured he’d find noodles over there somehow.

“Oh! It’s you!”

Wukong was startled by the smile, how it spread wide, so easily like a trained soldier (except soldiers were more fixed and lacked the warmth this smile gave). The mortal stood behind one of the windows of a truck, apron tied around him.

Wukong grunted put a hello.

“Can I get you anything?”

“Eight helpings of noodles.”

“Wow, that’s quite the haul! Got a party or something?”

“More like a family of rascals.”

The mortal laughed, quickly writing down the order before placing somewhere near the kitchen. There followed some indignant shouting about the order while the mortal— MK, the cool called him MK— placated and answered all the cook’s questions.

“It’ll be ready in an hour? Maybe longer.”

-

The third time, he found MK through his monkeys. A mortal, they had chirped at him, a mortal on the beach! Color him surprised when it was his mortal he found. How he got past the volcanic mountains was something he figured MK would tell him when he woke up.

And, boy, did he ever.

MK told Wukong of his old sworn brother, the Demon Bull King, and the would-be Spider Queen. Two demons who found it in their heads that Megapolis was their city, and neither were keen on sharing. And both seemed to believe that their solution was a secret weapon hidden in Wukong’s vault.

“And we thought— my friends and I— that if we found it first, then they wouldn’t be able to.”

It was a hilarious story. One Wukong made sure to laugh at in MK’s face. Because really, why would either demon think they had the balls to invade his island?

“I’m serious! We need to find it now or else they’ll—“

“Tell me, MK,” Wukong spoke, keeping a bright smile on his face. It was different from the ones MK would share. Less genuine and more senile. “How much do you truly know about me?”

Finding the terror in the mortal’s eyes shouldn’t have been endearing, but Wukong would argue that after receiving plenty, he was open to judge them all. While MK was slow on the uptake on who he was talking to, he was a quick learner in figuring out just how dangerous Wukong could be.

In the end, neither of the demons stepped foot on his island. And if he had to twist their arms a little to ensure there would be no future attempts of them sneaking in, that was between Wukong and them. The fact that a little delivery boy was included in that clause was neither here nor there.

-

The fourth time was when Azure made his appearance on Wukong’s island, smiling and laughing as if none of the past millennia had ever happened. Wukong played a good host to his old brother even while his skin crawled and his little Suns whined. But that all came to pause when out of Azure’s scroll came MK and more of his old brothers.

“So you used him,” he asked, eyes closely watching the mortal shake and tremble (he was mumbling something too but Azure was speaking too loudly).

“We needed someone on the inside in order to retrieve the rest of our brothers. With all of us here and reunited, we can finally put Heaven in their place!”

Wukong tilted his head. “What of the Bull King?”

He watched MK flinch when Azure scoffed, the mortal clutching his robes tighter. He was still in shock, but it would not last long. The new buzz of magic told him as much.

“He has forsaken the cause.” There seemed to be more but MK finally cracked.

“You said we’d free my friends.”

Wukong raised a brow, watching Azure’s careful sigh and friendly smile.

“And we will, but there is something I must do first. You have to understand?”

MK shook his head. “You promised. I’d go in the scroll and free my friends. You said you’d help me—“

“And I will, MK.”

“No you won’t.”

All eyes faced Wukong. He saw as Peng rolled their eyes, ever the dramatic one, but Wukong chose to ignore him.

“Azure is too set on his goal of overthrowing the Emperor that no other task will matter until that endeavor is complete.”

“And we will complete it. Wukong, you are not one to be so glum.”

“A lot has changed.”

“So much that you would turn your back once more to us?”

Wukong watched as MK’s eyes pleaded at him.

“I would.”

-

Given that he was the last one in possession of the missing memory scroll, the Diyu was quick to point their fingers on Wukong and claim MK as his accomplice. How they came to that conclusion was, quite frankly, insane and stupid of them. Wukong told them as much while they placed him on trial.

“And yet there is no other living soul we can find.”

“Well, duh,” he sniffed, keeping MK behind him at all costs, “I killed them all.”

“So you could have it for yourself?”

“Because they threatened my subjects.”

This one king was starting to get on his nerves. All his questions seemed posed to specifically point all attention on MK and Wukong refused to bring any attention to him. He’s not blind, there was obviously something mystical with the mortal. What exactly, he wasn’t sure. He could just hear Macaque lecturing him about it. As if that shadow monkey knew anything! He just spent most of his time trying to steal the attention of Wukong’s subjects like the asshole he was!

“And so why was this mortal involved?”

Again, the same king. He was a strange one, his magic not exactly the same as the others. Wukong was not liking the look of him.

And it turned out his instincts were right. As the trial continued and he asked more questions, the King began to call MK the harbinger, a title MK seemed to recognize and freeze at.

But in the end, none of their words held any good defense. Not that Wukong expected anything different. In fact, he was excited for it. Both the Diyu and Heaven have dreamed of shackling him down once again ever since his first havoc. So, when the chains came to shackle MK as well, Wukong felt he was excused enough to start a little mayhem.

Or a lot.

Actually, a lot, a lot.

It was only a pleasant occurance that Heaven chose to bring Wukong up to their realm and place him before the Emperor. And if said Emperor threatened to erase MK out of punishment of Wukong’s behavior?

Well.

Who is to say that Wukong is not excused from cutting that old goat down to size?

[tangent101]

Have we gotten Rachel wrong this whole time?

There are plenty of theories about Rachel Amber in the LiS community. Some folks like to think of her as a manipulator who only was out for herself. We have others who think she was deep in love with Chloe and would never cheat on her and everything she did was to get her and Chloe out of Arcadia Bay. It seems like everyone looks at Rachel and sees something new. But… what if we were all wrong? What if Rachel was something else… someone who tried avoiding conflict by talking to people and agreeing with them… and thus everyone saw her as they wanted to see her?

There is actually some evidence toward this in the game. First, Chloe herself points this out, though in a way that is perhaps less than flattering: "She blended like a chameleon. Clearly more than I knew… or wanted to know…." People take this as to Rachel was able to see what makes a person tick and just become the person that someone else wanted… but we can see several people who had a rather negative view of Rachel. So what is it about those people that had a negative viewpoint of Rachel?

First, we have David Madsen, who detested Rachel and saw her as a bad influence and a criminal. He was investigating Rachel and had photographs he felt were of her being a drug mule. Next, we had a truck driver who talked about Rachel really wanting to get out of town. And of course there is Mark Jefferson who also had a… twisted view of Rachel, though it also seems Rachel was so enthralled by Jefferson that she may have been sleeping with him (and both Stella and Victoria seem to be interested in what's going on in Jefferson's pants as well, though I'm not sure why, he's not that charming).

The truth is that Rachel was something other than a manipulative gold-digger or the like. She were a teenage girl who disliked conflict and was adept at listening to people and when talking to them would agree with them? I mean, consider her two breakup letters, one to Frank and one to Chloe? Rachel so wanted to avoid conflict that she left a letter to Frank because he scared her. She did not want a fight. She wanted out. So she left… with a note basically giving her reasons and essentially ending things. (Frank thankfully accepted that.)

Chloe also got a letter. Honestly… given it was all crumpled up, I half-wonder if Chloe had read it while high one time and crumpled it up and forgot about it afterward. But we have a very important line here: I don't want you to hate me. I don't want you to hate me. That's a very interesting thing to say. There is no deliberate malice, this is someone who has found someone else who just rings all those bells but wants to keep the friend aspect. She still wants the laughter, the moments of sharing a glance and both having the same thought, the things she envisions friends do… but to walk away from the sensual intimacy.

Remember what Victoria Chase said to Max in the Dark Room, that she was just a teenage girl? That's Rachel. Rachel Amber was not a seductress or a narcissist or a monster. She was a teenage girl who was avoiding conflict in her life, but in doing so ended up in a shallow grave in a junkyard. Because quiet girls don't make history… they end up used, abused, and discarded. They end up on the rooftops willing to throw themselves to their deaths because no one would listen to them. They end up abandoned because they were not good enough, because they ultimately were not willing to stand up to those who would use them.

Max, before Chloe reentered her life, was one of those quiet girls who ends up used and discarded. The reason folks keep seeing Rachel in Max is because Rachel stayed quiet and let people make up their own minds about her. And they saw in her what they wanted.

Or at least, it's one way to interpret Rachel Amber.

[rura1decay]

HELL BENT

- a short story (tw: blood) (inspired by @crystalgastles version of Jeff)

I look down at the bottle of whiskey held by two hands that are not my own, but rather, my father's. They are pale with knuckles that have been decorated by bruises and recently split open. Blood coated my, his, our hands. I wasn't too sure if it belonged to me, the remains of my latest victim, or from the fight that had ensued at that dive bar earlier this evening. There was, of course, the possibility that it was a combination of the three.

It was dry and crusty, yet so saturated that I could barely make out the letters engraved on each finger. Hell bent. I take a shaky breath. It smells like mildew and decay in here, suffocatingly so.

One sharp exhale and I let the glass bottle clank to the floor before frantically wiping my hands off on my already dirty jeans. The blood has disappeared, merely flecks of red now, but the bruises still linger and I start to wonder if I had imagined the whole thing.

I raise my gaze to look around, studying. I'm standing within the bounds of an abandoned building, specifically a church. The bright headlights of my truck helped me spot it just off the highway. Something told me to turn around and stop, so I did.

It's dark, nearly 2 in the morning, but there is a collapsed hole in the ceiling that allows the moonlight to shrine through, illuminating the small space.

The sound of my combat boots echo off the wood paneled walls, the soles of them a loud thump that I do purposefully. I walk down the single aisle, a brown, stained carpet that had certainly been a crimson red long ago guides me toward the front where a broken lectern is placed.

On each side of the aisle, there are long, withered wooden benches. Some are caved in while others remain intact. It's easy to imagine people sitting there; old women with their medicine purses stuffed with hard candies, children that don't know what the hell Mister Preacher is shouting about, nuclear families. I can see my mom, father, Liu, and I all sitting together, attending Sunday sermons. Something in my stomach twists uncomfortably. I move my focus along.

It isn’t considered a big church by any means, all just one room, and I wasn’t even aware of its official name. The wooden sign outside was rotted, the letters too eroded for me to read out the name coherently. That's good. A thing with no name is better to dispose of.

Most of the windows are shattered, letting that cool, Pennsylvania autumn breeze slip in, but there's one in particular that catches my attention.

It's directly behind the lectern. Stained, fragments of glass assorted to paint the picture of Jesus Christ; a symbol I have grown to loathe. Out of all seven windows, this was the one that had been saved. I guess passing vandalizers had the heart of God in 'em.

A bitter feeling rises from within the cavity of my chest, something I couldn't quite shake, even with liquor in my system. If anything, I think the whiskey made this feeling all the more pronounced. I didn't comprehend what I was doing till I heard the distinct sound of glass shattering and a sudden sting of pain kissing at my knuckles.

Glancing down, I watch the blood trickle over the lines of my fingers and onto the rotting floorboards. Then, I return to the window.

Jesus' face was missing, and I am scared it had been all along.

My body makes the decision before my brain fully can, and I stomp back toward the bottle of whiskey at the entrance. Grabbing its neck, with more than half of the contents left, I took a final swig before flipping it over and dousing as much as I could. I make sure to get the benches, rug, and the lectern. Whatever's remaining I splash across the walls.

Fishing out my pack of Marlboro Reds, I pull a cigarette from the box and retrieve the lighter from my ass pocket. I light it between my lips and take a long drag, savoring that familiar burning-itching sensation. I smoke until the stick's a smelting stub.

"Enough of this shit," I mutter to no one, maybe God, if he's listening, and flick the cigarette onto the alcohol-soaked carpet.

A dancing flame ignites almost immediately, and I can't help but lurk near the walkway as I silently watch the inside become a bright, hellish inferno. I stay in that spot as long as I can before it grows too hot and I'm forced to retreat back to my truck.

Witnessing that church be engulfed in nothing but hungry, licking flames made that bitterness in me somewhat more manageable.

I hit the road once that initial adrenaline wears off and I do not look back once. Ever.

[hils79]

Hils Watches Lovely Runner - Ep 16

Can't believe I'm at the end already. I forget that althought kdrama episodes are long there's a lot less of them

Of course he escaped. This dude really is like the terminator

Going under the cut because I don't want to spoil the ending

Well in a twist of irony he got hit by a truck and knocked into the river, which is what he did to Im Sol before this drama even started. I'm assuming he's not coming back from this and the rest of the drama will be about Im Sol and Sunjae sorting out their relationship

Oh. I thought that was going to take longer. There's still over an hour left to go on the episode!

They are so damn cute I can't deal with it

Poor Taesung. While Im Sol and Sunjae are snuggling and being adorable he's all beaten up and feels bad that someone died that he was chasing. He's a good boy. I want him to be happy.

Sunjae: I want to buy cake for my perfect girlfriend but no one can so we're dating so I'll just buy cake for everyone. I'm so smart.

I love him

I love that he's acting all cool but we all know what a nerd he is

I don't care how sweet and handsome he is if someone started pokling me while I was trying to write that laptop would be coming down on his head

Like that

I was going to use my usual congrats on the sex gif but they are still fully clothed so I guess they just snuggled

Yeah, I'm glad that they're all happy and in love now but I think they both have a ton of trauma that they probably need to work through at some point

I love that even Im Sol joking about them being married made Sunjae's brain go offline

Made his brain go offline and made him decide that actually, yes, he does want to marry her. LOL I can't wait to see how this conversation goes

I love Taesung so much

Aww they have to get drunk and bond in every timeline

I know they're a band rather an an idol group but imagine being at a baby's birthday party and BTS or someone like that shows up to perform

I love grandma so much

Yeah, I'm, crying too

He had his 5 minutes of being a cool celebrity and now he's back to being a dork again

I'm really glad they haven't gone down the route of 'she has the man she loves and that's all she needs for her happy ending'. Look at her being awesome as a movie director. Love it!

Heh that looks very similar to the software I used to when I tried to learn video editing. Ironically I decided it was too time consuming as a hobby so I decided to do gifmaking instead which is just as time consuming

Aww yay! I really enjoyed this! I don't watch a whole lot of het romance dramas but I'm really glad I watched this one. I absolutely loved it!

[lura-valentine]

World of My Hero Academia / Boku no Hero Academia

random AU where Dabi is still alive. According to tradition, Kaji would barely know Dabi.

With the exception of Rain and Kaji, all characters belong to Kōhei Horikoshi

➡️ click for Rain's profil

➡️ click for Kaji's profil

Please note that English is not my first language. So forgive me for mistakes.

Shigaraki's final boss: Baby Kaji

The steps creaked softly under her feet as Rain walked up the stairs. The bar behind her was in semi-darkness, accompanied only by the soft clinking of the last glasses being put away and the hum of the refrigerator.

She briefly stretched her arms above her head, feeling the slight exhaustion in her muscles. Helping Kurogiri hadn't been necessary, but somehow it felt good to distract herself with little things.

The door to her room creaked softly as she opened it. The dim light from the street lamp outside the window bathed the room in pale light. Her gaze slid to the bed - empty. The blankets pushed aside untidily.

She raised her eyebrows in confusion and swiveled her head to the sofa where she saw him lying.

Dabi, completely relaxed, head tilted to the side. His usual grumpy expression had vanished in his sleep, making him seem almost… peaceful. On his chest lay Kaji, tiny fingers slightly curled, his dark hair a soft mess. The small chest rose and fell in the calm rhythm of his breathing. Dabi's hand lay protectively on Kaji's back, as if his subconscious had made sure he wouldn't roll off.

On the cupboard, Alexa hummed quietly to itself, a metallic rock anthem playing, muffled by the volume, but still present enough to set the atmosphere in the room.

Rain leaned against the doorframe, a small smile crossing her lips. The great fire-scarred man, feared and infamous, held his son as gently as if he were his most precious treasure.

Rain sighed softly. The bed was tempting, but the scene before her was even more so. Careful not to wake Kaji, she climbed onto the couch, or rather squeezed into the remaining space between Dabi and the backrest. Not exactly the epitome of comfort, but it felt right.

As soon as she was halfway positioned – one of her legs halfway on top of his, her arms somehow wrapped around him – Dabi twitched slightly. A deep, sleepy hum came from him as his face twisted into a sullen frown.

"Seriously...?" His voice was hoarse from sleep. "You would have the whole bed to yourself, but you come to me on the couch?"

Rain grinned against the skin on his shoulder. “I just want to cuddle too.”

Dabi snorted softly, a grumble escaping his chest as if he was complaining, but then he wrapped his arm around her. Heavy, warm, and familiar. His thumb unconsciously stroked her back, a gesture he probably didn't even notice.

Still resting on his chest, Kaji continued to breathe deeply and evenly, completely undisturbed by what his parents were doing.

Dabi finally sighed resignedly. "You just don't want to freeze."

"Mhm," Rain just murmured and pulled himself a little closer. His warmth, Kaji's small body, the dull hum of the music in the background - it was perfect.  

And when Dabi's hand slid into her hair, when his lips brushed her forehead for a split second, she knew he felt the same way.

A quiet whining broke the morning calm. First a quiet whimper, then a clearly dissatisfied sound.

Rain growled sleepily. No, just ignore him. Maybe he'll fall asleep again. She thought and snuggled closer to the warm body next to her. Due to the lack of sleep, her body felt like she had been run over by a truck.

"Ugh..." came Dabi, followed by a deep sigh. "Rain."

She squeezed her eyes tighter. "Mhm."

“Your son has a full diaper.”

Rain, still slightly dazed, opened his eyes and turned his head slightly. Her eyes met two huge, help-seeking turquoise eyes. Kaji lay there on Dabi's chest, his face increasingly twisted and his small hands crumpling his shirt.

Oh. She smelled it now, too.

"Wow, no..." Dabi wrinkled his nose and turned his head to the side. "That's not normal. I'm telling you, the boy has the Quirk Bioweapon."

Rain sighed, but was too tired to complain.

Dabi finally moved, sat up and slowly let Kaji slide from his chest onto his lap. The little one squealed indignantly and continued to whine.

"Look, I'll make you an offer." Dabi looked at her while trying to hold Kaji upright. "You change the diaper quickly and then you'll have the whole morning to yourself. I'll keep the little one busy down at the bar with Kurogiri."

Rain cast a tired glance at the bed. Endless space, a blanket just for her and no whining.

„Deal.“

As soon as she said it, she sat up and took Kaji from Dabi's lap. The little one kicked, squealed briefly, then looked at her with those huge, innocent eyes as if to say - Mommy, help me, my pants are full!

“Yes, yes, Mom will do it…”

The procedure was routine, but that didn't mean it was comfortable. With practiced movements, she opened the diaper - and immediately pulled a face.

"Boy, you smell worse than your father after an hour on the toilet," she muttered as she began to clean the little bottom.

“Hey!” came an indignant voice from the couch.

Kaji chuckled briefly, completely unaware that he was a walking poison gas grenade.

Once Kaji was freshly changed and put back into his onesie, she picked him up and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. Then she turned to Dabi, who was leaning against the doorframe, watching her.

“Here, have fun,” she said and pushed the little one into his arms.

Before he could say anything stupid, Rain was already heading to bed – ready to finally get the sleep he deserved.

Dabi sighed and looked at Kaji, who was looking at him with big, curious eyes. "All right, little stinker. Let's hit the bar."

As soon as Dabi set foot in the hallway, it started. “Da-da-da-da-da-da!” Loud, penetrating and on an endless loop.

Dabi stopped and blinked. He looked at the little worm in his arms, who was looking at him with shining eyes and continuing to babble "Da-da-da-da!" as if he had just learned the most important thing in his life.

He smirked. "Are you trying to say Dad or Dabi, huh?"

Kaji squeaked and slapped his small hands against Dabi's chest, as if urging him to keep moving.

"Yeah, yeah, it's fine." Dabi shook his head slightly, but he felt this strange pull inside him. Pride? It felt damn strange, but not unpleasant.

With the babbling baby in his arms, he went down the stairs to the bar. Shigaraki was already sitting on one of the worn bar stools, a Nintendo Switch in his hand, while Kurogiri was routinely sorting glasses behind the counter.

As soon as Dabi entered the room, Shigaraki turned around, only to immediately grimace in annoyance. "The little guy sounds like a damn siren."

Dabi leaned against the counter, grinning. "Well, maybe he wants to warn you that I'm about to set fire to your Switch."

Shigaraki growled, but turned back to the screen. "As long as he doesn't start chewing up my games..."

"Hm." Dabi stared at Kaji and a cheeky grin appeared on his face. "I could actually teach him."

Shigaraki gave him a murderous look. Kurogiri, on the other hand, watched the scene with that slight smile that only he could manage. "You seem to be developing a good father-son bond."

Dabi raised an eyebrow. "Shut up." But his hand automatically stroked Kaji's back. And the "da-da-da" suddenly sounded damn good to him.

With a loud sigh, Dabi sank down onto the bar stool next to Shigaraki while he carefully placed Kaji on the floor. As soon as the small hands touched the wooden floor, the da-da-da abruptly stopped.

Kaji blinked. He slowly turned his head to the left, then to the right, as if he was just realizing that the world looked completely different from this perspective. The bar looked like an impregnable fortress, the bar stools like gigantic towers, and the shadows in the corners... well, who knew what was lurking there.

Dabi snorted quietly and leaned back, relaxing. His gaze slid to Shigaraki, who was staring at the screen with a concentrated expression on his face, his fingers tightly gripping the controller.

"So? When are you going to get yourself a little shit like that?"

Shigaraki didn't react immediately. Only when he landed a perfect combo did he turn his head slightly towards Dabi, without taking his eyes off the screen. "I would have to find the right person for that first."

Dabi grinned and took a can of Coke that was on the counter. "I thought you liked your hand."

Shigaraki snorted, tore his gaze away from the screen and gave him a disparaging look. "At least my hand doesn't have to change diapers."

“In favor you don't get a siren to give you a title in return.”

"Does he really call you Dad?"

"It could also be Dabi." Dabi shrugged. "But if it continues like this, we'll soon have clarity."

Shigaraki shook his head and turned back to his game.

Meanwhile, Kaji had had enough of his new perspective. He blinked at the two men, then at Shigaraki. His gaze fixed on the pale man's pant leg, and then he moved. Slowly, but purposefully. His small hands smack the wooden floor, his tiny fingers grasping for a hold before he pulled himself forward with a determined look on his face.

Then, finally arriving, he reached out, grabbed the fabric, held on to the dark fabric trousers with his tiny fingers and stared up at it with big, curious eyes.

Shigaraki froze. Slowly, as if he were becoming aware of a ticking bomb, he lowered the Switch and looked down. Kaji looked at him with his big, curious eyes and then - a wide, toothless grin.

Shigaraki blinked. "Eh."

Kurogiri laughed. A deep, throaty laugh that was almost rare, while Dabi leaned back on his barstool and snorted. The sight was just too good.

Kaji, that small guy, clung to Shigaraki's pant leg as if he was his new best friend, completely unfazed by the fact that this man was one of the most dangerous people in the underworld.

Shigaraki, on the other hand, looked as if someone had kicked him out of bed in the middle of the night. He stared down at the little creature, his brow furrowed, his mouth slightly open. "Why isn't he afraid of me?" He didn't even sound insulted, just completely confused.

Dabi laughed quietly. "Well, maybe he just likes the scratchiness of your voice."

Shigaraki ignored him, continuing to look down at the baby, who was still smiling at him. Then he growled, "He really must be your son, as disrespectful as he is."

Dabi, who had been leaning on his elbow until then, stopped laughing. A hint of something hard flashed in his eyes, so fast it was almost impossible to notice.

Kurogiri noticed it, but remained silent.

Dabi clicked his tongue, leaned forward, and hooked two fingers into the waistband of Kaji's diaper. In one fluid motion, he lifted the little one up as if he were nothing more than a handful of feathers, and held him directly at eye level with Shigaraki.

Kaji's little legs dangled in the air, his turquoise eyes glowing with excitement. "Say that again, that he's not my son, with those damn eyes."

The little one blinked and then squealed with joy, as if his father had just lifted him up for the funniest adventure of his life.

Shigaraki looked at him. Then he shrugged his shoulders. "The resemblance is there. But..." His gaze slid over Kaji's beaming face. "Far too happy and cheerful. The boy grins as if he has no worries."

Kurogiri, who had only been watching the spectacle with amused calm, tilted his head slightly. "This is normal for babies, Tomura. They haven't had any bad experiences yet. So how should they worry about anything?"

Dabi snorted. "Yep. The only thing they care about is what they can drool on next." With those words, he strolled to the more comfortable chairs at the other end of the bar, carrying Kaji with him like a handbag. The little one squeaked briefly, waved his arms, but didn't protest any further.

Shigaraki just shook his head. It was obvious that he either couldn't understand or just didn't want to understand how babies worked.

Dabi sighed and fell into one of the chairs, Kaji landed on his lap and tried to fight his way into a somewhat stable sitting position.

Dabi watched him for a moment as he reached for his shirt with his small hands and held on to it like a climbing monkey. Then he let his head sink against the backrest and glanced at Kurogiri and Shigaraki.

"So? How long will it be before the little devil can drink his first alcoholic drink with us?"

Kurogiri laughed softly. "Dabi, your son is eight months old and you're already talking about drinking with him?"

Shigaraki pulled a face like he had bitten into a lemon. "This is so stupid I'm not even surprised."

Dabi shrugged while Kaji held onto his shirt and fiddled with a button, fascinated. "Well, he'll be old enough someday. Couldn't hurt to get him used to it early."

"At alcohol or crime?" Shigaraki's voice sounded dry, as if he couldn't take the conversation seriously.

"It will come down to both."

Kurogiri shook his head slightly. "Perhaps you should first find out if Kaji even has a Quirk before you make plans for his future."

Dabi looked down at the little boy in his lap. That white streak in his dark hair, piercing turquoise eyes - his child, no doubt about it. But did he actually have a Quirk?

Kaji was so small and there were no signs. No spark, no fire... nothing.

Shigaraki leaned back and crossed his arms. "It would be funny if he didn't have one."

Dabi narrowed his eyes. "Be careful what you say."

Shigaraki just grinned. "Well, wouldn't that be ironic? The son of two strong Quirk users and then nothing? A completely normal boy."

Dabi pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He didn't like the idea... He didn't even know why, but it felt wrong. As if Kaji wouldn't fit into this world - into his world.

“He will have one.” His voice was firmer than he intended.

Kurogiri nodded slowly. "Maybe. But it doesn't matter if he has a Quirk or not. He's you'r son."

Dabi was silent. Kaji, who had no idea about the whole conversation, suddenly clapped his two hands enthusiastically against Dabi's chest. Then he yawned and just snuggled up to him.

Dabi kept his gaze on the little one, while Shigaraki just snorted.

"Whatever. Before you have a drink with him, teach him something sensible first." He said it casually, his eyes already fixed on his Switch as if the subject was closed for him.

Dabi rolled his eyes. "What? Tax evasion?" His voice dripped with irony.

Shigaraki sighed and tapped the keys absentmindedly. "No, how to talk, for example, so that one day you can understand him."

Dabi leaned back and let his head fall back. "Tsk. Da-da-da is a damn good start. Almost sounds like Dad or Dabi."

"Well, I guess that's all you can expect from a baby." Shigaraki sounded dismissive, but before he could continue, Kurogiri spoke up. "Everyone was like that once. Even you, Shigaraki."

The air between them changed. Only slightly, barely noticeable, but it was there. Shigaraki raised his head, fixed Kurogiri out of the corner of his eye, his fingers clenched around the console. A hint of unease flashed across his face before he focused on the screen again.

Dabi ignored the tension and turned his gaze to Kaji. The little devil had now found a new obsession: the Coke can in Dabi's hand. His tiny fingers slapped against it, his curious eyes fixed on the shiny metal.

Dabi grinned and held him out the can. "Well, do you want to know what this is?"

Kaji leaned forward, fingers clumsily running along the cold surface. A quiet, contented babble came from him until a small spray of carbonic acid shot out of the opening and hit his little nose.

Kaji blinked, wrinkled his nose and then - a powerful sneeze. But instead of just air and saliva, something else came out of his little mouth - a blue flame. It flickered in the air before covering half of the Coke can with frost in a single, cold pulse.

Dabi froze. It took his brain a moment to comprehend what had just happened. Then he almost exploded with pride. "DID YOU TWO SEE THAT?!"

With a euphoric movement, he lifted Kaji up and held him in the air as if he had just conquered the damn sky. His voice almost broke. "He breathed fire! Ice cold fire! Holy shit, my boy has a quirk!"

Kurogiri watched the scene with amused calm, while Shigaraki rubbed his forehead and muttered with feigned indifference, "Yeah, a little freak. Fire that freezes? What the hell...?"

Dabi's euphoria stopped abruptly. Shigaraki was right. Fire that freezes. His grip on Kaji tightened for a moment, as if to make sure the child was still there - real, tangible, and not a figment of his imagination.

Kaji was happy. Completely unaware of the tension in the air, he babbled happily to himself, kicking his arms and legs as if this was the best game in the world. His small hands grabbed Dabi's coat, his eyes sparkled with excitement as if he had just realized what he had done.

But Dabi wasn't really paying attention to the little one. His gaze was fixed on Shigaraki. A little freak. Did this dust collector really just call his son a freak?

Dabi's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed. Heat flared in his chest, tingled in his fingertips, but not the kind of heat he could control. It was a different, much deeper, much more personal anger.

Slowly, deliberately casually, he sank back into the chair. His fingers drummed on Kaji's small back as he spoke in a dangerously calm tone. "Say, Tomura... did you just call my son a freak?"

Shigaraki looked up from his console and rolled his eyes. "Tsk. Calm down. It's all about his damn quirk. Fire and freezing? That's not normal."

Dabi laughed dryly. Not a real laugh. More like one that sounded like anger. "Sure. And you know what else isn't normal?"

Shigaraki raised an eyebrow while Dabi grinned crookedly. "When my son accidentally ends up in your room and drools all over your damn shoes."

Shigaraki blinked. Then he grimaced. "You wouldn't dare."

Dabi shrugged while playfully rocking Kaji in his arms. "You have no idea how much saliva a baby can produce. Trust me, you don't want to experience that."

Kurogiri cleared his throat quietly, probably to defuse the situation, but Shigaraki just looked at Dabi annoyed. Then his gaze slid to Kaji, who continued to babble happily and suck on Dabi's collar.

"Tsk. Fine. I take it back. No freak."

Dabi grinned triumphantly. "I thought so."Shigaraki raised an eyebrow while Dabi grinned crookedly.

My moral supporters

@doumadono | @unhinged-bratty-boy | @tiny-roki-todoroki | @hultaj69 | @indignant-alpaca | @kyuubinicole

mention accounts that my works ❤️ and 🔄. If someone no longer wishes to be mentioned, please write it.

[wexhappyxfew]

Also! 29 on OTP dialogue for Annie and Brady?

HI JAMIEEEE!!! thank you so much for this other prompt as well!!! sorry it took a bit to get to! :) i must say, this idea swirled in my head for a bit and then, when i felt things in writing were finally going the way i wanted them to, i felt ready to post this!! thank you again!!!! :D

a little while longer

(a/n): for the annie x brady girlies, with a mix of angst and fluff all at once!!! to say the least, these two have my whole heart and just !!!!!! there was an anon awhile back talking about brady freaking out if he ever saw annie injured or wounded in the slightest way - and well....here ya go! prompt: don't lie to me. i was there.

The soup was probably the best thing she could've had in that moment - despite what little warmth this place provided, the soup was sure to give her enough strength to keep her going. She'd been up most of the night with a nasty, wheezing cough, her nose running and her throat sore as all get-out. Now, with her stomach feeling sour, nose run red from the amount of times she'd wiped it, she felt like she'd been drug behind a truck and tried standing again. But, for now, this little bowl of soup was making her incredibly happy.

Annie looked up and towards where Brady was, sat taking up spoonful after spoonful of soup himself, getting every last bit her possibly could. She had to admit, she was worried about him more often than not - because he spent the majority of his time worrying about her, especially in the past few days. So seeing him eat his fill and focus on himself, settled her for the time being.

"Guys. Guys!" yelling started down the hallway, along with a banging all along the wooden walls of this sad excuse for barracks. Annie met Buck's eyes from beside her at the table and watched as everyone in the tiny bunk room looked towards the doorway to find Benny DeMarco racing in, eyes wide and bloodshot as he made an attempt to catch his breath.

"What is it, Benny?" Bucky said, pushing up from where he leaned against a bunk, forgetting about his soup and focused on the rather frantic nature of Benny there in front of them. Benny took a minute to catch his breath and then pointed outside.

"They got a new group comin' in. Margie may be in that group. We gotta go look." he said quickly, before disappearing again out the door. Annie watched that now-empty doorway and slowly turned to meet Kennedy and Bessie's eyes - there was something unspoken between the three of them that the boys hadn't entirely clued into or focused on. But coming in as a woman was one thing; having survived that level of interrogation was another.

Margie had to.

She had to be in that group.

She was more hopeful than half of them combined.

"Let's go." Annie said, moving to her feet, buttoning her coat and wrapped that scarf around her neck, "C'mon." She was the first out the door, hurrying down the hall, a few echoing footsteps behind her as she pushed outside and attempted to seek out Benny in the crowd. She caught sight of his beanie, and began, rather slowly, moving through the open area towards the gates.

As she got closer, she watched, as if in shaky, frantic real-time capture, as Benny moved along the fence, yelling out, over and over again, before tearing around the edge of the wiring and disappearing into the crowd.

Annie felt her face grow cold and stoic, her shoulders pressed high, her chin pointed up. Her heart pounded as she turned around the edge of the gate and found Benny there on the ground, pulling a rather fragile looking, collapsed, corpse of Margie Harlowe on the ground, her face bloodied, her clothing practically hanging off of her form, and her one shoulder looking twisted in all the wrong places. Then, standing over them, was whom she could only assume as one of the German soldiers who had been begrudgingly dragging Margie along.

This was one of her girls, her flight engineer; bright, sunny Margie, with that beautiful blonde hair that was now all haphazard angles around her shoulders, bright blue eyes that were red and filled with tears and beautiful rosy cheeks that were scarred and bloodied.

Annie slowly looked up at the German who stood silent and still, overtop where Margie was half alive in Benny's arms, her cries weak and pained, Benny's comfort only doing so much to erase the pain of reality.

Annie couldn't take it anymore.

She took three, wide steps forward right into the German's face, without much thought for her own self and stared up at him, her body rigid, her eyes narrowed.

"She's already half-dead," Annie practically spat out, "did you really have to drag her in the dirt like a dying dog!" Any sort of celebration and welcoming immediately went quiet as people turned to look at the female lieutenant who was currently losing it on one of the Germans. Annie's throat tightened.

"How can you just stand there!" Annie managed out again, but she knew she had messed up long before she even had opened her mouth. She should've stayed with her soup, let Benny handle all this. But she couldn't. This was one of her girls, this was Margie Harlowe.

Without warning, the German had grabbed her by the shoulders and swung her around him right into the dirt, her body hitting the ground with a rough whimper, her eyes closing at the pain shooting through her body.

"Annie, don't," came Margie's quiet cry.

"Don't touch her." Benny said, his voice drowned out by the sudden kick of the German's booted foot into Annie's side. She curled into a ball with a strangled cry, tears squeaking out of her eyes, her body begging for some sort of reprieve that wasn't this.

When the German had stepped away, angrily spitting down on her, she heard yelling and a commotion somewhere behind her, which was enough to make her sit up, weakly at that, looking past Benny and Margie in his arms and a few stragglers hanging about.

There, just past them, was Brady, screaming and yelling, being held back by Bucky and Murphy as best as they could hold him, Brady's eyes dead set on the German officer who walked away casually and calmly. Annie turned her quivering eyes to Brady again and watched as he broke free of the bodies holding him back and stomped across the open bit of land, taking his hands on the front of the Germans uniform and slamming him against the rusty wiring, yelling, over and over.

"Don't you dare fucking touch her again!" Brady yelled, his voice sounding like a wild animal's, guttural and raw, as the German yelled back, "Don't lie to me. I was there! I saw you hit her! Don't touch her again!" It didn't take long for the German officer to yell something in German, before swinging at Brady, sending him to the ground.

The brawl turned into a power struggle, the German kicking and punching Brady there on the ground, Brady all but weakened and defenseless. Finally, the two were separated and bodies were left behind and the few groupings that had been out were left behind by the Germans, only watched by guards in the towers. Annie watched as Bucky helped Brady to his feet, Brady struggling to find his footing, before ignoring any possible help, as he ambled over to Annie.

"Annie." he managed out, his voice sounding weak as he collapsed on the ground beside her, his hands reaching forward - he was always reaching for her, they always were with one another - and placing themselves against her cheeks, his thumbs rubbing in circles, "He should've never have hit you. I swear to fucking-"

"John." Annie whispered, slowly bringing her hands to his own cheeks, "You've gotta calm down."

"Not when they hit you, Annie. He did it because he-"

"John." she managed out again, "I'm okay. It's…..Margie." Brady watched her and some sort of realization seemed to hit him. He knew how important the women of Silver Bullets were to her, beyond anything, beyond even herself.

Slowly, the two looked over to Margie there, wrapped in Benny's arms, those tears running down her bloodied cheeks, grasping onto Benny like it was her lifeline. Annie managed to pull herself to her feet, Brady beside her, their hands linking to one another for some sort of support, before she fell to the ground in front of Benny and Margie, her hands shaking as she reached forward. Margie flinched at Annie's touch, her eyes immediately welling with tears - what could they have done to you?

"Hey, Margie, it's me." Annie whispered, reaching her hand forward and softly cupping the girl's cheek, brushing her thumb over her pink, wounded skin, "You're okay." Margie looked up at her with those water-filled blue eyes and let out a croaky cry, reaching up a free hand to lay gently against Annie's hand and nodded.

"I can't believe….I found…you all." Margie managed out, "Benny saw me first……I didn't want anyone to get hurt." Benny let out a quiet, wet laugh, as if holding in any tears he was trying not to shed. Annie looked to Brady, whose face had grown soft and gentle. Brady watched Annie, his face full of love and adoration, that same look she'd gotten the privilege of seeing anytime he watched her.

"You didn't have to go beat up any Germans, Brady." Margie managed out, her hand still grasping Annie's tightly, "You're too kind." The three of them laughed again at Margie's words, before Annie's eyes filled with tears and Margie seemed to notice.

"Don't cry, Bradshaw, I'm still here." Margie said softly, "Look at me."

"I thought you were dead," Annie managed out, her throat filled with emotion, "I should've looked for you….tried to get you to safety-"

"Don't go saying that, Bradshaw," Margie managed out, before letting out a wet, rattling cough, "I got to see Brady beat up a German for a bit. It was worth it."

"I promise it felt just as good as it looked." Brady said quietly.

"Don't give yourself that much credit." Benny offered and the group fell into small bits of laughter again.

By the time they'd gotten Margie up and in the comforting arms of Benny and Bucky who had come racing over like a bat out of hell, Annie had turned to Brady, looking at him bathed in cold sunshine, his face more stressed and sunken in these days, but still the Brady from that first day on base. They watched one another and she smiled slightly, reaching up to run a finger beside the cut near his eyebrow.

"Let me help you dress that," she whispered quietly, her hand cradling his cheek, as he watched her, "thank you for doing that." Brady clenched his jaw.

"He shouldn't have even touched you."

"I shouldn't have gotten in his face. I shouldn't have said a word-"

"You did the right thing, Annie, I know that. They gotta have a little humanity in this place."

"There's barely an ounce of that here." she whispered, voice sorrowful and sad. Brady watched her, before bringing up a hand to clasp around her one against his cheek. For a second, it looked like Brady was going to say something else, but he bit his tongue and continued to watch her instead.

"Does your chest hurt?" he whispered to her, "I'll help you wrap it. I'll scrounge some bandage."

"Only a little," she whispered back, "I'm more worried about your chest. He hit you pretty hard." Brady smiled softly at her and stepped forward, cradling her face in his hands, his beautiful eyes on her own.

"Let me take care of you." he whispered to her, "Let me hold you, just a little while longer." Annie stared up at him and flitted her eyes across his face and lips, before settling on that scar again.

"Only if you let me wrap up your chest." she whispered back to him.

"Only if I can wrap yours." he said back. She stared at him and then smiled softly, nodding, "Is it tender?"

"I'll be okay." she whispered, "You know that."

"I know." Brady whispered, "Sometimes I just….." Annie watched him, her big eyes holding him in her gaze, watching as he watched her back, their emotions hitting a head.

"What?" Annie asked quietly, her voice hidden it felt by the sweeping winds this place had. Brady couldn't get his eyes off her it felt, and like it were the most delicate thing in the world, he pulled her into his arms, probably the warmest hug she'd had since arriving here, and stayed like that. Her heart raced in his embrace and as he pulled back, she looked up into his face right in front of her and licked her lips. The corner of his mouth lifted upwards and she felt her body shiver. Something pulled her closer, she wanted to be closer than they already had been.

"Hey!" Brady and Annie seemed to bounce apart, and they turned to find Bucky walking closer, all smug, hands in his pockets, "We're gonna get Margie comfortable."

"Right." Annie said, stepping back and smoothing out her normally, crumpled clothes, catching Brady's eyes for a second and then pushing her hair behind her ears, "Let's go." She hurried away, towards where Benny was still walking with Margie, as Bucky came to Brady's side. Brady stared at Bucky, who smirked and clapped his shoulder.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing," Bucky said, "quite the dragon slayer though, huh."

"Shut up."

"You tell her yet?"

"Shut up, Bucky."

[semthescientist]

In moments like these, you wish not to be saved. When your back is pressed firmly to the metal wall of a cargo truck, lips puffy and wet, and cunt full and stretched — you wish nothing more than for the city of Ergastulum to lay claim to you in the way Nicolas does. When his hips retreat briefly and snap forward with powerful thrusts, you're convinced that the tingling sensation settling deep within your bones is the last few ounces of innocence leaving your system.

The rigid, pulsing veins of his cock glide against your sugary walls; earning the most guttural groans from the Twilight. There is something so primal and animalistic in the way he takes you; whole and unapologetic. The way his thick cock splits you apart, heavy balls tightening with each precise thrust. He likes it like this, and you know. Even through your bleary vision, you can see the corner of his lips curl into a wicked grin — dark orbs fixated on the sticky covering that coats his shaft. This very fact makes your head spin while Nicolas' forceful exhales become all too deafening.

"Nicolas," you mewl out. "I really can't."

Nicolas can sense the shattered vibrations of your voice which gently guides his gaze from the mess in between your legs to your love-bitten lips. His thrusts are slow in effort to read your lips, and after he does, he decides that you can. He doesn't communicate this to you through words expressed in his uneven voice but rather his quickened strokes and same twisted smile. Thick forearms hooked under your pliable thighs and his climax approaching ever-so closely, Nicolas marvels at the idea of making you his personal fucktoy. Seeing you this way, breasts spilling from your thin pathetic t-shirt and eyes screwed shut as he mercilessly drills into your needy cunt — he decides you wouldn't be opposed to the idea.

Before the city was truly up, Nicolas was already spilling thick, white ropes of his seed deep within you. Before the city could birth more criminals and lowlives, you were already itching to become one.

[vaultdamned]

@mayormentats

THE OCEAN ABOVE IS BLACK, dressing the towering man with a coat made of night. footsteps traverse along the rotted ground, his shadow following behind like an obedient ghost. the silence is familiar; an old friend listening to the solemn rhythm of vincent’s heart beating inside his chest, unchanging in the air of loneliness some 200 years later. however, this particular loneliness fairs differently. self-inflicted, rather than forced. 

he tightens his grip against hancock’s freshly washed clothes, folded neatly & cradled by the weight of his forearm. blood still painted the fabric, splotches sized like pin-pricks; an effort made in vain, as no matter how much fluid could be scrubbed away, the reminder remained within the squint of an eye. 

mass pike tunnel e looms ahead, skyscrapers stretching high against the rubble, watching over the graveyard of cars — the phantom beeping of horns, panicking for evacuation, mimicks the echo of a piano player's notes from miles away. the past entertains the darkness as vincent continues forth, allowing the parade of memories to float on by like an unpleasant odor. mushroom clouds. radiated sulfur. sweat. 

the warehouse manifests out of thin air, a projection of reality outside vincent’s tunnel vision. he stops, standing beside a once bright yellow, now decrepit truck. hancock’s warning lingers in the back of his mind. don’t fuck with the lock. fine — but, part of him thinks he could break in no problem. most locks had a master system, & this one probably wasn’t any different – what a sight to see. vincent settled as hancock enters the space, finding his warehouse infiltrated, an all knowing, shit-eating grin greeting him from across the room. maybe even right inside the door.

No.

hancock’s tone turned serious at the mention of waiting. vincent’s wrist burned, remembering the pressure of hancock’s grab & the impression he’d left as he slapped that note into vincent’s palm,.the immortal man's breathing hitched in just that split second, caught off guard & distracted by the smell of cigarette smoke — which damn, why did he forget his smokes?

he flicks his head to the left, then the right, spotting a train car; its backside just inches off the track. he retrieves his knife as he paces forward, opening the side door with anticipation for an enemy, but it’s empty, save for a lone chair & a patch of stained wood. he holsters his blade. takes the seat. lays the clothes against the floor. leans forward, meeting his elbows to his knees. no way anyone would follow him out here, still, he wasn’t exactly on marowski’s goodside, especially after insulting his shitty handywork which nearly got vincent killed by the mayor of goodneighbor – or so vincent spun, leaving out many, many details -- details that held a power over him he could only relay as, haunting.

minutes pass & still he’s left to his own company, hiding inside a traincar. it’s expected, isn’t it? why would hancock give him any more than necessary of his deserved time? what gave vincent that right? bringing the clothes felt ridiculous now. this whole thing — god, he should have packed up & left when he had the chance, & there were plenty of them, still he stayed. couldn’t be hancock’s sake. perhaps for his own revenge? freedom from marowski? some deeply misunderstood alliance between himself & a betrayed friend? 

none of these harbored enough life; the reason was always selfish. 

the distinct jingle of keys alerts him. vincent twists his head up, his whole body lifting as if he’s tied to a rope that’s actively being pulled, then he grabs the clothes & inches closer to the edge of the traincar, peeking his head out, his brown curls brushing against the doorway. he’s spying on the earth, watching the front of the warehouse, waiting for his turn to appear like a rabbit out of a magic hat.

[hobisstar]

What are you hiding from love?| Yandere!Jk x Reader IV

This will be short! But chapter V will be worth it I promise!

Summary: Being in a relationship with Jungkook you’ve always noticed the signs, the red flags if you will. Being so in love with him you ignored them, until the people you loved dearly started disappearing one by one.

Warnings: Murder, Jungkook victim blaming ( like he will say i killed you because you are too stupid or whatever), Possessiveness, Mentions of Smut, Controlling, Locking up YN.

Taglist: vante 🫶🏾

A/N: This is made to be scary! That is all. I honestly dont like mixing smut with yandere because i read yandere fics to be spooked not horny lol. This one will be simple as for the last part of the series will be more … horror ish?

Ever since the window incident, Jungkook has been feeling shitty to say the least.

He’s not enough for her and he knows that.

He hates to say it but he thinks it’s time to officially let her leave.

She was willing to brutally hurt herself to get away from him. She would rather die than love him.

Of course he’s doing this for her sake. He loves her too much to see her die or something worst than death.

While Yn was in the bathroom showering, Jungkook was packing her things. He already bought her a brand new apartment, which wasn’t too far from Jin. He knows Jin was going to keep her in safe hands and cause he’s the only person he trusted to ever be around yn.

She got out the bathroom fully clothed and froze when she saw plenty of bags and boxes packed nicely. Some empty some ready to be taped. Were they moving? She questioned.

Jungkook as if a psychic, he looked at her and smiled tiredly.

He hasn’t slept in a few days just up and thinking. “ No, we aren’t moving but you are.” He tried not to tear up he truly did but damn why did she have to taunt him with her life.

“I can’t have you…” he mumbled feeling the tears drop from his eyes. “ so… I have to let you go. I’ll feel better knowing that you aren’t with me.”

Yn was shocked yes but boy she really didn’t expect him to actually let her go.

It’s not that she wanted to stay, but she knew there had to be a catch to it. Why was he giving in so easily?

“ Jin will be coming to get you in a few hours once he gets off work…” he whipped his tears and turned to continue packing her things.

“ I’ll feel better if your with him to keep you safe.”

Yes, He wasn’t lying. He is going to let her go. But not just that easily.

He knows that If she’s alone she’ll be so lonely she would crawl back to him. She will want him back forgetting about all the things he did to those people who dared be in her presence.

“Thank you.” She blurted out which caused him to nod.

“I’m in over my head” is what Jungkook kept saying to himself while him and Jin loaded his truck with her things.

yn sat in the front seat shaking from excitement but also fear. Something just wasn’t right.

She could practically smell that something about this whole thing was just… fishy.

While in her thought process, The guys loaded the last thing up closing the trunk. Jungkook walked over to her side of the car looking at her eagerly.

yn was so deep in her on thoughts she didn’t see Jungkook standing in front of her. Didn’t even feel the vehicle start up and back out the parking lot driving away.

“She’s gone…” Jungkook said standing there lost. “ and she didn’t even say goodbye…”

He walked back into the apartment building going to the elevator and then getting off onto his floor then into his now empty apartment.

It wasn’t really empty but it felt empty. The one who kept it so warm was gone. Now it was cold.

Him and bam both looked sad honestly. Well, Bam looked like Bam. But Jungkook? Something twisted and turned in him.

Something pure demented. Evil.

He thought over and over again. He’d stop hurting others but without his reasoning to staying so clean, he had every reason to go torture someone…

“ I wonder what her sister is up to…” he mumbled staring off into space imagining how nice it would be to just hurt yns sweet but dumb sister.

He never liked her sister or any of her family. Hell her contact has the name ‘ No One’. He never cared for her.

He always imagined killing her then blaming it on that wack ass boyfriend of hers.

He smiled. The smile that he hasn’t seem to do since before he met yn.

Whatever he was about to do… it was good. 

[sirduck48]

*is wearing a trench coat, fedora, sunglasses, and mustache* psst! hey kid? you want some Sir Handel headcanons?

-In my human AU, every time Duncan goes to practice his electric guitar, or listen to his Led Zeppelin or AC/DC albums, Sir Handel suddenly needs to do a project that requires the power to be shut off.

-He gets very offended if Gordon refers to him as "mini me", but it's fine if Peter Sam calls him a "mini Gordon"

-there was this whole incident where Paxton couldn't work at the quarry, so he had Diesel take his place, Diesel then decided to try and take over the Skarloey railway but it backfired horribly, first he had to put up with Sir Handel's tantrums,

(diesel: will you stop whining!?

Sir handel: you want whining? I'll give you whining! it's too hot! I'm too tired! you're shunting the trucks wrong! you're too mean! the trucks are too heavy!)

-Diesel then decided to try the same tactics he used with Duck by spreading rumors that Sir Handel was speaking bad about the other engines. when he told this to the rest of the narrow gauge engines, they went "yep, that sounds like sir Handel alright, he tends to do that, except his insults are way more creative than that." and not even care.

-Diesel then changed his story so it was Duncan being the one to talk badly about the narrow gauge engines, and they were just like, "yeah no, if Duncan were to speak badly about us, he would've said it to our faces."

-then diesel tried to pit the others against Rusty, but that backfire horribly and the whole thing ended with Diesel being terrorized by Duncan, and being backed into a corner by said Duncan, and somehow dragged halfway up the incline.

-my OC No. 2456 despises Sir Handel for no reason other than his name starts with a "sir", ergo Sir Handel is an aristocrat, No. 2456 hates aristocrats because in their mind, they started ww1. and they're a trench loco so...

needless to say Sir Handel is rather offended by this.

*points to my open palm* "I'll take all of the Sir Handel headcanons you have if you please" (this goes for everyone who has Sir Handel headcanons by the way).

•Plot twist, this is Peter Sam. Sir Handel sneaks in and listens to Duncan's albums. The two rock out together, but Sir Handel hurries off the minute anyone comes along.

•To me, Sir Handel cares deeply about being distinctive and having his own identity, so calling him a mini version of someone else would cause him to complain and boast about how smart and distinctive he is.

•You know that scene in My Little Pony where Rarity starts whining at the Diamond Dogs? That scene (and episode as a whole) is Sir Handel. Sir Handel is definitely Rarity.

•I completely agree. Sir Handel's insults are definitely creative, and even earn a laugh out of most.

•Again, I completely agree. I love the rest of the engine's reactions, they are highly amusing and fitting.

•Once again, I completely agree. Duncan does not really show positive emotions in the way that everyone else does. So, while he does not say to Rusty that he cares about them, he comes charging if anyone messes with them.

•Sir Handel would probably think that they're jealous because of how grand and fancy he is. He is a posh chap, and he takes great pride in it.

[hermesserpent-stuff]

spoilers for caged spade au remy and rogue meet!!!!!

romance is something Im reallllllllllyyy not good at so here's my best meet cute i can manage!

Remy bounces a little as he stands in line. He knows that he is a little too excited for this book release. But he had been reading Austin Jaques, a famous gothic writer, for years and had been ecstatic to hear that his latest novel would be set in New Orleans. He is excited to compare what the writer has to say about vampires to what he now knows to be true from living in the graveyard of a holy coven. And to see if his beloved city is represented correctly. He had convinced Creed to let him join the line while the man when off to get hot chocolate. Which is a little nice. He normally loves having Creed right there as back up, but sometimes it is a little nice to be separated and get some breathing room.

He can still feel Creed through the empathic link, the man currently feeling a mix of amusement and boredom. Must be taking a while for a reason. 

Remy tilts his head a little, adjusting his sunglasses as he looks about. The girl in front of him shifts a bit head turning to the side to watch a truck go down the road and then she rubs her arms. Oh. shes pretty. And it looks like she had come alone to the event. Remy shifts a little awkwardly on his feet and then decides to bite the bullet. He wants to talk to more people and talking to a pretty mademoiselle is worth his time. Now… what to say, something not too intrusive but easy to spring a conversation from.

“Excuse me miss?”

Her shoulders tense as she turns and he can see the stance of a fighter coming through. Not obvious to everyone, but obvious to anyone who had experience. He makes a small waving motion while smiling and tilting his head, trying to show how little of a threat he is to her.

“I love your earrings, mademoiselle.” 

“Oh, uh, thanks! I got them a week ago.”

She touches the crescent moon that is hanging low from her left ear. 

“They go well with your boots.”

“Thanks.”

She smiles a bit at the additional complement, fight stance fading slightly. 

“So, Austin Jaques, good writer, non? Got a favorite book in the series?”

Only people who enjoyed the man's writing would be willing to stand in line alone, so it should be a safe question.

“Oh, uh yeah. Midnight Heist. It was a really good plot. The twist was really well done. You?”

Remy nods. That book had a good twist that was perfectly set up so that rereads made it even stronger. 

“That ones definitely top ten. I really enjoy Moon Stones. Dealing with the horror of all your falures to create as an artist coming back as monstrocities was interesting.”

She nods. They chat back and forth and shift to be standing side by side in the line rather than infront and behind.

“Im Rogue by the way.”

“Remy! Nice to meet you.”

They move on from talking about the books to sharing favorite songs and texting recommendations back and forth to be listened to in full later. Remy barely registers that he got her number, so wrapped up in talking to her and trying to keep that smile that makes her whole face light up right going. 

Then Creed returns and Remy happily greets him. He sees Rogue tense and Creed sniffs the air. Remy grabs his arm and pats it.

“This is Creed, hes my papa.”

No one else could claim that title now. Creed straightens a little and Remy relizes that he might never have said that allowed before. Remy feels joy swirling across the link and grins.

“Creed, this is Rogue! My new friend.”

Creed looks her up and down and then nods. 

“Hi. Dont mess with my pack and I won't mess with yours.”

“Yeah? You gonna stick to that?”i

Remy frowns and shoots her a look.

“Hey, there be no need for this. We all peacefully in line. Creed, she been real nice to me so far. And Rogue, this is my family… We can all be okay? Oui?”

He feels a tinge of desperation, his heart starting to beat louder. Creed chuffs and nuzzles the side of his head. 

“Yeah yeah. Not gonna do nothin’ kitten.”

He passes Remy the hot chocolate and after a second, gives the other to Rogue, a peace offering that seems to work.

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon (Modern Au) - Error 404 Brain Not Found: Bonus Scene - Part 14

Geralt and Jaskier shuffled through the back door, arms loaded with bags of sodas. They headed straight for the kitchen and began unpacking.

It was D&D night, so Yennefer might not have thought twice about the large quantity of drinks they were hauling in. But there were two little details that set warning bells off in her head.

1. Geralt had already gone out two days earlier and bought drinks and snacks for their weekly game night. 2. Every single soda in the bags was Sprite. Both Geralt and Jaskier favored colas, and Eskel was the only one of the Witchers that preferred Sprite. What where they doing with all that Sprite?

Something asinine this way comes. Yennefer thought to herself as she eyed the men suspiciously from the kitchen doorway. Jaskier was openly smiling at her, eyes glowing merrily. Geralt was avoiding looking at her all together.

Dumbf**kery was definitely afoot.

"You want to play with us?" Jaskier asked excitedly, "We're going to do The Sprite Challenge!"

"The what--?" Before Yennefer could finish asking her question, Jaskier opened a bottle of soda and downed the whole thing in one go, pausing only to breathe and give the carbonation burn time to fade. Then he stood there expectantly.

Mentally trying to regain her footing, Yennefer glanced at Geralt. The Witcher was watching Jaskier excitedly.

The seconds ticked by.

Feeling as if she was supposed to give some sort of commentary, Yennefer said, "Er, congratulations? You drank an entire bottle of Sprite all--!"

The rest of what Yennefer said was drowned out by the almighty belch that erupted from Jaskier. It was long, loud, and carried the faint scent of lemon-lime. Geralt and Jaskier laughing ecstatically, gave each other a celebratory high-five.

What the h*ll, a girl had to have fun sometimes. Yennefer gave up trying to be the mature one, and joined her two idiots, cheering them on and recording the proceedings.

"Your turn, big guy!" Jaskier announced. Geralt nodded, twisted the top off a Sprite, and chugged it. The liquid swirled in a little tornado as it disapeared down Geralt's throat. There was a moment of silence, before Geralt made a noise like a Skellige fog horn.

Guffaws erupted, and the process was repeated, with time in between for stomachs and bladders to empty. While they waited for the next round, Jaskier and Geralt took turns trying to belch their names and various obscenities.

Geralt and Jaskier: * chug Sprite*

Jaskier: *bear with a bellyache*

Geralt: *Semi truck engine braking*

Jaskier: *sound like someone ripping a***

Geralt: *goose honk*

Jaskier: *sound like a toilet unclogging*

Yennefer decided to give it a try herself. Jaskier and Geralt cheered her on as she downed her soda. Seconds later, she opened her mouth and out came a string of garbled noises that sounded like the syllables of the blackest magic spell ever spoken.

"Holy f**k!" Jaskier laughed, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Did you just curse someone?" Geralt chortled.

"Was it just me, or did you see snakes come out of her boots and a black cloud swirl around her?"

"Oh, f**k you both!" Yennefer grumbled.

"I'd rather *garbled burp* a nekker!" Jaskier retorted.

"That's not much of an insult, considering you'd f**k anything with a hole in it!"

Jaskier: *affronted gasp*

"Scr*bber!"

"B*llend!"

"M*ngebag!"

"A*semonger!"

Geralt decided to intervene before the tit-for-tat escalated. The Witcher chugged a Sprite, tossed the bottle aside, and assumed the belching position. The distraction worked, and Yennefer and Jaskier forgot about their bantering and waited with bated breath.

Geralt grimaced, and then *dying humpback whale noises*

The three of them immediately lost their sh*t. They howled maniacally, holding their sides and leaning on whatever surface was close by.

Laughing on a belly full of carbonated liquid turned out to be risky business.

Geralt and Jaskier both laughed so hard they spewed.

One minute Yennefer was laughing at the ridiculous noise Geralt had made, and the next, her laughter turned to exclamations of surprised disgust. Puke fountained onto the floor as Geralt and Jaskier chucked whiteys. It rolled and splattered, and Yennefer was just doing her best to get the h*ll out of the way.

The vomiting petered out, turning to dry heaves before stopping. Yennefer helped them to the living room, settling them on the couches, then went back to the kitchen to clean up the mess.

She was not one to use magic for mundane things that she could do herself, but this time, she made an exception. She was not going to clean up this mess by hand. She spelled the kitchen clean with a wave of her hand, then returned to the living room and her two dumba**es.

She knew their stomachs were probably feeling a bit queasy, so she cheerfully offered them something to help.

"Here, have some Sprite, it will settle your stomachs!"

*Symphony of groans*