#rather than... whatever the hell THAT was

[the-tin-dog]

I'm... In tears?

Look I live in Louisville Kentucky. I am a trans woman. Louisville is a city. It's one of the most progressive cities in Kentucky. It's largely anarchist. Leftist. Direct action kinda vibes. And our trans community here is HUGE because almost every trans person in Kentucky comes to Louisville, the most progressive city. But it's also.... In Kentucky. And for those who dont know. Louisville is the "Bourbon Capital of the World" and that's big right now. If you like those kinds of things.

I am a trans woman who is a tour guide at a distillery on the Kentucky bourbon trail. It attracts... Exactly the demographic you think.

So. I meet a lot of bigots.

But I meet even more Earls. So many more. To the point where talking to and meeting people who just ... Don't know what to do! People who are GENUINELY trying to figure it out. Who are curious. And nervous. And clumsy with words. And just genuinely don't understand. And OP is RIGHT. These are the people who are going to be the real allies. These are the ones standing up for us.

Because some of my most trusted friends are Earl. They are the most Kentucky folks you ever could meet. And yeah, they really don't get it. They don't get the culture, they'd be kinda anxious at a drag show, they don't know the words. But also, they are so... Right? For that??? These folks have a mentality of "look I ain't got a goddamn clue why you'd wanna be a girl but I'll call you whatever the hell you want cause it don't bother me a lick" and like. Idk that's really refreshing compared to "oh my God you are SOOOOOO brave"

Sure. My buddy at the dive bar might look at a transphobe and say "hey. He uses "she/her" pronouns" but id rather have him at my side in the fight than the one who tells me "being inflammatory and confrontational is a bad representation of the movement...." Ya know?

"The trannies should be able to piss in whatever toilet they want and change their bodies however they want. Why is it my business if some chick has a dick or a guy has a pie? I'm not a trannie or a fag so I don't care, just give 'em the medicine they need."

"This is an LGBT safe space. Of COURSE I fully support individuals who identify as transgender and their right to self-determination! I just think that transitioning is a very serious choice and should be heavily regulated. And there could be a lot of harm in exposing cis children to such topics, so we should be really careful about when it is appropriate to mention trans issues or have too much trans visibility."

One of the above statements is Problematic and the other is slightly annoying. If we disagree on which is which then working together for a better future is going to get really fucking difficult.

[juudesgirl]

soulmates - jude bellingham

“a soulmate is someone who challenges you to do better, someone who can’t stand seeing you sad, someone who stays faithful, loyal and committed to you, someone who helps take care of you when you’re sick, someone who stands by your side through the good days and the bad days and someone who wants to grow old and grey with you”

if jude could picture the perfect person, it would be you. from the moment he had laid eyes on you, he knew you were something special.

you had met him through one of your friends, it had been your friends’ birthday and they had thrown a party to celebrate. after 5 minutes of arriving, you had bumped into jude navigating your way through the swarm of people at the party. as soon as your eyes locked, jude had been captivated by your beauty.

the way your doe eyes lit up, the blush formed on your cheeks by the heat of the room and the bright smile on your face as you looked at him, made his stomach do somersaults. he hadn’t seen anyone as beautiful as you, he knew he had to speak to you. throughout the night, you both were stuck by each others’ side all night - laughing at eachothers’ silly jokes, laughing at the semi-drunk people around you, it couldn’t of been a more perfect night.

you had exchanged numbers before leaving the party, as soon as you left, jude had messaged you straight away asking if you had enjoyed the party and if you had gotten home safely. from then, you kept contact with eachother regularly.

-

to say jude was obsessed with you, was definitely an understatement. whether it was at training or speaking to his family or one of his friends, he’d always mention you in his conversations - he couldn’t help it, he was reminded of you wherever or whatever he was doing, it was like you were stuck in his mind. jude wanted to be around you whether it calling you, texting you or seeing you, he just loved the feeling of you being in his life. jude loved spending time with you, even if it was just the both of you sitting down doing absolutely nothing, he enjoyed it. you were one of the few people who he felt safe and happy with, you were his person and he adored the hell out of you.

jude was one of those people that no matter what, always made you feel special. he’d always surprise you with getting your favourite flowers delivered to your house if he wasn’t around to show and let you know that no matter where he was, he was thinking of you and that he was missing you, he always wanted to show you the affection that you deserved. even after a tough training session, he’d stop by to see you. you loved being around jude, and he loved being around you, you both were like a breath of fresh air to eachother no matter how long you’d been seeing eachother.

as time went on, jude had started to fall for you more and more each day, he couldn’t help but not too. jude had mentioned you to his family, always praising you and telling them how much you meant to him, and how excited he was for them to meet you. family is an important factor in jude’s life, so to have you all together, would be so important to him. his family especially his little brother jobe, were happy for jude to have finally found someone, especially someone who’s been able to bring the spark back into his life - they were excited to meet you.

“you know there’s no one else I’d rather be with other than you? you really do make every day worth living and i enjoy spending any bit of time I have with you” jude said to while standing outside of your house, dropping you off after another successful date.

“i love spending time with you too jude. i haven’t met someone like you who makes me laugh so much or makes me feel so comfortable before” you gushed, while brushing your hand on his cheek, while his hands found your waist and pulled you close.

“i feel the same y/n, you’ve made me the happiest i’ve felt in a very long time. there’s never not a time where i’m not thinking when i’ll see you again or thinking about you. i just want to be with you all the time, i just want you around all the time. so i was wondering if you wanna be my girlfriend?” jude said nervously. you could tell he was nervous, the grip he had on your waist had loosened and he begun to chew bottom lip as he waited for your answer. “i understand i-if you say n-no it is too soon and i-” he started once again before you interrupted him with a beaming smile.

“aw jude, of course i want to be your girlfriend. you don’t know how long i’ve been waiting for you to ask me” you said giggling while putting your arms around his neck softly.

jude laughed softly before he pulled you into a soft hug. his head instantly fell the crook of your neck and he began to place soft and delicate kisses on your neck as you hugged. liking the softness of his kisses along your neck, you decided to tilt your head back and to enjoy the feeling more. he placed a few more on your neck, before pulling away and leaning his head onto yours which made stand up onto your tiptoes before kissing him softly. you both sighed happily into the kiss, very thankful for this sweet moment and how excited you were to be jude’s girlfriend.

as you and jude kissed, he begun to think about how his life has changed dramatically so quickly. he always knew you were special, and sometimes he joked but seriously thought you was his guardian angel. once upon a time, he was in the most dark and fragile time of his life. he didn’t think that he’d be able to come back after the hard times at all. then you came along into his life unexpectedly, protected and guided him throughout the journey and helped him to feel like him again.

jude couldn’t help but fall in love with you, as everything shattered, you came along and picked all the pieces up and fixed it. jude was finally as happy as he could be; all because of you, because you saved him and knew from the moment he met you, you were soulmates and you’d find eachother in every lifetime no matter where you guys were.

[oharaslove]

We’ve always seen Grumpy x Sunshine when it comes to Miguel and Reader. Today I present you with Grumpy x Grumpy

Reader who never showed a smile towards anyone in the Society. 

Miguel who notices them in the group meetings. Every Spider has a sense of humour, they smile through the pain, but you didn’t. You were always with a serious expression. You were integrated, at the same time though, you seemed closed off. Not letting anyone come close. 

Miguel who takes interest. There is only one place for a Grumpy person in this lab, and that’s him. Or at least, most people say he is grumpy, not that he believes it 100%. 

Reader who enjoys spending time by themselves, recluding to the rooftop of the Society. A place that, weirdly enough, no one frequents. 

Miguel who looks for Reader in the common spaces, but doesn’t have luck. He didn’t exactly know what he wanted with you, but there was something pulling him towards your person. Did he want to be friends? Was he just curious? No idea.

Miguel who has to admit to Lyla what he is doing, having to accept her teases. “Oooohhh Miguel has got a crush” At which Miguel rolls his eyes. He doesn’t. He doesn’t even know you! How could he have a crush? he definitely has. If it were any other Spider, he would probably not care, but you. You had something. 

Lyla who, after an uncountable amount of mocking, takes pity on Miguel and reveals your location. Miguel who sees you through the security camera, sitting at the edge, dangling your feet. 

Miguel who marches towards your location. No plan in his head. He was just going with the flow. His body guiding him towards what it wanted. You

Reader who is startled by the sudden sound of someone opening the door to the rooftop. Who the hell comes here?. You turned around, spotting Miguel silently watching you from the doorway. You turn around again, rolling your eyes. Whatever. 

Miguel who approaches you. What the hell has he come here for? It’s been a looong minute since he has spoken to a woman, other than work stuff.

Miguel who just stands there, looking off at the distance, while keeping an eye on you from time to time. He was just testing the water, yeah. 

Reader who finds it weird, but let’s it happen. Miguel is the leader of the society after all. Besides, you knew (or at least heard) that he was “grumpy”. Problem, you didn’t know if he really was, or like you, he was misunderstood by everyone. In doubt, better keep quiet. 

Miguel who after a while, decides to go. That was embarrassing enough. But don’t get confused, he would come back, he just needed a plan. 

Miguel who, the first week, just stands there, getting comfortable with your presence, hoping you do too. Until….

“You know you can sit, right?” “Uh… I-” He stutters, not expecting you to talk. You scooch over, even though there is plenty of space. Miguel sits, rather close. He enjoys the view now, but most importantly, the heat emanating from your body. He sighs, step 1 down. 

Days turned into weeks. Now, you two were comfortable. Not talking much yet, but sitting next to each other, enjoying each other’s company while appreciating the skyline. Miguel hadn’t realised how much he needed this, relaxing. After a day being cooped up in the lab, this was a nice change. You would share food with each other, a lovely and quiet picnic between two friends? A boss and a worker? Co-workers? He had no clue, but whatever it was, he liked it. 

But… he wanted more. He felt the need to know you better. So.. that’s how the conversations started. About whatever, whoever… didn’t matter. What matter was that step 2 was down. 

Step 3 was by far the hardest one. Make you laugh. At least a small giggle or a smile, Miguel would be happy with either one. 

Granted, Miguel wasn’t good with jokes either. He didn’t know how the other Spiders did it. But thankfully, as a man of science, he knew how to achieve a goal. 

Miguel who spends quite some time observing the other Spiders. He never had a reason to, but now, he did. He thought that you would like it if he was funny, like the others. Yeah, surely, why wouldn’t you?

Miguel who writes some jokes and practises how to deliver them, over and over again. Lyla was having a blast. The big, “bad”, “grumpy” leader of the Spider Society, creator of Nueva York, was mad about another person. 

Miguel, nervous af, goes to your spot. After meeting for quite some time, you two developed a routine. Always at the same hour, same place. 

Reader who is already there, waiting. You really enjoyed meeting with Miguel, you felt he was the only one who understood you. 

Miguel who slowly approaches you. He could feel sweat dribble from his temple, down to his neck. 

Miguel checks the paper on his hand. Yeah, these jokes would do. 

Miguel who, after a peaceful chit chat, feels comfortable enough to start trying with the jokes. They were awful, to say the least. 

“How would you describe Spiderman’s perfect home? The world wide web!”

Miguel who after every stupid joke watches your reaction. At first, you are confused, but as jokes go by, he can see you trying hard not to smile. 

“What is–” “What are you doing?” you said, your lips tugging up into a smile. you were so adorable. “What do you mean?” “The jokes” you clarify, your smile widening. “I– I was trying to be funny, like the other Spidermen. People seem to like them. I–” “Don’t” you interrupt, your tone and expression serious. 

Miguel wanted to be swallowed by the Earth. He scrunches the paper and fists it. This was all a waste— “I like you just the way you are” You confess, making Miguel snap his head towards you, eyes wide like plates. 

“You– you do?” He must have misheard you. “Mhh” you mumbled, nodding. “Just,” you bite your lip, debating if you should say it or not. “Just be my Miguel. The one you’ve always been” And you smile as bright as the sun, warming Miguel’s hug. 

“Your Miguel” he repeats in a trance. You nod, biting your lip, trying to suppress the smile that had been printed on your face. Nothing could wipe it now. 

Miguel mirrors you, smiling from ear to ear. He looks at his clenched fist, the paper sticking out. He looks at you and laughs, throwing the paper into the city. “I’ll be your Miguel then” He scooches closer to you, giving you the opportunity to lean on his chest, as he rounds your body with his arm. 

“Yeah, my Miguel” you sighed, closing your eyes and melting into his touch. His warm body and heartbeat lulling you to sleep. 

Miguel who kisses the top of your head, before resting his cheek against it. He sighs, step 3 and goal down. 

To the world, you were two Grumpy people. But between you, days were spent between laughs and giggles. Kisses being interrupted by smiles. Just seeing each other made you happy. Life was warm, yellow and red, all together. It didn’t matter how the rest saw you, just that you two were happy and in love. 

[kentsjohnson91]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐖𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃

in which you (or your friend, rather) called, so luke came.

warnings; mention of car accidents, hospitals, losing a parent, ex-relationships, alcohol poisoning

this series was started before the awful tragedy involving johnny and matthew gaudreau. please do not read if you do not feel comfortable. as always, i am always here for you guys to reach out to if you need to talk!

part one here

part two here

part three here

You stood in the sterile hospital hallway, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as you tried to breathe through the rising panic. The smell of disinfectant clung to the air, a scent that instantly transported you back to a year ago—back to the night you lost your dad.

You hated hospitals. Every part of you wanted to run, to get out of there before the walls closed in on you. But Y/B/F/N had had too much to drink, winding up in the emergency room with alcohol poisoning, and you knew you couldn’t leave. Not when your friend needed you the most.

You swallowed hard, shifting on your feet, forcing air into your lungs even as your ribs tightened with the pressure of memory, a ghost of that night a year ago swirling around you. The beeping machines. The frantic doctors. The way time had slowed as you watched the life drain from the man who had raised you. The way Luke had held you when the news finally shattered you.

Your best friend was fine, though. She had just drunk too much, reckless and carefree the way she always was, but she would be okay. She would walk out of this place alive.

Your dad didn’t.

Y/B/F/N knew that, quietly observing as you paced the floor of the hallway outside of her room. So, when you were out of view, she quickly pulled out her phone and dialed the one person she knew you needed.

Luke groaned as his phone vibrated against his nightstand, the obnoxious buzzing cutting through the silence of his dimly lit room. He barely glanced at the screen before swiping to answer, recognizing the name immediately.

"Hello?" His voice was rough with exhaustion.

"You need to get down here. Now."

Luke sat up instantly, his heart pounding at the urgency in your best friend’s voice. "What? Where are you?"

"The hospital," she rushed out. "I—it's not me, it's her.”

Everything inside him went still. Your name was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. "What happened?" His voice was sharp now, all traces of sleep gone.

"I'm fine," she assured him quickly. "I just…”There was a pause, like she was trying to find the right words, "I drank too much. Alcohol poisoning or whatever. I’m okay, but she’s here, and Luke, she’s…she’s freaking out."

Luke’s throat tightened.

Of course you were.

Hospitals had never been easy for you, not after what happened. He could still remember the way you’d collapsed into his arms the night your dad died, the way you’d trembled against him as if your body couldn’t contain the grief. And now you were back in that same place, reliving it all over again.

And he wasn’t there.

His grip on the phone tightened. "Where is she?"

"Down the hall from my room. She won’t come in here, won’t sit down, won’t—won’t do anything except stand there, looking like she’s about to pass out. She won’t leave, either. I know she’s trying to be here for me, but she’s barely holding it together."

Luke was already on his feet, pulling on a plain black hoodie with one hand while shoving his sneakers on with the other. "Did she ask for me?"

Your best friend went silent on the other end.

"No."

His stomach dropped.

"I didn’t think she would," your best friend added softly, "But that’s why I’m calling. She’s not going to ask for you, Luke. But she needs you."

He exhaled shakily, running a hand down his face. He knew that. Hell, he knew it better than anyone. But things were different now. He wasn’t your person anymore. He had no right to show up like he still was.

And yet, there was no hesitation when he said, "I’m on my way."

Luke was out the door before he could think twice.

His keys jingled in his grip as he yanked on his coat, barely bothering to shove his arms through the sleeves as he rushed down the apartment stairs. His mind was moving too fast, spinning with one thought and one thought only—you.

You were at the hospital.

You were panicking.

And you were alone.

The second he hit the parking garage, he unlocked his car and yanked the door open, throwing himself inside before jamming the key into the ignition. The engine rumbled to life, but the momentary delay as it turned over made his chest tighten with frustration. He didn’t have time for this.

He needed to be there now.

As he finally hit the road, the streets blurred past him in a mess of headlights and dark pavement, but he barely registered any of it. His hands were tight on the wheel, knuckles white, his foot pressing just a little harder on the gas than it should’ve been. He wasn’t reckless - he never had been - but right now, he couldn’t bring himself to care about speed limits or stoplights that took too long to change.

His mind wasn’t here. It was back at that hospital, with you.

Luke’s grip tightened, jaw clenching as he exhaled sharply through his nose. He wasn’t supposed to be the one you called anymore. That’s what he’d told himself a year ago when you’d finally ended things, both of you breaking under the weight of grief and unsaid words. It had been messy. It had been painful. But it had been final.

Or so he thought. You had told him just a few months ago that you both needed to move on.

But now, here he was, flying down the highway in the middle of the night like no time had passed at all, like he hadn’t spent the last year pretending he didn’t miss you.

Because he did.

And the fact that your best friend called him - not your other friends, not someone else, but him - told him everything he needed to know.

You still needed him.

Maybe not in the way you used to, maybe not in the way he wanted you to, but in this moment? Right now?

He was still the person you fell apart with.

And if that was all he got, if this was the only way he could still be something to you, then he’d take it.

Luke took the exit for the hospital, his heart hammering as the familiar structure came into view. The last time he’d been here, he had held you in his arms as your world collapsed. And if you needed him to do it again tonight, he would, without a second thought. Without any hesitation at all.

Because no matter how much time passed, how much distance you put between each other, to Luke, it was still you. It would always be you.

When he pulled into the parking lot, Luke moved fast - too fast. His chest burned from sprinting through along the pavement, his pulse hammering harder than it should have been, but he didn’t care. He pushed through the heavy glass doors, barely registering the sterile hospital air that hit him. He knew this place too well, knew what it had taken from you, knew what it meant that you were here.

And then he saw you.

You were curled into yourself on one of the plastic waiting room chairs, arms wrapped around your middle like you were trying to hold yourself together. Seeing Y/B/F/N’s door after continually pacing the hallway must have been too much for you. Your legs bounced restlessly, your gaze fixed on the scuffed tile floor, lost somewhere far away from here.

Luke swallowed hard, the ache in his chest deepening. You looked so small. So fragile in a way you never let yourself be.

And the worst part? You were alone.

Luke didn’t think. He never did when it came to you, “Hey.”

His voice was soft, careful—like he was afraid you might shatter if he spoke too loud. But the second it hit your ears, your entire body stiffened. Your head snapped up, your wide, red-rimmed eyes locking onto his. For a moment, you just stared, like you weren’t sure if he was real. Then, “What are you doing here?”

Luke ran a hand through his messy hair, still catching his breath. “She called me.”

You blinked, confusion flickering across your face before realization dawned. “Of course she did,” you muttered, shaking your head with something caught between frustration and exhaustion, “I told her I was fine.”

Luke desperately furrowed a brow, his hazel eyes flashing with the type of concern he only ever showed for you, “You’re not fine.”

Your jaw tightened, “I can handle it.”

He sighed, speaking again, “You shouldn’t have to.”

Something in your expression wavered then, like a hairline fracture forming in a carefully built wall. You opened your mouth - probably to argue, because that’s what you did when you didn’t want anyone to worry about you - but no words came. Instead, you exhaled shakily and turned away, blinking rapidly.

Luke felt the sting in his own chest at the sight. Slowly, he stepped closer, giving you space to pull away if you wanted to.

You didn’t.

So he did the only thing he knew how to do - he sat beside you. Close enough for you to feel his presence, but not close enough to push you.

“She’s okay,” he murmured after a moment, “The doctors are keeping an eye on her, but she’ll be fine. I promise you.”

You nodded absently, like that wasn’t what was keeping you here. Luke watched you carefully, searching for the right thing to say. The right way to pull you out of whatever dark place your mind was taking you.

But he already knew.

“It’s not the same, you know.”

Your head turned slightly, just enough for him to see the way your brows pinched together.

Luke swallowed, his hazel eyes peering into your Y/E/C ones, “This night. This hospital. It’s not the same as last time.”

Your breath hitched.

“You’re not losing anyone tonight,” his voice was quiet, steady, meant only for you, “She’s going to walk out of here, and you are too. And I’m-” he hesitated, flames of the type of love he reserved for you and only you dancing in his tone, “I’ll be right here.”

Your eyes met his again, something breaking in your gaze, something raw and vulnerable and so painfully familiar. Luke didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t dare to hope that maybe, just maybe, you still needed him the way he still needed you.

Then, finally, after what felt like an eternity, you did the one thing he never expected. You leaned into him.

Not much, just a small shift, but it was enough. Enough for Luke to take a quiet, steadying breath before tilting his body ever so slightly toward you, just like he used to. Just like he always would.

The silence between you and Luke stretched, thick with unspoken words and everything you’d both avoided for the past year.

He was still close - close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, close enough that if you leaned just a little further, you’d be in his arms the way you had been that night. The night your world fell apart.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his black hoodie as you stared at your lap, trying to block out the memories clawing their way back to the surface. Even the color of his clothing reminded you of the sky that night, the darkness enveloping you in more ways than one.

Luke didn’t push. He never did. But he was watching you - he always watched you, like he could see straight through you, past every wall, every carefully constructed defense. And then he spoke, his words carefully chosen as to not upset you further, “You looked just like your father as the news was delivered.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You turned to him sharply, your heart pounding, “What?”

Luke’s gaze was unreadable, his lips pressed together like he wasn’t sure if he should’ve said it. But it was already out there now, hanging in the air between you, “You looked just like him,” he repeated, quieter this time, like he was recalling the exact moment with excruciating clarity, “The way your face fell. The way your brow furrowed and the way you slightly smiled as if the doctor was joking. The way you didn’t move at first, like you hadn’t fully processed what they were saying.”

He exhaled shakily, his hazel eyes filled with something too heavy to name, “And then you did. And it wrecked you.”

A lump formed in your throat. “You saw that?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Luke’s lips twitched with something sad, “Of course I did, Y/N/N. I saw everything.”

Luke half-expected you to flinch when he used that nickname. After all, when you stood outside his apartment door at 2:00 in the morning, your tone was venomous as you told him not to call you that. Tonight, it didn’t happen. Instead, you blinked rapidly, trying to keep the burning in your eyes at bay, “I don’t even remember what I looked like. I just remember… the feeling.”

The words barely made it past your lips, but Luke heard them. He always did. He didn’t say anything, didn’t push for you to elaborate, but maybe that’s why you kept going.

“It was like everything in me shattered at once. Like I wasn’t even in my body anymore. I kept thinking…” you inhaled sharply, “no, this isn’t real. This isn’t happening. But it was. It was, and I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t bring him back.”

Luke’s jaw clenched. He shifted then, his arm moving as if he was going to reach for you but stopping himself at the last second.

You let out a shaky breath, “I don’t know how long I stood there. But then I felt you.”

Luke’s eyes snapped to yours.

“You held me before I even knew I needed it,” you whispered, your fingers tightening into your sleeves, “Before I even realized I was falling.”

Luke swallowed hard, his throat tightening. He could’ve cried right then and there, but he held it together for you, “I couldn’t let you break alone.”

You shut your eyes for a moment, trying to keep yourself together. But there was something about being here, in this hospital, with him, that made all the cracks in you feel too wide to ignore.

You turned slightly toward him, studying his face in the dim hospital lighting. He looked different than he had back then - tired, older in a way that had nothing to do with age - but at the same time, he still looked like Luke. The boy who had been yours for so long. The boy who had held you together even after you’d broken apart.

“I don’t know how to be in hospitals anymore,” you admitted, barely above a whisper.

Luke hesitated, then murmured, “You don’t have to know how.” He finally let himself reach for your hand, his fingers brushing over yours in a cautious, familiar touch, “You just have to let yourself be in them.”

You stared down at where your hands nearly met, your chest tightening, “And what if I can’t?”

His fingers curled around yours, warm and steady. “Then I’ll be here.”

Your throat closed up. You should’ve pulled away. You should’ve reminded yourself that he wasn’t yours anymore, that you weren’t his to hold like this. But you didn’t. Instead, you let your hand slip fully into his, gripping onto him like an anchor. The moment your fingers laced together, something inside you cracked wide open.

Luke’s hand was warm, steady - the same way it had always been. His thumb brushed against your knuckles, a soft, barely-there touch, but it sent a shiver down your spine nonetheless. You wondered if it was instinct for him, if he even realized he was doing it, or if his body just remembered the way it used to fit against yours.

You gripped him tighter, your breath shaky, your free hand curling into your lap as if bracing yourself for something. Maybe for him to let go. Maybe for yourself to.

But neither of you did.

Luke stayed silent, watching you carefully, waiting to see if you’d push him away. You didn’t. Because for the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel like you were drowning.

It didn’t feel like the walls were closing in, or like the weight in your chest was pressing you deeper into the past. Instead, with his hand wrapped around yours, fingers locking like a lifeline, it felt like a revival of some sort.

You let out a slow, unsteady exhale, your gaze flickering to where your hands were tangled together. It was stupid, really, how something so small could make you feel like you weren’t completely falling apart. But it wasn’t just something. It was him.

That terrified you. You knew, deep down, that if you let yourself lean into him now, if you let yourself take whatever comfort he was willing to give, you’d never want to let go.

And the worst part?

You weren’t sure he would either.

[helioswritings]

Want

Shanks x fem!reader

wc: 1.5k

Warnings: none

You’re in love with your captain, you know it like you know the sun is going to come up in the mornings, and go down at night.

The air was cold as you exited the warmth of the bar and the tears welling up in the corners of your eyes made them sting. You felt stupid, you were stupid. Shanks could kiss whoever he wanted in whatever shit bar he wanted to. You weren't together, hell, he didn't even know how you felt, so it was stupid to be jealous.

It didn't stop you though, especially when you closed your eyes and saw his hand trailing up her thigh, of her grabbing his face to pull him in closer, to make the kiss deeper. You debated even going back to the ship tonight, you really didn't want to be around if he was going to bring her aboard, and then you felt really pathetic about that, so you marched back to the Red Force anyways.

You knew how Shanks was, and you were very conscious of who he was, too. One of the Four Emperors of the sea and those who weren't terrified of him probably wanted them in his bed too. You knew he had the ability of making people feel special, you knew the power of his charismatic smile, of his loyalty and ferocity. He'd gotten you to fall in love with him easily enough, after all, even if he didn't mean to. You doubt(more like hoped) he knew, but you knew the rest of the crew had long since caught on. You're pretty sure Yasopp had thrown you a pitying look as you walked out, which really humiliated you because you didn't want to live in a world where fucking Yasopp pitied you.

As you were ambling your way through the sand back to the ship, a hand on your shoulder stilled you.

"Where are you going?" The rough timbre of your captain's voice rumbled in your ear.

"Wasn't feeling like drinking tonight, sorry Captain."

You turned to look him in the eye and regretted it. Shanks had lipstick smudged across the corner of his lips and the pupils of his golden brown eyes were blown. He looked very pleased with himself, or would, if he wasn't wearing a small frown.

"Are you feeling okay? Do I need to call Hongo?"

You laugh, although a little bitterly. "No, Captain, I don't need you to call the ship's doctor because I don't feel like drinking."

His frown deepens. "At least let me see you back to the ship."

You know he's stubborn enough to not leave you alone about it, he's got an awful lot of manners for a pirate.

"You looked like you were having fun," you say instead, "don't let me stop you."

"Nah, I'd rather see you back safely."

And doesn't that just piss you off? That he makes you feel so special when you know the opposite? When you know he doesn't look at you and imagine what it would be like to kiss you? You allow an annoyed huff to leave you, but you don't voice it. If the great Red-Haired Shanks wants to personally escort you, then far be it from you to stop him. What a bastard.

The walk is quiet and as usual you stand on the side where his arm is. He prefers it that way, he says, he tells you he likes to be able to reach out and grab you if he needs to. He's so charming about it.

"Do you need me to stay with you?" He breaks the silence between the two of you.

"I'm a grown woman, I don't need a babysitter." The words are razor sharp, a little harsher than you intend for them to come across.

He closes his eyes and lets out a huff of annoyance. Shanks probably isn't used to this amount of pushback from you. "Let me rephrase: do you want me to stay with you?"

You do, of course you do, but you shake your head. "I'll manage."

His eyes turn a little steely and you know this to be his captain expression. "I'm going to stay with you."

You groan internally. "Are you sure you're not just looking for an excuse to keep me company?" A little harmless flirting didn't hurt anything.

"Always."

And that's too weighty for you right now, especially from someone who had his tongue down another woman's throat a few minutes back.

Shanks escorts you to the ship and then up to his room, which is another thing just off about tonight.

"You'd think I was dying the way you're giving me all this special treatment, Captain."

"I just need to talk to you, to keep you company."

Something warm settles in your chest, something syrupy sweet. You can't get rid of it as you sit on a chair next to his ridiculously sized bed, so you tell him; "this bed is ridiculous."

"My ego needs somewhere to sleep."

You snort. "And I'm sure it sleeps well in a bed like this. It looks like Whitebeard and his whole crew could sleep on this thing."

"Now you're just being ridiculous." He says, though it's with a smile.

"Have to be ridiculous to be on this crew, Captain."

He sobers immediately. "That's what I needed to talk about."

That's almost never good. "Go on."

"Do you want to leave? The crew? You've been acting differently, distant."

You didn't think he would notice, nor did you think he could sound so....vulnerable. Like the thought of you leaving hurt.

"I've just been thinking," you say, and then your eyes widen at the utter despair that crosses his face, "not about leaving! It's like- well, I definitely don't want to say."

His hand brushes your cheek. "You can tell me anything."

And you believe him, you really do. "I'm pretty sure I'm, at least somewhat, in love with you."

He jolts back like you've taken out a cattle prod and shocked him. "You're what?"

The tone of his voice makes you regret your words and you move to get up, but just as soon as you've moved away he's grabbing on to you again. "Are you sure?"

The laugh you let out is wounded. "More sure than anything in my whole life."

Shanks leans forward and he's so so close. You can feel his breath across your face. "I'm...." You don't know what to say, not really. You're afraid that if you're too loud, you'll scare him away.

"Is this your first kiss?" He's not teasing, just curious.

"Far from," you answer, still whispering, "I've just never wanted it this bad."

A finger trails across your collarbone and you shiver. "How bad?"

"Like it's all I can think about."

He presses a small kiss to the corner of your lip. "Can I tell you something?"

"Yes."

"I've never done it when I really wanted it."

You rub at the lipstick on his face. "Are you sure?"

He rubs his head into your neck. "I've wanted you so bad I can feel the want running through my veins."

"Careful there, Captain, you're sounding like someone's dirty novel."

The two of you are nose to nose now. "Shanks."

It feels more intimate, somehow, even though you can feel his breath fan across your face, even though every movement makes your noses brush. Absent-mindedly, you lick your lips. His eyes track the movement and you shiver. His cheeks are flushed and you don't think it's from the ale.

Shanks cups the sides of your face gently, like he's holding something fragile and precious. He leans closer.

"Can I kiss you?"

You nod like you can't bring yourself to talk - like the idea of talking is at all appealing to you right now,

He leans forward and captures your lips with his own. He's like a man starved, kissing you like he'll never eat or drink again. You gasp into his mouth and he takes advantage of it. The feel of his tongue startles you into backing away and he frowns.

"I'm sorry." He tells you.

"Don't be. It was just a lot, kissing like you weren't just kissing someone else."

He touches the corner of his mouth, pulling away vermillion stains with his fingers. "When you walked away, I followed after you."

"You looked like you were having fun."

"She wasn't you, though. They never are."

Shanks pulls you on the bed with him, his lone arm circling around you to tug you close. "I never feel the same way about them as I do you."

You can't help it. "And how do you feel about me?"

"A lot. Like I've waited my whole life for you. I feel a whole lot about you."

Your snort turns into a giggle as you bury your face in his neck. "That doesn't even make any sense."

"Neither does how I feel about you."

You yawn, the softness of his bed and the warmth of his body suddenly becoming too much for you. "Goodnight, Shanks."

He kisses the top of your head, "Goodnight, sweetheart."

And it is.

[loveemagicpeace]

🎸🏠🏝️Life Events 🧜🏼‍♀️🍓🌙

🎨You Identity🎨

Your rising sign shows how u respond to the world and how u see yourself. It shows how other people see you when they first get to know you. Having Gemini rising means that you can quickly create contacts and can quickly communicate with others. Having Scorpio rising means that you have very intense way of how you see others around you. U feel things very deeply. And you can be very secretive.

Planets in your 1st house they symbolize the influence on your personality. And they are also visible to others and sometimes others notice them more than you yourself. If you have Venus in your 1st house you might come across as charming. And your value can be very much in the spotlight. You can also embody a lot of feminine energy. With Mars in your 1st house you can come forward sharper, quick-tempered and brave. You can give off a lot of masculine energy.

If you have aspects with you ascendant those can strongly colour your identity and how you feel the world out there responds to you.

🌇Change🌇

Certain signs respond to change more favourably than others. In particular, the signs of Taurus, Cancer, and Scorpio are conscious of security in one form or another, and will tend to hold on rather than let things flow. If you have personal planets here, the devil you know might feel more reassuring than a change of scene. By contrast, Aries or Gemini welcomes periodic change.

The cardinal signs- Aries tends to deal best with change, having all the fiery impetus of being the first sign. Cancer, Libra, and Capricorn possess the cardinal capacity to get on with things, but the cardinal signs prefer to be in control. For a person with personal planets in cardinal signs, change tends to be welcome only if it has been self-initiated.

The fixed signs -Lots of fixity in a chart suggests a tendency to stay with what you know, come hell or high water. The instinct of the fixed signs is to stabilize - the winds of change might blow around, but the person remains anchored.

The mutable signs -These usually respond positively when change is in the air. If you have personal planets in these signs, you probably hate for things to be static and will spontaneously generate movement in order to reassure yourself that there is always an alternative - even if this is just to move the furniture around from time to time or choose a different place to go on holiday.

🎑9th house- believing in what you can't see🎑

Planets in the 9th house give clues as to how you might feel about encountering the unknown. Whenever we are faced with making future plans, setting off on a long journey, or having to hold a vision of something yet to unfold, our 9th house is conjured. So whatever planets you have here, and the sign on the cusp, will mediate this for you.

With Saturn for instance, trust in these things might not flow naturally. You can have a lot of problems with really believing in something. With Uranus, you might actively seek the thrill of the strange and the unfamiliar. With Sun you may find your happy place somewhere across the sea. You can get married in another country and a lot of joy comes into your life through travel. You are very open in life with things that brings you joy. With Mercury you may find very inspiring going for a short trips every now and then. You can study in another country and are very good with languages.

🫀Troubled times🫀

In the 8th house we can find clues here as to how we react when the pressure is on. More accurately perhaps, it describes a journey into dark places, whether this is the maestrom of a divorce, financial crisis, or experiences of grief and bereavement.

The 8th house is the dragon's lair and any planets here are forged in the heat of that encounter. Even with no planets here, you can look to the sign on the cup of this house, and the planetary ruler of that sign, to tell you how you approach life's more extreme experiences and some of the key resources you might call on when things fall apart.

If you have Mercury in the 8th house then it might be an advantage to have a guide in the underworld - a counsellor or therapist, friends with good listening skills or knowledge of the terntory, or even just keeping a diary or personal record as a way of sorting through and understanding emotional experiences. If you have Venus in 8th house you can be very cautious in love and at the same time you can experience a lot of transformation through other people.

Or with Capricorn on the cusp of the 8th, you no doubt have a stoic approach to hard times, with the ability to lay aside your own feelings if someone else really needs your help. The position of your 8th house ruler Saturn in your chart gives clues as to how you can flex this stoicism even further, helping you to stabilize and feel rooted and secure.

💘Emotions💕

The Moon is the barometer of your inner feelings and describes gut reaction and also what you need in order to feel nurtured and safe. Anxiety arises when the Moon is under pressure. If you have the Moon in Scorpio for example, your instinct might be to cope with trouble alone, shutting yourself off so that you can draw deeply from your own resources. Or with Moon in Libra, you can nurture yourself by trying to create harmony and balance, even if this is just for one precious hour each week in a yoga class. The more difficult life gets, the more we need to pay attention to the Moon's promptings, through its particular realms of food, rest, and self-care.

The Sun -keeping our eyes on the prize can be a good way of seeing ourselves through troubled times. There has been the idea that a human life unfolds, that we begin as a seed containing its own purpose, and that the trials and tribulations we encounter along the way are in fact an integral part of the journey. The Sun in particular in the central light in your chart, whatever you are in the process of becoming.

Venus square to Saturn suggests that the desire nature has somehow not been given room to grow, which in relationships might emerge as barriers to intimacy or believing that one is unlovable. Or Neptune opposite the Sun might reflect a sense of loss in connection to father and therefore a longing for the masculine power which the Sun represents. These kinds of deeper dynamics can become crystallized as entrenched beliefs we have about ourselves, about other people, or about life itself. Self-awareness helps to release us from these

Home

The 4th house describes both your home of origin and the one you have created (or will create) for yourself. It is both the bricks and mortar and the atmosphere and dynamic that binds the family unit. This is also the tap root down into your history: your genealogy and family tree. Whatever planets reside here, and planets conjunct to the IC (the cusp of the 4th) will form your foundations

The MC and 10th house lie opposite the 4th house and between them they denote the idea of parents - mother traditionally in the 10th and father traditionally in the 4th, but we might take the view that whichever parent provided 4th house things (security, lineage, surname) belongs in the 4th, and whichever parent provided 10th house things (socialization, authority, plans for the future) belongs in the 10th, which for most of us is likely to be both parents. Just as the 4th describes the kind of home we create for ourselves, so the 10th will describe what kind of parent you might become, taking control and responsibility.

Home

Taurus in 4th house- you like a stable, comfortable home and perhaps a life somewhere close to nature and somewhere that is peaceful and relaxing. You are usually used to a stable life and can live a more luxurious life. You have to feel the home to live in it. A home can contain lots of greenery, a garden, a balcony, and a home where you feel safe. You may also enjoy filling your space with art, flowers, and elegant decorative pieces.

Aries in 4th house- Your home may be very busy, you may move a lot and changing homes may be quite frequent. You are used to living a lively, chaotic life. Your home can be very fiery and full of life. Your home might reflect your active personality with bright colors, bold designs, or minimalistic yet functional decor. Your home can be a place for action, self-expression, and renewal— a space where you regroup and prepare for your next adventure

Pisces in 4th house-Your home may have a soft, calming, and almost magical atmosphere. You may feel drawn to incorporating water elements into your home, such as aquariums, fountains, or artwork featuring oceans, lakes, or rivers. Alternatively, you might enjoy secluded spots even within bustling cities.

Capricorn in 4th house-your home is more than just a physical space—it's a foundation for stability and achievement. You may strive to build a secure and structured home environment, emphasizing discipline and tradition. Your home may have a classic, understated style.

-Rebekah🧜🏼‍♀️💕🎨

[bettystonewell]

Must Love Dogs

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: The Colonel needs to take a leak. Rather than risk the stench of dog piss in their already rank motel room, Dean, begrudgingly, obliges. It’s lucky(?) he does.

Word Count: 900 words

Tags: language, terrible pick up lines, humour, bad puns, Dean picks up—————————————————————Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Dean rubbed the sleep further into his eyes. 

Where’d that damn dog go?

The least he could’ve done is thank him for letting him out of the room. Just because he took the potion and could communicate with him didn’t mean he needed to be woken up. Sammy was right there. And closest to the door. 

The Colonel hadn’t even given him the chance to put on pants, let alone his boots or socks, before he was scratching away their security deposit, and the hunter had no choice but to walk outside into the crisp morning air with bare feet after him. 

Luckily, he was wearing boxers.

Luckier still, he always wore them over briefs and this print left less to the imagination than his regular ones did. 

Dean shut room one-oh-two off from the world and stepped away from the safety of the pavement and onto the gravel flooring of the car park with a grimace. Those tiny ass pebbles hurt. 

He looked around to his right, then to his left, but the Colonel was nowhere in sight. 

Fuck. 

“Here boy!” He whistled. 

“Hey!” he hissed next. 

Yes, Dean was rocking the ‘just stumbled outta bed look,’ but that didn’t mean he wanted to draw anymore attention to himself. 

It was after five. 

The sun was up. 

He couldn’t tell you the last time he’d seen a sunrise that hadn’t involved him wrapping up a salt and burn first, and chances were, the louder he was, someone freakier than Sammy was bound to... 

“Is he yours?” A friendly voice called out.

Fuck. It had to be a chick.

His head turned in your direction to find you standing on the other side of the lot to him. Leaning, rather, because the Colonel’s doggy mitts pushed against your shoulders. 

Where’d you come from? Because it was nothing but bony bushes and an empty street behind them two seconds ago.

“She smells great,” the mutt said, between licks to your smiling cheeks. “You should try sniffin’ her butt.”

Dean’s eyes widened as you giggled, unaware of the perv molesting your face. 

While he couldn’t comment on your scent, you sure looked damn fine in the tight yoga pants that stressed your curves underneath them.  

Whatever was holding up the ladies was doing a marvellous job, too.

“Alright. Down, boy.” Dean scowled and trotted over to you on the balls of his feet. 

Ow. Shit. Fuck. Shit. Shit. Shit. Was it that wrong to punch a dog?

“Yeah, ah, he’s mine.” He grinned as he pulled up beside you with a touch of suave to his attempted swagger.

“No, I’m not,” came the expected retort.

Dean grabbed the Colonel’s scruff and yanked him off of you, thumping into the fur of the dog’s rump with a heavy hand. It was the next best thing to his fist. Better still, when the Colonel whined like a little bitch over it.

“That’s enough, buddy,” Dean said with a boyish chuckle. “Sorry ‘bout that.” 

“No, no. It’s fine.” You bent down to rub the mutt’s neck affectionately. “He’s adorable.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Was he game to ask you for your number and play the douche from one of them chick flicks? 

Hell yeah, he was. 

They would be in town for at least another two nights with the way this case was going, so if John Cusack could do it, he could do it too.

“You know who else is adorable?” He clicked his tongue and winked at you, forgetting all about his lack of ensemble just as you noticed it.

“Oh.” The sun picked up the amusement in your eyes as they travelled up his frame and landed in the general area of his junk. “You or Scooby?” 

You were neck a neck with that part of him height wise, and he looked down to see Ol’ Scoob staring back at you.

Now, there was nothing wrong with a grown man wearing boxer shorts bearing a cartoon dog. Especially ones of this calibre. They wouldn’t make them in his size if there was a problem, no matter what Sam or anyone else, including you, said, and Dean stood tall with pride. 

Think, man, think.

He could work with this, he could. You seemed open to his advances, and he went all out with a lick of his lips and a raise of both brows. “Not me. I’m awesome.” He held his hand out and helped you to your feet again. “But would ya do me for a Scooby Snack?”

That earned him a grin, your hand smoothing his shoulder, and what he swore was an eye roll from the Colonel. 

“You’re a bigger douchebag than I thought,” he said, but Dean’s focus remained on you.

“How about the snack first? Meet me at Rocky’s Bar tonight at eight.”

Oh, hell yes.

“Maybe you should wear something besides this so I can solve the mystery myself, though.” And with that, you walked away, leaving Dean stunned. Your hips, swaying from side to side, had to be on purpose. 

“I owe you one, buddy,” Dean muttered, patting the Great Dane covering his crotch and not the real life canine next to him.

“What about me?” The Colonel’s bark had you twisting around one last time to wave. “That mutt might’ve saved your ass, but I got you out here in the first place.” ”You’re lucky I love dogs,” Dean hissed through his goofy grin.

”And you’re lucky she does.”

Read on AO3 || Masterlist———————————————————Thank you so much for reading! I dunno about anyone else, but even if someone with a face like Dean/Jensen used that on me, I don’t think I’d be all that friendly.

Coming soon - Snickerdoodles & Special Sauce - 31/02

(Multiple POV - SMUT - 3 Parts - 18+)

‘Twas the night of fake Christmas and all through the halls, creatures were stirring, eventually on all fours… or …Mrs Butters isn’t just messing with Dean’s underwear drawer. She’s messing with your love lives, too. Dubious Consent by Eggnog.—————————————————————

DEAN TAGLIST: @globetrotter28 @ambiguous-avery @arcannaa @jollyhunter @zepskies

If you'd like to be added to the list, Imk.

[purplehairedwonder]

For the ask summary thing, how about a fic where, for whatever reason, Law and Doflamingo suddenly switch bodies, so now they have to try and find a way to switch back while probably wanting to screw up the other's life as much as possible while they have the chance.

This was so fun, anon, thanks for the idea!

Law groaned as consciousness returned, and he blinked his eyes open to find himself staring up at the ceiling. His head throbbed, and there was a ringing in his ears. Oddly, his vision was red-tinted, and one of his eyes seemed to have impaired vision. Suddenly concerned about an injury from being thrown across the conference room, he lifted a hand to his face. Wait, were those glasses? He pulled them from his face and looked at them, feeling like they looked familiar. And then he caught sight of his hands. They were bare of his familiar tattoos and huge. 

Something was very wrong.

“Fucking hell.”

Law’s head snapped up at the sound of a familiar voice on the other side of the conference table. A moment later, a figure rose shakily to its feet, and Law’s eyes widened. He was looking at himself across the room, from the jeans and hoodie he’d been wearing to the visible tattoos on his hands and fingers. His hat must have come off in the explosion, leaving his unkempt hair visible. He had one hand on his forehead while the other used the conference table for balance.

“What the fuck?” Law said in a voice he knew all too well. He stiffened while the other him snapped his head up, golden eyes going wide. They stared at each other a long moment in shock.

Finally, the other him spoke. “Put my glasses back on.”

Law’s eye twitched. “Don’t tell me what to do,” he said reflexively before registering what he’d heard. He pulled his gaze from the other him across the room and looked down at himself. His figure, even sitting on the floor, was still enormous, and he wore a familiar white top, gaudy cropped pants, and a pink feathered coat that haunted his nightmares. He looked back up at the man across the room as reality began to sink in. “Doflamingo.”

“At your service, little Law. Though,” he added, eyeing Law as he awkwardly pushed himself to his feet in his significantly larger frame, “not so little at the moment.” His eye twitched. “Now, would you put my glasses back on?”

Rather than acquiesce, Law frowned. “How did this happen?” The last thing he remembered was being in a Warlord meeting, doing his best to avoid the smirks Doflamingo had been sending his way. Everything after that was a black box.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know,” Doflamingo said. “This was the Ope Ope fruit’s doing, wasn’t it?”

“Like hell I would ever do this,” Law snapped in return. He looked down at his hands; these were the hands that had killed Cora-san. The very thought made his stomach turn. “You disgust me.”

Doflamingo’s lips pulled back in a smirk, the expression giving Law sudden insight into his friends’ worried looks when he got one of his so-called “gremlin looks,” as Shachi had dubbed them. “Not on purpose, maybe. But you had your fruit activated when the explosion hit. Perhaps the shockwave caused you to do it on accident.”

“Explosion?”

Doflamingo frowned. “You don’t remember?”

“I… No.” He lifted a hand to open a Room and perform a Scan on himself before remembering he couldn’t do that in this body. Instead, he reached up and felt around his head, wincing when he hit a particularly tender spot at the back. While the ringing in his ears had faded, his head was still throbbing; between the symptoms and the physical pain, a concussion seemed likely. “But if I did this, then only the Ope Ope fruit can reverse it.” He winced. “That means you’ll have to do it.”

“Oh? Why the rush, Law?” Doflamingo grinned. “I am very interested in learning more about the devil fruit I had stolen from me twelve years ago.” Law went cold as he remembered Doflamingo’s words from all those years ago: Well, if he’s already eaten the Ope Ope fruit, I’ll need to raise him so he knows to die for my sake.

“Don’t bother,” Law said, aiming for dismissive. “I’ll walk you through the Personality Transplant Surgery and that’s it.”

Doflamingo didn’t seem put off. “We’ll see,” he said before bending over to pick up Law’s hat and put it on his head. “I can’t believe you still have this old thing.”

“Fuck off,” Law muttered as he put Doflamingo’s glasses back on, giving the world a rosy tint once more. There was a metaphor somewhere in there, but Law was in no mood to find it.

“Fufufu, temper,” Doflamingo chuckled as he reached down once more for Kikoku. His hand touched the sheath, but he cursed and pulled his hand back as though burned. “What the hell?”

Law blinked in surprise before laughing. “She knows you’re not me,” he said, delighted. “She’s quite picky about who can hold her.” He made his way around the table, though his gait was awkward in his larger body, and he banged into the conference table on the way by. He let out a pained huff, suddenly feeling more sympathetic toward Cora-san’s clumsiness.

He reached down toward Kikoku, half-expecting a rejection considering his body, but the blade simply hummed as Law wrapped a huge hand around her sheath. He picked the blade up, startled to realize the nodachi was closer to the side of a typical sword with Doflamingo’s frame. It was… strange.

Before Doflamingo could respond, the door to the conference room opened to reveal a haggard Sengoku. “Trafalgar, Doflamingo. There you are. We’ve been looking for you. You’re needed.”

“Needed?” Doflamingo said, raising an eyebrow.

“We’re under attack,” Sengoku said.

“The explosion,” Law surmised.

Sengoku gave a jerky nod. “We need all hands on deck.”

Law opened his mouth to find an excuse not to fight—he couldn’t even walk around a table without banging into things—but Doflamingo shot Law a smirk before turning back to Sengoku and nodding. “Lead the way, Fleet Admiral.”

Sengoku frowned and the easy acquiescence but shrugged, clearly too distracted to give it much thought. “This way,” he said, turning from the room.

“What the hell are you doing?” Law demanded under his breath. “We need to undo this switch, not get into a battle.”

“Lighten up, Law,” Doflamingo said over his shoulder. “It’ll be a learning experience.”

“It’ll be something, all right,” Law ground out as he followed his own body down the hall and toward an inevitable disaster.

Send me an anymous (or not) summary of the fic you wish I would write. (maybe I will write a tidbit)

[renzireads]

One drink and straight to bed, he vowed to himself.

“A water?” The barman scoffed. “The poor man’s choice, I see.”

Wally chuckled. “The choice of a man who just got here from a trip longer than you can imagine. D’ya got any rooms free up in this place or?”

The barman’s face softened, and he laughed as he went to grab a glass of water. Returning, he leaned in as he handed Wally his drinks. “We do, but tell me, have you ever been here before?”

A blush rose up his cheeks as Wally shook his head. “To be perfectly honest, I’m not even sure where ‘here’ is,” he laughed awkwardly. He suddenly felt very looked at.

“Curious.” The man pulled back, then nodded to himself. “Gotham usually doesn’t show herself to people who haven’t been here before, well, unless she has plans for you. Or so they say.”

“Gotham?” Wally blurted out, eyes widened in shock. “I can’t believe I’m actually here.” He laughed, not because he was happy, but he couldn’t help himself from laughing at his own stupidity. Of course, with all the weirdness going on around here, how didn’t he realize this sooner?

He did it. He found the no-man’s-land that was particularly starting to look like an any-man’s-land to him. The place he had been looking for all along.

“You know, there’s some rumors about-” The bartender started, then stopped dead in his sentence and looked up behind Wally. Right then, Wally felt two, strong hands clasp onto his shoulders.

“You’re in my seat.” A deep, bouldering voice said, the two goons behind him snickering loudly.

Wally looked around him and noticed the two chairs besides him had indeed come up empty. Still, he shrugged and tipped his drink back. “And I was having a really good conversation.” He shot back, not getting off the chair. “Please, do continue.”

He heard a couple “Ooh”’s and “Shit”’s and snickers behind him as the saloon fell silent. All eyes fell on him, or well, them, as Wally shrugged the hands off his shoulders and leaned forward.

“Funny, kid.” The man all but growled. The bottle in his hand -some dirt cheap brand of beer, Wally guessed- came into his view as Wally skillfully -although accidentally- dodged the bottle when he turned the bar chair around. The glass made a painful shattering noise as it came into contact with the edge of the bar, sending shards everywhere.

His attacker staggered back, the intoxication visible in how he tripped rather gracefully against one of his back-up buddies. Immediately, everyone at the bar shot up from their seats and started screaming. Some people saw this as the perfect time to throw some punches around, and Wally winced as he heard the rough sound of a cracking bone right next to him.

It all happened in the blink of an eye, the way this bar fight came to be, but now everyone was in on it. Everyone, except for Wally. Shit, had he really just started this? He frantically looked around, hoping to spot a way out of this mess he had so swiftly created. Hells, he hadn’t even been here for over ten minutes and he already-

A hand slipped around his wrist, and the strong grip pulled him out of his thoughts as fast as he was pulled out of the saloon. When the cold night’s air pushed his hair out of his eyes, his mind cleared. Loud screams and thuds against the walls and floors, although a bit more muted now, made him look at one of the windows.

What just happened?

“You’re really quite something, y’know?” An amused, cocky voice startled him fully away from whatever was happening inside the saloon now, and he traced his eyes to the figure in front of him.

[snowflake194]

I don’t usually post fic snippets here (and not on ao3), but this has been sitting in my drafts ever since the mid season finale and originally was meant to be part of something bigger but I never got around to actually building a plot around it so here you have it.

~~~~~~

“I’ll call you when I land,” Eddie says, takes one last look at Buck and turns towards the glass doors.

And just like that, Buck is left standing outside the terminal.

Not for the first time, mind you. Although he supposes, this time is nothing like the first. That first time, he was naïve enough to believe Abby was coming back for him. That she’d take the vacation she needed, see Europe like she’d always wanted, and then return—to him.

He waited, after all, didn’t he? For months.

But no. This time he isn’t naïve enough to think Eddie is coming back for him. Because this isn’t about Buck, is it? It’s about Christopher. It’s about Eddie’s son and the milestones Eddie can’t afford to miss anymore.

And Buck gets that. He really does.

He supposes this whole thing would’ve been a hell of a lot easier if it weren’t for the unprompted realization that he is, in fact, in love with the guy.

To be fair, nothing about these past few weeks was prompted.

From Eddie’s decision to move back to Texas to Buck only finding out about it that day—when he’d barged into his house uninvited.

Whatever, it’s Eddie’s house—it’s not like he’s ever been a guest there.

But no, there was no discussion. No warning. Just Eddie making up his mind and Buck having to go with the flow, like always. Having to support Eddie’s decision because, of course, he understands.

Doesn’t mean he wouldn’t have packed up and moved to El Paso with him if Eddie had asked.

It’s not like Buck could’ve been the one to suggest that, now could he.

Hey, Eddie, I’m in love with you and would rather move half way across the country to be with you and Christopher whom I love as my own, than stay in this city with the job I love and all my friends so if you could just see that and not leave me here with nothing more than a stupid promise to call when you land, that’s be great.

Yeah. No. He’s not doing that.

It’s not until he’s back in his Jeep, pulling out his phone to connect to the media console, that he realizes just how long he’d been standing there, staring at those glass doors.

Maddie had texted.

18:48

Hey, are you on your way?

18:57

You still at the airport? Is everything okay?

19:15 1 missed call

19:20

We are saving you a plate but it’s Jee’s bedtime soon

19:30 2 missed calls

19:36

Call me, Evan.

Fuck.

He’d promised Maddie he’d come for dinner.

Buck glances at the time—7:45 PM—tosses his phone onto the passenger seat with a sigh and rubs a hand over his face, fingers dragging through his hair. There’s no point in going now, not with traffic. Not with how he feels, all hollowed-out and useless.

Whatever.

He’s not really hungry anyway.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Can I request the maximum of 🌲 and ⚖️?

Yes!

1k for 🌲:

---

As Buck gets back on the road, headed south to El Paso, he wonders if he’s made a mistake. Not in going after Eddie. Not even in leaving Chris. But in his timing. Is his timing wrong? 

He hadn’t wanted to wait. He’d wanted to get to Eddie as soon as possible. Who knows what the hell that woman is putting him through, right? Who knows if his father is hurt or dead or… Or what! But at the same time, what’s the plan here? What edge up does he have, going back? Should he have waited for business hours? Gone and purchased a gun or something? No. What? No. He’s being crazy. He doesn’t want a gun. He doesn’t even know how to shoot. Guns don’t make anything better. Not really. He’s just scared. He doesn't want anything to happen to Eddie.

He parks outside of a Cabela’s when he reaches El Paso. It’s not even six in the morning. The store doesn’t open until nine. He’s not sure what he’s doing here. Is he going to wait three hours? Buy a weapon? No. Right? He’s not… No. That’s not him. That’s never been him. But who is he willing to be, to protect Eddie? Pretty much anyone, he thinks. For Eddie? Anyone. Anything. 

“Fuck,” he whispers to himself, unsure of the next best step. He doesn’t know what’s right. He doesn’t know what’s crazy. He doesn’t even have a plan. 

The feeling of his phone vibrating in his pocket startles Buck. He doesn’t expect it. Not at this hour. He reaches into his pocket, hands a little shaky, and pulls it out. It’s a text. From Eddie. 

Idk if you’re awake or even nearby… But if you are, I need you to come pick me up.

Buck just stares at the text. He’s kind of baffled. Just… Just go pick him up? That easy? No gun needed?

Uncertain, he replies: 

How do I know this is really Eddie?

The response is immediate.

Buck… Really?

You’re the first to cry on emotional calls.

You watch way too much reality television.

You have a freckle on your left ass cheek. 

Need I go on?

Wait. He does? Well, okay. That’s Eddie. 

He replies:

I’m coming for you. 

🌲

There’s a long discussion. One that doesn’t include their mother. One that hardly includes their father. 

It’s a discussion about how to move forward. About how to take all this shit, and move forward anyway. 

Ramon will go with Sophia for a while. Stay in San Antonio. He needs time. Eddie can respect that. He’s been through a lot. Eddie’s not sure how much of the blame his father bears in everything that has happened. He’s not blameless. But whatever he did, no one deserves to have their agency stripped away. 

“Marcus is okay with that?” Eddie asks Sophia when she makes the call.

“He’ll have to be,” she says. “Plus, he can’t stay in this house. Not until it’s… A house again.”

Rather than a forest. Right. 

“I’ll work on that,” Adriana says.

It’s her Eddie is most concerned about, actually. Because it’s her who has volunteered for the unhappy task of staying behind. With their mother. Eddie didn’t like it. He didn’t agree with it. Surely she doesn’t deserve that; a child sticking by her after all of this. Especially Adriana, who she left out to rot in the woods, when she was the only person who could have known what had happened to her. 

“You can’t think of it that way,” Adriana argues. “It’s not about giving her what she wants. It’s about… Well, someone needs to keep an eye on her, first of all. You two have kids. Eddie, you… You never need to be around her again. I mean that. And I… I have a lot of time on my hands, while I figure out how to heal from this.”

She plans to fix the house. To make Helena help her fix the house. And maybe, if she can do it without making herself worse, take their mother back to Sweden.

“Maybe it’ll help her,” Adriana says. “Or maybe I’ll leave her there. Haven’t decided yet.”

“You know you don’t have to do this alone,” Eddie says. He’s told her and Sophia what he and Buck figured out. Their theory. The one he plans on rolling with, as best he can.

“We love you,” Sophia adds. “You’re our sister and we are always going to fight for you.”

“I know,” Adriana smiles. “I love you guys. But I need to do this. I have a lot to atone for.”

“It’s not your fault,” Eddie argues.

She shrugs. “That’s a flimsy line. And I need to feel less like a monster.”

Eddie supposes he understands that. 

“But you won’t be a stranger?” He ensures. “You’ll check in?”

She nods. “I promise.”

“Good,” Sophia says. “We will look through any forest to find you, Adri.”

“I know you will,” she smiles. She looks at Eddie. “Thank you for finding me.”

Eddie nods. “Always.”

For his own part, Eddie feels sort of like he’s getting away with something. Like the only one in the group project not doing any work. He is simply going to go home to his son and… Well, and his boyfriend. He guesses. That’s probably the right word for them. Anyway. Point is, he’s going back to his life. He’s going to try to get as much of it back as he can. He’s not taking on the care of any parent. He doesn’t actually have the energy for that. He doesn’t want to be involved in whatever happens to their mother, and he’s not too clear on if he’ll ever have a relationship with his father again. Maybe. He doesn’t know.

---

1k for ⚖️:

---

 Buck is hardly functional when the knock hits the door. He’s crashed out hard after delivering that punishment. Half because of the relief of the tension inside him, half because of the horror of viewing that man’s life. It makes it sort of hard to stay awake and think. Not to mention days and days of hardly sleeping at all have taken their toll on him. 

The point is, when he opens the door to Eddie, he feels like a zombie. He’s sure he looks like a zombie, too. 

Buck frowns when he sees Eddie standing there, two coffees in hand. 

“You don’t have to knock,” he says by way of greeting.

Eddie's mouth tightens a little. “I wasn’t sure.”

Buck sighs. “I told you it’s not… Can you just come inside?”

Eddie hands the coffee to him and steps through the door. 

“Thanks,” Buck mumbles. 

“I don’t know how much space you need,” Eddie says. “So tell me to leave, I guess. But I’m worried about you, okay? I just wanted to make sure you’re okay and you didn’t answer my texts.”

“Sorry,” Buck says. “I was sleeping pretty deeply… After not sleeping for a while.”

“Oh,” Eddie nods. “Uh, sorry for waking you up.”

Buck shrugs. “S’fine.”

Eddie exhales heavily. “Buck, are we okay? I don’t… I don’t want us to not be okay.”

Buck does his best to smile. It probably doesn’t look very convincing. 

“We’re totally fine, Eddie.”

Eddie frowns. “What? You were… You were pretty mad at me yesterday.”

“I’m sorry,” Buck says. “I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have.”

“Okay,” Eddie says. His brows furrow, like he’s still not satisfied. “I appreciate that. But I’m also kind of thinking that there’s, like, a bigger issue than just some heightened emotions yesterday.”

Yeah. Yeah, Buck can see how he’d think that. 

“There was,” Buck agrees. “But I fixed it. It-it won’t be a problem anymore. So we can forget about it.”

“What does that mean, Buck?” Eddie asks. “What did you do?”

“Does it matter? It’s… It’s fixed.”

“Fixed?” Eddie asks. His expression turns from concerned to angry. “The problem where I don’t want you to look into my future is just fixed? You aren’t worried anymore? So, yeah. It matters. What did you do? I mean, when did you even… We didn’t even touch after that!”

Okay, right. He can see how that looks. 

“No, no, no,” Buck shakes his head. “I didn’t look. I didn’t do anything.”

“Then how the hell is it fixed?” Eddie asks. 

“I made a deal,” Buck says. “I made a deal with Nemesis.”

Eddie’s face slackens. “What?”

Buck explains it. The whole thing. The deal, the terms, all of it. What he had to do in the middle of the night. The way he feels now. Eddie listens, face frozen with terror. He should be happy. Why isn’t he happy? Buck fixed everything. All their futures. Everyone is going to be okay. 

“Oh god, Buck,” Eddie says. “That’s not a good trade.”

“What?” Buck demands. “What do you mean? It’s a great deal, Eddie. Everyone I love is going to get the best future they can.”

“At what cost? You torturing yourself?” Eddie asks. “This is too much.”

“No,” Buck says. “No. I was already stuck with this either way.”

“But this is worse,” Eddie protests. “You could have gotten by on helping people. You liked that part.”

“I… I still can,” Buck reasons. “It just doesn’t… It won’t be enough.”

Eddie sighs. He pinches the bridge of his knows. The way he does when something - or someone - is exasperating him. Buck tenses. It feels oddly condescending. 

“Stop,” Buck pleads. “Eddie, stop. Just be happy. Please. You’re going to be happy.”

“Have you possibility considered I don’t want to buy my happiness at your expense?” Eddie asks loudly. Almost a shout. 

Buck swallows. He doesn’t understand why this is so bad. He doesn’t get it.

“Well, I’m the one that made the deal,” Buck says. “It was my choice.”

Eddie purses his lips. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Buck. I’m not going to pretend I’m not freaked out for you.”

“Okay, well I’m good. I’ll adjust,” Buck says. 

He’s actually not sure that that’s true. He thinks he might be lying. Because really… He’s scared. He’s terrified. He feels awful. He wishes Eddie would just get over this so Buck could just… He doesn’t even know. Ask him to stay here and hold him for a little while? Would that make it better? Maybe not for long, but for now…

Eddie sighs. He crosses his arms tightly, like he’s cold. “Okay, well… Alright.”

“Alright, what?” Buck asks. 

“Alright, I… I guess I don’t know what to say.”

“About what?” Buck asks. “It’s done, Eddie.”

“Oh, I can see that,” Eddie replies. 

“What do you want me to do?” Buck asks. “I’m not going to take it back. So either… Either you…”

“Either I what?” Eddie demands.

“Either you-you have to be okay with it, or… Or you leave me, I guess!” Buck flounders.

Eddie’s whole face falls. “Are you serious?”

No. No, Buck is not serious. He doesn’t want Eddie to leave. He doesn’t want any sort of ultimatum to be issued. Not really. But, what else is he supposed to say? What more does Eddie want him to do? What's done is done.

So Buck just shrugs helplessly. He feels helpless. He feels exhausted. 

“Wow,” Eddie says. “So much for your best possible futures for everyone, then.”

“Wait, no, that’s not-”

“You know, I think I’m gonna go,” Eddie says. 

“Eddie, come on. No, I-”

But Eddie is already walking towards the door.  “You know, when I was struggling, you were allowed to worry about me without me giving you some sort of ultimatum,” Eddie says. “I think you’re in trouble, Buck. And if you can take your head out of your ass to actually listen to me, I’ll be around.”

[trials-of-trust]

(Felicity: ending Ares’s thread so we can get the threads wrapped up and move onto the next day.)

Ollumi’s Chat: Nix: erm how about no :> Nix: apsijwmaoiwowoouqiwpqodjdjjejaksjwnxnidjwndhakduanzmx :3 Mirage: NIX PLEASE <5-ish minutes of nothing later> Mirage: ok we dealt with the Nix problem. She’s now screeching at Artemis.

Colin’s Chat: Zariel: Yeah. My goal is for my team to last longer than 2 days this time. Artemis: I mean, everyone who was in RR learned a lot from it. Namely, the importance of team Hattori: Artemis? Artemis: alinqemeqoiadndnamdksifyrgbgbwjeggrisisrgokjsgrndn :3 Artemis: heh I stole her information thingy Imugi: who the hell is doing this? Artemis: im sorry N Artemis: Nix stole my Artemis: hey uh can you- oh you cant :< Artemis: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH :< Artemis: sorry Artemis: that’s Nix for y’all Artemis: she’s too excited

Conrad’s Chat: Munin: ooh. oh. wait. uhm. oh well. Munin: technically I’m a raven, but everyone keeps calling me a crow. I’ve tried correcting them, but they don’t change, so at this point I just learned to not care, it’s not that big of a distinction anyway. Diana: okay Conrad, just remember that we’re highly unlikely to run into xalqikenxes or whatever they are here, if you see something resembling one, it’s probably Jiro trying to scare you. He’s not much of a fighter and relies on intimidation and tricks, don’t panic, back up against a wall, and fight back, the shadow clones are rather easy to destroy.

let's start :33

I'll be replying from @mystic-rp-events again :3

(Felicity: aighty :} you know the drill)

The Valkyries approach the chosen team captains around midafternoon one day. “Are you ready for your journey to the Grand Tournament?” They float down from open sky if there is such access, otherwise they appear out of a blue portal. They all behave in a rather similar way, as if they all had the same personality programmed into them.

[the-golden-ghost]

I finished Rebecca and what

[intotheelliwoods]

Here to announce that I for one love the future design for donnie in the comic ✋🥺

[iamfuckingsorry]

"Do you know where we are going next?" I asked ART.

Y'know what, I think maybe I don't need any more Murderbot books. I think maybe ending things here is fucking perfect and as much as I love Wells's writing I'm genuinely not sure it can get better for me.

Like, so much of the books are about MB learning how to be a person, about becoming okay with being a complete individual with everything it entails. The first thing it does once it's actually allowed to decide on its own is it runs away from it all (admittedly to go on a mission to confirm some things about its past, because it genuinely just wants to be *good*). It shoves all its emotions away as much as it's able to. Then shit happens, and it makes its first friends, makes decisions based on these friendships, goes through a lot of emotionally intense situations...

And we get to this point here. MB having zero doubts about going with ART says a lot about its relationship with ART, but it also says a lot about its relationship with its humans - it knows that wherever it goes, when it comes back, the humans will still be there. Its humans actively acknowledge its struggles with being a now-free SecUnit and MB is willing to entertain the discussions to an extent and share information about its deeply personal experiences. Hell, System Collapse ends with MB admitting it might be somewhat broken, but that's okay as long as it can keep doing its job, and agreeing to basically do counselling - this is the guy what would rewatch its favourite TV show again and again in order to avoid acknowledging it even had Emotions a couple books back.

Reading this, I know that MB will be okay. It has hopes and goals and genuinely believes in itself and it has an amazing support system that its willing to lean on for the first time in its life. I'm convinced it'll go on to do great things with ART. And that's really the only thing I need to know.

[overx]

"Mythos armor?" The purple reploid physically looks between his companions, evidently thoughtful. No doubt the new sleek set this Zero sported, got it. "Well, I can tell you for sure we don't have that yet," hadn't even concepted whatever it was. "...so... we're out of luck on that topic."

"Yeah, that's right," confirmed with an easy nod. "Zero-- the one I know-- is my commanding officer. We're S-ranks, and everyone our unit was actually... hand selected by him." Mainly because he runs the Maverick Hunters, a detail Vi has decided to hold onto for now.

Oh. "X? Well uh..." the answer is more complicated than yes or no. "He works closely with us, hell we're friends even. Just, he's not... officially an S rank?" He's aware that won't make much sense, sighing. "He's newer to the hunters and he's also--"

"A pacifist," Crimson volunteers, a contemplative frown on his face. That's one of those things everyone always tells him, not spontaneous recollection. X, so noble for raising arms to be a protector, even against his own beliefs.

Forced to be something, rather than have his own identity. The inevitable fate of every reploid here-- Maverick Hunter or not.

"...maybe it's better that way."

My fashion? It's a strange thought, enough to shake off his embarrassment, and it suddenly occurs to the Copy that there wasn't really any point of comparison they could look to for reference for both sides of the isle, save for his and Crim's armor versus Vile's.

Armor truly being that bulky did align with the few files they'd managed to uncover before. Older reploid design wasn't built to be compared to humans, but they likely also had the materials to spare. He thinks back to the tower behind him, doing his best to hide a grimace. It was best to have Crim come here, then to be closer there.

Although... he can't really see his companion with anything other than the silver hair he'd always had. "...Maybe it's the Mythos. Az-- my mentor," hastily added, for an unwillingness to name drop that person to either party with him yet, "implied that it could affect the physical frame to a degree." Except for Seraph, who only ever seemed to have it strain his core.

He's not really sure where to start though. Despite working to get them both in the same place, was it really his place to ask? Not that he didn't want to know-- just knowing anything about Crimson was...

"...Okay, right, so... the Wars haven't happened yet." Which was about all he knew as far as written history and oral history were concerned. Before that, things kinda had fallen to the wayside, even in what little had managed to survive the archives-- but then again he and Crim hadn't finished going through that trove.

Plus, hard to think of what Crimson would want to know... "Uh... You... said that he was-- is-- your commanding officer. Are you on a unit?" Were there others?

...No. Wait, there was one more. It felt like playing with fire, asking that. "Is... X on your unit...?"