#shipped him with basically everything that moved

[soufcakmistress]

Distance

Pairing: Elijah "Smoke" Moore x Annie Moore

A/N: It's been a long ass time. Of course these beautiful Black people brought me out of retirement. Let's fucking gooooo

The sun shined bright in Clarksdale as Annie waited in line for the 8:30 train to Chicago. Her protections for her home had been set in her absence, as well as on her person with a powerful mojo bag she fed the night before. The Illinois Central Railroad had a straight route to the Windy City from Mississippi. Colored folk filled the train depot almost to capacity in their finest threads, packed to the gills with their prized possessions & family heirlooms, combined with enough food to last them the trip.

It had been four years since Smoke and Stack left everything they knew behind. Including her, and their child’s memory. Pain is not sufficient for what Annie felt. She really had no idea what she was doing there at the train station. Or what she’d hope to find when she arrived to Chicago. Or what she would do when she got there. Something had to be done. Energy had to be moved. She had to see Smoke for herself.

A handsome porter helped her with her bags and helped her to get settled in the colored section of the train. She couldn’t help but be mesmerized at all the different kinds of folks that were traveling for greener pastures. The Klan terrorized northern Mississippi in hopes of keeping Black people docile. The Black communities banded together for protection, and yet could not be moved by fear or intimidation. There were grandmothers with their adult children, young families with infants and toddlers running about the cabin full of energy, single people who didn’t have much more than the clothes in their backs. All looking to a new life away from Jim Crow.

Clarksdale to Memphis. Memphis to East St. Louis. East St. Louis to Springfield. Springfield to Chicago. She made sure to get some dirt from every stop of the route — sweeping her floors with railroad dirt from various places ensured constant flow of energy and resources to find her. She stepped off the train at the last stop and she couldn’t believe her eyes.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Annie tried to not look so much a slack jawed yokel but she had never been no further than Louisiana in her life. The skyscrapers towered over the sprawling city, the winding streets that were two lanes wide were bumper to bumper with fancy cars, and there was just so many people! How could Elijah find comfort in a place like this and not with her?

She needed him. She needed him in her bones. In her blood. They were each other’s safe haven. As children, they would meet each other at the crossroads of Route 16 and Candler Road for a respite from their hectic home lives. Smoke’s father was a drunk and abused him and the rest of the family incessantly. Annie’s mother was always away — working roots for folks, doing house cleanings and driving out haints, performing exorcisms. They were both 15 the first time they kissed and 17 the first time they were intimate. They were so young then, and blissfully ignorant at how life can be.

As they aged, they were still inseparable. Both didn’t have much formal schooling. Annie grew into her power — learning herbs and recipes and how to protect, provide and punish if need be. Elijah eventually grew tired of working in the fields. Him and his brother Elias, who was the epitome of hell on wheels, made a living robbing trains. Those boys began to make a name for themselves — especially when their abusive father mysteriously ended up dead. Stabbed in the chest with an ice pick. Annie knew the truth of the matter. Smoke and Stack were growing into young men — they couldn’t tolerate the abuse any longer.

Shortly thereafter, America got involved in the Great War. The draft came to Mississippi and Annie’s worst nightmare came to fruition. Smoke and Stack were conscripted and were set to ship out to Camp Jackson for basic training.

“Put this on your neck.”

Smoke rolled his eyes and begrudgingly took the brown mojo bag. He tied it around his neck and let it fall to his chest. “You know I don’t believe in all that mess.”

“And you don’t need to. This “mess” has been around longer than we could imagine and will be around long after we return to this earth. Just keep it on. For me.”

~

The boarding house Annie lodged in was Black owned in a neighborhood called Bronzeville. All kinds of fancy colored folks lived there in their pressed suits and pristine dresses hustling to their next destination, with little time to converse. She asked a few people about Smoke and Stack andwhere they hung out at. “Elijah and Elias? About six feet, pretty teeth, dimples. They hard to miss.” But no one could point her in the right direction.

Her trip was only supposed to be for a week. Yet four days had passed and not a peep from either one of the twins. Riding the bus along Cottage Grove, she couldn’t help but to overhear two young chaps’ conversation. “Billy done fucked up for the last time. He was slow with Luzzato’s money and Smoke and Stack left him for dead on the pier. I ain’t fuckin with them twins.”

Annie knew that the twins were okay with violence and confrontation— this was not new information to her. But working for the Italians? How did they get wrangled with them? And how did they manage to stay out of jail?

Apparently Paul Luzzato was one of Al Capone’s lieutenants who was a bit more open minded when it came to race than the rest of Capone’s family. The teens made mention of a club right in the neighborhood of the boardinghouse where she was staying. This was the opportunity Annie needed to get a step closer to closure.

The Lighthouse was a cool joint for colored folks on the southside playing nothing but Chicago and Mississippi blues. Lowlit with the fog of cigarette smoke hovering at the ceiling, Annie moved gracefully to the bar scoping out the scene. Beautiful Black men and women in their finest zoot suits and bias cut gowns drinking and carrying on — she felt a bit country and backwoods around all these fancy folks. Annie wondered if these colored folks all traveled from down south as well in hopes of seeking a promised land.

The house band played a good ol southern tune that made Annie rock and sway in her seat. A young stocky man tending bar wiped off a glass, looking in her direction. “Would you like a drink ma’am?”

“I reckon so. What’s a girl gotta do to get some moonshine around here?”

The barkeep fixed her up a glass of moonshine neat. That familiar burn went down so nicely.

~

“Nigga, if you don’t count this money so I can go. Couple bitches in there dying to get broke off by daddy Stack.” Smoke and Stack sat in a dimly lit storage room counting up their money from their protection runs for the day. Capone had sway over the whole city — any business that wasn’t a patron of the mob had to pay up for their own sakes.

“Pussy hound. Can we finish this business please?” Smoke sucked his teeth at his twin’s one track mind. To be fair, they had a long day and he wouldn’t mind a nice nightcap as he hears that guitar wail and moan.

Every dollar and cent is accounted for. Stashed safely in their massive safe built into the wall, they put their suit jackets back on and spread out into the fray. Stack went immediately to coat check to seek out this young filly who had no idea how mischievous he was. Smoke however, sat alone at his usual seat on the second floor overlooking the band. He nursed his whiskey and scoped out the room. The club was full to capacity, there were no fights at the moment, alcohol flowed — he would have a good report for Luzzato.

Smoke peered toward the bar and saw Rallo, the barkeep chatting up with a dark skinned woman who filled out her dress like no one he had ever seen before. Not in a long time anyway. Imagine his surprise when he stood up gazing over the balcony to get a good look….

“It can’t— it can’t be. She said she would never leave Mississippi.” Annie had had a lot more to drink by the time Smoke recognized her and her lips and limbs were a lot looser. Smoke watched Rallo fill her glass up to the top and sat watching her gulp it down like a sucker for love. He would serve other folks and park his ass right back in front of Annie, charming her with everything he had.

“Oh fuck this.”

Smoke skipped every two steps to race towards the bar. Pulling out a cigarette Stack rolled for him, he stood behind Annie staring directly into the back of her head. Her hand rested on Rallo’s forearm, waxing poetically about the south and how beautiful Chicago was.

“Annie.”

Her heart dropped into her ass. Annie’s pulse skyrocketed head ring his southern rasp that hadn’t changed in four years. She forced herself to play it off however— he didn’t get to leave her and their home and their baby and demand immediate attention.

Annie turned to gaze him in the eye and smiled. Rallo however stood up straight as a board, having prior knowledge of Smoke’s reputation especially on the southside. He has never been on his bad side before and didn’t want to start today. Smoke was burning with rage seeing his estranged wife giggle and flirt with a measly bartender.

“I’m busy.”

She cut her eyes and returned to her moonshine on the bar. “Rallo, get the fuck outta here.”

“Sure thing, Smoke.” Rallo left Annie alone and assisted other patrons where it was safe. She huffed at his audacity and threw the rest of the liquor back.

“Still jealous, huh? You never did like my attention to be split.” She hasn’t looked him in the eye yet, staring at the mirror that spanned the backlit bar in front of her. He was still devastatingly handsome..

“What you sayin to him, huh? Had a good time socializin? Why are you here?”

“So Smoke the only one ‘llowed to leave the country? I’m looking towards a future, not the past where everything hurts too bad. Sound familiar?” Annie hissed at Smoke for daring to regulate her. He left HER. He needed to hurt now.

It sliced right through him to have his own words thrown back in his face. His jaw was locked so tight it could break an anvil. “Annie, can we talk in the back? Please?”

“Mmmm, no I’m fine just right here ,thank you so much.” Internally, she loved that she could rouse him still. He still cared. She could tell he still wanted her carnally— his eyes wouldn’t stop wandering the length of her body.

Smoke curled his lips in, gritting his teeth at her insolence. He did deserve the treatment. But he didn’t care— all he wanted was to cuss her ass out and give her all the love that had been pent up for the last four years. “Annie. Please.”

“Elijah. Please.” Her ire began to rise now. His eyes pleaded with her to cooperate and not have his business out for Chicago to see — he had a reputation to uphold. Annie acquiesced begrudgingly, jumping from the barstool and allowed him to guide her to the back. He grabbed her hand and laced their fingers like they used to. Electricity had no choice to spread through her body.

Smoke had a key to Luzzato’s office which had a bed and closet for whenever he was too tired to drive home from the club. Annie scrutinized the tall windows cased in luxurious drapes, all of the expensive hardwood furniture and floors, and fancy Art deco decor. Nothing like back down home.

“You like Rallo?”

“Tuh, you ain’t got not one lick of sense. He was friendly enough.”

“Why are you here, Annie? You said you could never leave Mississippi. You said you could never leave—“ Smoke stopped short of speaking their dead child’s name. Her name crumbled in his mouth, a raw memory that still threatened to take him down if he let it.

That made Annie’s chin tremble yet galvanized her to force the issue. “You can’t even say her name. The child we made out of love. And you can’t even do that.” She sounded so weary and exhausted.

His eyes were glassy already, and he grabbed both of her hands. “Annie…..I couldn’t stay and you know this. I fuckin couldn’t wake up every mornin seein that tiny grave every day. I couldn’t…”

Annie felt the tremors in Smoke’s hands. She couldn’t hold tears back any longer. “And how do you think I felt?! I pulled her from my womb myself. I nursed her. I prayed for her. And she wasted away anyway. What about my pain, Elijah?!”

The dam broke for Smoke, and he cried as he embraced her. She wriggled and struggled but Smoke held her in place, both shedding tears that had no end. “Annie, please forgive me. Please forgive me. I love you. I love you to the ends of the Earth. Please forgive me.” His lips sweetly grazed her chin, cheek and down to her supple neck.

She shuddered audibly, his touch still had the ability to make her knees weak like jelly. Annie hated that her body leaned into his affections without her permission. After all this time. After what he did. “You hurt me. You hurt me bad. How can I..”

Their mouths met in a whirlwind. Tongues lashing against one another, inciting soft moans from the pair. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll do whatever. Spend the rest of my life doin it if I have to.” Smoke’s lips kissed down her collarbone to her chest and he tenderly pecked the top of her breasts.

Kisses turn to bites, and revert back to kisses along her cleavage, and a big bicep wraps around Annie’s waist for him to grind his hips on hers. Her moans rise in volume when he reaches under her gown, and pulls her panties to the side. Smoke folds his tongue back into her mouth while two of his agile digits swipe back and forth so tenderly across her pussy lips.

“Oh…shit Smoke…”

So much of her slick is already expelled, making a mess on his fingers just how he remembers. “I’ll just have to remind you how it feels to be loved by me..”

Smoke loves how buxom his wife is, and can’t wait another second without one of her titties in his mouth. Annie helps him pull down the straps of the dress along with her bra, showing her bare breasts in all their glory. Smoke walks Annie back to Luzzato’s massive dark oak desk and leans her up against it. She held the skirt of her dress while he played with her pussy and sucked her nipples so sweetly. He kneeled so he could look at her mound even closer, making her gasp at his anticipation. He ran his hand through her soft coils and spread her lips and put his face in between them.

Bliss can’t come to close to how sensational she’s feeling. Annie holds her husband’s head right on her clit, letting his tongue lap gently in tight circles. Two thick fingers penetrate her hole and if Smoke wasn’t holding her up, she would have slipped right off the desk.

“You…you motherfucker…don’t you stop baby…”

He has her to tilt her hips up so he can lick even more thoroughly, his handsome face covered in her essence. Smoke is proud as ever, and considers it an honor to make his wife come after the way everything went down. The telltale signs came one after the other — Annie grabbing her breast, plucking her nipple, her gritted teeth, her bewildered expression at the sheer amount of pleasure she’s receiving. Those juicy lips of his wrap around Annie’s clit and sucked to tumble her into sweet oblivion. The way his moans reverberated through her body as he took from her….she couldn’t ache for him more than she did in this very moment.

Smoke kisses her sensitive pussy for the last time and finagles with his belt and slacks. When he takes his button down off, Annie sees the mojo bag she made for him when he went to the war. Her belly fluttered, that he still kept it after all this time. Even with how he felt about her beliefs. “Turn yo ass around.”

He wipes his mouth off and sheds his underwear. Annie can feel how hard he is on the small of her back, urging a coy gasp out of her. A couple strokes of his shaft is all he needs to enter his wife. Her skirts are bunched up over her ass, and his hands can’t resist slapping both cheeks in tandem. Annie hikes her waist up, positively buzzing waiting for him to split her open. Smoke holds her open and lets the head of his dick penetrate her. They both shout in ecstasy at their coupling. It had been so long….

“I know you don’t believe me….but you the only one. You the only one, Annie…” One of his hands held her by the shoulder, forcing Annie to sit on every devastating inch of that thick dick. Her whines and cries spurred him to get in deep — make her remember that he was her husband, and she was his wife. Forever.

Her umber skin meshed so well with his, Smoke enjoying the view of him sliding in and out of her soaking wet pussy. “Good ass pussy, that good ass shit, fuck!” Smoke licked and bit at Annie’s delicate shoulders and neck, grunting like a man determined to fuck his beautiful well.

Fingers played and twisted at her nipples, until he pushes Annie’s chest to the desk so she gets everything she deserves out of him. Her pussy feels every vein and pulse of his dick caressing her walls, his heavy sack making contact with her clit on every thrust. She can’t stop smiling. Her man. Her Elijah. Their love was bone deep — inescapable, insurmountable, and unbreakable. They were a committing a sacred act that she didn’t realize how much she missed until that moment.

Smoke is beginning to twitch inside of her, and Annie starts clapping her fat ass on his pelvis. His bottom lip is tucked between his teeth, feeling himself about to walk into Eden. He has to get her to come with her — he needs to make her ascend this way.

“Yeah baby, yeah baby, it’s coming — fuck fuck I—“ Smoke gives Annie three powerful thrusts and he erupts inside of her. So much cum from her and him, the floor is a mess. He stands back and spreads her open to see the amalgamation of their love inside her pussy, and she blushes. Smoke is tender and sweet, but so filthy and nasty for her, and she swears she’s the luckiest girl in the world.

He holds her from behind just taking in her scent mingled with his — Luzzato’s office smelled like old cigars and pussy. “I forgive you, Elijah.”

Smoke was startled when she spoke — there had been a comfortable silence as they held each other. He turned her to face him and held her close, looking in her eyes with hope for reconciliation. “I couldn’t quit you if I wanted to. Blood of my blood, bone of my bone.”

He graced Annie with a rare smile, one that reached his eyes. One peck on her lips turned into twenty and he thanked her incessantly for her mercy. Ever the gentleman, he assisted his wife in redressing and rearranging Luzzato’s office. The sneaky pair rejoined the festivities — still lively like they never left. Smoke got Annie a seat at his personal table on the second floor, walking tall and proud with his wife on his arm. Heads turned and gossip flowed at this mysterious woman. Smoke had never been sighted with any woman before in Chicago, not unless it was about business.

Humming in the vibrant after sex glow, Annie could do nothing but look at her husband’s face. By no means, was this going to be easy for them to grow from. But they were both ready and willing. Their love was unstoppable. Ancestral. Celestial. Smoke sensed her gaze on him and he turned back to her. Reaching over the table to kiss her, he held her hand tightly to his chest, with urgency.

“I’m comin back wit ya. I can’t let you walk away from me. I’d surely die, Annie. Will you have me?”

She squealed with utter joy at his heartfelt request. Annie sprang up and ran to him, sitting on his lap and kissing him with everything she had. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

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[aeilenn]

I know a lot of people are joking about the fact that shipping Byler is just basic media comprehension but that's actually my biggest Byler proof. Like... What do you think will happen if Mike doesn't love Will ? That a genuine question because I tried to answer it A THOUSAND times and I still only see 4 possibilities :

1 - Will confess his feelings, Mike reject him. And I'm sorry but I really can't picture it correctly. So it'll just be like "I love you - Well I don't - I know - But let's save the world - Sounds like a good plan." Really...?? No, that won't work.

2 - (And I'm sorry for this one) Will dies. So that would mean the Duffers make him suffer for 4 years just to kill him in the end ? Without even getting the boy he loves ? Nah. I refuse to think it could be that. That wouldn't make sense. They could've just killed him by the end of season 2 at this point, I mean... Let this poor kid have at least some peace ! (Maybe they think death is the peace he deserve... But I would be so deceive if Will die tbh.)

3 - Making Will evil. And I'll explain this one with a simple example in season one : Steve/Nancy/Jonathan. In season 1, Steve is a total douche. An asshole. So that's why Nancy fall in love with Jonathan (and so does the GA). So to make people (and Mike) "choose" El, they just have to make Will a true villain (which is possible because of Vecna and everything) but that won't go well with the character in general... Like as soon as Vecna will die (the end basically), Will is going to be himself again so that wouldn't make sense.

4 - Get Will another boyfriend but then WHY making him love Mike SINCE SEASON 1 ??!! If it was just since season 4, I guess I can understand that he moves on but... It's been 4 years... Not to mention that he was probably in love with Mike even BEFORE the first episode. So no. I still don't see the point in building up the fact that he loves Mike if it's to get him a random dude as a boyfriend. Still makes no sense.

Can SOMEONE, please ANYONE, can try to figure out ANYTHING ELSE ?! And I talk about something that could WORK AND BE INTERESTING TO WATCH, because the simple love confession and rejection would be just useless.

[til-all-are-loved]

{This Charming Man}

Chapter 11 - Permission / Flesh for Fantasy

word count 4.7 k ao3

You hadn’t intended to keep working.

After everything that was said you figured you’d step down quietly. You had submitted your resignation. You had meant it. But then nothing happened. No acknowledgement, no reply. No shuttle rerouted back to Earth, no official directive from Ultra Magnus or your Earth-side handlers. Just... silence.

So you kept showing up. One more report. One more meeting. One more datapad handed off without fanfare. It was just easier to pretend. And if Megatron had noticed your quiet return to routine, he didn’t say anything. He hadn’t said much at all.

The leadership meeting was uneventful—until it wasn’t.

Rodimus was at the front of the room, leaned lazily against the edge of the holo-console like he had nowhere else to be. Ultra Magnus stood beside him with arms crossed and optics narrowed, which was his default setting. Megatron sat to the side, as still as stone.

You took your usual seat. No one commented on it.

Rodimus tapped the screen, bringing up a star chart. “Alright, next matter—access clearance. Our planned route takes us through the C-X  Expanse. There’s a neutral outpost in our path. Bureaucratic nonsense. We need someone to represent us at the station’s orbital council gathering so they’ll authorize passage.”

You blinked. “A... gathering?”

“Not a big deal,” Rodimus said with a dismissive wave. “They call it a ‘civic summit.’ It’s basically a glorified mixer with a roster and badge scanners. Show up, smile politely, leave with stamped clearance. Whole thing takes one night, maybe two.”

You glanced at Megatron. He hadn’t moved.

Rodimus continued, voice light. “Which is why I’m assigning our esteemed ambassador,” he gestured to you, “and our reformed co-captain—” he gestured at Megatron, “to attend on behalf of the Lost Light.”

Megatron’s optics finally lifted. “I fail to see why my presence is necessary.” His voice landed low and professionally. 

You wanted it to slip, just a little. Enough to tell you this was affecting him too.

“You’re a captain,” Rodimus said brightly. “Other captains will be there.”

Megatron, flatly: “So it’s politics.”

Rodimus shrugged. “Call it diplomacy if that helps.”

You spoke carefully. “We’ll be expected to represent the ship’s position on what exactly?”

“Trade neutrality, expedition rights, cultural cooperation, you know.” Rodimus grinned. “The usual fluff. It wouldn’t hurt to score the Cybertronian race some brownie points, would it? ”

“Which you’re not attending yourself?” Megatron asked.

“I’m terribly allergic to bureaucracy,” Rodimus replied. “Also, the last time I was there, I might’ve punched someone. This is a cleaner option, besides Megatron. You’re so much more reserved nowadays, more than me, even.”

Silence settled again. Megatron vented once, slow and steady.

“Very well,” he said at last.

Rodimus beamed. “Knew you'd see reason. Departure's scheduled for tomorrow. You'll be taking Shuttle Three.”

Magnus gave a subtle nod.

“Any questions?” Rodimus added.

You exchanged a look with Megatron. It wasn’t the old, easy kind of look, the kind you used to pass back and forth when Rodimus was being especially dramatic. But it wasn’t cold either. 

“No questions,” you said.

“Cool.” Rodimus clapped his hands. “Meeting adjourned.”

The others began filing out. You gathered your notes. Megatron left without a word.

As you turned to follow, Rodimus blocked your exit. 

“Hey,” he said, voice low. “One last thing.”

You paused.

“Pack a dress.”

You blinked. “Sorry—what?”

He grinned. “The summit’s not a briefing. It’s a party.”

You stared at him.

Rodimus winked, then turned on his heel and sauntered away.

The day of the assignment came faster than expected.

You hadn’t been nervous until now. You’d gotten through the briefings, the logistics updates, the security checks. You even made it through a mind-numbingly long discussion with an outpost liaison who spoke exclusively in caveats and procedural jargon. And still, you’d been fine.

Until you stepped into your quarters and realized it was time to get ready.

Your heart hammered.

You used to go to parties. Back in school—whatever version of that counted for you—it wasn’t a rare thing. Dress up, sneak drinks, pretend the night meant something. There were Greek life mixers and graduate socials and “girls' night” events where you'd trade outfits with your friends and laugh too hard and take pictures you’d regret the next morning.

But this felt nothing like that.

This wasn’t just a party. This was something else entirely. You weren’t even sure what it was.

You peeled off your uniform and stood in your undershirt for a long moment, staring down at the bag on your cot. “Pack a dress,” Rodimus had said, the smug bastard.

Still… you did pack one. A nice one. Just in case.

You tugged it out and started changing.

If he was wrong and it wasn’t a party—well, at least you’d feel more put together than usual. You could pretend this wasn’t about him. You could pretend you weren’t dressing for anyone.

Halfway through fixing your hair, a familiar jingle came from your doorbell comm console. Swerve’s voice crackled through before you could answer.

“Hey, uh. Just heard you’re shipping out with the Captain tonight. You two good?”

You blinked at your reflection. “We’re fine.”

“That’s not a yes.”

You snorted. “Do you need something?”

“Just to say: If he wears a tie, I’m gonna lose my mind. You’ll tell me, right?”

“Swerve.”

“Okay, okay! I’m leaving. Have fun storming the diplomatic summit!”

The line clicked off.

You stared at yourself in the mirror again. You didn’t look like someone heading to a summit. You looked like someone waiting to be seen.

The shuttle ride was quiet.

You sat across from Megatron, hands folded in your lap, watching stars streak past the viewport while he reviewed mission data in silence. You didn’t talk. Neither of you had to. 

When you finally landed, the docking clamps hissed and released, and the ramp unfolded with a smooth hydraulic sigh.

The station was vast. Even through the heavy atmosphere filters of the landing bay, you could feel the sheer scale of it. It was a satellite city, several times the size of the Lost Light. Lights streamed along the outer hull. Protocol drones hovered near arrivals, scanning new entrants and assigning escorts. Dozens of ships had already arrived. 

And stepping down the ramp with Megatron at your side, it became clear: this wasn’t some dry diplomatic formality. This was a display. Delegates gathered in pairs. Some arm-in-arm, others shoulder-to-shoulder. A soft orchestral score drifted in the air, piped through public speakers. Everyone was dressed to be seen.

And then you noticed it. The way some delegates looked at you then at Megatron. The slight pause. The way they waited, as if expecting something. Your breath caught as the realization settled. A formalized social display. Everyone was arriving together.

Megatron paused at your side. His optics narrowed as he scanned the crowd, as if parsing new information.

You felt your voice catch slightly. “We’re... expected to look like a pair.”

He tilted his head.

"Is this a procession?"

You blinked, realizing your mouth was slightly open. You shut it, trying to remember what words were.

"No," you said, voice low. "This is a grand ball."

Megatron glanced around the hall again, this time with clearer understanding. Guests posed for cameras. Couples walked arm in arm. Every movement was calculated and beautiful.

His gaze drifted back to you, catching on the line of your shoulders, the cut of your dress.

"That explains the dress."

There was no irony in it. No dryness. Just a quiet, pointed observation. His gaze lingered on you for one, two heartbeats. 

He exvented slowly. “A moment, please.”

He doubled back slowly at first, then turned the corner and presumably doubled back to the shuttle.The echo of his pounding footsteps over the music made you wince. Too loud. Too fast. Too Megatron.

A few breaths passed, from around the corner you heard your name be called.

You turned to look and your throat nearly closed.

Tall. Easily over six feet. Broad-shouldered, dark heavy duster tailored in sharp lines.  It was amusing, his stylistic choices didn’t quite suit the modern male style on earth, at least not any that you encountered like this. His design held an individualistic sentiment almost like that of alternative subcultures but tempered to flatter an older man… 

White streaks cut through silver hair at his temples, swept back in a style that looked effortless but wasn't. It exposed a tall square shaped forehead revealing somewhat deep age lines. 

The cut of his jaw was too clean to be real. His cheekbones were knife-sharp. His mouth serious, stern, perfectly sculpted. Beneath that familiar pout was a trimmed goatee, it seemed to mirror his cybertronian features perfectly.And his eyes. Not the usual deep red of his optics. These were dark, warm. Smoldering. Intelligent. Still him.

He turned to you slightly, as if unsure how you'd react.

You just stared.

Not because you didn’t recognize him. Because you did. Because it felt like seeing a secret he’d kept from you. A weaponized version of restraint. And damn if it didn’t work.

He didn’t move at first. Just let you look at him.

Then wryly: “You’re staring.”

You blinked hard. “Am I not supposed to?”

His mouth twitched at the corner. “I’m not used to being... admired.”

“Get used to it,” you said before thinking. Your voice came out smaller than intended.

He stepped toward you, closing the short distance between you both. Still at a respectful length, but no longer distant. The ambient glow of the station lights danced across his avatar’s shoulders, catching on subtle metallic threading in the long coat he’d chosen.

“Shall we?” he asked, offering his arm.

The act suddenly felt so... pointed. Symbolic. A thousand subtle cues passed between delegates in this place. Every pair walking together was making a statement.

But then, in a quiet motion, you turned your hand and touched the bend of his elbow. Permission.

In his expression you caught surprise, maybe, or a recalibration. He adjusted instantly, offering his arm in full, his other hand resting behind his back with courtly precision.You tested his bicep briefly, if he noticed he didn't show it.

His voice was low, soft at your ear as you began walking together.

“Thank you for not recoiling,” he murmured. “This form is... experimental.”

You glanced at him sidelong. “You’re handling it well.”

“I’ve studied human posture,” he said, tone just dry enough to be self-aware. “And basic expressions of chivalry .” 

“Oh?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He looked down at you, just the faintest glimmer in his eye. “Am I convincing you?”

You exhaled a single laugh. “A little too much.”

Your steps fell into a rhythm as the two of you moved through the grand hall, drawing more than a few curious looks. He didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

“Let’s get a drink,” you said, nodding toward the curved crystalline bar set into the far wall. Its base glowed with a slow pulse of color. Sleek-bellied glasses and phosphorescent bottles stood in minimalist display behind the counter, flanked by a bartender bot with an absolutely judgmental visor.

Megatron gave a slight nod. “Excellent idea. I believe I’m expected to make small talk soon, and I’d rather do it with a glass in hand.”

The two of you veered toward the bar, your arm still lightly tucked in his, the brush of his sleeve against your skin doing terrible things to your heart rate. You could feel the temperature rising in your own face—not from nerves, exactly, but from the proximity. The attention. And maybe from the fact that he was enjoying it, too. Not smugly. Not with power. But with something approaching pleasure. Delight, even.

The bar was sleeker up close, an art installation as much as a service station. Its surface shifted in subtle, mirrored waves beneath your fingers, like water frozen in the middle of movement. As you approached, Megatron let your arm go, his hand trailing away with practiced grace.

You ordered first, voice clear, posture composed. Megatron followed suit, his tones measured and surprisingly casual. He let you lead, a novelty in itself.

A pair of delegates sidled up beside you taller than either of you, vaguely insectoid, their limbs jointed in six distinct places. They spoke to each other in a dialect you didn’t understand then, in Galactic Basic, just loud enough to catch.

“Oh, how quaint. The human delegation brought representatives.”

“Must be difficult,” the other mused, not unkindly, “to keep such small creatures in sight.”

You felt Megatron shift beside you.

The taller delegate offered what might’ve been a polite nod, their expression unreadable. “Enjoy the festivities,” they added, and glided away, clicking softly as they moved.

Your drink arrived.

You stared into it for a moment before murmuring, “Do you think I count as quaint?”

Megatron’s gaze didn’t move from where the pair had gone. “If they knew anything about you, they’d never risk using the word.”

You glanced up at him. Something in his jaw had set differently. Not anger just... that old stiffness. Like a program running in the background. Like something uncomfortable in the code of his body.

So you touched his elbow lightly. “Come on,” you said, voice soft but purposeful. “Let’s make the rounds.”

You didn’t have to ask twice. He fell into step beside you again, his hand resting behind his back once more. The perfect dignitary.

The two of you slipped into the flow of the event, weaving between delegates, exchanging nods and hellos and the occasional comment. You played your part—answering questions about Earth’s current diplomatic ties to Cybertron, throwing in the occasional joke that flew over everyone’s head but made Megatron tilt his head in that amused little way that meant he got it.

Through the night you couldn't help but steal glances at him. He was handsome. Painfully so, in a way that didn’t seem fair. 

Mustering your confident-ambassador-baddie aura you continued to take the lead. One hand clasping a chilly glass you held it ahead of you like the bow of a ship parting the sea of party-goers. The other hand beckoning Megatron occasionally to keep up.

​​“You carry yourself like royalty.”

You blink. Did you just mishear him? 

“Come again?”

He stiffens immediately, eyes narrowing in defence. He regrets the words as soon as they’re spoken.

“That’s not—”

“You’re terrible at this,” you say, a grin playing on your lips.

“At what?”

“Flirting. That was a compliment, wasn’t it?”

“It was meant to be an observation.”

You bob your head playfully and roll your shoulders, hopefully the gesture comes off as foxy. “Sure. An observation with an aura of courtship.”

But eventually, the charm of the event began to turn. The lights felt too hot. The stares too long. The conversations started looping back, becoming redundant. Megatron’s answers became shorter. He leaned in less.

So you pulled back.

You nudged him gently with your shoulder and said, “Too much?”

He exvented quietly.

“Want to disappear?”

“Yes.”

Without ceremony, the two of you slipped through an archway, down a curved hallway lit in soft green, past a suspended sculpture that rotated slowly without sound. The noise of the ballroom faded behind you, replaced by a hush that felt like reprieve.

You found a quiet space tucked into an overlook meant for VIPs. Megatron stood beside you. But something in the posture had shifted. His shoulders were no longer squared. His hands, now clasped at the small of his back, opened and closed in restless intervals.

You leaned on the railing, watching the light show from below. The delegation was in full swing now, the dance floor slowly filling as a low, pulsing rhythm took over the speakers. It was orchestral in structure but deeply physical, percussive in a way that settled into your sternum. Behind you, Megatron remained quiet.

“I know that face,” you said, glancing sideways. “You look like you’re drafting a brutal speech about the flippancy of luxury.”

He didn’t look at you. “I’m calculating the cost of theater,” he said quietly. “How much it takes from a person to wear a mask. And how long before they forget it was a mask at all.”

You turned to face him fully, arms crossed, hip resting against the railing.

“You’re not being fair,” you said. “You did everything right.”

Megatron’s gaze drifted toward you now. The lighting softened the lines of his avatar, made his expression look more human than you’d ever seen it. Tired, but still alert.

“I wasn’t trying to be right,” he said. “Only tolerable.”

The music shifted. Below, couples moved together in deliberate, synchronized steps. One pair spun gently in a half-orbit around another. Someone dipped a partner low, and laughter followed.

“Would you prefer we just disappear entirely?” you asked.

“I prefer this,” he said at last.

You smiled faintly. “I don't mind either.”

He looked at you withdrawn again. “You’re just saying that.”

You took a pause, trying to steady the pulse in your veins urging you into doing impulsive things .“Can I say something?”

His head tilted. Permission. 

You stepped a little closer. Enough to be able to lower your voice while still being heard. “You didn’t have to do any of this,” you said. “The diplomacy. The avatar. Playing along. And I know you’ll try to tell yourself you did it for appearances, or the mission. But that’s not true.”

His jaw tensed, just slightly.

“I know it’s not,” you continued. “Because I’ve seen how you are when you’re just doing what you’re told. And this... this wasn’t that.”

For a moment, he said nothing. 

Then, softly: “And what do you think this was?”

You swallowed. “Something kind. And... something that’s made me feel very, very happy.”

Megatron looked away, back toward the window.

“You say that like it surprises me,” he said. “But I didn’t come here to make a statement. I came because I thought I might make you smile.”

You blinked, stunned. He wanted this? He planned this? That was—God. That was almost romantic. Too romantic. You felt the elation bloom in your chest, dizzy from what he’d just admitted so casually.

You reached for his hand. And he let you.

The music continued below. The swirl of dancers and delegates became a blur behind the glass.

You squeezed his fingers gently.

“If you wanted to dance,” you said, “I wouldn’t stop you.”

He glanced at you again.

“Do you?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I just know I’d like to stay near you.”

And this time, he stepped closer.

You cue for him to remove his coat by taking the sides of the collar in each hand and guiding it over his shoulders. He took the hint, shugging the garment off and slinging it over the railing. It revealed strong forearms beneath rolled sleeves, a neck just barely visible above the collar. Everything about him feels deliberately understated, and yet you can’t stop looking. You felt your stomach knot.

The music swelled again strings melting into a slow, pulsing rhythm, just enough tempo to guide motion without overwhelming it. Below, the crowd moved in waves. 

You turned to face him, heart kicking faster. 

“If you’d like to try,” you offered, lifting your hand, “I can lead.”

Megatron looked at you, visibly uncertain.

“I’ve never danced,” he said, as if it were a confession. “Not like this.”

“That’s alright,” you said gently. “I have. We’ll go slow.”

You reached for him, and he took your hand awkwardly,  unsure how much pressure was acceptable. You placed your free hand on his shoulder, guiding his other hand to your waist.

“There,” you murmured. “That’s the usual setup.”

He looked down at the contact, then up at you again. “This feels... unconventional.”

“That's because you're thinking too hard,” you said with a small grin.

“I’m trying not to step on you,” he said flatly.

“That’s very sweet,” you teased. “But unnecessary. If you stepped on me I’d forgive you”

He didn’t laugh, but the corner of his mouth curved only a little. It was something.

You watched his gaze crawl across your shoulders, the line of your neck, your jaw. His eyes landed on your mouth for a beat too long. You swallowed. Hard.

“You’re observing me,” you said.

“I always do.”

Something about the way he said it left you lost for an appropriate response.

One step back. He followed, stiffly. You tried again. He mirrored, a beat late. Every motion was too precise. He was solving a puzzle rather than moving through space.

“You’re overcorrecting,” you murmured.

“I am attempting to mirror your tempo.”

“Okay,” you said softly, “but dancing isn’t just pattern recognition. It’s listening. To me. To the music. To yourself.”

He blinked once. “That’s vague.”

“You’re doing great,” you lied, because you were charmed out of your mind.

He huffed sharply,. “Where should my hands go now?”

“Same place,” you said, biting back a laugh. “We’re not doing a spin yet.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

You smiled up at him. “Exactly. So don’t worry about it.”

He hesitated again. His hands hadn’t moved. His whole form had gone a bit too still. Withdrawn, even.

You looked up at him, tilting your head. “Hey. Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer right away. His brow furrowed faintly. “This feels... unnecessary.”

You stepped back slightly. “Do you want to stop?”

His hand dropped from your waist. “I think I should.”

Your heart stung but you nodded, letting your arms fall, stepping gently away.

“Of course.”

You turned slightly, ready to give him the space he thought he needed.

But his voice stopped you.

“You said I didn’t have to go through all of this for you,” he said. “But I did. I wanted to.”

Your chest rose with your breath.

He looked at you like he just found the answer to a question he hadn’t realized he was asking. His gaze flicks to the side, and he adjusts his sleeve again—same nervous tell. Not ready to meet you where you are. Not yet. But he's still standing here, isn't he?

“You once said I didn’t understand what I was getting into,” you say quietly, “You were right. I didn’t. Not then. But I think I do now.”

He doesnt interrupt. 

“That night… when you told me the truth. I should’ve hated you. I wanted to. But instead, I felt—” you pause, licking your lips, “—seen. It terrified me.”

He says nothing, but you can tell: he’s listening.

“You keep showing up like this,” you say gently, your voice low. “It’s getting hard to tell what this is supposed to be.”

His mouth opens like he’s about to deflect.

“Don’t,” you add quickly. “Just—don’t. I’m not trying to corner you. I just want to know.”

You take a breath, fingers brushing your wrist. 

“Tell me what this is, Megatron,” you murmur. “Because I’m starting to hope it’s more than it should be.”

He looks at you—on the level—and for a moment, you see it: uncertainty. Caution. Want.

“I don’t know,” he admits.

“Okay,” you say, stepping closer. “Then let me ask something simpler.”

You tilt your chin, steady despite the quaking in your nerves.

“Would it be alright if I kissed you?”

He doesn’t speak. Just nods once. Permission.

You step into him, feeling heat radiating off his holomatter projection. Up close, he smells like ozone and something else, clean metal and the faintest scent of tobacco,, translated into something your brain can interpret.

When you kiss him, it’s not elegant. Your noses brush wrong. Your balance falters a bit. But his hand—warm and unsure—touches your side, steadying you.

His mouth is soft. Stubbled. There’s a moment when you feel him start to respond, just slightly, before he pulls back half an inch.

His eyes are still open. Of course they were.

You breathe against him, stunned.

And then he steps back. Not far. Just enough to look at you fully.

“That,” he says, voice low, “was very brave.”

You smile, half breathless. “I know.”

The satisfaction in his expression was subtle—but it was there.

Your face was at full burn by now, hot blood felt as if it was pooling beneath every pore. It was actually getting a bit too much. You looked away, it was all getting a bit overwhelming. The excitement you were gripping onto tightly the entire night refused to unwind even after your very reckless action.

Little words were exchanged between you as a few comfortable silences passed by. Meanwhile the music had drawn to a close. 

The walk back to the launch bay is slower than necessary. Neither of you speak, but the silence isn’t empty. At some point along the empty corridor, you catch him looking at you. 

His eyes—human eyes—flick downward, lingering a second longer than is strictly polite. Your collarbone, the hollow of your throat, the slight shift of fabric where your dress settles against your chest.

It’s not leering. It’s curious and innocent in its focus. You bite back a smile, heart thrumming high in your ribs. Cybertronians don’t have this kind of giveaway. You realize that now—how easily you can see where his gaze travels, how easily he betrays his own attention just by forgetting to guard it. When his eyes flick back up and meet yours, there’s no guilt there. No shame.

The launch bay doors slide open. You pause just before the ramp, and Megatron pauses with you. His form flickers and the holomatter projection dissolves into static. He’s there now. Fully. The real deal.

"So," you say, "you were already here."

"Of course," he replies, words reverberating through the thin station air. "I was never far."

The shuttle ramp hisses under the weight of Megatron’s heavy footfalls.

You follow at your own pace, the stairs ahead of you rising almost as high as your shoulders. You hesitate at the base of the first step, eyeing the climb.

Before you can even think about attempting it, a massive shadow falls over you.

You glance up—just as Megatron stoops low, one hand extending.

“Allow me,” he says, voice pitched low, almost dry. But you catch the undercurrent: an old memory. You smile without thinking and step carefully into his waiting palm.

His servos flex slightly beneath you, enclosing you. You sit demurely, hands braced lightly on the broad curve of his fingers. He lifts you smoothly, almost absentmindedly, like you weigh nothing at all.

He doesn’t set you down immediately. Instead, he carries you easily across the shuttle floor, his other hand adjusting the controls with practiced efficiency.

He glances down.

“You’ll stay here,” he says, the faintest flicker of amusement touching his tone. “I prefer to keep you within sight.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying not to smile too obviously.

He settles you near the front console, just beside the primary display—a safe, flat surface with enough of an edge to keep you secure. Close enough that if he turns slightly, you’re still within arm’s reach.

He powers up the shuttle. You sit quietly, the rush of takeoff pressing you back just slightly as the shuttle disengages from the station.

The night is ending. The fantasy is folding itself away.

And still, he keeps you close.

For a while, neither of you speak. The stars drift by outside the viewport, streaks of light against the velvet dark. You let your eyes follow them, feeling the hush settle deep into your bones.

Finally, he breaks the silence.

“Well,” he says, voice thoughtful. “What did you think?”

You don’t need to ask what he means. The night. The effort. The strange, human-shaped fantasy he built for you out of smoke and hope.

You consider your answer carefully.

“It was wonderful,” you say honestly. “Strange. Surreal. Like stepping into someone else’s life for a while.”

You shift, folding your hands in your lap.

“But…” you add, looking up at him again, eyes lidded and a smirk playing at your lips—“I think I find you more beguiling like this.”

“Good,” he says quietly. “Because this is the form you’ll see most often.”

There’s no regret in his voice. No apology.

And you find, to your own surprise, that you don’t want one. You lean back slightly, settling in as the shuttle speeds toward home.

___

WOAH big update FINALS ARE OVER YAY. Alexa play Flesh for Fantasy by Billy Idol

[x-eli-copter-x]

Vinzenz Kiefer as Kalle in Glück (2012).

[theauthorandtheartist]

I had a dream the other night that i can't stop thinking about, where a new LOZ game was released in a similar vein to TOTK, except instead of collecting sages like in that game, there was a series of dungeons/temples that were directly tied to other LOZ games, and at the end, you gained the ability to summon the avatar/ghost of the hero from said game -like the TOTK sages- to help on your quest (and get a fun power up). All of the links would have stilted dialogue with you at first, but as the game goes on they get more friendly and at the end of the game theres a cutscene where they all "move on" and it's super emotional cuz by this point they're all brothers (player-link actually emotes during this cutscene, the only time he does so, for an extra punch in the gut). I don't remember all of the details, but what I do remember was:

A Palace of the Four Sword dungeon where you gained the Link(s) from FSA. FSA Link was the simplest in terms of abilities, the avatar would split into 4 and distract enemies/fight alongside you. Pretty sure this was the first one/tutorial temple. Later on this link gives you a sidequest after which you gain the Four Sword as a weapon (its the second strongest in the game behind the master sword).

A Tower of Winds dungeon where you got Minish Cap Link to tag along. He allows you to shrink for short periods of time to get through locked doors/escape danger. Don't remember much about this dungeon except that there's a timer to get through it before yiu have to start over.

Forest temple/great deku tree/kokiri forest type place where Oot/MM link joins up with you. He allows you to rewind time for a little bit (basically the recall ability but on everything including you). Later on He gives a sidequest that results in obtaining the Fierce Deity Mask (best armor in the game).

Arbiter grounds dungeon where you get TP link. He's basically a glorified horse; you ride him around.

Tower of the Gods dungeon where you get WW/PH Link to tag along. He's like Revali's Gale and Tulin's gust in one.

The dungeon to get the Master Sword is like the Skyview Temple, and to be allowed to draw it you must beat SS Link as the final boss of the temple, After which he joins you on your quest. He allows you to do skyward strikes with any one handed weapon.

A secret, optional dungeon that you only unlock by falling asleep on this random island. It's kohohlit. The only avatars/ghosts that you can access here are OoT/MM Link and WW/PH Link (because PH was a dream and MM was an alternate reality). By the end, You get Alttp/albw/LA link who can put enemies to sleep for a time. Later he gives you a sidequest to get ravio's bracelet, which opens up a few easter eggs and secret loot.

Other links/games were included as easter eggs but they don't stick around. BOTW/TOTK Link is a recurring ghostly NPC who you can find in all the weirdest places, offering seemingly nonsensical trades that change every time you see him (10 frogs for 13 bombs, a ruby for an apple pie, 35 monster parts for a single ancient arrow, etc). There's a few places around hyrule where you see two-bit LOZ1/LOZ2 Link just vibing. ST Link takes the place of Purah or Robbie as the eccentric scientist/engineer who will upgrade your stuff if you bring him materials, and he can also upgrade your ghost-Link-friend's abilities as well since he's -y'know- Hero of Spirits.

There's murals in the castle from Cadence of Hyrule, and there's "ancient history books" about HW and AoC. Throughout Hyrule you'll meet various NPCs claiming to be from different countries here to see "the birthplace of the hero of Holodrum/Labrynnia/Calatia."

Various Zelda's would show up too. You get a sidequest where you have to sneak aboard a ghost pirate ship. It's Tetra's. There's a mysterious sheikah warrior who repeatedly accosts you on your travels to loredump and test if you're ready to fight the big bad. She only ever brings you down to half heart, at which point she makes a disappponted comment and leaves. you aren't able to beat her until near endgame, at which point she reveals herself as sheik, has a brief conversation with Oot/MM Link, gives you some cryptic foreshadowing advice and a few fairies, and dips. BOTW/TOTK zelda is similar to her link since she can be found all over the place, but she deals exclusively in ancient materials and dragon parts. TP Zelda gives lore/exposition when you finally make it to the castle, right before the big bad fight.

Big bad is an amalgamation of all ganons/ganondorfs/big bads across the timelines. He telegraphs attacks via shifting forms to look like various bad guys (forms tentacles like bellum and Majora (at the same time) before slam attack, gets blue pig face before charge attack, long purple vaati hair and bat wings before AOE gust attack, scales up his arm and X on face before big AOE lightning blast, and big fuck-all sword and gerudo features before slashing. 2nd phase has it split into like 5 separate beings to fight you and all your friends at once (each one has different features: one is similar to bellum/majora, one is more beast-ganon, one more demise, one Vaati-esque one, and one Ganondorf-like one). The music is harsh and disjointed, cobbled together from many other games, and the noises that the beast makes are screeching and painful.

By the end of the game, there's a big deal made by SS link that you are the final Link in the cycle, that it's over, that you finished what he couldn't. There's a sense of hope, but also of sorrow, since all your new friends are leaving now. They're ghosts, they're dead, they've done their duty and it's time for them to rest. Before they go, though, each one gives you one last gift (the ability they've been helping you with this whole time) and one last sidequest (one for each of them) for you to accomplish: find their treasures, keep them safe.

Post game is you running around without the ghosts (FSA Link's ability duplicates you now, giving you 3 buddies to fight with, but they can't give dialogue and they last like 30 seconds so it's not the samel), doing mini-dungeons and fetch-quests in order to obtain major key items (all old and unusable anymore) from the Links' adventures, (the Beetle, goddess harp, spinner, shards of the fused shadow, deku/goron/Zora masks, gnat hat, various kinstones, pictobox, deku leaf, LA instruments, Ocarina of Time, wind waker, etc) and some from games not mentioned previously or not from your gaggle of links, (Harp of ages, rod of seasons, silver arrows, a doppel, ST panpipes, a revival doll, Cadence of Hyrule Lute, HW blue Scarf, old and broken Terrako, champion's tunic, BOTW champion's picture, trirod, etc). In post-game, there are new NPCs to replace the links/zeldas that used to fill those niches, but it's not the same. They're gone. It's a bittersweet feeling.

After you finish all the post game and get all the treasures (basically 100%ing the game), you get an achievement called "archive of the ages" and a special cutscene where Player Link sets the Master sword down on the side of his bed, looks out the window of his house at the brilliantly setting sun, smiles, and falls asleep. You may no longer play on that save file anymore. The adventure is over.

Basically I dreamt up a game that was a love letter to the entire series, and I'm sad it was just a dream. Logically i know this will never happen because that would mean tying up LOZ and it's too much of a cash cow for Nintendo to ever stop making, but it was a wonderful dream to have for a little while.

[onepieceisreeeeaaalll]

You Have A Panic Attack | One Piece HC

Another one from the drafts. This one is a few mini blurbs. If you're someone who has panic attacks (like I do *cough cough*) then here's how they'd react.

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Law

CW: Panic attack, panic attack symptoms mention, GN!reader, no specific relationship mentions, could be early relationship/pre-relationship, use of (Y/N)

Check out my masterlist if you like stuff like this! I'm trying to clear out my drafts and get some stuff out for Valentine's Day.

LUFFY

The first time you had a panic attack in front of Luffy, he’s admittedly a little confused. You were hanging out on the deck of the Sunny, as per usual, goofing around and enjoying the warm sun with Luffy, Usopp and Chopper. Laughter and peace filled the air, a nice reprieve from the usual busy schedules you Straw Hats kept. It was like a switch went off, though. Seeing the change in your face, the way you politely tried to walk away and excuse yourself to go through it in private, it all set off alerts in his mind. 

“Hey, where ya goin’?” Luffy asked, following you inside the ship like a confused puppy. He couldn’t hide his disappointment that his best friend had walked away.

The moment your panic attack really set in, he grew concerned. The flushed cheeks, the heavy breathing, the look of pure dread and fear in your eyes. He had never seen you look that way without provocation, and certainly not when you were having a pretty good day up until this point.

“Whoa, whoa, what happened? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah…yeah, it’s just a p-panic attack. That’s all. I get ‘em all the time.” You tried to reassure him, though it was also an attempt to reassure yourself. Your heart was racing in your chest, pounding in that familiar way that typically made you feel so weak.

“Panic attack?” Luffy asks, tilting his head. “What’s that?”

“It’s-...Luffy, I, uh…can’t really explain it right…now…” You responded, your voice growing just a little breathier. You leaned against a wall on the inside of the hallway, your hand resting over your chest in an attempt to calm yourself. 

Luffy stood there in minor shock, unsure of what to do for a good few moments. His brain was processing, taking in what facts he knew. You were upset, sure, and normally he’d just tease someone for something like this. The look in your eyes looked so vulnerable, though - this wasn’t you acting out of anything other than pure...well, panic.

It suddenly hit - a lightbulb going off in his head. He didn’t exactly know what a panic attack was, no, but he understood vaguely the feeling you were having. Flashes of his time after Ace flooded his mind, making his own heart ache in sympathy.

“C’mere.”

Before you even know what’s happening, Luffy’s wrapped his arms around you into a hug. It’s one of his signature ones - not too tight, not too loose. It’s perfect and warm; just like Luffy. At first, you weren’t sure what to do or say, but slowly you found your arms wrapped around him in return. 

“Don’t know why you’re freaking out, but I get it. I hope you feel better.” He murmured into your ear, and his chin moved down to rest on your shoulder. 

Enveloped in Luffy, you felt your rapidly beating heart gradually, slowly, starting to steady into a slow, easy rhythm. The drummer in your chest seemed to finally have enough. Your arms tightened around his form after a moment, and Luffy returned the gesture easily.

“Thank you.”

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

ZORO

Training had become a ritual for you every morning. To your surprise, Zoro would somehow manage to claw his way out of bed early enough to join you almost every day. There’d rarely be exceptions, so you’d both fallen into this routine high up in the crow’s nest - Zoro would work on his form and swordsmanship, and you would work on basic conditioning. It was an easy way to get the blood pumping, and neither of you minded the company. 

Sometimes, though, there was a tendency for you to overdo it. When life got particularly stressful, waves of desperate anxiety and despair had a habit of ripping through you. Even with the attempts of exercise to serve as a preventative measure, it wouldn’t always help. It was on one particular morning, with the beams of the sun shining over the floorboards, that you finally fell victim to one in the presence of the swordsman.

At first, Zoro just figured you were exhausted. With a small huff, he took his sword out of his mouth, holding two of them at the same time in one hand just to laugh at you. After all, it’s kind of funny that so little activity got you huffing and puffing.

“Come on - you that out of shape?” He mocked.

But your face looked numb - empty, even. And Zoro didn’t like that at all. Shakily, as you stood up from the weight bench, you felt that familiar racing heart leave you unsteady. Great, how the hell are you gonna get down like this? You didn’t bother answering Zoro, your eyes darting to the hole in the floor that led to the ladder. It’s a long climb down, and with the sweat on your palms, you weren’t certain you could make it. Maybe that’s what made this particular panic attack worse.

That’s when the hyperventilating really set in. And Zoro didn’t like that, at all.

“Hey, what gives? You okay?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yeah, yeah, just…” You say, attempting to sound dismissive but the breathy quality of your voice gave away your anxiety. You couldn’t even finish the sentence, and your legs felt like lead as they carried you to the exit of the crow’s nest.

“(Y/N), don’t be an idiot.” Zoro interjected quickly, reaching out to grab your wrist. It wasn’t firm, but it was enough to stop you in your tracks. As you turned to look at him, all words died on his tongue. You looked scared. He let go of your wrist, looking you up and down. “Seriously, what’s wrong? You look like you’re freaked out.”

“I just…I get them sometimes, it’s not a big…” You tried to say, but your voice sounded shaky. You couldn’t trust it, and talking felt like such a monumental task paired with the exhaustion of your racing heart. 

“Get what?” He asked, furrowing his brows as he looked at you. Yeah, he didn’t get it. Not one bit. Zoro had seen you countless times on the battlefield, holding your own against some of the toughest enemies. Not once had he seen this expression from you before, at least not during a simple training routine. 

“Um…panic attacks. It’s just…my body likes to, um…” You stammered, and Zoro felt his heart clench. What the hell is a panic attack? But it didn’t matter. Whatever it was had stressed you out, and Zoro didn’t like that. At all.

Setting his swords aside, he moved over to one of the walls and took a seat easily. He looked up at you expectantly, and no words needed to be exchanged before you walked over to join him. Thighs touching, Zoro put his arms behind his head and leaned back against the wall. 

“I ever tell you about the bounty hunting I did before joining the crew?”

You were caught off-guard, and it’s enough to temporarily confuse you. Shaking your head, Zoro took it as his cue to proceed. It was a long story - he had gotten lost leaving his village and decided to pick up bounty hunting, call it training. As you leaned against him and listened, you eventually began to interject with your own comments and questions. Jokes spilled out of both of you, and that vein pulse through your body steadily went to the back of your head. Before you knew it, laughs became less breathless and the stable feeling of Zoro’s arm against yours felt like an anchor. Maybe later he’d ask you about panic attacks, what they are, and how long you’ve had them. For now, though, he was content to just talk to you and see that smile return to your face.

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

SANJI

You weren’t exactly sure what started it - whether it was the loud noises at dinner, the texture of the food as you scraped the pans clean, or the fact that you had carelessly dropped a dish and shattered it onto the ground. Regardless of what had actually gotten to you, your body felt that familiar rise of dread and paranoia that always signaled the start of a really, really long night. Sanji had assured you when you dropped the plate that it was fine, that he could clean it, and that you really didn’t need to help him clean up after dinner. After all, it was his responsibility, even when you insisted on spending this time with him every night.

That wasn’t enough to ease your mind or your racing pulse.

You sat down on a chair at the edge of the kitchen, hoping to catch your breath. You pressed your cool hands against your face, but it did nothing to abate the flush of anxiety pooling blood to your cheeks. Sanji being Sanji, it took him all of five seconds after throwing away the broken glass to notice that you weren’t okay.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, quirking a curled eyebrow as he looked at you. That look in your eyes when you turned your attention to him made his heart clench. Something was very, very wrong. “Don’t worry about the dish,” He added quickly, hoping that maybe this was the issue, “We have plenty. If you’d like, I can-”

“Sanji, please.” You murmured, burying your face in your hands again. This wasn’t like you, and that set off warning bells in his head yet again.

Taking a few measured steps forward, he bent down on one knee to look at you. You were shaking, your face was flushed, and it didn’t seem like you had any reason to be afraid. Yet, here you were, hiding your face from him in his kitchen.

“Mon amour, can you look at me?”

Something about that made you want to curl up into a ball and disappear. Maybe it was because he was so gentle, or maybe it was the shame of having this happen in front of him. Regardless, with a lot of reluctance, you peeked your eyes over your hands to meet his gaze. You were met with Sanji’s brows knitted, his eyes narrowed as he observed your expression carefully. For his part, Sanji had taken particular notice of your unsteady breathing. He thought he had an idea of what was going on, even if he didn’t fully understand what had started it. With a sigh, he stood up and took his pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

“Can you do something for me?”

Your hands slowly dropped from your face down into your lap as you looked up at him. You watched as he lit up a cigarette, and he took your silence as you were either too upset to talk or at least willing to listen. With that permission, he continued.

“I want you to count down from a hundred. Can you do that? And when you’re finished, tell me how many things in this kitchen are blue.” He said simply, taking a drag from his cigarette. He was careful to blow the smoke away from you, and it was something that even in your panic attack, you appreciated. He was always so considerate.

“What?” You asked, your voice breathless. 

Sanji hummed at your question, flashing you a warm smile.

“Just trust me. Do it aloud, okay? I wanna hear it.” 

So, after a few moments of careful contemplation, you did. Unsteadily, you closed your eyes as you focused on each number. Your voice was still shaky when you reached the end, but you managed to get through it. When you opened your eyes, you looked around the kitchen and easily identified each blue item. Some kitchen towels, Sanji’s shirt, his eyes, a few cooking utensils. Sanji would occasionally ask for details, and by the end of it, you realized you weren’t shaking anymore. Your body was still, your heart was normal, and you felt…exhausted, but better. In your silence, Sanji let out a small laugh and put out his cigarette before walking over to the counter across the kitchen. He had to resume cleaning up, after all.

“That always helped me when I felt weird. Figured it might help you, too.” He answered as if he had predicted exactly what you were thinking. “Next time it happens, come find me. I’d be happy to help you out.”

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

LAW

You were walking through the halls of the Polar Tang, intent on getting some work done. Life wasn’t always easy on the ship, but the crew itself made it feel as though the sun wasn’t all that far away even hundreds of miles beneath the surface. It had been weeks since the ship had been anywhere near the open air, though, and that craving for freedom was starting to grate on everyone’s nerves.

You made it just outside of Law’s office, holding a logbook of some patients under your arms that you intended to show him. As your hand came up to knock on the door, though, the panic attack set in. It came as it always did - quickly, brutally, and with a raging need to be attended to immediately. You took a deep breath, trying to force your body to calm down with the knowledge that you’ve already knocked on Law’s door. It’s too late to walk away and come back later.

The moment Law opened the door, his face as neutral and uncompromising as always, he knew something was wrong. He couldn’t quite place it, but there was something off about you. You looked almost surprised to see him there despite the fact that you knocked.

“(Y/N)-ya?” He asked, his tone as disinterested as his expression.

You took another deep breath, grabbing the book beneath your arm with shaky hands and holding it out to him.

“Here. I just needed to…give you this.” You said, your voice shaky and noticeably just a little labored.

“Thank you…” Law replied, a hint of skepticism in his tone as he accepted the book. He noticed the way your hands lingered on the book, almost like you were forgetting to let it go, and that was the last straw for Law. Something was clearly wrong. 

As you began to turn to leave his office, his hand darted out to gently grab your wrist. This didn’t help your anxiety, not one bit, and you froze in response. This didn’t go unnoticed by the surgeon.

“Hey, come in for a minute. I want to show you something.” He said, and his tone was as stern as usual, leaving no room for argument. Not that you could argue right now, anyway. 

You let him lead you into his office, the familiar cluttered spaces making you feel all the more claustrophobic. Ah, that’s what it was - the walls were closing in, leaving your lungs lacking air and your heart palpitating. Sometimes it was a little game to figure out what had set off the panic attack in the first place. 

And it seemed Law had somehow figured that out, too. He led you to his chair and gently sat you down, letting go of your wrist. You didn’t bother watching as he fumbled with something behind you, and before you knew it, a bright light shined down and provided warmth. You finally turned back to look at him, your brows furrowed. You’re met with that same unaffected stare as he moved around you, leaning a hand and his hip against his desk.

“It’s not good to be without sunlight for so long. I picked one of these UV lamps up at a port a few islands back. I think I’ll be buying a few more for the sub.” Law explained, speaking of it as if it’s something as mundane as the weather. For you, though, you feel your heart spike. This time, not with anxiety - anticipation.

“Really?” You asked, and that hopeful lilt in your voice made the doctor smile just a fraction. 

“Yeah.” He responded simply, and he turned his gaze to a porthole on the far wall. Then, to your surprise, he kept speaking. “Panic attacks are pretty common, (Y/N)-ya, and I know them when I see them. I have some reading I’d like to give you, and maybe we can talk medication at some point. For now, just try to relax and soak in the UV.”

You were nearly floored at his response. You’d tired yourself out so often having to explain what panic attacks were, how they affected you, and why they came up. But Law knew. Of course he did. You remained silent for a moment before leaning back in his chair, closing your eyes to take his advice. This pleased him more than words could say.

Your heart was still racing, that dread making you feel dizzy, but the warmth of the UV light was almost soothing. You heard Law rustling with some things on his desk, busying himself, and he began to read some of the logs from the book you’d given him out loud. You weren’t sure if it was more for himself or for you, but his voice did add that last touch to help relax and calm you down. When you felt your heart return to normal, and your lungs were satisfied with the oxygen you provided them, you finally settled down into a restful sleep in Law's chair. He was grateful that you couldn't see the small smile that rose to his lips.

[raining-anonymously]

i really really appreciate how much the mouthwashing gameplay emphasizes that curly is still a feeling human person after the crash. he reacts to every single thing that happens around him. he makes decisions. he changes his behavior as the game progresses. these subtle details are everything to me. he’s not a prop.

CW for discussion of medical abuse, forcefeeding, torture, gore, autocannibalism, basically everything curly experiences in-game

“he doesn’t want to keep still any more.” our first line in curly’s presence. anya doesn’t say “he won’t keep still anymore,” she says he doesn’t want to. this diction provides a sharp contrast to jimmy, whose only acknowledgment of curly’s desires comes up when he puts words in curly’s mouth, while anya observes curly’s body language to extrapolate what he actually wants and needs. she considers him a person, just as the player is meant to; jimmy does not.

the progression of the pills scenes. in the first one, he’s in about as little pain as we see him. he just chokes it down.

in the second pills scene, anya is late on giving him the pills and he’s clearly in great pain, crying, tossing and turning even though that probably just hurts him more. i do think the way the crying can be heard through the entire ship is jimmy’s auditory hallucination, but it was loud enough to wake jimmy up from the lounge. when jim actually does give him the pills, curly briefly resists, but after that first hit, he cries out in pain and then gives this strangled “huh?” before the beating continues. he cries out a couple more times before realizing jimmy wants him to be quiet, and he stops crying out, lets jimmy give him the pills, and sobs quietly before going silent.

in the third pills scene, curly seems to be trying not to make noise or resist. he still sobs after the pills go down and falls quiet after.

after anya’s and daisuke’s deaths, curly lies so still and quiet that i’ve witnessed multiple players be shocked that he’s still alive when his chest moves.

and the infamous laughter… that’s definitive proof that curly isn’t just reacting to stimuli like pain (which would not make him less of a person, for the record) but actively observing and thinking about the events around him.

when jimmy picks curly up. despite the fact that having his burns pressed against another person would be excruciating, curly does not react. just breaths hoarsely and keeps his eye locked on jimmy — until he ends up on the table surrounded by the corpses. then, and only then, does his breath get panicky, and he starts to cry softly.

cutting the leg. my goodness, those screams. incredible voice acting, first of all, but it really stands out to me that it isn’t a terrifying, inhuman scream. it’s very human, very desperate and pained, mixed with heaving, awful sobs. and afterward? curly’s so shaken that he’s visibly moving his jaw on his own as he gasps for breath. and the look in his eye…

in the force feeding scene — which, in my mind, was a hallucinatory version of real events — curly is silent and still. he only moves or cries out when he’s forced to via vomiting or the wheels turning (though the latter is likely imagined). he doesn’t react to anything else. doesn’t even hold up his head. but he gives these pained cries when the wheels turn, and this draws awareness to how he’s being treated as a prop here with intention. he’s being dehumanized, reduced to an object, but we as the player are painfully aware that this is a person. he’s not reacting more because he’s shutting down from all the trauma he’s experienced.

and i have a lot in my head about the juxtaposition of curly POV scenes with jimmy interacting with post-crash curly scenes. they’re often perfectly timed to remind you that the person on the cot, on the table, or in your arms is the same man who you were a minute ago, and vice versa.

just. man. mouthwashing emphasizes curly’s humanity at every corner, and that makes his story so much more horrifying.

i really like this game and i really like that it displays a disabled character being dehumanized by the player character while also emphasizing to the player that this is not right.

[starrynightarchive]

no but like. the one piece universe would be 10000x funnier if ace didn't die.

imagine you're a decently known pirate in the grand line and now you are trying to make yourself a name in the turbulent seas. you try to take over some stretch of the sea and wreck havoc and BOOM your ships are burning your subordinates are screaming and why is there a cowboy crouched on your ship mast????

("CAPTAIN APPARENTLY THIS IS WHITEBEARD'S TERRITORY-"

"YOU SAID THE SAME THING TWO DAYS AGO"

"I THINK EVERYTHING HERE IS WHITEBEARD'S TERRITORY"

"FUCK.")

but it's fine. it's whatever. you make a narrow escape with one ship and half of your crew and start rebuilding your reputation. years pass. you have now taken over a small, peaceful island in the middle of fucking nowhere. everything is awesome.

and then suddenly a teenager wearing flip flops and jorts comes to your throne room and claims he is going to kick your ass. why? because some little girl gave him food and you made her cry by making her parents sad. he claims he will kick your ass not for the multiple counts of murder, assault, human trafficking or your favourite hobby, slavery. no, he says he will beat you up because you made some little girl sad. he seems very confident that he and his silly little crew will defeat your whole evil army. with what, you laugh, the power of friendship?

he then proceeds to beat the shit out of you and your minions with the power of friendship. and an insane amount of violence and bloodlust.

somehow, you manage to escape the island. one plus point to this whole thing is that this island was basically unknown so no one knows of your colossal fuck up. you move on. two years pass. you get stronger and are careful with the people you go against. eventually you start working for the government and provide them with information on the underground world and the whole pirate business. it's a good, easy life. you can wreck havoc under the protection of government. nothing can go awry now, right? wrong.

some motherfucker with a goddamn PIPE and a TOPHAT beats you up (you wonder if it's a big joke the universe is playing on you. fucking humiliating to get defeated only by brats that wear the most ridiculous hats in existence). for some reason the chief of revolutionary army thinks you are annoying and wants to kill you. he calls his move dragon claw (what the fuck is up with his hands??? arthritis???) and you watch him bring his hand down and your base fuckinh crumbles. he crushes the skulls of your lackeys. he is laughing all the while. oh my god he is insane.

you have always been lucky so against all odds, you escape. you're smarter about your comeback this time. you have realised you can't survive the new world on your own and ally with some bigshot emperor and have successfully convinced them to kill the strawhat kid, because BOY was that brat fucking annoying. JORTS??? FLIPFLOPS??? GUM GUM NO UFO???? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING???

you are smart about getting him too. the kid is strong but he is dumb so somehow, you manage to catch him with some meat (did no one teach him about stranger danger??), some sea stone cuffs and shove him in a basement of seawater. it's going GREAT. a day passes. suddenly everything is on fire and your base is crumbling and your people are screaming and you only have time to think oh no before the other two hat bastards come in.

("you hurt our little brother. prepare to die."

"im sorry your WHAT")

but they don't get to do anything because apparently their little brother is a god??? he's still wearing flipflops??? oh you're dead. you're so fucking dead.

[somewhereincairparavel]

Percy this. Percy that. It was always about Percy Jackson. All the fucking time. 

It was always about the Hero of Olympus, the one who defeated Kronos and led the battle of Manhattan, the one who was offered immortality by the king of the gods himself, the one who restored glory to Rome by returning the golden eagle, the one who became praetor of the Roman camp in 2 weeks with limited training. 

His Roman camp. Jason Grace's Roman camp.

Percy Jackson had pulled off everything in 2 weeks that Jason Grace wasn't able to accomplish despite dedicating his whole life for duty. 11 years of blood, sweat and tears, simply gone down the drain.

Jason had failed his camp. He had failed his home. Turns out, he wasn't as great as the people of Rome had once preached about him. It was obvious considering the less than warm welcome he had gotten from his so-called “home”. 

He received no hugs, no cheers, no “we missed you jason!”, no “I was so worried about you!” or even a single pat on the arm by his “friend” Dakota. Dakota and Gwendolyn hadn't even spared a glance at him.

Nothing. Instead, this new Jackson boy was held up to worship like a god amongst the people who once considered Jason a “hero”.

Jason laughed bitterly. Was it selfish of him to be disappointed with Reyna? With a pang, he got to know that Reyna hadn't sent a single search party out to look for her “best friend”. Not like Annabeth did for Percy, not like Thalia did for Percy.

With a pang, he got to know that the whole camp basically deemed him as ‘dead’ and Reyna hadn't even set up a memorial of remembrance for him. The camp had simply moved on with their new hero. Without a single shred of thought for Jason Grace. 

The forgotten Hero. The lost hero. Jason Grace.

These thoughts of doubt gnawed on Jason's mind, slowly eating him up ever since he'd first seen Percy Jackson in those damned praetor togas that once belonged to him. 

He didn't dislike the boy, of course not, it wasn't Percy's fault that Hera wiped their memories or switched camps.

 But it was hard for Jason to not resent him, or feel even the tiniest amount of envy, knowing that Reyna willingly replaced him with Jackson. Very quickly too, at that. He overheard Octavian blabbing to his lackeys about how Reyna “was head over heels for Percy almost immediately” 

“I guess that's it. Maybe I am someone who is easy to replace.” Jason thought, his eyes pricking as he looked over from the flying ship, at the place he once used to call home. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jason watched remorsefully as Thalia, Grover, Percy and Annabeth were all gathered at the table in camp half blood, cracking jokes about dam french fries or whatever that meant.

Thalia caught Jason's eyes, staring at all of them from a distance. She smiled softly, and gave him a tiny wave. He weaved his lips into something that was meant to look like a wry smile, but it came out as a slight grimace, as he waved back.

Thalia was so close to Jason, yet so far away.

He knew she loved him, but it felt different. And an annoying, nagging part of Jason had known that Thalia would never be as close to him as she was to Annabeth or Percy. 

Ironic isn't it? Jason and Thalia were always connected since they came from the same womb, yet she was closer to Annabeth, a girl she'd found after she had run away from the same woman that had given Jason to the wolves. The same woman who had turned his life upside down by abandoning him. 

Thalia had found Annabeth right after she thought she had lost Jason. In a strangely ironic way, Jason felt like he'd been replaced all over again.

Thalia had replaced Jason as a younger sibling with Annabeth without even realizing it, all of this took place mere months after a baby Jason was considered to be dead. This situation had strangely reminded him of Camp Jupiter, how he was replaced by Percy right after Jason was considered “dead” by Camp Jupiter.

This made Jason reach the possibility that if he were indeed “dead”, he wouldn't be missed. People wouldn't bat an eyelash. Since there was always someone better than him. Someone like Percy Jackson, who could easily fill the void Jason would leave behind.

His eyes watered, as he looked at how much fun his sister had with his friends. Knowing full well, that he'd never be able to do the same.

Jason felt ashamed that he had to ask Percy about Thalia’s likes and dislikes, he was thalia’s brother. He was supposed to know.

Jason watched as Thalia quickly hugged the trio, as she left their table to leave with the hunters, not even realizing that there was one person whom she forgot to hug.

Don't take it personally. Don't take it personally. She just forgot. She doesn't hate you. She just forgot. She doesn't prefer Percy over you. She's in a hurry. That's why she forgot. Jason repeated that like a mantra, the only person he was trying to convince was himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And he rejected immortality!- oh you should've seen Zeus' face!” Annabeth exclaimed to Hazel excitedly, as Percy was blushing at the compliment fountain being poured at him by Hazel and Annabeth.

Jason had always been fascinated by that story, the almighty Percy Jackson getting offered to become a god, by Zeus.

His father. Jason's father, Zeus. 

Jason felt stupid and guilty for getting envious, it's not the fact that Percy had been offered immortality, no. Jason couldn't care less about being immortal. It was the person who offered Percy invincibility that bothered Jason so much. 

Jason knew that even if he went to the ends of the world to accomplish something, his father wouldn't be able to praise him or even talk to him for a long time. 

Zeus and Jason could never be like Hades and Nico, or Poseidon and Percy. That's just how it is.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Reyna had come to camp half blood for a fun visit. Jason would've been ecstatic in other circumstances, but in this case, he wanted to be as far away from her as possible. Because currently, Reyna seemed to be looking at everyone, but refused to meet Jason's eyes. She seemed to keep her distance as she laughed at something Percy and Piper were saying. 

She may as well have just stabbed him, it would've hurt a lot less. 

He had truly been naive to believe that he could make amends with Reyna. Now he knew, it would never be possible. There was too much pain mixed with bitterness on both ends. But seeing her get along with Percy reminded him of the old times of friendship he and Reyna had shared. Keyword: had.

Once again, the fates had shown him that Percy Jackson would always be better. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Jason Grace lay on the cold floor, coughing out blood. He realized he was alone, he was dying, but he was alone.

Like always. The sickly voice of Gaia, that had once haunted his nightmares, boomed in his head. Jason knew he was hallucinating as a result of blood loss, Gaia is in deep slumber. But that did not stop the voice in his head that was invented by his insecurities. Even in the end, you've been forgotten, Jason Grace. Because that's what you will always be. The second best. The leftover. The pawn who is discarded, after his purpose has been fulfilled. Percy Jackson would always be better in everyone's eyes. 

To the Romans, you are simply the one who betrayed his lineage. But Percy is the one who restored glory. He did your job for you.

To the Greeks, you are simply a burden, one whom they were forced to welcome.

To your father, you are merely one of his many sons. 

To your sister, you are a stranger.

Jason's resolve to live had weakened, hot tears were streaming down his face as he closed his eyes in defeat, he had come to the painful conclusion that nobody is going to come find his body. Nobody is going to mourn him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh I will always be much better than you at this! Bring it on, dude!” Percy laughed as he striked his play sword lightsaber at Jason's. They clashed. 

“You wish, Jackson!” Jason shot back jokingly, as they sparred playfully with toy lightsabers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Jackson, you jerk. You were right after all, you will always be much better than me” Jason laughed bitterly, as he recalled that memory of his sparring session with Percy.

 Suddenly everything went black. The life had successfully ebbed out of him.

Little did Jason know, was that someone had indeed come to look for him. Tempest, his Pegasus had come to retrieve his body, but Jason was long gone. People had indeed mourned him. His friends were, indeed, anguished. His sister was, indeed, heartbroken.

Jason's soul parted this world, with the knowledge that he'd always be The forgotten Hero. 

The lost hero. Jason Grace.

[777heavengirl]

the one with the unpacking

sirius black x f!reader ! - 2,526 words warnings: angst, father is vaguely threatening masterlist bags masterlist a/n: this is like my fourth time reposting this shit TUMBLR WHY. my posts aren’t showing up on the tags im afraid o might’ve been shadow banned???

Sirius remembers the first time he packed his bags by himself. Of course, his entire life had been under the begrudging hands of Kreacher, his room tidy, his trunk packed neatly and to perfection. Every year like clockwork, he never had to pack or unpack, half the time he didn't have to carry his trunk either. And at Hogwarts… well he hated to say it but he didn’t unpack or pack anything either. Half the year he just pulled straight out of his trunk until he ran out of clothes, and then magically (bless those house elves) they’d be clean and dry, neatly folded on the corner of his bed where he would basically just run through the same process as before. By the end of term, all of his belongings would be safely locked in his trunk again.

But he remembers. 

Like it was yesterday, the night he packed his first trunk, by himself, by hand. Sirius Black at sixteen was everything but organized and neat, so packing everything he owned, everything he loved, into a trunk to leave and never turn back had proved to be a daunting task. It does not matter how much time has passed, he will always vividly remember the dread at the pit of his tummy. 

He remembers the folding and the refolding, nothing quite fitting, or everything fitting except for one item or two, it should not be this hard- it’s just like doing a puzzle he thought. Yet the answer on how to fit everything evaded him for hours.

It was the first time in his life he had to learn how to fold clothes in the most efficient way possible, it was the first time he realized how much he actually owned. 

It was the first time in his life he could not leave anything back because he could just get it later- there was no going back. 

There was no return.

So he learned to pack, on the spot— painstakingly and with lots of force. He had to sit on his trunk just to close it, and he still had to fill about another bag worth of stuff. 

He often thinks about what he left behind, the things that just couldn’t quite fit, what he had to sacrifice. He tries not to think of Regulus.

He thinks of the posters on the walls and the photos he left behind. 

He thinks of the bracelet his cousin Andromeda gave him when he turned eleven, a sliver of white gold that fit snugly on his wrist no matter how much he grew. He knows exactly where he left it too.

Yet- He thinks of his brother again.

He left him there too.

He thinks of Regulus, alone in that dark cold house.

Sirius Black knew how to pack his bags now. He did it himself every year living with the Potters, he and James packed their suitcases together every August, ready to leave for Hogwarts again. Not that the Potters didn’t have house elves, Euphemia just ran a tight ship with the two rowdy boys.

Sirius eventually learned how to consolidate, how to not leave every remnant of himself in the room he inhabited at the fear of having to pack everything up again, at the fear of leaving something behind.

Sirius stared at his trunk. He wasn’t sixteen anymore, somehow, in the rush of it all he had forgotten to actually move on with his life. 

It had been two years of living together, and he had never properly unpacked.

Sure, there were traces of himself in his room, it was inevitable. But you were right.

It was like he had one foot out the door the whole time. 

So for the first time in his life, he unpacked.

Properly, carefully. 

With intention.

He didn’t use magic, no, this was something he felt like he had to do with his own hands no matter how tiring it was. So he did, he hung and folded and tucked away until the last sock. He hung more pictures on his walls, he unraveled himself across his room until everything was out of his trunk. 

He stared at the empty bag when he finished. He could remember the last time he saw the bottom of it like it was yesterday. It was the same day he learned how to pack. 

With a flick of his wand, he made the trunk small enough to tuck into a corner of his closet.

There was no need to have it out now. 

-

Your head still spun from the argument with Sirius. The whiplash of pouring every ounce of want and every last drop of need accumulated over the years into each other and then exploding in argument made you feel nauseous. 

Nothing much was said after you confronted him about his oh-so-stupid packed bags. 

He let go of your hand, and nodded, biting his tongue. 

“You should’ve told me- we deal with shit together remember? you’re the one that said that don't be a hypocrite now-” 

You didn’t know what to answer.

He disappeared into his room with a scoff.

You rubbed your temples at your desk, it had been a sleepless night after the fight, and a morning without even a peep of Sirius. 

“What's wrong sweetie?” The blonde that had a desk parallel to yours put her pencil down, leaning on her hand with a pout. “Are you fighting with your boyfriend again?” 

You sighed with a chuckle, for a muggle she was way too perceptive. 

“He’s not my boyfriend, although-” she scoffed, you sighed “nevermind-”

“No! Tell me-” she smiled sweetly, she reminded you of Mary a lot. “That’s what we’re here for you know? what else are we going to do all day in this shit hole?”

“Work?” you said, a short laugh leaving your lips as you said it. 

She laughed too, pearly white teeth peeking out from behind her glossy lips.

“That’s a good one sweetheart- so come on, spill”

“We kissed yesterday-” you said, and she squealed in her seat, kicking her heel-clad feet “but then my dad called- and it was just… this whole thing and he got angry because he thinks I want to move out but I thought he was the one that wanted to leave this whole time and I-” you took a deep breath, groaning as you leaned back on your chair. “I just don’t know what to do or where we stand anymore Cassie-”

She hummed in response, thinking deeply about your issue. Her short hair bounced in the pinned curls as she nodded with her eyes closed- her expression changed into one with a smile.

“I think you should go home right now-”

“What?” you stared at her, brows furrowed, just about ready to roll your eyes

“I’m serious- I just really think you should go home- like right now” You stared at her dumbly as she spoke, and she smiled “Just trust me- everything will get resolved if you just go home and talk to him… I’ll cover for you- besides, you helped me out by covering like three of my shifts last week-” You nodded slowly, limbs moving to pack your things into your bag.

“Just trust me-” she said with a wink as she bid you goodbye.

A chill ran down your spine.

You were quickly spat out into your room, the small crack and pop of your apparition ringing out softly. 

Your door swung open- 

“Y/n,” you frowned at your name, Sirius stood at the door- white as a sheet “Your parents popped in for a visit,” Sirius shot you a closed-lip smile— one that didn’t reach his eyes, one that screamed of apology and regret. You hadn’t been able to properly talk and now your parents were home-

Maybe Cassie was a bloody witch-

“Oh,” you moved out of the room, Sirius hot on your trail as the two of you made your way to the kitchen. You stopped dead in your tracks as you took in your parents. Your mom smiled softly, a warm cup of tea between her two hands as she sat on the kitchen stool. Your dad stood stoically next to the counter, arms crossed. You knew immediately, from the mere look in his eyes, he wasn’t happy. “Hi- what are you guys doing here?”

“Just wanted to pop in sweetie,” your mom laughed hollowly, a nervous bite of her lip, and the way she avoided your gaze made you want to leave immediately. “chat a bit…”

“We need to talk, Sirius if you will-” Your dad spoke up, motioning to the door. The boy looked at you, mouth slightly agape as your father borderline kicked him out of his own house. 

“Whatever you wanna say to me can be said in front of him-” Your father stared at you, a gaze of vague threats and unhappiness. 

“Fine,” you moved next to Sirius, the counter that stood between you and your parents hiding how his fingers quickly found the loop of your pants to anchor the two of you together. you felt a jolt of electricity down your spine at his touch “Your mother has something she wants to tell you-”

Your mom shot him an ugly look, one with disdain and anger as she said through gritted teeth. “Your father thinks-”

“We think- sweetie,”

Your mom turned towards you, “No— your father thinks you should move out soon, he has taken it upon himself to call in some favors and he thinks he can get you this small flat close to home,”

“What?” You stared incredulously at the both of them. You could feel Sirius’s grip tighten, the color draining from his face. “What the actual hell are you talking about? I told you last night-”

“We think it will be what’s best for you- you can start going to the small college that's a bit away, it’ll be good for you” Your father decided to speak up, a smug tone lacing his words. You could feel a knot form in your throat.

“No-”

“you haven’t even given it some thought”

“I am a bloody adult- not some child you can relocate wherever you want” You raised your voice now, anger coursing through you. If you moved out it would be out of your own volition, panic settled in your bones. Even then, you knew you didn't want to. 

This apartment was your home.

“I will not let you dictate what I do with my life- matter of fact I’m quitting the damn travel office too-” You could feel Sirius tense up next to you.

Your father’s nose flared briefly, eyebrows twitching as he geared up to argue

“You know what— just get out,” you said

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me- get the fuck out of my house, I’m not- I’m not doing this with you, get out” 

Your mom stood up quickly, grabbing your father tightly by his arm “I told you, you should‘ve just shut up,” he quickly shook her off

“You can’t just kick me out what is wrong with you?” He started approaching, heavy steps with an even louder voice reverberating through your small flat.

Something shifted, at that moment. You could feel it in the way that Sirius immediately grabbed your hand closest to his, standing somehow taller, somehow stronger.

For a long time now, you and Sirius had something you could not name, call it instinct, call it a bond. James liked to joke you could read each other’s mind when you looked into the other’s eyes.

It was why you stopped getting paired together in defense against the dark arts, it was the reason why the two of you were very rarely caught in pranks, it was that same reason why you could both feel something instinctive and raw, engrained deep in your bones that made you both pull out your wands before either one of you could think twice about it. 

You could feel the hesitation in your father now, for the first time in your life, your father took a step back, faced with something he did not know of nor controlled. And you realized in that moment, that it wasn’t magic itself he hated- it was the fact that it was something he could not control, but you could. 

“Oi- get out, you heard her” Sirius spoke up now, his wand was steady, eyes focused. He could feel the adrenaline in his veins, the fear of an angry man in his house again, the need to run or fight or hide.

He stayed still, solid. Because he knew that’s what you needed him to be at that moment.

Your father stayed quiet, turning on his foot to walk out the door. 

“Don’t bother coming home-” He walked out before you could retort, dragging your mother with him. 

Sirius turned to you, immediately, like every bone in his body had been beginning him to do so the past ten minutes. 

“I’m sorry-” he said, breathless

“Stop,” you said between the flow of tears that poured from your eyes, you couldn’t meet his gaze- “it’s not your fault, I’m the one that should be sorry” Your breath shook “I’m so sorry-”

you gripped his hand tighter, your free hand wiping furiously at your face. You felt embarrassed, right to your core. Embarrassed he got dragged into it, embarrassed that you let it get this far.

Embarrassed that your father violated the sacred space you and Sirius had created.

“Hey- Hey, there’s nothing to be sorry about dollface-” he quickly took you into his arms, your head tucked under his chin as he engulfed you. Tight against his body, like trying to put himself between you and the world. 

Nothing else mattered right now. “It’s not your fault he’s so dreadful”

“I’m sorry about everything-” you sobbed into his chest, fingers gripping his shirt like he might disappear if you let go. “I-I’m sorry about the job- and the moving out and Merlin- I’m so sorry about him-” you sobbed out, hiccuping and stuttering at every word.

“Don’t apologize my love- please?” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, and then your temple, slightly loosening his hold so he could kiss your cheek. “Please don’t— I'm sorry too, I didn't hear you out either” 

He could feel his own tears gather in his eyes, his heart beating fast against his chest as you took deep breaths along with him, trying to match your rhythm to his. 

“Nothing else matters right now, okay? Just you and me love- I promise” You nodded at his words, and his lips pressed a kiss against your tear-stained cheek once again.

He wondered if he would've ever had the guts to kick one of his parents out of his house. He thought of Regulus again, he thought of the night he left, the way his father was too drunk to care, how his mother stared at him from the doorframe. She did not stop him, did not call out.

That night, Walburga Black could only stare as Sirius left with his bags. 

tags ; @thatlittlered @giuli-in-earth @notsolong-pause @niceonejames7 @caspiankingofnarnia @ilovejamespottersomuch @bmyva1entine @lanadelreykt @froggiedragon @stanzie @theendofthematerialgworl @featherlightfairysworld @plk-18 @coldthinghairdobakery

[traflawgar]

Hello!! Could I please request zoro head cannons. This is a fluff prompt. Basically after the straw hats liberate yet another country and have their celebration on the sunny, zoro snatches the reader and throws them over one shoulder while he has a barrel of booze on the other. Someone asks him “aren’t you going to eat” and he says something like “I got what I need” before going to the crows nest with his partner. I wonder how zoro would show his affection when liquored up and away from nosy eyes (sanji probably sets some food aside because it would be a cold day in hell before his crewmates go hungry)

alone with you

zoro x reader. FLUFF.

TAGS: alcohol, of course. zoro likes to pretend he's a tough bitch but he loves cuddles and kisses.

divider by @/uzmacchiato.

NOTES--I love zoro. I see him as the kind of dude to pretend he's super stoic in front of others, but once he's alone with his partner will be quite cuddly. for this request I went more on the properly headcanons direction, hope you like the result!

Zoro has been staring at you since everyone reunited at the ship. Sitting across from you, taking gulp after gulp of his sake, he’s not letting you ignore him. No matter how hard you try. You can’t even meet his gaze, afraid that the simmering fire in his eyes will reflect your own need to be alone with him.

And then everyone would find out that there’s something more going on between the two of you.

He does not have the same concern. That much becomes evident when he abruptly stands up and strides toward you. He ignores the crew’s complaints as he moves anything and anyone out of his way. Complaints that fall silent as confused and shocked eyes—and one pair of knowing ones—watch him carelessly pick you up and throw him over his shoulders.

Stunned silence hangs in the air, before wolf whistles and laughter break it unceremoniously. Your friends are not deterred by the groan you let out, nor by the murderous glare you throw their way. 

“Wait, dinner’s almost ready!” Sanji yells as he steps onto the deck, lured out of the kitchen by the chaos unfolding.

“Don’t care. Got everything I need here.” As if to emphasize his words, Zoro shifts the weight of the barrel he’s holding in one arm, and pats your ass with his free hand.

You think you hear Sanji complain and threaten to let you starve later, but that’s quickly pushed out of your mind as Zoro begins climbing up towards the crow’s nest. He’s completely oblivious to how dangerous it is, while all you can think about is the very precarious position you’re in.

A few torturous moments later, he sets you down on the floor and you finally open your eyes. “Finally we’re a–” he starts, but is quickly interrupted by your fists on his chest as you accuse him of nearly killing you.

Usually, Zoro would let you carry on with your antics and tease you once you get bored of them. Tonight, however, he’s feeling quite impatient. He’s been waiting for ages (a few minutes) to be alone with you while everyone else hogged your attention (spent time with you in a group setting). He was hoping to sneak away after dinner when everybody was too full of food and alcohol to notice—and he usually would’ve done just that. You know that, know tonight feels different for some reason, so you don’t really complain when he shuts you up with a kiss, hands holding your wrists to stop you.

You let him pull you to his favourite spot in the crow’s nest, follow suit as he plops down on the floor. He’s a lot more affectionate when he’s drunk, not holding himself back from what he actually wants.

His head is immediately on your shoulder, and whenever he’s not filling his cup with the barrel he brought, he’s nuzzling against you and muttering how warm you are. Every other minute he’ll look up at you with puppy eyes and –ask for– demand a kiss.

“I want a kiss,” he’ll mutter with a pout (which he later denies was a pout), and you think it’s the cutest thing to ever happen to you.

Eventually he gets you to sit between his legs, your back pressed snuggly against his chest. He wraps his arms around your body and pulls you impossibly closer. He all but wraps himself entirely around you, pressing lazy kisses on your back. His fingers trace shapes on your thighs, random things at first, but then you think he might be spelling something—he’s spelling “I love you” because no amount of booze can get him to say it out loud yet. So, for now, he’ll settle for spelling it on your skin and trusting you understand it.

You’ll stay like that until your stomach growls embarrassingly loud.

“Let’s see if the shitty cook made good on his threat.”

He did not, to nobody’s surprise. Regardless of how many times he threatens to do so, Sanji never lets you go hungry.

When the two of you get to the kitchen, there’s food waiting for you. You take the plates and sit on the deck, traces of the crew’s celebration all over the floor. You sit and look at the stars, and Zoro surprises you with an incredible amount of knowledge on stars and constellations.

(He read books about it just so he could tell you all these interesting facts about the night sky because he likes seeing the impressed look in your eyes whenever he does something cool.)

After eating, he’ll suggest going back to the crow’s nest just so you can keep cuddling and maybe, if all goes according to his plan, you’ll fall asleep like that—holding each other close, with your head on his chest and your legs intertwined.

[ashwhowrites]

Hello hello my wonderful friend!

I’m not sure if you’ve done one of this trope before, you’ve written so many so it wouldn’t surprise me! But this may be a little different? I’d like to request sex pollen trope with Eddie and then some miscommunication and angst with a happy ending. ❤️❤️

I was thinking maybe they’re in the upside down and some weird plant/mist/etc down there does it? Or honestly it doesn’t have to be so literal. Whatever way to get the sex pollen effect you like best. But basically the whole older group is affected, whatever happens with the others is off-screen. Reader and Eddie have both been in love with each other forever but she doesn’t think Eddie likes her back and Eddie thinks she’s way beyond his league and wouldn’t ever want him. The sex pollen happens and then after when the group is embarrassed and getting ready to move past it a few comments are made by the others like “I’d never have done that in my right mind” or like joking comments about “let’s forget this ever happened”, “my eyes - I need bleach!” Basically trying to make light of it and move past it. And Eddie makes some kind of joking comment as well, sure that reader is mortified to have done that with her best friend. Reader is devastated because she hoped that it might have meant something and that he’d meant what he’d said to her during as much as she had meant what she said to him. She distances herself from Eddie which upsets him but he understands (thinks it’s because of the pollen stuff, not his comment). He’s talking to Steve about it one day, unsure what to do to fix it and Steve is confused. Apparently the others (minus Jonathon and Nancy or whoever you prefer to ship as an established couple) all just touched themselves with the exception of the established couple. The pollen didn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to do, it just made you crazy horny and more uninhibited. It also didn’t make anyone else say things, or compel them to say things. They were in control completely. Cue realization. Eddie goes to reader, confronts her (“did you mean what you said?”), she’s like please don’t do this, you said yourself *insert joking comment*. He reveals what he learned from Steve. Reader is embarrassed and blushing but realizes Eddie said some things during too. Actual confessions happen, happy ending, tears and kisses.

I feel like I did an awful job of explaining but don’t feel like you have to stick exactly to that mess above. I just wasn’t sure how else to describe the idea I’m going for? I’m just wanting the Ash spin on sex pollen trope that has your signature delicious miscommunication angst and then happy ending. Full creative control is yours obviously and I’ll be happy with it because you wrote it and you’re my fave 🥰

My first take on sex pollen trope so 🤞🏻 I hope I do it justice. I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting ❤️

Mysterious plant

⚠️smut

It was summer break, Y/N, Robin and Eddie just graduated, Nancy and Steve needed a break from the work life, so they all decided to take a camping trip. They packed all their stuff into Eddie's van and hit the road before sundown.

The trip was everything they needed. Time in the sun, time away from responsibilities, and a whole lot of drugs and alcohol. They only spent a few nights there, before they headed back. None knowing they were bringing something back with them.

"Yo, is this poisonous?" Eddie asked as he reached forward to touch a strange looking plant.

"Don't touch it!" Y/N warned him, slapping his hand away. She looked down at the plant, truly having no idea what it was.

"Nothing I've seen before. But we are in the woods so we probably shouldn't touch it," Nancy said as she looked down at it.

They all surrounded it as they looked at it. A gust of wind came and ripped the roots right out of the ground. The dirt flew up and made them cough as it filled their nose.

"Welp, at least it's dead now," Robin said as she coughed. The strange plant caused them to cough for a good few minutes as they packed everything up.

As Eddie drove them back, he felt a little funky. His body was getting really warm and he could feel himself sweating.

"Is anyone else hot?" Y/N asked from the passenger seat. She cranked up the AC.

"Yes," Steve groaned as he uncomfortably shifted in his spot in the back. Nancy and Robin groaned in agreement.

Eddie couldn't help but speed as the air continued to get thick and hot.

~

"Finally!" Eddie groaned as he walked into his trailer. He quickly tore off his shirt, throwing it in the bathroom as he walked to his room.

Y/N ran a towel under the sink, putting it on her forehead as she tried to soak in the cold water. She closed her eyes as she took deep breaths. She heard Eddie walking around and the sound of him running the sink. She kept her eyes shut as she focused on not getting sick from how overheated she was.

Eddie splashed the water on his face, letting the droplets run down his naked chest. His mind was blank as all he could feel was how hot he felt.

He turned off the sink, quickly tying his hair up. "You want to change? I've got some boxers you can throw on," he asked. For the first time since leaving, he looked at her.

And this different feeling ran through his body. A shiver up his spine. He always had the hots for her, it was obvious she was attractive. But he'd never make a move on his best friend. Not after all the years they spent together and the friendship they created. He knew he had feelings for her, but his body was practically aching as he looked at her.

She opened her eyes to answer him, words stuck in her throat as he stood in just boxers. She gulped as her body seemed to have a mind of its own. She felt her face burn as she shifted, feeling a pool of wetness between her thighs. She knew for a fact it wasn't because of the heat.

She had a thing for Eddie for years. Started as a little schoolgirl crush and developed into something much more when they both went through puberty. He grew into his body and she's been dealing with falling in love with her best friend for a while now.

Eddie was nowhere near the type to be in a relationship. So, she figured not to bother wishing on a star he'd feel the same. She was always so good at keeping her composure, which is why she was shocked that she couldn't form words as he stared at her.

He must have felt something too. Because the longer they stared at each other, the longer their bodies craved each other.

"Uh, sure," she finally got out. She pushed herself away from the counter and walked to his room.

Eddie didn't feel in control of his own body as he followed her. He was a nice guy, he knew to give her privacy. But it was like he had no choice, in a trance as he walked in. She could feel his eyes on her, and she loved it. Normally, she would push him out but something in her wanted him to watch her.

She turned as her body smacked into his. She gasped as she could easily feel his hard cock against her. She looked into his eyes as she stripped off her shirt. She held her breath when his hands wrapped around her, palms against her back as he slid up and unhooked her bra.

She didn't feel nervous or self-conscious as the material fell to the floor. His hands skimmed to her hips, holding her softly. All his mind was focused on was the burning heat in his stomach and the throbbing of his cock. He wasn't worried about it being his best friend, he wasn't taking the time to be in awe of her naked chest in front of him, he needed to fuck her.

The only thing both of them could think about.

He was fast as he smashed his lips on hers. The simple kiss brought moans out of them as they gripped each other. The kiss was messy and desperate, trying to relieve the sexual tension they felt. But it only edged them on. Their tongues danced with each other as he pushed her down on his bed, keeping his mouth on hers.

She rubbed her thighs together, the amount of wetness she felt was indescribable. She had never been this wet before. She could physically feel her cunt throbbing and her clit ache to be touched.

When he pulled away, a line of spit connected them from his lips to hers. His eyes bored into hers and it was as they were communicating without words.

In quick movements, they stripped each other. Their hands were fast and uncoordinated as they tried to feel every inch of each other.

Her hands burned as they ran up his chest and then down his back. The feeling of his skin drove her insane and she wanted to feel more and more. He shivered as she touched him, his hands moving to her chest.

His cock twitched as he massaged her breasts, fingers rolling her nipples as precum leaked out of him. She thought having his touch would settle the fire in her stomach but it only fueled it more. They both understood there was no reason for foreplay, too impatient as their bodies ached.

Eddie could barely think straight as he shoved himself into her. Loudly moaning in bliss he felt her wrap around him. She whined as she felt him fill her up, wasting no time as she moved her hips.

He pressed his lips against hers as he began to thrust into her. He felt insane as he fucked her as fast and hard as possible. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head as he hit every spot inside of her. Their sweaty bodies rubbed against each other.

He pulled away as he panted into her face. Both had no control as their moans filled up the room. He could feel his toes curling from the way his balls slammed against her. It was something he wanted for so long and it was way better than he imagined.

"More, please. I need more," she whined as she clawed at his back. His body felt perfect against her. She was addicted to every part of him. The smell of sex and sweat made her arch.

She shivered as he laughed. A dark mocking laugh.

"Yeah? Fucking beg for it, slut,"

She figured she'd gasp at his words but all that came out was a loud moan. She should have known he was dominant and rough.

"Fuck. Please! You feel so good. I just need more. I'll take anything just fuck, please, something," she begged.

Eddie kept his focus on fucking her as he reached for his nightstand. He yanked it open, mindlessly searching. Y/N felt her cunt pulse with excitement as he pulled out a small vibrator. She wasn't surprised Eddie would have sex toys hiding somewhere. She tried to make a mental note to look back at the nightstand in the future.

She jolted as he pressed it against her clit, the vibrations adding more pleasure.

"Moan for me, beautiful. I've dreamed of hearing you moan my name," he whispered as he flicked the vibrator on a higher level.

She gasped as her bundles of nerves reacted to the new vibration. She also loved knowing he thought about this before.

"Eddieeeeeee," she moaned as she clawed at his back. Her back arched as she felt herself cumming. She's positive this was a record speed for how quickly she needed to cum. "I need to cum, Eddie."

"Good girl, cum for me, baby. Let me fuck you through it," he encouraged as he allowed himself to get close. "Can I please fill you up?" He begged.

Her eyes rolled in the back of her head as she continued to cum. Her ears loved the sound of his choked begs.

"Yes,"

The second she said it, his stomach snapped. He tossed the vibrator to the side as he used his fingers. She squirmed as her clit burned. Moaning as he continued to fuck her.

"Oh my God, FUCK," she screamed as her cunt grew sensitive. Every thrust and circle pained her as another orgasm started building.

He dropped to his elbows as he gave his final thrusts, hot spurts of cum painting her insides. Both moaning at the feeling.

She figured the heat and burn would disappear, but nothing changed. Her cunt was soaked and now pulsing for more. Eddie noticed it within himself too, his cock already hardening inside of her.

He looked up at her, a sexy smirk as he slowly began to slide himself in and out of her. He watched her face to see how well she'd take him again. And he didn't see a slight bit of discomfort. She moaned, moving her hands down to his chest as she softly clawed.

"I'm not ready to be done with you, can you handle more?" He asked, halting his movements in case she wanted to be done.

"Yes, but I want to ride you," she admitted as she placed her palms against his chest and pushed. He slowly slid out of her.

A huge smile crossed his face as he dropped on his back, wrapping a hand around his cock. He slowly jerked himself as he looked at her. "You're breathtaking."

She blushed as she moved on top of him. She placed her hands on his hairy thighs and sank down on him.

"You'd kill me if you knew how many times I've thought of you in this position," he moaned as she began to bounce on him. He gripped her hips and helped her move her hips.

"I probably should but this feels too good to care," she moaned. Her body was feeling things she had never known before. She couldn't get enough of how amazing he felt inside of her.

He laughed, sitting up as he wrapped his arms around her. She wrapped her arms around his neck as she used the new balance to bounce faster. He sucked on her neck, loving the taste of her sweat. She yanked out his hair, letting his curls fall on his shoulders.

"Why did we never think to do this before?" She asked as she shivered in pleasure. They could've been doing this for years at this point, instead of robbing themselves of how amazing their bodies worked together.

He released her neck as he pulled back to look at her. He was sure it was an in-the-moment comment, but he thought the same thing for months. "Didn't think you'd ever see me that kind of way."

Her hips slowed at the honesty in his voice. Her heart melted for him. She rolled her hips forward as she brought her arms around his neck. The closeness made the moment more passionate as she looked into his eyes. "I see you in the best kind of way."

He smashed his lips on hers, thrusting his hips up to fuck her as she moaned into the kiss

It didn't matter how much they touched each other. Or how deep he was in her. The burning desire for each other wasn't lessening. It was making them want it more and for it to never end.

She rocked her hips against him, feeling a familiar burn in her stomach. Eddie felt every strand of his hair soaked in sweat, sticking to his face.

"Fuck you're so beautiful, so wet, so perfect around me," he praised, biting his lip as he fucked up in her as hard as he could. "I could fuck you for the rest of my life."

Her heart pounded at his words. Breath hitching as she bounced on him. "Yeah? You promise?"

"Is that what you want? To be wrapped around my cock forever?" He whispered as her breath fanned his face. Her body reacted to him by squeezing around him. "Fuck do that again."

She repeated the action, loving how he let out a long moan. "Tell me you want it too," she whispered, her lips inches above his.

"I want you for the rest of my life," he admitted. He shocked himself by saying it but he meant it. "I think I'm in love with you."

She froze on top of him, blinking a thousand times. Did he just admit he was in love with her?

"No, I know I'm in love with you," he corrected. His hands ran up her back, holding the back of her head as he brought her lips against his.

She kissed him back. She moaned into his mouth as his left hand moved down to her clit. She pulled away, smiling in pleasure and bliss.

"I love you too," she confessed. Her forehead was against his as she felt her orgasm building. She rocked her hips against him, soaking in the feeling of his fingers on her clit. "Make me cum."

"My pleasure," he smirked, cockily circling her clit as she began to fall apart.

She felt her stomach burn with the familiar feeling, she leaned down and sank her teeth into his shoulder as she came again. Eddie growled out at the feeling, loving the harsh sting as she broke his skin.

~~~

Eddie woke up to the sound of a phone ringing. He rubbed his eyes as he looked around. His room was a mess, everything scattered everywhere, shit was falling off his walls, and his desk was no longer together properly.

The ringing continued, and Eddie felt a body next to him move. A reminder of who helped him create the mess. He gulped as he looked over at her. She was still asleep, on her stomach as she faced the other direction. He slowly got up, hissing as he stood up straight. A burning sensation ran all over his back, he wrapped his sheet around him and he practically limped as he walked to get the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Eddie. I talked to Robin and Nancy, and we all think something was up with that plant. We are going to meet up to talk about it, can we meet at your place? Call Y/N too," Steve said. Eddie agreed to meet them and hung up.

He walked towards his room, Y/N awake as she held a blanket around her body as she looked for her clothes.

"Morning, um, Steve wants us to meet here to talk about something," back to his shy self, Eddie turned around to give her privacy.

"Okay, yeah. Just gonna go get ready!" She squealed as she gathered her clothes and ran towards the bathroom. Once the door slammed, Eddie changed into new clothes. His body was sore which made everything harder, he was curious if her body was in any pain.

He held his shirt in his hand, waiting for her to exit the bathroom.

"Oh! You um, still are...not dressed," she said as she awkwardly tried not to look at his naked heavily marked chest. She felt her face burn as she saw all the hickies and scratch marks.

"Yeah, I kinda need help with my back. Could you put this on me?" He stood up and handed her the small tube of ointment. She gasped as he turned, his back far worse than his chest.

"Oh fuck, is it bad?" He asked upon hearing her gasp. She was embarrassed for what she left behind, but also enjoyed having her mark all over him.

"Just a lot of them. This might sting," she warned as she began to rub the ointment along his skin.

Just like that, the same fire burned in his stomach as she touched him. But this time, his brain was awake and active. Making him think logically that whatever happened yesterday only happened because of that damn plant.

He couldn't get excited by the feeling of her hands rubbing his back. Or how her breath hit his skin and made his spine straighten.

After she finished, he turned around. As they stared at each other, the air got thicker. She blew out a nervous breath.

"Can we talk quickly? I want to talk about some things we said last night." She asked

"Maybe after?" Eddie asked, feeling like he needed to throw up. He was nervous about what she wanted to say and he wanted time to deal with it.

"Um, yeah," she nodded. Her stomach turned with anxiety. She didn't want to wait. She wanted to clear the air about what happened and she needed to know how he felt about it. She turned around and walked out to his living room, needing to be out of his room and the aftermath of themselves.

Eddie took a few deep breaths and walked out. He walked to his front door and left it unlocked. He wanted to sit next to her but he felt terrified. So, he sat on the opposite side. Y/N felt the blow to her chest but tried not to show it. They never sat this far apart. The air was awkward as they sat in silence.

A loud commotion came from outside as everyone traveled in. Steve, Robin and Nancy all stood in front of the couch.

Steve awkwardly coughed as he started, "So, Nancy and I did some research about the plant we saw. I'm going to be blunt, I did things I wish I never thought of."

Y/N scrunched her face, uncomfortable with the idea of her friend sleeping with each other.

"I can't even look at myself," Robin laughed as she tried to make light of the situation.

"Moral of the story," Nancy said as she rolled her eyes, "It was a sex pollen plant. And we are moving past it and nothing happened!"

"Sex pollen?" Y/N questioned out loud, "Never heard of it."

Eddie was silent as he listened. It was confirmed that the plant was the reason all of that happened. He knew he wanted to do it because he liked her. But she did it because of the damn pollen.

"Wanna go get food?" Steve asked as he clapped. Everyone nodded, ready to move on from the awkward conversation.

Y/N grabbed Eddie's hand before he walked out, "We still need to talk."

"It was the pollen, it's okay. We can move past it like they all did," he explained. She dropped his hand and accepted his answer. Clearly, there was nothing else behind what happened.

She was absolutely shattered. And it hurt that he refused to talk about it. He admitted he was in love with her and now wanted to pretend it never happened.

~~~

A few weeks passed and Y/N tried to be okay with not expressing how she felt to Eddie. She tried to fake it and return to normal. It seemed everyone else did.

Robin, Nancy, and Steve didn't seem like anything happened between any of them. Y/N was never going to ask for details so she had no idea who got involved with who, and she was fine with not knowing.

Y/N walked up to the small diner as the gang was meeting for breakfast. She walked in and everyone was already sitting. She slid in on the end next to Eddie.

"I wish I could bleach my eyes so I wouldn't have the vision of it anymore," Steve laughed. The table laughed with him and Y/N wasn't sure what the topic was.

"I know. I'm ashamed of my own body. I didn't think it could do all it did," Robin shivered.

"Me too. I feel like I can never go to church again," Nancy groaned as she covered her face.

Y/N figured it was about the recent event they all moved on from, except her.

"All I know is if I see that plant again, I'm walking away because I never want to experience that again. Horrified from that night" Eddie laughed. The table joined in but Y/N felt a kick to her gut.

She hugged herself as she felt embarrassed. Was having hours of sex with her that horrible? She'd be fine to do it all over again but that's where they were different. She was in love with him and he got infected. She meant what she said and confessed, and it was all a joke to him.

"What about you? You haven't said anything about what you did," Steve said as he looked at her. Y/N felt her body burn as everyone turned to look at her.

"I'd prefer not to talk about it," Y/N said. She didn't want to say anything after the horrific comment Eddie made.

Eddie gave her a side glance, slightly relieved she didn't say anything. He was sure she was horrified by what she did with him. And wanted to take back everything she said. Which is why he kept hiding from the conversation he knew she wanted to have.

They accepted her answer, finally moving on from the topic.

~

The second Y/N got home she allowed herself to cry in the comfort of her room. She admitted everything to that boy and he wanted to erase the night from history. She felt crushed and heartbroken.

She should have known Eddie wouldn't touch her that way without a substance. She should have known he wasn't the type to say how he felt and that everything he said wasn't true.

She hated that she was the only one who seemed to have true feelings about what she did. The rest of the gang clearly could move on. Eddie didn't mean anything, and she was stuck feeling everything.

~~~

Y/N had to distance herself a bit from Eddie because everything was still hurting. She couldn't face him knowing she meant everything she said and did. He'd probably laugh in her face if he knew that.

Eddie noticed the distance, but he understood why she needed it. She fucked the freak and now had to deal with the thought of it. He was disappointed that the events ruined their friendship because that's what he was scared of the most. He spent days ignoring how he felt for her so she didn't leave. And now, she is gone.

He went from spending every day with her to nothing at all for two straight weeks. He missed her.

He called Steve over for help, which meant he was desperate.

"Y/N has been a ghost to me for like two weeks. I don't want to rush her or anything, but I mean, we are all in the same boat. We all were infected by that pollen and did things with each other. But you three all moved on like nothing happened. How did you do it? How can I make it easier for her?" Eddie asked question after question.

Steve looked at him, confused, "Wait, did you two sleep with each other? Like as in you and Y/N had sex!"

"I don't understand how you are confused by that," Eddie rolled his eyes, "obviously we had sex otherwise there wouldn't be an issue!"

"Wow," Steve said, a slow smirk forming on his face, "you guys really fucked? Was she any good?"

"I'm about three seconds away from decking you in the face," Eddie growled, "You have Nancy, don't worry about how Y/N is."

Steve backed up from the threat but laughed at Eddie's clear jealousy. "Alright, calm down. Clearly, she's all yours; I got that. Nancy, Robin and I were all alone when we dealt with the pollen. I did research on it and everything. It's basically just a pollen that makes you crazy horny, barely able to satisfy it and that's why it continues on for hours. None of us had sex with each other. It doesn't make you desire whoever is with you. That's not how it works. So whatever you and Y/N did, came straight from your guys. Just with a push," Steve explained.

"But maybe it's because we were together when it happened! So we desired each other" Eddie tried to explain.

"I was with Nancy in the same car when I started to feel it. Touching her or sleeping with her never crossed my mind," Steve said as he crossed his arms. He leaned back against Eddie's couch, "You my friend are in love with her and that's why it happened."

"Woah now," Eddie laughed, "I never said anything about love."

Steve rolled his eyes but a playful smile on his face. "Don't bother trying to cover it. I told you, I did all the research. It doesn't make you feel anything you haven't already felt. And it doesn't make you say anything you didn't mean. Whatever happened between you two, happened because of how you guys already felt."

Eddie soaked in his words, his stomach fluttering as he thought about everything they said during their time together. "So, let's say she admitted to loving me and something like that. That's the truth? Not the pollen?"

"Bingo," Steve smiled as he leaned forward, "So, seriously, how was it?"

Eddie rolled his eyes, but a smile broke on his face. Steve shoved him as he saw the smile.

"You totally are into her!"

"Oh shut up!"

~

Eddie was terrified to face his feelings but he wasn't going to be the reason he lost her. The only way she's allowed to leave his life is by her decision. He'll never drive her there and he'll beg before she does.

All he had to do was admit he was in love with her. He was doubting himself, but losing her forever scared him more than any confession. He already had the suspicion she felt the same, if what Steve said was true. It gave him comfort he wouldn't be shooting in the dark.

He softly knocked on her bedroom window, the moon his only form of light. She took a deep breath as she flipped her lamp on. Only one person knocked on her window, and truthfully she missed him. She quickly got out of bed and walked over, unlocking it and allowing him inside. She shivered as she felt the cold night air, shutting the window.

"Well, at least you are prepared for me to stay. That has to be a good sign," Eddie tried to joke as she closed the window, instead of leaving it open for an early exit.

She smiled at him and walked to sit on her bed. "You don't have to be so nervous," she said as he stood in one spot. "You can sit. I won't bite you."

"Liked it last time you did," he joked back as he sat next to her. The joke landed flat as she awkwardly looked away. "Moving on. I just want to check on you. I understand things are a little weird for us. But I don't want you to think I'm not here for you."

Her heart swelled at his words, she turned to look at him with a soft smile. "I appreciate that. I'm sorry I've been weird. I just needed more time to move on. But I've missed my best friend."

He ignored the sadness he felt when she called him her best friend. He was glad he was, but he wanted to be something more to her. A best friend that's in a boyfriend.

"Did you need more time to move on because you meant what you said?" He threw the question out there like a grenade. No warning as it landed in her lap.

She hugged herself, looking down at her lap. "We don't need to do this, Eddie." She heavily sighed, "You said it yourself that we can move on like they all did and I don't want to make you relive such a horrifying memory of what sex is like with me."

Eddie kicked himself as the words were tossed back at him. She remembered what he said; that meant it stuck with her, and he felt like an asshole.

"I found out from Steve that none of them had sex with each other. It was just us," he explained. That caused her to look at him.

She shrugged as she thought it over, "probably because we were with each other."

"That's what I said. But it turns out, the pollen makes you crazy horny and nothing else. Steve said everything we did and said was because it was already in our body, the desire and tension. The pollen was just a push."

She looked at him horrified, her body burning in embarrassment. "That was far more than a push!" She covered her face with her hands. She liked the idea of blaming the pollen for the crazy shit she did to her best friend. It was embarrassing enough to have a crush, but now she did every sexual fantasy she thought of with him, and it was because she wanted to.

She wasn't sure if she wanted to die more because he knew she loved him or because he knew she wanted to fuck him.

"But isn't it nice to know we wanted to?" He asked, trying to remove her hands but she wouldn't budge.

"No, Edward. I want to cry in a hole and disappear. Because now, you know how I feel and I can't even blame it on that fucking plant!" Then it hit her, he couldn't blame the plant either.

She slowly removed her hands as she looked over at him. He was bent down as he tried to look into her eyes. His brown eyes looked at her with worry and softness.

"You...you said things too!" She gasped, pointing at him. "You! You told me you think about me sexually all the time. And that you-"

Eddie covered her mouth with his hand, "Yeah, I was there, gorgeous. I don't need you to remind me." He blushed embarrassed. "I meant the other things I said too."

She had never seen Eddie so serious. Not a single twinkle of tease in his eye or a twitch of his mouth. He slowly removed her hand.

She couldn't believe it. Years spent thinking about how good they'd be together, how much more love she could offer him if they went past friends. And it was truly something that could happen. She teared up at the thought. All the hurt she felt pining after him and it all was worth it.

He cupped her face as the first tear dropped. He wiped it away, licking his lips. "Are you okay?"

"Do you want to do this?" She whispered, looking down at his lips.

"Yes," he said without hesitation. Then finally, his lips pressed against hers. She eagerly kissed him back. She had been craving to do this again and she figured she never would. But fuck, she's glad she was wrong.

Eddie softly pushed her on her back as he crawled on top of her. The kiss deepened as he moved his hands down her body, swinging her leg around his waist.

She ran her fingers through his hair, head in the clouds. She pulled away, moving her hands to rest on his shoulders as she looked up at him.

"I love you," he whispered as he leaned in to press his forehead against hers. His eyes staring into hers, his warm hands on her hips.

"I love you too," she smiled, leaning up to softly kiss his lips.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123 @emxxblog

[ardienothesieno]

taking notes on the hermitcraft charity livestream for my friend @pookapufferfish and also just anyone else who had to miss it 👍

these are going to be all over the place lol

i started my note-keeping like an hour or so into the stream so i dont have a lot of stuff from the beginning...

but: grian and scar opened the stream, showed off some of the items up for auction (like real wild life snails. i want one so bad but they're MASSIVELY out of my price range...)

POST-POSTING EDIT: I FORGOT THERE WAS AN IMP AND SKIZZ PODCAST. it wasnt really a traditional podcast though, martyn was asking them questions, a group of hermits would vote on who they thought had the best answer, and whoever lost got shocked by grian.

my most notable takeaway from the shock-cast is that if impulse could have any superpowers he'd want control over time, and skizz would want the ability to heal people. mmm yes food for the superhero aus

and then ren busted out this custom hermitcraft guitar that's also up for auction and played a song by green day

and then we got treebark content.martyn and ren ran the main stream for like 20 minutes

also we hit ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS really freaking fast. and they spun the wheel of chaos and it landed on ✨hermit boxing✨

ROBO-CLEO

okay now all that follows is liveblogging

i keep recognizing people in chat. like not even from mcyt spaces ive seen like three people who i know from skurry streams

martyn using they/them for cleo pog!!

THERE'S A JELLIE MURAL IN THE MINECRAFT OFFICE AWWW

irl guess the build / drawing... drawing things on whiteboards or building things and then guessing

cub is wearing a bob ross wig.

jimmy has built skizz's giraffe...

SKIZZ GIRAFFE REDEMPTION ARC GOES HORRIBLY WRONG

pearl has gorgeous handwriting

grian has obtained a cat keyboard and jimmy is beatboxing along

GEM GIRAFFE REDEMPTION ARC GOES INCREDIBLY RIGHT

they're gonna auction off the terrible drawings. i want one.

round two of guess the drawing / build has the most unhinged prompts ever. including the cursed creature mumbo built in the last permitmaster

it has gone off the rails incredibly fast

grian is just torturing everyone with nerf guns and whoopie cushions

jimmy is left handed

martyn's doing a dollar drive and it's not letting me donate because it doesnt take debit cards. now i need to somehow convince my dad to let me use his credit card... i'll pay him back but. gah. the hassle.

pearl and some person fighting in the background (who was apparently karn, her partner!)

TWO HUNDRED THOUSANDDDDDDDDDDDDD

joe and cub are boxing!! cub is still dressed like bob ross

it's been like 20 minutes and martyn is still going strong with the name reading. and about 30,000 dollars have been raised in that time alone

dimension 20 reference!

martyn's free from yelling names for now... in half an hour we raised SEVENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS

zed and tango hosting the QUIET GAMESSSSSSS. 3 teams of two, imp and gem, ren and skizz, GRIAN AND JIMMYYYY. basically just a bunch of weird minigames where you have to be as quiet as possible. scored on how quiet you are and how well you do

first minigame is moving marbles with spoons but the spoons are attached to a cowbell

gem and impulse did good. skizz and ren did better then i expected. jimmy and grain instantly dissolved into anarchy. jimmy and grian had the most marbles, skizz and ren were surprisingly the quietest

okay the next game is so weird. knocking around ping pong balls with party popper blow kazoo things. but you hold the kazoo for your partner so it's weirdly intimate

someone in the chat described it as nightmare blunt rotation and that the most accurate description yet

someone else in chat has named skizz and ren team rizz and i hate everything

also i realize now that if theyd have done this with commonly shipped pairs the fandom would never shut up

despite the absolute chaos that was happening grian and jimmy won that round on both number of balls and quietness. grian may have slapped jimmy at one point. (he totally did)

the last one is EVEN MORE COMPLICATED. one person blindfolded navigating a minefield of bubblewrap and rubber chickens. another with jingle bells on their ankles and a big stick to smack their partner around.

gem immediately has grabbed the big stick with an evil look on her face

impulse is INCREDIBLY clumsy and gem is just whaling on him

"IT'S ALL BUBBLES!!!?!?" -- impulsesv

ren and skizz have a STRATEGY

ren is doing adorable little shuffley step-steps. "Robo-penguin Ren... Renguin" -- Zedaph

JIMMY IS MOUTHING "HELP ME" OMG.... GRIANS GOING TO BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF HIM...

but theyve got the best strategy yet actually grian's only kinda beating the shit out of jimmy... they might win this...

GRIAN AND JIMMY TAKE THE WHOLE THING HOME!!!!!!!! SKYBLINGS VICTORY!!!!!!! THE ONE NO ONE EXPECTED!!!!!!

wheel spin for 200,000 landed on "tortilla slap challenge" whichll be weird

the artworks from guess the build have gone up on the auction site and scar is very horrified over something skizz drew... a "sentient sock" that looks very... sus.

speed TCG time!!!!!!! i dont know much about TCG so im gonna try and maybe try and study a bit during this part (also also every 1000 dollars donated each player gets an extra item card)

joe is doing live TCG sound effects

neither joe or ren cant flip a coin to save their lives

pearl v cub. ren v joe. ren v cub.

TCG IS TOO CHAOTIC I CANT FOCUS ON TRIGONOMETRY LIKE THIS

also i need to learn how to play this it looks so fun

this is HEATED. and ren keeps getting armor stands and is so pissed about it

REN TAKES THE VICTORY!!! and they raised like 20,000 dollars in the process holy cow "THIS IS THE MOST EXPENSIVE GAME OF TCG EVER TO BE PLAYED" -- Joe Hills

ONE MILLION DOLLARS RAISED FOR GAMERS OUTREACH IN TOTAL

THREE HUNDRED THOUSANDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

300k wheel spin has unlocked NERF GUNSSSSS

also it's "donate x amount of dollars get your name on a sign on hermitcraft" time

cleobot is back!

scar is having a fantastic time running the main stream

GRIAN HAS COME IN AND BARRAGED SCAR WITH BULLETS.

it's tortilla tiiiiiiiiiiime

twich has a personal vendetta against me. it gives me ads right when the exciting things are starting.

scar is apparently on the board of directors at gamer's outreach now!!

IMPULSE V JIMMY. a draw. they are both invulnerable to tortillas.

TANGO V ZED. tango loses through laughter

IMPULSE V ZED. zed didnt get a single slap on impulse. a draw.

also all the hermits really really like to play scissors. in rock paper scissors.

"she removed both of my heads from my body..." -- RentheDog

THE GIRLIES ARE FIGHTING (ren and false)

SKIZZ V GRIAN TORTILLA FIGHT. skizz wins lolol

...im buying a sign

gem signed pearl's ankle.

OKAY I GOT REALLY DISTRACTED FROM MY LIVEBLOGGING. THERE WAS WAR. THERE WAS A MASSIVE NERF GUN WAR. IT INTERRUPTED THE SIGN PLACING.

and yeah... i bought a sign <3

but i dont even know how to cover the half of the nerf war. but there was a lot of hotguy and cuteguy action

grian was even using two pistols instead of a bigger nerf gun... just like cuteguy in ddvau... omg...

at one point scar became a tank. and jimmy wheeled him behind enemy lines and he sniped four people and won the round

and theyre starting to wrap up now, martyn's doing another dollar drive. we're at $375,000...

everyone is signing the pc in the background of martyn's mad line-spitting

TEN HOUR MARK

we need 10,000 dollars... then we'll hit 400k and martyn can rest his vocal cords...

SPARKBIRD GOT MENTIONED

since it's been brought up like 13 times on the stream today. hey. you. you, the person reading this. you just lost the game :3

FOUR HUNDRED THOUSANDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

holy cow. that wraps up day one!!!!

im gonna reblog this post in a bit with all the screenshots i took. because i took a lot of them lol.

link to my day two liveblog

[revelboo]

This is a sandbox storyline- basically a story starter anyone can play off of. No set Transformers universe here so any partner or partners goes- you want to romance BW Wapinator, IDW Megatron, and TFP Ratchet? Go for it. The premise? Cybertronians trying to find a human who's a compatible match to their sparks and biofields (bit different than my normal stuff, where here, a match needs to be made to be able to bond). Due to how severely endangered their species is, the factions are cooperating even if there still is palpable tension. The agreement is to lure potential matches onto a massive cruise ship where they can interact as their holomatter avatars with their real forms stashed in the hold. Flirting, chatting up, and romancing humans they're drawn to with the intent to reveal their true forms when the cruise stops at its first and only port of call. An isolated island.

If you want to play: no minors in any context, smut is fine, dub-con/forced seduction is okay, but anything beyond that is a nope. Pick whatever characters you want from any TF continuity and carry on the storyline. You can do next/previous like I do and reference this starter if you want, but you don't have to. It's free real estate since it's a very old fic I haven't touched in forever and it probably wasn't getting touched again ever otherwise, so have fun.

Cruise ship concept inspired by Swim Away by themaskismyface on Ao3

Cybertronian Cruiselines

Squinting up at the massive ship as the sun bakes you, people move around you up the walkway alone or in small groups. And some of your doubts ease a bit seeing the ship up close, because you'd honestly assumed it was a scam of some sort. The brochure that had come with your ticket had indicated it was a fantasy cruise. That you could roleplay and romance crew members as funny as it sounds.

Rounding a corner, you run into a queue of people and the cause? The two tallest men you've ever seen. One's mostly silver hair is swept back from an almost sinister, scarred face and red eyes that have to be contacts sweep over the crowd. The other one's hair so dark a black it almost looks blue in the sunlight, his eyes startlingly bright. Yeah. You absolutely understand the backlog now. Everyone gawking at the eye candy on display. That one with the contacts, his eyes almost glow with a feral light, lips twisting in annoyance. And that duster he's wearing looks too hot for the heat, his shirt halfway unbuttoned to show an expanse of tawny skin and tucked into tight fitting jeans. His buddy's shirt stretched tight over a broad chest as he smiles and reaches to hook a finger against his tie, tugging slightly.

"Welcome to the Iacon. I'm Optimus and this is my co-captain Megatron," blue eyes says, his deep voice easily carrying over the whispers. "Please get settled so we can set sail without delay." And he's sweeping an arm to get people moving in the right direction.

Glancing at the two hunks, you follow the crowd, pulling your luggage with you. If the entire crew is that lovely? You're going to have some fun. The ramp enters into an expansive main area, and your neck cranes to try and figure out how many levels there are above you. Never seen a ship this big before. Everything gleaming gold, cream, and glass. Looking far too bourgeoise for you to set foot in or touch. And it looks like the entire cruise line crew is right here, mingling and drifting among the guests. Men and women both and there doesn't seem to be any real dress code going on that you can tell. The only way to tell the crew from the guests is the lack of luggage and the little pins they're wearing. Little colored badges that look like funny faces. And there's multiple versions it looks like. Showing what their duty is, maybe?

"I can't believe that the future of our race lies with these pathetic creatures," Megatron growls, watching the humans wander up the ramp to the ship, fingers flexing in irritation at this indignancy.

Shooting him a censoring look, Optimus watches the humans go. "The strong should protect the weak. Though, these forms do take some getting used to." Rolling his shoulders, he rubs his fingers together, playing with the sensory net and the sensations that feel as real as if it was his own servos touching.

"It's a miracle humans have survived as long as they have," Megatron mutters. No claws, no fangs. Disturbingly squishy and weak, and still very determined to murder each other from what he can tell. Shuddering slightly, he growls as more of them head their way. To come gawk at him. But after centuries of failed attempts to create a hybrid or artificial spark? Their numbers are dwindling. This is the last, best option and he despises it. And as carefully as they selected humans to invite, he can't deny the dread that maybe it won't work. That the medics and scientists got it wrong and this is all a waste of time. That Cybertronians can't be saved. Head turning, he sees Autobot and Decepticon avatars crowding the railing, leaning to watch the humans that might be their salvation with open curiosity.

Annoyed when he sees several head into the ship to greet the humans. And to get close enough to see if any of them trigger reactions to their biofields. Oblivious little organics smiling and gawking at them as they're fussed over on the pretense of getting closer. Because that's the game here. A fantasy cruise where the crew, his people, cater to the human guests' whims, trying to find a compatible partner. It's horrifying that they've sunk this low.

[sh4nksslvt]

Confined Hearts

A routine supply run turns chaotic when you and Law get trapped below deck — but maybe being stuck alone isn't such a bad thing after all.

Law X gn! reader | ONE SHOT tags: fluff, sfw, secret relationship, trapped a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe word count: 1.4k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The steady hum of the Polar Tang was strangely comforting. Somewhere above, the Heart Pirates went about their usual routines: cleaning, charting, fixing whatever needed fixing after their last chaotic encounter with a Sea King. You lounged lazily against a stack of crates in the storage bay, a small smirk tugging at your lips as you watched Trafalgar Law pick through supplies, his brow furrowed in mild annoyance.

He looked… good. Way too good for your heart to handle.

Denim jeans that hung low on his hips, simple white t-shirt slightly damp from the humidity, his tattoos curling like secret messages down his arms and up his throat. You tried not to stare, but it was hard when you knew just how warm and soft that skin was under your fingers.

Not that anyone else could know. Not that the crew — bless their oblivious souls — had the faintest idea.

Being in a secret relationship with your stoic, sharp-tongued Captain was its own kind of dangerous thrill. One wrong move, one wrong look, and Shachi or Penguin would never let you live it down.

Law glanced over his shoulder at you, one eyebrow lifting ever so slightly.

"You planning to help, or just stand there like a useless lump?"

You snorted. "Bold talk from a guy who's been glaring at the same box for five minutes."

"Planning," he drawled, straightening up and cracking his neck. "Unlike you, who specializes in doing absolutely nothing."

You tossed a rag at his head. He dodged it with irritating ease, a faint smirk flashing across his mouth before it disappeared into his usual deadpan stare.

You fought a grin. God, you loved being able to push his buttons.

"Fine, Captain," you said dramatically, hopping off the crate. "Tell me what you want, and I'll do everything in my power to serve you."

There was the tiniest flicker in his expression — a shift only you would notice. The kind that made your stomach flutter and your mind race with all the things you could do if you weren't surrounded by supplies and crates and the whole damn crew upstairs.

Law turned back to the stack, voice low enough that you almost missed it. "Later," he murmured. "If you're good."

A shiver ran down your spine. You swallowed hard and tried to act normal.

You really, really hoped no one was coming down here anytime soon.

.

.

The moment it happened, it was pure chaos.

One second you were moving a particularly heavy crate like Law asked — the next, the ship rocked violently. Somewhere far above, there was a muffled shout and the shriek of metal. The crate slipped from your grip, slamming into the wall with a loud THUD.

Before you could react, the heavy storage door — that was supposed to stay propped open — swung shut with a bone-shaking bang.

You froze.

Law cursed under his breath, lunging for the handle. You rushed to help him, heart hammering in your chest.

He yanked on it. You yanked on it. Nothing.

"Locked," he growled, rattling it harder. "Dammit."

"No way." You shoved at the door uselessly. "We're stuck?!"

Law's face was grim. He jiggled the handle again, then pulled a Den Den Mushi out of his pocket. Static crackled. No signal.

"Great," you muttered. "Metal walls. Thick metal walls. We're basically in a fridge."

"It's temporary," Law said, though even he sounded annoyed. "Someone will notice we're missing."

"Yeah, after they realize we’re not up there helping fix whatever the hell broke!"

You leaned against the door, groaning. Being stuck alone with your secret boyfriend was not the worst thing in the world. But being stuck with Law, who was a menace when he got bored? Dangerous.

You felt his eyes on you and cracked one open.

"What?"

He was studying you in that way he did sometimes — silent, sharp, as if he was dissecting your entire existence.

"You panicking already?"

You huffed. "No. Just… strategizing."

"Mm."

You shifted awkwardly. "And you? Cool as a cucumber, huh?"

He shrugged. "Trapped with you? Could be worse."

You blinked, thrown off by the softness in his voice.

You opened your mouth to reply — but then he moved, striding toward you with that slow, deliberate gait that meant trouble. The kind that usually ended with you pressed against a wall, dizzy and breathless and wondering how a man so outwardly composed could make you feel like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

Law stopped inches away, tilting his head slightly.

"No crew," he said lowly. "No interruptions."

Your pulse spiked. "Y-Yeah?"

He smirked — slow, devilish, rare.

"An advantage."

.

. Before you could react, Law's hand was sliding up your arm, slow and deliberate, sending sparks shooting across your skin. His other hand braced next to your head, caging you in.

"Cold?" he murmured.

"A little," you managed, your voice breathy.

He leaned in closer, nose brushing your temple, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

"Good," he whispered.

You shivered, and not just from the temperature.

His fingers traced lazy patterns on your arm, and you closed your eyes, savoring the rare moment. Law wasn't usually this openly affectionate — not where anyone could see. But here, with only the dim overhead lights and the smell of metal and salt around you, he was different. Softer. Greedier.

"You smell like engine grease," you teased, voice shaking.

He chuckled — a low, rare sound — and nipped lightly at your earlobe.

"Not complaining when you're the one who started this."

You laughed — and Law grinned, wide and boyish, before capturing your mouth in a kiss that stole every coherent thought from your head.

God, he kissed like he owned you. Deep, slow, unhurried. Like you had all the time in the world.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, feeling the solid weight of him against you. His hands skimmed down your sides, lingering at your waist, before sliding under the hem of your shirt to rest against bare skin. You gasped softly against his mouth.

"Law…" you murmured.

He pulled back just enough to look at you — really look at you. His thumb brushed your cheekbone, tender.

"You okay?" he asked, voice rough.

You nodded. "More than okay."

He kissed you again, softer this time. Almost reverent.

Minutes slipped by — slow, honey-thick minutes where all you could feel was the heat of his mouth, the calluses of his fingers, the way his heart thudded against yours.

Eventually, you broke apart, resting your forehead against his.

"I can't believe we're stuck," you whispered, laughing a little.

He smirked. "Best damn accident this ship's ever had."

You laughed again, biting your lip.

Law tilted his head, studying you. "You think the crew suspects?"

You thought about it. "Honestly? They're either oblivious or think we're mortal enemies."

Law hummed thoughtfully. "Maybe we should give them a real show after this."

You gawked at him. "You? Public affection?"

He shrugged. "Shock value."

You grinned wide. "You're evil."

"And you love it."

"Yeah," you said, softer now. "I do."

Something shifted between you — something heavier, more real. Law's expression softened. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, gentle in a way he never was with anyone else.

"I love you too," he said simply.

Your breath caught.

Law rarely said it. He didn’t have to — you saw it in every careful look, every small touch, every stolen moment. But hearing it out loud still sent warmth flooding through you.

You cupped his face, smiling.

"Guess being trapped isn't so bad," you said.

He kissed your palm.

"No," he agreed. "Not bad at all."

.

. Hours later, when Shachi and Penguin finally managed to force the door open — sweaty, out of breath, and triumphant — they found you and Law sitting side-by-side on the floor, looking suspiciously flushed and suspiciously content.

"Uh, Captain..." Shachi said, blinking. "Everything good?"

Law stood up smoothly, brushing imaginary dust off his pants. "Fine," he said blandly. "Just trapped."

You fought the urge to giggle.

Penguin narrowed his eyes. "You two sure you didn’t kill each other?"

Law smirked — a private, dangerous thing — and tossed an arm around your shoulders with casual ease.

"Not yet," he said.

You caught the startled looks the two crewmates exchanged — and laughed all the way back to your shared cabin, tucked securely against Law’s side.

Maybe being trapped wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

[carnalcrows]

this is inspired by @suiana 's yandere!enderman fic lol. [link]

yandere herobrine x gn!reader

You should’ve known the second the torches started randomly popping off the walls.

You didn’t want to believe it at first. Maybe it was a glitch. Maybe the cave was buggy. Maybe — and you clung to this hope like a man on a sinking ship — it was the wind. (You were underground. There was no wind.)

But deep down, you knew. Something was watching you.

You spun around, heart hammering, and there he was — Herobrine.

Standing at the edge of your torchlight. Staring.

Not blinking. Not breathing. Just standing there like a discount horror movie villain.

You yelped. Like, actually yelped. A real, embarrassing little noise. And immediately started backpedaling.

He didn’t move. Didn’t say a word.

Just watched.

You tried pretending you didn’t see him. Mined a little block. Hummed a weird, panicky little tune to yourself. Looked anywhere but at him.

You swore you could feel him grinning.

And then he started following you.

Slowly. Casually. Like he had all the time in the world to make your life miserable. You tried speed-mining. Building little cobblestone walls between you and him. Every time you peeked back, there he was — closer.

At one point, you turned around, fully ready to yell at him — and he was already right behind you.

"Can you not," you snapped.

He tilted his head, like a confused dog. Like you were the weird one here.

You pointed a pickaxe at him. "I’m serious. Personal space. Human rights. Basic decency."

Nothing. Just blank glowing eyes and this faint vibe like he thought you were being hilarious.

"I know you can hear me," you grumbled.

He finally spoke, voice low and gravelly like a landslide in slow motion:

"I hear everything you do."

You decided not to unpack that.

At some point, you got sick of it. You sprinted for the surface, desperate for sunlight, civilization, maybe a therapist.

You hit a river — freedom! Water! The one thing no ghost-coded entity could cross!

You dove into the river like it was the Olympics.

You bobbed to the surface, gasping — triumphant — victorious —

—until you felt the water ripple next to you.

You turned. He was there. Swimming. Swimming.

Herobrine, the ancient cursed glitch himself, doggy paddling toward you with his empty, glowy eyes and a casualness that should’ve been illegal.

You flailed backward.

"HOW are you even in here?!"

He shrugged, almost sheepishly.

"You looked lonely."

"You’re not supposed to like water!"

"Yeah," he said, smiling way too much for someone breaking the laws of Minecraft. "And yet. Here I am."

You floated there, chest heaving, glaring at him.

"You're a menace."

"You’re cute when you're mad," he said, dead serious.

You decided then and there that if you survived this, you were deleting Minecraft and taking up knitting.