#that and i keep getting infections and it's just

[captain-huggy-bear]

Priorities

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Illness/comfort

Summary: When Quinn gets a text from you 2 hours before his game, he shows where his priorities lie when he drops it all for you.

Series: Teacher Reader series

Notes: I am not very well atm and I had to drive home dizzy from work the other day, the idea of Quinn being there to help has been stuck in my head so have some self indulgence from me.

A kind of sequel to In Sickness and in Health but you don't need to read that to read this.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

He's already at the rink getting ready for the game in the locker room when his phone goes off. You don't actually ring him, clearly doing that thing you always do where you're trying to not bother him on a game day, instead you send a quick text message. He expects the usual:

'Good luck on the game today, baby!'

Instead, the text he gets has him picking his phone up and calling you back in an instant, worry clouding his judgement and making his hands shake slightly.

'Hey, so guess who's being sent home because she's dizzy and can't breathe? I had my head between my legs for 20 minutes, definitely can't stand and teach. Have a good game x'.

You drop the good luck at the end like he's not supposed to be worried, like you've just casually told him about the weather and not that you we're struggling to breathe.

It doesn't really matter that Tocc is giving him the look, the one he reserves for when he's annoyed at the boys, or that half the locker room have stopped their own pre-game, pre-warm up routines to watch their captain frantically call you. He's pacing back and forth, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waits for you to pick up the phone.

"Quinn?" You sound so incredibly breathless its like listening to an asthmatic 80 year old who's smoked for half their life. Except you don't smoke and you're not asthmatic or 80 which makes the whole situation about 10 times worse because you shouldn't be struggling to breathe. You should be doing better today.

You've been ill, he knows this, a chest infection he forced you to get meds for on the weekend. Meds which should have started working by now, a heavy dose of antibiotics and steroids which were supposed to have helped. You'd felt well enough this morning to go in and give work another go, but he regrets letting you do that now. Clearly trying to stand up in front of teenagers and talk was not something you should have been doing, not when the school day had only started half an hour ago and you were already being sent home.

"Baby, are okay?" You're sitting on the front steps of the school with all your things when you answer the phone to Quinn's worried voice. You keep telling yourself you just need a minute, just a minute and then you won't feel so dizzy, won't feel so breathless. Just a minute and the tingles in your fingers will go and your hands will stop shaking so much. Just a minute and then you can drive home and get into bed.

"Y-yeah, I'm...I'm just breathless. I'll be okay...they're...they're covering my...my lessons and..." You stop for a minute, taking big deep breathes, you sound so laboured on the phone that Quinn can't help but clench his phone tighter in his hand, "and I'm going home now." Your breaths are wheezy, just like Saturday, in fact he's certain you sound worse.

"How are you getting home?" He knows the answer before you say it and he hates it before he even hears it. You're dizzy and breathless and there is no way you should be driving home at all, but he knows you. Self-reliant to a fault, a martyr, always pushing yourself past the point of no return because you think you're fine, because you convince yourself you're fine. Because you don't want to inconvenience anyone or cause more problems. You ask to little of people around you, expecting barely anything despite all you give.

"I'm...I'm going to...to drive."

"No. You're not. I'm going to come get you." You want to protest a lot more than you do if you're being honest. But, you're so tired and it's so hard to breathe and students wandering in late to school are staring at you like you're having a break down. So your protests are relatively lacklustre by your usual standard. That actually worries him more.

"It's...there's like 2 hours before the game...you've...you've got warm ups soon." You hate the idea of him missing warm ups or god forbid the game, all because you were too stupid to realise you shouldn't have gone into work in the first place.

"So, I'll get you, take you home and come back to the rink and play. I'll walk to the school tomorrow and collect your car so you don't have to worry about it. But, you aren't driving, baby. If you even try to get in that car I will being fucking pissed. I love you, you do not get in that car." You know he's serious in that moment, not just because he's very rarely angry at you or anyone but himself, outside of the rink, but because he's got that clipped tone he only uses when he's serious. This isn't a request, it's a direct order and you have no intention of disobeying it, not when you know he's right...not when it makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside that he's so insistent about your wellbeing.

"But, what...what if you miss warm ups?" He loves how much you support him and his hockey, he always will, but he hates that your first thought is that hockey should come first. His girlfriend can barely breathe right now and he quite honestly doesn't give a flying fuck if he misses warm ups. The team had to pull themselves together at some point and you came first. Always. If they couldn't manage warm ups without him then what was the point of paying them so much money?

"Warm ups aren't my priority, baby. You are. Do not get in the car. Do not drive. Do not move. I'm leaving right now, okay? Just sit on the steps of the school and take deep breaths." He's already grabbing his keys, not even bothering to change out of his gear other than putting some proper shoes on so that he can actually drive. He knows it'll spark some speculation and rumours, Captain of the Canucks storming out of the arena 2 hours before puck drop in full gear except his skates, but he doesn't fucking care about that right now.

"...Okay...thank you, Quinny. I love you." You say it because in that moment you have never felt so loved, to have someone drop everything, something so important, to come get you...Maybe its the meds, maybe its the breathlessness, the infection, but you feel like crying a little because of how sweet he is even when he's bossing you about.

"I'll see you soon, baby. I love you too."

He doesn't waste time once he hangs up, just turns straight to Tocc and tells him, "I'll be back."

The look he gets is a mixture of disbelief, frustration and confusion and he really can't blame Tocc for it. Not when Quinn is the captain, the player that seems to make a massive difference on the ice, and he's about to run out the doors 2 hours before the game? Yeah, he knows Tocc doesn't want to hear it.

"Quinn, where you going? We have a game in 2 hours?!" He knows he's going to be cutting it fine with Vancouver traffic and getting to your school, the apartment and back to the arena, but he's not letting you drive. He could live with missing a game, losing a game, but he couldn't live with himself if he let you drive home and something happened. His job was to look after you, if he failed at that? What was the fucking point?

"Tocc, I'll be back. I promise. But, right now my girlfriend is unable to breathe and dizzy and I'm not letting her drive home, okay? Sooner I leave, sooner I come back."

Maybe it's the insistence on Quinn's face, the reality that if he was forced to stay he wouldn't play well anyway. Maybe it's that you and Tocc get along and he can see a hint of concern in the other man's eyes or maybe Tocc just trusts him that much. But, he actually agrees to let him go. Not that Quinn could really be forced to stay. They'd have to tie him to the bench.

"Okay, I'm trusting you."

"Thanks."

Quinn ignores every single person he storms past, every employee, every fan outside, every person with a camera that starts asking him where he's going as he starts his car with one destination in mind. Maybe he seems rude, maybe he seems standoffish, but he doesn't really care because right now you are sat on the steps of a school struggling to breathe and he just wants to see you and get you home and into bed.

He doesn't even care that he knows Tocc is going to be questioned about his absence or that he can already hear his phone pinging with notifications from social media, most likely people asking where he was going and speculating.

'Just saw Quinn Hughes storm out of Rogers Arena in full gear, finally got fed up of his team?'

'Um, is anyone else panicking that Hughes just left the arena like 2 hours before puck drop?'

'Captain Lexapro has officially lost it with this team, just stormed out of the arena!!'

He tries his best not to break any traffic laws getting to you, despite the fact he has a lead foot that wants to press harder on the accelerator. But, he knows you'd hate it and you'd worry more about him getting a ticket, so he just grips the steering wheel tighter until he's turning into the school car park.

He doesn't try to park in a proper space, just pulls up as close to you as possible before hopping out. Your head is between your legs, shoulders rising and falling in laboured breaths and he feels like he's been punched in the stomach at how bad you sound.

"Oh, baby..." He's kneeling on the dirty ground within seconds and you try, through broken gasps to tell him he'll get his hockey socks dirty, but he doesn't listen to you, just reaches to pull you into a hug.

"Let's get you home, okay? Tomorrow we're going back to the doctors, okay?" You're leaning your head into his shoulder so heavily that he's worried you might actually pass out. It's like the moment his arms wrap around you, you just give up on holding yourself up. In truth, that's kind of what happens. You just want to lean into him, soak up the comfort of your boyfriend lighting petting your hair and whispering into your ear.

"Don't y-you have...practice?"

"I think I can fit the doctors in around practice, baby..." He doesn't tell you, but he'd forgo practice for you. He doesn't care about anything but how you're doing and you're not okay. Quinn can see that better than anyone.

"Alright, up you get..." He stands first, hands reaching for yours to help pull you to your feet. You sway before him like you're on a 16th century galleon in a thunderstorm, forehead plonking on his chest heavily, "Atta, girl. There we go." He just strokes your hair and back while you wait for the dizziness to pass, he knows each second will make him later to the arena but he's not going to rush you when you're struggling just to stand without fainting.

"Alright, let me get your stuff and then we'll take it one step at a time, baby, okay?"

"O..okay...one step...at a time." He tries his best not to let go of you completely as he bundles your work bag onto his shoulder. Quinn is as quick as he can be with it, before pulling you under his arm and helping you inch step by step towards the car.

It's slow going, every few steps you get a little dizzy and he waits for you to nod before he pushes you forward again. You're drained, dark circles under your eyes and skin losing some of its usual colour by the time you reach the car.

Quinn had purposefully pulled up the car with the passenger side facing you and you're thankful not to have to walk around the car as you brace yourself against the door for a moment. Quinn helps ease you into the seat, reaching over to put your seatbelt on for you and adjust the headrest so you can lean back. It eases some of the weight in your chest.

"Nearly home, okay, baby?"

You just nod, exhausted as his hands cup your cheeks tenderly, spreading a soft sort of affection through your already aching chest. He's so gentle as he looks down at you, fingers rubbing circles in your cheeks, but he looks so worried and you feel so guilty because he shouldn't have to be that worried.

"You've been so brave, baby, you're so brave...soon you'll be in bed and you can watch the game and sleep, okay?" He knows you'll want to watch the game if you're sat at home, mostly because you watch every game he plays even if its on catch up, but also because he knows it'll reassure you that he made it back in time.

You nod again, blinking up at him so tired that he can't help but frown.

"Atta, girl. My brave girl." The kiss Quinn presses to your forehead is short and sweet, not lingering but filling you with warmth and lightness even as he closes the door on you and gets into the driver's side.

You miss his comforting touch and as if he knows this, his hand reaches for your thigh at any given opportunity when it isn't in use to drive. The stability of it, the comfort of just having him there is so welcome and helps you to relax back into the seat as he drives.

It's just as hard work getting you into the apartment, thankful as ever that the elevator actually works, but once you're in, Quinn feels ten times lighter.

"Right, lets get you comfy, baby...you want one of my jerseys or a hoodie?"

"Jersey...the....the black one, please."

"Okay, sit down, there ya go, good girl.." He watches you the entire time from the corner of his eye, scared you'll lean too far forward from how you're hunched over on the edge of the bed. He tries to make the entire thing quick, reaching for his black jersey, the extra big one that he bought home because you liked how it dwarfed you and even dwarfed him.

"Arms up, baby..." He helps you out of your work blouse and your bra, slipping the jersey over the top quickly to avoid the shivers you start shaking with.

The worst part is getting you to your feet to get your bottoms off. Quinn helps you rise to your feet before kneeling in front of you, dragging your hands to his shoulders for support as he helps you inch out of the remainder of your work clothes. Your fingers grip his shoulders so tight that he's certain you might leave bruises but he doesn't really care, just happy to get you comfy and help you into bed.

You're bundled under as many blankets as he can find, plus the heated blanket you got at Christmas. A big jug of water beside the bed, snacks piled high because he is not having you try to go all the way to kitchen without supervision right now.

"You want the game set to go on?"

"Y...yes, please...wanna watch you play." He turns the television on, setting it to the NHL game set to go live in less than an hour now and he knows he's going to miss warm ups at this point. Tocc's probably blowing up his phone and he knows he's cutting it fine...but you look so small bundled up in bed and he actually hates the idea of leaving you alone. He hates not having his family near all the time as a general rule, but in that moment he hates it so much more. If his mum or dad had been near he could have asked Ellen or Jim to check in on you, instead you were going to be all alone and he hated it.

"I'll score for you, yeah? You can watch me score and maybe we'll win and then I'll come and make us dinner. That sound good, baby?"

"Perfect..." Quinn smooths your hair back from your face, tucking a strand behind your ear even as he uses it as an excuse to feel your temperature. Not unreasonably warm which reassures him a little that you're at least not feverish.

He just keeps sitting there next to you, stroking your hair and caressing your cheek to the point that as much as you're loathe to get him to stop and to leave, you have to remind him he can't stay here. He has a game he's already running late to.

"You...you have to go, Quinn...I'll be okay..."

"If you're not, you'll phone 911, right?" He smooths your hair back again, in truth he really doesn't want to leave you there like that. Even as you seem to be breathing a little better now you're lying down. He considers just not going, if they lose they lose...but he knows he can't. He's captain, he promised he'd be back...and you'd be unhappy with him. He might be your boyfriend but the Canucks were your team and you'd likely make him sleep on the couch for a week.

"I promise...just go win for me?"

"Okay, sweet girl." He presses a last lingering kiss to your forehead, before getting up to leave. But, he still lingers in the doorway for a moment until you push him to go.

Once he's out of the apartment he's rushing. Barely any time and honestly when he finally gets back to the arena and gets his skates on he's surprised he's just in time to go out on the ice for the anthem...cold, not warmed up in the slightest, not ready at all to play a game, but willing to.

Tocc stops him as he's passing the bench to get to the ice, "Cutting it fine, Hughes!" despite the gruff tone, Quinn can tell that Tocc is just relieved that Quinn's back in time. As are the guys who all look at him with varying shades of relief as if they'd been freaking out the entire time. Which they probably had.

"Told you I'd be back." Quinn says it with such confidence, even though inside he knows he nearly missed the entire game. To be honest if you hadn't forced him out the apartment then he'd probably have been late at best.

"How is she?" Tocc's voice is soft, concerned and Quinn appreciates it. He appreciates that as a coach Tocc doesn't just care about how much they cost or how well they play, he cares about them and their families too...and you're included in that, ring or not.

"Not good...but safe at home."

"You need practice off tomorrow?"

"Please, I need to get her to the doctors..."

"Done. Now go help us win the game." Tocc gives him a clap on the shoulder before pushing him out onto the ice and just like that Quinn slips into captain mode.

Locked in like he always is even if his legs don't feel as loose and his stick feels a little less familiar in his hands. Knowing you're home safe helps, he can put the thought of you to the back of his mind, knowing you're safe in the apartment, comfortable and surrounded by everything you need.

You find it hard to focus on the game, but force yourself to, determined to watch Quinn play and to see the goal he intends to score for you. Maybe it's silly, there's no guarantee he'll actually score, but you can tell from the moment he's on the ice that it's one of the few things on his mind. Shot after shot after shot, a determined series of attempts that remind you how important you are to him even as you lie wheezing in bed, eating as much chocolate as Quinn put out for you.

It's part way through the first period with one goal already to Vancouver thanks to Petey that the issue of Quinn's disappearance pre-game is raised.

"Quinn Hughes was nearly late to the game today, the captain missed warm ups but that's certainly not stopping him now!" Shortie's voice rings through the room, a familiar cadence that makes you feel comforted.

"No, it's not, Shortie, do we know why Hughes was late?" Dave responds and for a moment you can't quite comprehend that you've managed to cause this much of a ruckus.

"It hasn't been confirmed and you know I'm not much of a gossip..." You have a little giggle a Shortie even as you are the topic of conversation because it's not really much in the way of gossip and it's so silly.

"But?"

"Apparently he had a family emergency, his girlfriend is very unwell and he dropped everything to go get her."

"Well, that's just.."

"Romantic? Sweet?"

"I was going to say so unlike the Quinn Hughes we used to know, the one who only thought about hockey." You think back to Quinn when you first met, how everything had been hockey, hockey, hockey. You hadn't minded, your own love of the sport meant that you could handle it. But, it's true...Quinn had been rethinking his priorities ever since you started dating, where he might have prioritised hockey once, he'd started to prioritise you. You're not entirely sure at what point you became that important in his life, but it made you feel warm and fuzzy all over.

"I think it's a good thing, that's a sign of growth, just like Hughes' shot!" Shortie cuts himself off as you watch the camera pan to Quinn, following his agile movements across the ice as he skips past the other team's players as if it's as easy as breathing, "He's in past the defence, he lines up the shot and an unassisted goal for Quinn Hughes! Vancouver goal!"

You smile wide as you watch Quinn grin, celebrating with his team in a series of hugs before he finds a camera. There's a moment where you know he's grinning at you, for you, a cheeky little wink sent through the screen as if to say 'told you I'd score for you'.

"I suspect that one was for the girlfriend, Shortie."

You watch the entire game, trying not to nod off to sleep between periods. While you can't cheer and you certainly don't have the energy to celebrate too hard, every Canuck goal makes you feel lighter and brings a smile to your face.

The end result of a 5-2 win to the Canucks makes it easy for you to drift off as the game ends and the waiting for Quinn begins.

He's running off a high when the game ends, even more so when Boeser offers to take over press duties so Quinn can get back to you quickly.

The apartment is quiet when he comes in, "Baby?" not a sound comes back in response and he's careful to move quietly through the apartment to the bedroom doorway.

You're fast asleep, breathing heavy but nowhere near as bad as earlier in the day, you're surrounded by chocolate wrappers and he's quiet as he picks them all up and puts them in a bin, replacing them with the puck he scored with on your bedside table.

He tiptoes back to the kitchen quietly pottering around to make some dinner for you while you're still asleep, nothing fancy but protein, carbs and veg. The sort of thing that's definitely boring but also definitely what your body needs right now.

"Baby, time to wake up...I've made you dinner." He's gentle when he wakes you, soft fingers down your cheek as you stir awake, blinking up at him bleary eyed. Quinn helps you sit upright, the tray of food settling neatly in your lap.

"Where's...where's yours?"

"On the table, you want me to eat in here with you, sweetheart?"

He's moving before you finish nodding, grabbing another tray and his plate before joining you on the bed. He spends most of his dinner watching you eat, making sure you're not leaving large amounts and that you're okay.

He's happy about the win, happy about the score, but he's mostly just happy to be back with you and knowing that you're eating and you're okay, if not well.

Quinn's quick to tidy up your trays and even quicker to get back to you and get into a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, sliding under the covers with you and pulling you into his arms.

Your cheek rests against his chest, the steady thump of his heart a soothing sound that helps some of the anxiety about being off work ease off. Quinn's fingers caress circles and weird shapes across your arm and shoulder as he tucks you tight against him, legs twined together. Every so often he presses a kiss to your forehead, your cheek, the top of your hair, as if reassuring himself that you're okay and he's got you.

"You scored..." You mumble into his t-shirt, a small smile working it's way to your lips as his hand moves up to run through your hair, stopping at your scalp every now and then to scratch lightly until you feel like purring even if that purr is more of a wheezy rumble.

"Mmm, for you, baby." Quinn smiles down at you, another kiss pressed to your cheek.

"T...the wink?" His smile weakens slightly at your still stumbling breathlessness and the wheeze and crackle that accompany it.

"Just for you, sweet girl."

"I'm...I'm proud of you, y'know?" You smile up at him so sweetly that he can't help but feel certain in his choices today. Yeah, nearly missing a game was rough, and maybe the press are going to be dicks about it and maybe he would have felt guilty if he'd missed the game or they'd lost...but he knows he'd skip a million games if it meant you were being looked after, were safe.

"I know...and tomorrow you're going to show me how proud you are by letting me take you to the doctors again."

"Ugh..." You groan, hiding your face into his chest like that will stop him from dragging you to the doctors. Your stubbornness normally cute but in this moment less so.

Quinn cups the back of your head until your looking up at him, green eyes meeting yours with a pleading stare that makes your resolve tremble and shudder. "Please? I'm worried about you, baby...I was really scared when I got that text from you."

"Yeah?" You hate that you worried him...it's that worry that makes you concede that maybe you need to go back to the doctors and maybe as much as you hate it, you'll do it, for Quinn.

"Yeah. I can replace hockey, I can play another game if I miss one. But, I can't replace you. Let me take you to the doctors."

There's a beat of silence as he pleads with you, eyes soft, worried, gentle, thumb stroking soothingly across the base of your neck and you can't really deny him this. Not when you know you'd feel exactly the same if the roles were reversed, not when he nearly missed a game for you today and went in completely cold turkey to win it.

"Okay...as...as long as you keep cuddling me."

"I think I can do that, baby." You curl back into his arms like the spot was carved just for you and in that moment Quinn Hughes knows that you have fully hit the top of his priority list, no ands, ifs, buts or maybes. You could ask him to quit hockey tomorrow and he'd do it. He'd do anything for you and that should be terrifying, but it's not because he knows you'd never ask too much of him. If anything you ask too little.

[kultofkorii]

─ Old Habits, Die Hard

✎ Strawhats x gn! reader

Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Usopp [Separately]

• fic type: drabbles

• summary: Strawhat men with an s/o, who picks at their acne/scars; and they do whatever they can to help them try to break the habit.

• word count: 3.9k [Collectively]

• warnings: skin picking, acne picking

• a/n: These are based on my own experience with skin picking, which won't be like everyone else's. So I ask that you be considerate when reading, please! I kinda got carried away with Sanji and Usopp 🧍‍♀️

Luffy:

The sun beams down on the Thousand Sunny, its golden rays glinting off the calm ocean waves. You lean against the railing, your fingers drumming absentmindedly against the wood. Your gaze wanders toward the horizon, thoughts meandering as the ship cuts through the water.

You shift slightly, fingers brushing your shoulder. There it is again—the familiar itch of idle hands meeting your ever-stubborn acne. Before you can pick at it, a familiar voice snaps you out of your trance. “Y/n! Look at this!” Luffy’s voice rings out, cutting through the salty air. Turning, you see your captain sprinting toward you, holding something in his outstretched hands. Usopp trails behind him, yelling something about "not losing it this time."

Luffy skids to a stop in front of you, shoving a palm-sized beetle practically into your face. “Isn’t it cool? Usopp and I found it on the mast!” You lean back instinctively, raising an eyebrow. “Cool? It looks like it’s planning world domination.” Luffy cackles at your remark, his grin widening. “You’re funny, Y/n! But look at its horns! They’re huge!” You snort, glancing at the beetle. “Yeah, massive. Bet it benches twice my weight.” You flash a mock-serious expression before bursting into laughter, your tone dripping with pompous flair.

“Oi! Don’t insult Beetle-sama!” Usopp protests, pointing a dramatic finger at you. “He’s the strongest beetle in all the seas!” Rolling your eyes with a chuckle, you cross your arms. “Alright, alright, I concede. Beetle-sama is a paragon of strength and charm.” Luffy laughs again, his joy as infectious as ever. “See? Told ya it’s awesome!” He’s gone as quickly as he came, bounding off to show the beetle to Robin next. You shake your head, amused, as your fingers drift back to your shoulder.

“Stop that,” Chopper’s gentle voice interrupts, his small hoof swatting your hand away. “Caught red-handed, huh?” you reply with a sheepish grin. Chopper frowns, his little doctor’s coat billowing slightly in the breeze. “Y/n, you’ve gotta stop picking at it. It could leave scars or get infected. You should take better care of your skin!”

You sigh, nodding. “I know, Doc. It’s just...a bad habit, y’know? Boredom, stress—it happens.”Chopper nods sagely, but before he can respond, Luffy reappears, his curiosity piqued. “What are you two talking about?” Chopper hesitates, glancing between you and Luffy, but you wave him off. “It’s no big deal, just some skin stuff.”

“Skin stuff?” Luffy tilts his head, clearly not understanding. Chopper sighs, taking pity on him. “Y/n picks at their acne sometimes, especially when they’re bored or stressed. I’ve been trying to help them stop.”Luffy blinks at this, his rubbery brain gears turning. Then, with the sudden decisiveness only he can muster, he declares, “Alright! I’ll help too!” You blink, caught off guard. “Help? How?”

“By making sure you’re never bored!” Luffy grins, puffing out his chest like he’s just announced a grand plan. You laugh, shaking your head. “That’s a tall order, Captain.”

“Not for me!” Luffy insists, stretching his arm out and wrapping it around your waist. “C’mon, we’re gonna explore the ship!” And so it begins. Every time you find yourself sitting alone, fingers starting to twitch, Luffy appears like magic. Whether he’s dragging you off to explore a new island, shoving some bizarre food Sanji’s made into your hands, or excitedly ranting about his next dream, he always manages to keep your hands busy—and your mind off your habit.

One evening, after a particularly chaotic adventure involving angry sea kings and narrowly avoiding an ambush, the crew is sprawled across the deck, basking in the quiet. You sit alone near the bow, the familiar itch creeping up again. Your fingers twitch, drifting toward your shoulder, when—

“Y/n!

You startle as Luffy plops down in front of you, cross-legged and beaming. “Wanna hear about the biggest fish I’ve ever seen?” he asks, leaning in close. “Let me guess—it was this big?” You stretch your arms wide, grinning. “No, bigger!” Luffy laughs, mimicking your gesture but stretching his arms far past the point of realism. “It was huuuge!” You chuckle, shaking your head. “Sure it was, Captain.”

As he talks—animatedly describing a fish so large it could swallow the Sunny whole—you realize something. His hands have found yours, his fingers weaving through yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The urge to pick at your skin fades, replaced by a warm, calm feeling. You smile softly, letting yourself be swept up in his energy. “You’re really something, Luffy.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” he asks, cocking his head. “Just...thanks,” you say simply, your voice lighter than usual. Luffy grins, his face lighting up with joy. “Of course! You’re my crew, Y/n. And you’re my partner! I’ve gotta take care of you!" The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, but you quickly mask it with your usual humor. “Aw, shucks. Flattery will get you everywhere, Captain.” He laughs, throwing his head back, and you join in, the sound of your laughter mingling with the ocean breeze.

Zoro:

The salty breeze of the ocean tickled your nose as you leaned on the Sunny’s railing, the waves sparkling under the sun. You were currently watching Luffy attempt to catch fish with his bare hands—unsuccessfully—and your amused chuckles were drowned out by his cries of determination.

“Don’t laugh!” he hollered. “I’m gonna catch the biggest fish in here!” You snorted, smirking. “Sure you are, Captain. At this rate, the fish are probably betting on who’ll pull you in first.” Luffy splashed water in your direction, though he was far too far away for it to land anywhere near you. You grinned, leaning back and crossing your arms. Being on the Thousand Sunny was never boring, and neither were the people on it. That was especially true when it came to Roronoa Zoro.

You felt his presence before you even saw him, his heavy footsteps and steady gait unmistakable. You turned just in time to see the swordsman approaching with his usual lazy scowl, swords at his side. He stopped a few feet from you, hands tucked into his haramaki. “Oi, you done slacking?” he asked. You grinned, tilting your head dramatically. “Slacking? My dear mosshead, I’m hard at work being me. It’s a full-time job, you know.”

Zoro rolled his eyes, but the corners of his lips twitched slightly. “Tch. You’re coming with me. Training.” You groaned, throwing your head back theatrically. “Again? Zoro, I’m not trying to become a human pretzel! Besides, what’s the point of training if I can already outwit you with my superior intellect?”

“That’s rich coming from someone who trips over their own feet,” Zoro retorted, grabbing your wrist. “I was testing gravity,” you deadpanned as he dragged you across the deck. “It still works, by the way.” You could hear Nami chuckling in the background, but Zoro ignored everyone, his grip firm yet not painful. You’d long since stopped resisting his training sessions, mostly because he was stubborn enough to carry you over his shoulder if you didn’t cooperate. Plus, you knew why he was doing it.

As the two of you reached the training area, Zoro handed you a practice sword. You stared at it with mock horror. “Oh no, not again. My arms still feel like noodles from the last time.” Zoro raised an eyebrow. “Good. Then you’re warming up faster.” You groaned but complied, holding the sword in a half-decent stance. Zoro began to correct your posture, his hands brushing yours briefly. You tried not to think too hard about it, focusing instead on his instructions.

“Stop slouching. Keep your wrist steady,” he said, circling you like a predator assessing its prey. “Sir, yes Sir,” you quipped. “Just focus, idiot,” he muttered, but you could hear the faintest trace of amusement in his tone. The training session lasted longer than you’d anticipated, and by the end, your muscles ached, and your bad habit had all but slipped your mind. Zoro had a way of keeping you so focused that there was no room for idle thoughts—or idle hands.

Later, as you sat on the deck with Chopper tending to a scrape on your hand, the little doctor gave you his usual stern look. “You need to stop picking at your skin, Y/n!” he scolded. “It’s bad for you, and you’ll get scars!” You gave him a sheepish grin. “Aw, c’mon, Doc, it’s not that bad.”

“It is bad,” Chopper insisted. “And Zoro’s been telling me you’re getting better about it. Don’t ruin the progress!” Your head snapped up, and you blinked. “Wait—Zoro’s been talking to you about it?” Chopper nodded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “He said you’re too stubborn to admit it, but the training helps keep you from doing it. I think he’s really proud of you.”Your face grew warm, and you glanced over to where Zoro was lounging in his usual spot, swords by his side. He was fast asleep—or so it seemed—but his presence felt... steady, grounding.

That night, as you sat beside him in the crow’s nest after he’d dragged you there “to keep him company,” you finally worked up the courage to ask. “Hey, Zoro,” you began, your voice softer than usual. “Hm?” He cracked an eye open, glancing at you. “Why do you... you know, keep bugging me to train with you?” He stared at you for a moment before closing his eye again. “You’re less annoying when you’re focused.” You snorted, leaning back against the wall. “Wow, I’m touched. Truly.”

A brief silence fell between you, but Zoro’s voice cut through it, lower and more serious. “...You’re not alone on this ship. So stop acting like you have to deal with everything by yourself,” he said. Your chest tightened at his words, and for once, you didn’t have a snarky comeback. Instead, you smiled, your voice light. “Thanks, mosshead.”

He smirked, leaning back with his arms behind his head. “Anytime, idiot.” And just like that, you realized how much Zoro cared in his own, gruff way. You didn’t need flowery words or grand gestures. His actions spoke volumes, and you silently vowed to keep working on your habit—not just for him, but for yourself.

Sanji:

The scent of sea salt mixed with the delicious aroma of baking bread wafted through the galley. You leaned against the counter, arms crossed, as Sanji expertly kneaded dough with the kind of finesse that only he could muster. His blond hair fell into his eyes, and you couldn’t resist the urge to tease him. “Careful, chef,” you said with a smirk. “You’re going to knead that dough into another dimension if you keep putting your back into it like that.”

Sanji shot you a look, one eyebrow arched in mock offense. “Oh? And what would you know about dough, my dear?” “Oh, I know plenty,” you replied, puffing up your chest dramatically. “I’ve got years of experience eating bread. That practically makes me an expert, don’t you think?” He chuckled, shaking his head as he transferred the dough into a bowl to rest. “You’re impossible, you know that?” “Thank you, I try,” you said with an exaggerated bow, laughing at your own antics.

As much as you loved joking around, you could tell Sanji was keeping an eye on you—specifically on your hands, which had started to wander toward your face. You were picking at a small spot on your cheek, absentmindedly scratching at the imperfection as you talked. His smile faded slightly, and he quickly stepped closer, gently catching your wrist before you could do more damage.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice losing its teasing edge. “Don’t do that, Y/n.” You blinked, glancing down at his hand holding yours. “What? Oh, this?” You waved your free hand dismissively. “It’s fine. Just a little battle with my face, nothing serious.” “It’s not fine,” he insisted, his blue eyes locking onto yours. “You’re hurting yourself. I hate seeing you do that.” The earnest concern in his voice took you off guard, and for a moment, you felt a pang of guilt. “I’m not trying to hurt myself,” you said, your tone softer now. “It’s just... I don’t know. It’s a habit.” Sanji sighed, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand before letting it go. “I know, love. But it still worries me.”

There was a pause before you brightened up again, forcing a grin to lighten the mood. “Wow, look at you, Mr. Worrywart. What’s next? Are you going to start measuring my water intake?” He gave you a flat look. “If I have to.” You burst out laughing, unable to help yourself. “Oh, Sanji, you’re killing me! You’d make an excellent mother.” “And you make an excellent troublemaker,” he shot back, though his lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “But seriously, Y/n, I want to help.” Later that day, you found out what he meant by “help.”

Sanji had roped Chopper into his mission. You walked into the infirmary to find the little reindeer scribbling on a clipboard while Sanji paced back and forth like a man on a mission. “I feel like I’m walking into a conspiracy,” you announced, startling them both. “What’s going on here? Are you plotting my demise? If so, I’d prefer poison. Very dramatic, very Shakespeare.” Chopper turned to you, flustered. “N-No! We’re not plotting anything bad! Sanji just asked me for advice on how to help you with your… um… habit.”

You raised an eyebrow and turned to Sanji. “You went to Chopper for advice? What, are you worried I’ll pick myself into oblivion?” Sanji crossed his arms, clearly unamused by your humor. “I’m serious, love. If you can’t stop, I want to at least help you keep your hands busy. Chopper mentioned stress balls and fidget toys, but I figured you might like something more… hands-on.” “Hands-on?” you repeated, intrigued.

That’s how you found yourself in the kitchen later, standing next to Sanji as he handed you a cutting board and a knife. “If you’re going to be fidgety, you might as well put it to good use,” he said, grinning. “Wow, I’ve been reduced to junior chef status,” you said, pretending to look offended. “What’s next? Do I have to peel potatoes?” “Not today,” he replied, amused. “Today, you’re cutting vegetables. Think you can handle that?” “Oh, I’ll handle it all right,” you said, twirling the knife dramatically before starting to chop. “Watch and learn, chef.”

To your surprise, you found the task oddly soothing. The repetitive motion of chopping vegetables kept your hands busy, and having Sanji nearby made it all the more enjoyable. He’d occasionally lean over to check your work, offering tips or cracking a joke to keep the mood light. “You know,” you said after a while, “this isn’t half bad. I might actually be good at this.” “Of course you are,” Sanji said, giving you a proud smile. “You’ve got me as your teacher, after all.” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling back. “Don’t let it go to your head, love."

Over the next few weeks, Sanji made a habit of inviting you to join him in the kitchen whenever he had the chance. When he was too busy to cook with you, he’d leave behind recipes for you to try on your own—always tailored to your tastes. One evening, as you both worked side by side to bake a batch of cookies, you glanced at him and felt a wave of gratitude. “You know,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence, “you’re pretty amazing.”

Sanji looked at you in surprise. “What brought that on?” “Just… everything you do for me,” you admitted, your usual snark giving way to sincerity. “I know I joke around a lot, but I really appreciate it, Sanji. You’re kind of the best.” He blushed, his cigarette almost falling from his lips. “Y-Y/n, don’t say stuff like that so casually.” You laughed, nudging him playfully. “What, can’t handle a compliment? Poor Sanji, so unused to praise.”

He shook his head, smiling despite himself “You’re impossible.” “And you love it,” you said, grinning. “I do,” he admitted softly, his voice full of warmth. The moment hung in the air like the scent of freshly baked cookies, and for once, you didn’t feel the need to pick at your skin.

Usopp:

Usopp was on of the most interesting people you'd ever met. He had this magnetic way of weaving words, turning even the most mundane tasks into grand adventures. He was funny, brave (well, mostly), and, above all, kind. And somehow, despite the larger-than-life personalities around him, he made you feel like the most important person on the ship.

Which was why you were currently sitting on a barrel in the workshop, your hands idly fidgeting with a small mechanism Usopp had given you. He was pacing back and forth, gesturing wildly as he described the intricate designs for a new cannon he and Franky were working on. “And then,” he said, his voice rising with excitement, “the cannon will have this rotating mechanism that lets it fire in three directions at once! Can you believe that? Three! It’s genius, right?”

“Absolutely,” you replied with a grin, turning the small gear in your hand. “Though I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Usopp paused mid-step, his jaw dropping in mock offense. “Y/N! How could you? I’m sharing my brilliant ideas with you, and you’re not even trying to understand?”

“Hey,” you said, holding up the gear like it was a prize. “I’m doing my part. Look, I’m keeping my hands busy so I don’t accidentally pick at my face and send Chopper into another lecture.” At that, Usopp puffed out his chest, a smug grin spreading across his face. “Well, you are welcome, by the way. I did make those fidget toys for you, remember?”

You laughed, the sound ringing through the workshop. “Oh, don’t worry, Captain Usopp. I’ll sing your praises for the rest of my days. Truly, what would I do without you?” His cheeks flushed a deep red, but he quickly turned away, pretending to inspect a nearby toolbox. “Y-you don’t have to go that far,” he mumbled, though you caught the hint of pride in his voice.

You hopped off the barrel and walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist in a sudden hug. “Thank you, though. Really. For noticing and for caring. It means a lot.” For a moment, he froze, his entire body going stiff. Then, as if on cue, his chest puffed out even more, and he placed his hands on his hips, striking a heroic pose. “Of course, Y/N! As your boyfriend, it’s my duty to look out for you!” You stepped back, biting back a laugh. “Wow, look at you. The very picture of chivalry.” “Darn right,” he said, grinning ear to ear.

Your days soon seemed to develop a rhythm, and you found yourself spending more and more time in Usopp’s workshop. Whenever he noticed you sitting by yourself, your fingers absentmindedly scratching at your skin, he’d beckon you over. “Y/N! Come here! I’ve got something cool to show you!”You’d roll your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. He’d hand you some little trinket—usually a part of a gadget he was working on—and challenge you to figure out how it worked.

“These gears fit together how exactly?” you���d ask, holding up two mismatched pieces. Usopp would smirk, leaning against the workbench with a cocky expression. “Ah, you see, that’s a trade secret. But I suppose I could teach you… if you’re nice to me.” “Nice? Oh, please,” you’d reply, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “I’m always nice to you, Love.” He’d chuckle, then launch into an enthusiastic explanation about the mechanism, complete with sound effects and exaggerated gestures. Half the time, you had no idea what he was saying, but you didn’t mind. Watching him light up, his voice filled with passion, was more than enough for you.

Then there were the quieter days. On those rare occasions when the crew wasn’t caught up in some grand adventure, you and Usopp would retreat to the aquarium. The peaceful hum of the water and the gentle swaying of the Sunny made it the perfect spot to relax.

The gentle gurgle of water and the soft, rhythmic swish of fish fins filled the aquarium, creating a tranquil symphony. The light refracted through the tank’s glass, casting wavy blue shadows across the floor. You sat shoulder-to-shoulder with Usopp on the cushioned bench, his hand clasped warmly in yours. Neither of you spoke, but there was no need for words—the silence felt full, not empty, like a soft blanket wrapping around you both.

Your thumb idly traced the callouses on his palm, a subtle reminder of the work he put into everything he cared about. Usopp’s hand fit perfectly in yours, rough yet comforting, like holding a tether to something steady in an unpredictable world. You could feel his heartbeat in the quiet stillness, a steady rhythm that mirrored the calm you felt whenever he was near.

Usopp’s gaze lingered on the tank, but you caught him sneaking glances at you out of the corner of your eye. His face softened whenever he looked your way, a quiet, almost shy smile tugging at his lips. For all his bluster and bravado, there was a gentleness to him in moments like these—an unspoken vulnerability that made your chest tighten with affection.

The fish glided lazily through the water, their vibrant scales shimmering under the soft glow of the tank lights. You wondered if Usopp saw the same beauty in them that you saw in him—bright, intricate, and endlessly fascinating.As if sensing your thoughts, Usopp gave your hand a small squeeze, grounding you. He didn’t say anything, but the action spoke volumes, You'd leaned your head against his shoulder, a quiet smile curling at your lips.

Over time, you started to notice a change in yourself. The fidget toys Usopp had made, the trinkets he gave you to tinker with, the quiet moments in the aquarium—all of it seemed to help. You weren’t picking at your skin as much. The urge was still there sometimes, but it was easier to resist. One evening, as you sat on the deck watching the sunset, you turned to Usopp. “Hey.” He looked up from the slingshot he was polishing, his eyebrows raised in question.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice soft but sincere. He tilted his head, confused. “For what?” “For everything,” you replied. “For noticing when I’m struggling. For finding ways to help without making me feel bad about it. For just… being you.” His eyes widened, and for a moment, he seemed at a loss for words. Then he smiled, a small, genuine smile that made your heart flutter. “Well,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I guess I should say thank you too. For putting up with me. And, you know, for being you.” You laughed, leaning your head against his shoulder. “We’re a pretty good team, huh?” “The best,” he said, his voice full of confidence.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in shades of orange and pink, you couldn’t help but feel grateful. Life on the sea was unpredictable, filled with dangers and uncertainties. But with Usopp by your side, you knew you could face anything. After all, he wasn’t just your boyfriend. He was your partner, your teammate, and, most importantly, your friend. And that was more than enough.

[quarterlifekitty]

The Gaz secret baby post was sooo delicious. He totally would go "oh fuck yeah a baby it’s baby time". You've infected my brain with this trope and the doctors are saying it's incurable 🤒 I keep thinking of Nikolai in this trope!

He's not made his attraction to you any secret – you dismiss any reciprocated feelings because it's just not realistic with both of your jobs. The task force finishes a gruelling but successful op with him, and everybody decides to let loose for a night. After a few many rounds of drinks… you inevitably fall into his bed.

Cut to 5 weeks later, you're staring at a positive test and wondering how long you can keep this a secret. You resolve to never let Nik know he's the dad. Someone who loves his job, disappearing for months… you decide it's best for your child to have at least one present parent and maybe you're scared of the rejection.

I’m so ashamed I haven’t done this trope for Nikolai!!! I love the idea of you trying actively to hide it— it’s not just a one night stand thing, you really know each other and you’re still trying to get away with it.

At first, when he sees the baby— he just assumes it can’t be his, because you would’ve told him, wouldn’t you? Surely you wouldn’t think he didn’t want anything to do with a perfect, chubby baby made from both you and him. So when he’s questioning, it’s about the timelines. He knows there wasn’t anything labeled between you— it was one night, he wasn’t your boyfriend, but the beast inside him still bares its teeth at the idea that you fucked someone right after he fucked you.

Price, for all that Nik is his best mate, promised to be your confidant as your captain, and he wouldn’t betray that. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t a messy bitch who will start making a whole load of implications. Some of them are pretty crude, too, because he’s trying to goad Nik into confronting you. Saying things like “You should dick ‘er down again soon, last time it settled her down like you wouldn’t believe.”

It makes Nik more and more sure that there wasn’t anyone else. You were never really the type. Which means the baby must be his, and for some reason, you don’t want him to know.

That makes his blood hot. The idea that you don’t want him to father his own baby. You’ve always been a bit bristly to him, and he’s never known exactly why— he was hoping to find out the morning after you fell into bed together, but you ran out first thing, and he was contracted in a job soon after.

So he hangs over you more than before, watching from a distance, the gears turning as he considers what the fuck to say to get you to fess up. He wants to hear you say it. He doesn’t want to just ask and have you confirm or deny.

It hurts that you don’t want to tell him. That you don’t feel it’s safe for him to know. That you’re trying to protect yourself and the cub from him knowing. And despite the support from your own squad— it can’t have been easy for you.

But he also doesn’t want to miss out on another second of fatherhood. There’s an impatient roiling in his gut about it. Seeing your fat little baby, his fat little baby, and not being able to wordlessly lift it from your arms and hold it close to his chest and kiss its head.

So he’s conflicted, to say the least.

[kneazle]

More of the tsunami fic! Probably the weakest part (in my opinion) but I believe we're coming to a close with this soon maybe one more part? 😊 again thank you to everyone whose shown this love, I appreciate it more than you can imagine 💕

Tags are under the cut but let me know if you want to be removed! (hopefully I didn't miss any of you that wanted to be added!)

part 1 • part 2

Tommy breathed heavily, cold seeping into his bones while his skin broke out in a sweat. It was an odd feeling, and one that didn't bode well for him. 

He didn't know how long passed since he lifted them onto the platform. His leg throbbed when there wasn't pain shooting up it, but he could do no more than he already had at the moment, having used his plaid button-up to stop himself from bleeding out like he was. There's no telling if it would hold, but it was something until he could get Jee to safety.

Tommy glanced down at where she was curled into his side and his heart clenched.

He looked up to the sky and closed his eyes for a brief moment. 

Please just let her be okay, please

The air was tense in the engine on the way to the pier. Worried glances were thrown his and Chimney's way but Buck avoided meeting those gazes.

They were on their way back from a quick call when it came in about the tsunami, everyone holding their breaths at the thought of another one. Buck felt their eyes on him and had grinned sadly, a weak joke about at least he wasn't there this time but not fully meaning it as another tsunami meant people hurt, lives lost. 

Until Chimney made a strangled noise from his seat. Choking out that Jee was at the pier with Tommy. That Tommy volunteered to watch her when Maddie got called in for a shift and their normal babysitter couldn't, and was planning on taking her there.

Buck's chest felt empty and constricting at the same time as Chimney spoke on the phone with Maddie for a few seconds. His worry burrowing inside, steadily growing at the sound of their voices. He didn't say a word but shared a look with Chim– yet what right did he have when this was their child? Bile rose in his throat that he pushed down, hands clenching. Jee and Tommy were god knows where and in what state, but Buck would do anything to trade places with them at this moment.

"Uncle Tommy Uncle Tommy!"

Tommy's eyes shot open, blinking rapidly at Jee's shouting and shoves. Fuck. He internally cursed at himself for not staying focused, having felt drowsy– no doubt an infection but there was no time to think more on it.

"Look!" 

He sucked in a breath. A boy of about seven or eight was coming their way yelling and crying for help, holding onto a board that was barely keeping him afloat. Tommy saw this little boy with soaked curls, wet black glasses that slid down his nose– and Tommy turned to Jee, "Stay right there Jee don't move!" He told her quickly.

Tommy jumped back into the water and grunted against the pain as he swam out enough, grabbing for the boy as soon as he was in reach. 

He didn't hesitate to cling to Tommy who held the young boy to him. "I got you buddy, I got you, hang on alright?"

Relief slammed into him so hard when they were all on the platform and Jee didn't move an inch, that Tommy let a tear escape mixing with the wetness of the water. Fear clawed its way in his chest.

"Thank you!" The boy coughed out, body giving a big shiver as his lower lip trembled.

"What's your name kid?" Tommy asked softly. "I'm Tommy and this is my best buddy Jee."

He rubbed at his nose, wiping water from his eyes. "D-Danny."

"Alright Danny, can I know who you came here with?" 

"My b-big brother, he- he got pulled away." Danny whimpered, and Tommy could have cried the way Jee scooted closer, her little hand coming to hold Danny's slightly bigger one.

Tommy wrapped two terrified children in his hold, trying to stay awake and focused on them and not the feeling of his body fighting for sleep with the piercing throbbing pain spreading through him.

Fear wasn't new to him– but this was an entirely new kind of fear he realized.

@not-as-straight-as-i-appear @todd-harper @klutzygirl @eliotwaughdeservesbetter @bidisasterevankinard @comfortingevanbuckley @laundryandtaxesworld @tommykinard @sherlockismarvelous9-1-1 @mmso-notlikethat @iphyslitterator @racerchix21 @a-mel0n @station18908 @beckym2001 @bi-bi-buckleys @loulou-land @tommykinard6 @beanarie @fuselsstuff @chococara25 @owlgirl495 @thestrangestthlng @buckleyskinards @nznaturalkiwi @daughterofscotland @livelaughlou @hyperfocusthusly @teabroomsandbooks @thecarrott @tistai

[watcheraurora]

A'right SaYm. The art infected me. Have a **non-canon** (but still fun, hopefully) SkizzPulse one-shot in the King's Tide universe and if it sucks... sorry? never written skizzpulse before so idk i got nothin for ya 2.4k words

CW: blood, underwater violence

—

Impulse's ear fins flicked against the sides of his hair as he and Skizz patrolled in opposite directions. The rest of the glimmer—including Tango for once, while he was visiting for a whole week—was hunting on the reef. Gathering food and supplies now that spring was coming back and the winter's deficit was over. Skizz's powerful whale shark tail carried him easily through the water and Impulse couldn't help but sneak peeks whenever their opposite circles crossed one another.

Skizz knew it too. Of course he knew. Because every time Impulse came back into view, he'd show off just a little bit. Exaggerating the side-to-side motion of his tail and smiling wide. Usually throwing Impulse a cheeky wink. Which usually earned him an eye roll from Impulse that made him cackle.

They had a job to perform, and Impulse was doing his best to not get distracted. He and Skizz, at their cores, were both protectors. It was why they always volunteered to be on watch duty. Tango, Zed, and Pearl would hunt enough for Impulse and Skizz for the week too, to make up for them keeping an eye on the glimmer. They always did—especially when Tango was visiting. He didn't have the raw power Impulse and Skizz did that came from their builds, but he was slim and fast. Apart from Pearl, Tango was probably the fastest merperson in the whole glimmer and he hunted fast and efficiently.

Impulse wasn't particularly concerned about having enough.

He carried on with his watch, ear fins turning and rotating, listening. He could hear sperm whale clicking, but they never came this way, and their clicks could be heard from miles away.

On Skizz's circle, swimming a little deeper, he swished up into Impulse's path and caught Impulse by the shoulders. A quiet, entreating whalesong pitched in his throat.

Impulse rolled his eyes affectionately. "Needy, much?" he signed with a sarcastic brow raised higher than the other one.

Skizz just shrugged and smiled cheekily.

Impulse's ear fins wiggled. "Fine," he signed.

Skizz beamed. He cradled Impulse's head between his hands and pressed their foreheads together, along with the tips of their noses. Lingering there for several long moments. Impulse's gills lifted on his neck as he took a deep breath. Just inhaling the subtle scent of his lover in the seawater. Letting it comfort him.

"You're always tense on watch," Skizz signed when he let go of Impulse's face but didn't remove his forehead. "You need to unwind a little."

Impulse pulled back enough to raise his brow again. "I'll unwind in our grotto later," he retorted.

Skizz waggled his eyebrows. "Say less," he signed playfully.

"Down, lover," Impulse signed. "Later."

Skizz pouted. Impulse rolled his eyes and bumped their foreheads together with a flick of his caudal fin.

A high-pitched trill caught their attention and both their heads snapped to one side. Away from the reef, out toward open water. Impulse pivoted and shot to follow the noise.

He swore on his hands with a single, sharp movement. "Orcas!" he signed to Skizz. "Whole pod."

Skizz repeated the swear and began to sing. A low, thrumming whalesong of warning before chittering to the whole glimmer to take cover and seek shelter on the reef.

Tango was there with Pearl in moments. "How can we help?"

"Keep Pearl safe. Keep an eye on the frys and the elders," Impulse replied.

"No way! We want to help defend," Pearl retorted.

Impulse bared his teeth. "Go. Now! Skizz and I got this."

Pearl's upper lip curled up in a snarl.

Skizz shot out of the darker waters, grabbed both of them by the waists, and hauled them back to the reef before shoving them back, signing fast, and rejoining Impulse at the very edge. "They're not gonna be happy," he signed, using his body to block his hands so Impulse's sister and surrogate brother wouldn't see.

"Too bad. I'd rather them be safe than happy. They'll deal."

Skizz took Impulse's hand for just a moment. "Ready?" he signed with one hand.

"Stay close to me."

That earned him a small smile. "Always... lover."

They turned in sync and rushed away from the reef into deeper, colder waters to intercept the pod before it could get too close to their reef.

Shark gatherings were almost as common as whale or dolphin gatherings, but sharks were nowhere near as dangerous. Orcas were bastards.

But merfolk were even more dangerous. Humans spoke of mammalian intelligence—the reason orcas, whales, and dolphins could beat sharks in conflicts. But merfolk were at the same level of intelligence as humans, and had the limbs and hands necessary to make weapons.

That said, Skizz's claw-like nails were the longest and sharpest of the whole glimmer's and Impulse's teeth could rip through mammalian flesh with ease. They rarely used their spears. They didn't often really need them.

Skizz was big for a merperson. It came with being a whale shark type. Impulse was pretty big too, though nowhere near as long. They were the strongest of the glimmer.

So when they hit the pod of orcas, they hit.

Blood began to cloud the water almost immediately as Skizz's claws tore through the first orca he came into contact with. They didn't want to kill the pod, but they wanted to frighten. Usually that was met with one or two fatalities from the pod. The glimmer would have to clear the reef fast to avoid any sharks that smelled the blood nearby...

But Impulse would worry about that later.

He lifted up above an orca and grabbed it by the blowhole, yanking as though trying to steer it to turn around and clawing with his other hand.

He snarled.

The orcas were screaming.

Another one tried to bite at him, but Skizz grabbed its dorsal fin and pulled, hurling it through the water with the kind of titanic strength that only came from being shark-type. Whale sharks were gentle giants. Skizz was too.

Until he wasn't.

"Hot," Impulse signed quickly.

Skizz shot him a wink and zipped toward another orca.

Impulse did the same, his wide, bright yellow caudal fin churning the water around him.

He grabbed an orca that tried to bite at him by the jaws and held it still long enough to beat at its underbelly with his tail before gouging out some skin with his own long nails. Not quite Skizz's claws, but still sharp and useful. He beat his tail against the wounds and moved to attack another orca.

Skizz caught his hand and slung him forward to bite.

If there were fatalities, the glimmer would make use of the entire corpses. Food, yes, and bones for tools and weapons.

Impulse briefly thought of that as blood filled his mouth as he tore.

He lost track, a bit, after that, of what happened. His brain sunk into attack mode and he turned into the apex predator that merfolk were when their glimmers were threatened. His sister, parents, and brother were back there. His friends.

And he always worried about his lover when they defended their glimmer side-by-side. But he also trusted no one more to have his back.

He shot in a loop around three orcas, clawing and biting and tearing. He was pretty sure his own arm was bleeding—based on how it was burning from the sting of saltwater—but he ignored it. The pod was already in the process of fleeing.

He snarled and growled as the last of the orcas began to leave, baring his teeth and lashing his tail.

Skizz came up beside him, carefully taking his hand and beginning to examine where an orca's teeth had, in fact, cut him. Not quite a bite, but still pretty nasty.

"You need help," Skizz signed with one hand.

Impulse shook his head. "No help. Just you," he replied.

"Fine." Skizz gathered Impulse into his arms, pressing the injured arm to his chest to hold it steady and bumped their foreheads together. Then swam Impulse back to the reef, whistling and singing to catch the glimmer's attention.

Tango, Pearl, and Zed were the first to respond, swimming fast to meet up with them. Pearl's big blue eyes widened when she saw the trail of blood clouding the water.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Orcas are bastards," Impulse signed with one hand.

Tango snickered, but nodded agreement.

"I'm gonna take him home," Skizz signed, also with one hand. "Help him."

Tango and Pearl nodded while Zed just stared, looking a little nauseous.

"We'll get everyone back to the grottos," Tango promised. He tugged on one of Zed's pink arm fins. "Come on, Zed. Let's move."

Zed finally tore his eyes away and went to go gather the rest of the glimmer. Tango was barely a fin-length behind him. Pearl stared between her brother and Skizz for a few moments.

"I'm okay, Pearl," Impulse signed. "I promise. Go help."

She blinked a few times before turning tail. The occasional silver and gold scales in her creamy-white tail flashed off the sunbeams and she rushed after Zed and Tango to go fetch the others.

Skizz gently cradled Impulse closer to his chest and turned to head home.

Skizz chittered in inquiry once or twice. "You okay?"

Impulse nodded. He wasn't that hurt. The only reason he was letting Skizz carry him was to staunch the flow of blood by holding the wounds closed against Skizz's chest. He was a little tired from the fight, but he was plenty strong enough to make the swim home on his own.

Back in the grotto they shared—one of the largest grottos the reef could offer for a pair of lovers, rather than a family, considering Skizz's size—Skizz settled Impulse in their sleeping cubby on the bed of seaweed and rifled through a somewhat makeshift storage container for a wound up wrap of seaweed that was long and flat. Which he used to bind up Impulse's arm.

"Thank you," Impulse signed.

"Anything for you, lover. Always," Skizz replied, bumping his forehead into Impulse's shoulder. "I'll go clear the water a little. Get some of the blood out of here. You rest up."

"My fin is better for that." His was broader.

"It's fine. You rest." Skizz bumped his forehead to Impulse's again and went about cycling the water out of the grotto and the water surrounding it as best he could. Impulse, lying on his left, uninjured, side, just watched with a small smile lingering on his face.

If Tango asked, no, he was not "checking Skizz out" but... damn it was hard not to. Over nine feet long and powerful in a way that was entirely unique to him... Skizz was something else. And Impulse was really lucky. He had all that muscle and the biggest heart in the glimmer all to himself.

"What are you looking at?" Skizz asked gently as he returned to their grotto after clearing the blood out of the water a bit.

Impulse left their sleep cubby to hold Skizz in the larger main area, wrapping his tail around his lover's. His right arm was hurting and sore but he mostly ignored it. "I'm looking at you," he signed, movements small and one-handed as the other wrapped around Skizz.

Who raised a brow. "Why?"

"Because you always look your most handsome after you've been in a fight protecting the glimmer." Impulse nuzzled their foreheads together, just holding his lover close. He wrapped his black tail around Skizz's whale shark one. Skizz hummed low in his throat, content and relaxing as his own arms wrapped around Impulse.

Skizz, his range of motion limited by Impulse's tail, maneuvered them both back into the sleeping cubby and snuggled in close.

"You're not a hugger," Skizz pointed out with one hand and a playfully teasing expression on his face. "So what's gotten into you?"

Impulse shrugged with his uninjured shoulder. "Just want to hold you. You're okay. I'm okay. The fight wasn't that bad."

"Were... you scared?"

"I'm always worried when we get in a fight. I trust you to watch my back but that doesn't stop me from worrying about you."

"Why?"

"You're reckless." Impulse bumped their foreheads together. "I don't want you to get hurt."

Skizz's piercing blue eyes dropped to the seaweed wrapped around Impulse's arm. He raised his eyebrows pointedly and then met Impulse's yellow gaze. "I'm not the one bleeding," he pointed out.

Impulse just shrugged.

Skizz held him tighter with one arm. "It drives me crazy, seeing you hurt. You're mine. I wanna protect you too."

"I know." Impulse finally relaxed, snuggling in and resting his head against Skizz's chest. Skizz tucked him under his chin and buried his nose in Impulse's warm brown hair. Closing his own eyes. He could feel Impulse's heartbeat, the vibration of it traveling through the water easily.

Home. Safe. Loved.

Impulse drifted off to sleep, the gills on his neck lifting and lowering with his breaths, cradled in the arms of the merman who he knew loved him more than anyone else in all the vast oceans.

—

Skizz felt Impulse fall asleep and sighed with a stream of bubbles trailing out of his mouth toward the top of the grotto. He never told Impulse how badly it grated against his protector instincts to allow his lover to protect the glimmer and the reef alongside him. Impulse was stubborn and he'd do it anyway, even if he did know. Skizz just wanted the people he cared about—and especially his favorite person, currently wrapped in his arms and tail—to be safe.

He also knew Impulse was right. The two of them were the biggest and strongest in the whole glimmer. They were the best at protecting it and they worked together well. They always had each other's back.

That didn't mean Skizz enjoyed watching his lover get hurt.

He bumped his forehead to the top of Impulse's head.

Even in sleep, Impulse bumped his own forehead to Skizz's chest.

Smiling, Skizz closed his eyes and let himself finally relax. Not quite sleeping—he had to keep an ear open toward the glimmer's waters in case anyone else needed help—but beginning to doze in and out with his lover held close.

you know, im not sure ive ever drawn art for a fic, featuring a ship thats not even in said fic. However i was posessed by the skizzpulse demons and i just loved drawing @watcheraurora's kings tide designs so much i couldn't help myself 🤭

close up under the cut vv

[tinfoil-jones]

Jerk Ford AU: Silliness IV

Jerk Ford's behaviour was way worse while he was in the multiverse because while he was in his own dimension, Stan was there to keep him from going too far, and to mediate his interactions with other people when it came to important business.

Once he fell through the portal? Completely unrestrained.

Here's a small list of some of things he's done across the multiverse:

Un-sunk the mythical City of Atlantis to get back at a 'sh*tty tourist company'

Lifetime ban from all Space Waffle House locations across time and space for inciting a riot because a waitress kept calling him 'honey'.

Had someone legally assigned to permanent Cosmic Jury Duty.

Sowing the seeds of an extremely invasive and fast-growing varient of cucumber all over a large city in the Cat Dimension.

Not giving his two weeks notice at Space Hooters.

Infecting a galaxy-encompassing digital records archive with a virus that changed every third noun to be replaced with the word 'dick'.

Invading a weed farm on a parallel Earth and replacing the 'mother plant' that all of the other weed plants were cloned from with a strain of marijuanna thats identical in every way, except it produces no THC.

Impersonated one of the Bounty Hunter versions of Ford so he could fake his own death, collect the bounty for himself from the Ford Hate Club, crash the party they threw to celebrate, and then slip away right as the real Bounty Hunter Ford showed up to report that he'd failed to capture Jerk Ford.

---

Remember how in a reverse portal what-if Jerk Ford told Fiddleford he would blow up the planet if he didn't help him rebuild the portal? And Fiddleford called his bluff?

Imagine you're Bill Cipher, and an oddly calm Stanford Pines tells you that in three days, he's going to blow up the Nightmare Realm with you in it.

So you laugh, because he's bluffing.

Two days later, it turns out he wasn't bluffing about blowing up the Nightmare Realm with you in it.

He was bluffing about giving you a third day, because he's a jerk like that.

---

Boss Music? This guy isn't much of a fighter, he isn't a boss fight. It isn't hard to finish a fight with him because he's impossible to beat in a hand-to-hand fight - he isn't very strong compared to most versions of Ford Pines- it's hard to finish a fight with him because he's slippery. He's just going to escape and run if he doesn't think he can win.

If I were to give him a theme song or something, it'd probably be Dangerous by Jorge Rivera-Herrans. Mostly because of the "I have to get home" sentiment.

You have to ignore the fact that he didn't actually get himself home, just like canon Ford his brother had to fix the portal to bring him back.

Bro was at least trying to get back home.

Here's a Jerk Ford Playlist by @tearosepedall

---

Actually, the reverse portal scenario doesn't go quite the way you think it does.

Jerk Ford has to pretend to be Stanley. A school teacher. A resident of society that Gravity Falls actually loves. When he's been an active menace to society his whole life.

Stanley gets shoved into an unforgiving multiverse full of monsters, demons, aliens, and versions of his brother who project their resentment and anger towards their actual twin onto him instead as a proxy.

And they both ask themselves: "What would my brother do in this situation?"

Anyways, this is what happens with Stanley:

And this is what happens with Jerk Ford:

---

Fun fact: Jerk Ford is the reason there's no gnome queen.

While he was studying the gnomes during his researcher years in Gravity Falls, he discovered that the Gnomes only had one female, who was their queen by default.

Anyways he talks to her about how her greatest ambition in life shouldn't be having a hundred husbands and being barefoot and pregnant forever. No, her greatest ambition in life should be being one of the greatest hat models the world has ever known.

Anyways now she lives in New York, she may or may not also be a drug lord in the pixie dust cartel.

Soos, Mabel, and Dipper tried asking the mail box questions once.

It sent them a really long, angry, rambling letter starting with "What the f*ck did you just f*cking say about me, you little b*tch? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals,"

Later on Dipper asked Ford about it, and he reveals that he traumatized the entity on the other side of the mailbox by sending it the question "is your refrigerator running?" every day for almost six years straight.

[shnowyfox]

honses

and some of the wip screenies teehee

BUT WAIT! THERES MORE!

soundwave and his herd of idiot sons. T-cogs are.. lets just say.. silly. in this. No transformations so no keeping them in his chest fucked up kangaroo style, he carries them around in a wagon (which i will give a better design to later) laserbeak and buzzsaw's build is based off of a griffin and the cybertronian form they have in g1 and wfc/foc. ravage gets to have a jaguar body based on his g1 form and his upperhalf is largely based off of his beast wars design (i will nver read ravage's voice without the accent btw like ik he gets a voice in g1 but no bw ravage has infected my bones) I also need to do blaster since he and soundwave are main characters but im silly and lazy and i havent rlly gotten to much of him in idw yet

im kind of obsessed with b i almost didnt include him because where the fuck do i put him?? i found a very good and very funny place for him. the first comic deadass might be about him because it seems to be a good introduction to the world and lore to follow him? trying to do better at writing bee and elita, together and apart. almost killing him is like a one time thing. probably.

I'll start tagging the au when the first comic drops i think. if i get that far. idk im feeling confident in this one!

again shouting out Energ00n's tfone apprentice au for being part of the inspiration for this whole thing :)

[gotham-daydreams]

HEY I finally managed to put my thoughts together and write this and damn why so much? Half of this is pure nonsense and emotions you can skip reading I'm just glad to read and this day too yuhu

WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED AT THE END

oh shit today I read the chapter slower BUT how else? DAMN I WROTE TWO SHEETS OF A5 PAPER writing down any thoughts that came to my mind and putting together what had already happened in the past days (I hope I can now figure out what I wrote because it would be a shame not to understand)

The end of the world, aliens who want to take over the earth? DESTROY? Brainwashed cultists, SECRET SOCIAL SCIENCE BRAINWASHED MAYBE ENTIRE COUNTRIES? Okay, the last nonsense of a skunk

Damn, I knew that the emphasis on what card MC had in the previous chapter meant something, I knew it! And his behavior, he's a cultist for sure. (I remembered the meme "Are you somehow connected to the darknet?" "I'm not just connected, I control it" repeat what you said-)

And now, having seen Dickhead's behavior and the sand in Duke's suit, Cas' behavior in the past, I definitely remain with the theory that "MC IS DEFINITELY NOT PART OF A SECT AND IS NOT BRAINWASHING EVERYONE ELSE, WELL, THAT CANNOT BE" sarcasm.

what's next, oh yeah, a sudden warming in the fall. (I don't remember if it was the beginning of fall or the end, so I'm not sure) warming? abrupt? what is already happening with the sun? or is the earth itself also under the influence? Or a way to catch up with the atmosphere and I see complete fuck-up in everything..

Red Dawn (let's ignore the fact that it's a sci-fi/action movie, I don't think it's related) Do they by any chance have horizons that light up red in the morning? Then it would be possible to somehow connect the weather, the title, and what's happening together.

bodies disappear. from coffins.. in general they disappear leaving only sand. Either the body leaves or ALIEN CREATURES EAT THE BODY SOMEWHERE ABSORBING FLESH BONES AND ALL THEREBY REPRODUCING. Oh no I'm not sure about any of these options but the last one didn't sound too tasty

Let me get back to the main topic that worries me the most? MC is a fucking cult member, I'll bet three boxes of pineapple pizza on that and oh my god he obviously has an effect on those around him, but does he do it on purpose? Yeah, maybe..considering he has something to hide judging by the last chapter. If he influences others then it turns out he's already infected too? Infection? Fuck, if he's not a meta or a skilled manipulator/psychologist then that's the only option left in my head. And how does he infect?..maybe food or subconsciously and does he infect or just subjugate the general idea? It hasn't dawned on me yet. And again we'll get back to the pink card that's been tormenting me since the day before yesterday (I'm losing track of time). Do they give it to cult members? How do cultists somehow stumble upon a bank? Does it serve as a designation between them? So there are a lot of questions and thoughts..

damn, I still have so many thoughts in my head that I have no one to express, but it seems to me that if I continue to express everything I think or notice in one breath, I will be closed down in Arkham (it's good that it's anonymous)

Sorry for such a huge amount of nonsense that I write lately, I'm just a damn fan of this work, I miss reading exactly this in my life, your works are like a breath of fresh air in this pile...neglected...

Keep up the good work, damn I can't wait for the fifth day (to say whether I was right or wrong to myself..and then here too)

Honestly I really don't mind, and feel really honored and flattered that a little idea of mine has sparked this much thought!!! It really sucks that I can't comment on anything JUST yet... but I will say that I'm unsure if I should use a surprised pikachu face or something like that.

So...

[goddessofroyalty]

do jayce and viktor ever encounter any 'cultural differences' when it comes to parenting? like even though viktor has def some piltite customs ingrained by the point they have naph hes still very much a zaunite lol. this is a headcanon ive seen some people have but ximena may not be from piltover and therefore jayces idea of parenting might also not be 100% up to the standards of piltover. i can see them being a little surprised (not necessarily disagreeing, mind) when naph is a little older + amaranthine has been adopted that viktor more or less gives them free range, theyll be fine and jayce is just ???? youre just telling them to go make themselves busy???? and viktors like yes? is there a problem???? (depending on the age difference isha might be the one in charge lmao)

(The age difference between Amaranthine and Naph I tend to go with is ~2 years when adopted Amaranthine is the eldest and Isha is a little older than her but it's probably more measured in months maybe a year tops)

There's definitively cultural differences in how they approach raising their kids. I do think the biggest one is how much younger Viktor starts allowing them to have free range and expecting them to be able to do things. He's not like cruel or demanding about it but he'll give the kid a task from a lot younger than Jayce will and feels a lot more comfortable not knowing where the kids are/what they are up to. It does often surprise Jayce how capable the kids actually are at the task Viktor gives them but he's still not convinced on the just letting the kids go keep themselves busy side. Viktor will especially tell them to entertain themselves if Isha is around because there's 3 of them now - surely they can find ways to keep themselves entertained with 3 of them and have enough common-sense to not get into anything dangerous.

On the flipside though I think Viktor is a lot more thorough about wound-care even if it's just something simple like a scraped knee. Jayce will more just brush it off and let the kid on their way (you know "a kiss will make it better") while Viktor will always disinfect it fully because in Zaun even a little cut can take your arm because of the greater infection risk from all the toxins.

Jayce's answer to where babies come from is more cabbage-patch in style, while Viktor will just tell them (in a high level clinical way but still).

Because I do kind of subscribe to the theory that Ximena isn't from Piltover (and also they are clearly not a wealthy family in Piltover) I think Jayce is similarly doesn't like food wastage I think he tends to be more the one where you just keep making new things from the leftovers while Viktor is more the "finish your plate" way.

[raven-dor]

this fic is getting posted this FRIDAY at 1pm EST, so keep an eye out!!

until then, here's a sneak peak of i'll be watching you...

“Shit, shit shit.” Y/N’s eyes were glassy as she clung to Steve’s side, supporting him as he walked. “Why’d you have to be the hero?” 

“That’s part of my-” He winced, laughing as her face grew even more worried. “Part of my charm, babe.” 

Y/N ignored the way her cheeks flushed, leaning him against the giant boulder. “Just be quiet.”

He nodded, leaning his head back in pain. “No problem.” 

“Really?” She scoffed, muttering thanks as Robin handed her cloth to wrap around his (chiseled) abdomen. “You scared me, you know.” 

Her voice was soft, much softer than normal. It sounded weak; scared even. He frowned, reaching out and brushing her hair out of her eyes. “Didn’t mean to.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Well, you did, Harrington.”

“Can you just-” He sighed. “Can you look at me? You haven’t met my eyes since you’ve gotten down here.” 

She shook her head, trying her best to wipe away the dirt from his gaping wound. “I really hope this doesn’t get infected.” 

“Y/N, come on.” He smiled, forcing himself not to cry out in pain. “Look at me.” 

“I think Eddie’s-” Robin received a hard glare from Steve, and she nodded, walking away without another word. 

Her face felt hot, eyes watery as she looked up at him. He grinned, whispering so that only they could hear. “There she is.”

“Here I am.” She whispered back, tears falling down her cheeks freely. “Now can I-” 

“I’m so mad at you right now.” 

Her head cocked to the side. “What?” She must have misheard him. 

“You heard me.” His tone was tense, but his eyes told a different story. “I said to stay in the boat, didn’t I? Don’t follow after me.” He scoffed, flailing his arms, pain ringing through his aching muscles. “And what did you do? You followed me.” 

“As opposed to what? Watching helplessly as you were dragged into hell?” She stood up, glaring. “Would you rather have died down here?” More tears fell as she stared, hissing at him so the others couldn’t hear. “You don’t have to do everything alone!” 

“I know that-” 

“Then why can’t I follow after you? Huh?” She glared. “You’re not the boss of-” 

“I don’t want you wrapped up in this!” He yelled, Nancy, Eddie, and Robin jumping at the sound. “You should’ve left it alone.” 

“Yeah? Well, last I checked, I was involved first.” She yelled back. “Now shut up so I can fix you.” She knelt again, tying the cloth Robin gave her earlier gently around him. “I can’t do this without you.” 

“Y/N…” His eyes were watering, from the pain or what she said, he couldn’t tell. “I’m sorry.” 

“Good.” She wiped the dirt from her hands. “I’m sorry too, I guess.” She stood up, muttering. “Even though I have no reason to apologize.” 

He laughed, reaching out for her hold. “Can you-” 

“Yes! Yeah, of course.” His arm expertly laid around her shoulders, and in another life, they could have walked through Hawkins High like this. “Please stop acting like the hero. I can’t bear it.” 

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

She nodded, her eyes full of desperation, and his heart skipped. Shit. “Yeah.” 

He nodded, kissing her temple gently. “Whatever you want, babe.” 

“Hey!” Eddie’s voice interrupted whatever was happening between them. “Why don’t you take a break? I can take care of Harrington for a bit.” 

“Are you sure?” Y/N frowned, not even bothering to look at her best friend. “I really don’t mind.” 

“Y/N.” Steve whispered. “You’ve done enough for a lifetime. I’ll be okay.” 

She looked hurt, but let go of Steve regardless. “Alright, he’s all yours Munson.” 

Eddie waited until she was by Robin to speak. “You know she likes you.” 

Steve nodded. “I know. I like her too.” 

Eddie smiled. “Good, good.” He placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Just, don’t hurt her, okay? She seems strong, but…” 

“I won’t.” Steve was so confident in it, so sure. “I would never do anything to hurt her.” 

[corvuskidd]

me: noooo! i will always side with the good guys! i wanna daydream about being besties w the autobots and hanging out at the base :)

that evil worm infecting my brain: but like… imagine being the cons’ favorite little pet around the nemesis…. like you always have to be on someone’s shoulder keeping them company bc the cons don’t care to watch where they step

or helping knockout fit in better by giving his vehicle mode a “driver” so he can race more often, or even just having to third wheel with kobd like yes pls

or secretly having wavewave wrapped around your finger bc they’re both big scary mechs who don’t care much for emotions but come on… you’re just so little and eager to help… it’s so charming…

starscream and megatron acting like they could care less about you and just using you to get back at the other somehow, but like… cmon they love having you around, you’re loyal as a dog to them, it fuels their egos a little too much LMAO

yeah the brainrot’s hitting a little too hard rn

[thesleepyfable]

~ SWTD: Still Here AU Season 2 Part 7: ~

Hit the Road, Caz:

Here we go. It's time for a cross-country trip across the UK. I had to do some research for this one, including certain roads, motorways, and time it takes to get to London from Scotland, and the answer is 9ish hours.

The trucks arrived at 10 pm, and Addair wasn't happy about that. He might have said he was fine waiting until morning, but the entire night, he tossed and turned in the barn. He mindlessly picked at the hay and continued to look at the pictures. The thought of Tommy's accident polluted his mind, and Caz's. The poor man, who was a lighthouse to the infected, could somehow picture Addair's thoughts as if they were his own. He didn't blame Addair for it, but it was a good thing he didn't have a drivers licence. Sleep quickly went out the window, but hugging Suze was worth it. Her sweet smell and soft skin were perfect.

'Right-o,' Roy said as he held up a map of Scotland with Innes against one of the vans. Cadal's drivers would be joining them on this trip since no one from Beria had a licence, but they'll keep to themselves. Thankfully, they were the same duo who brought them here. 'We'll head to Aberdeen, then cross through Glasgow to drop some people off. Then we join the M6, and it's a straight drive from there.'

'Sounds easy enough,' Trots muttered.

'Aww, you're leaving me in that dump all alone?' Simon playfully groaned as he hugged Trots from behind and rested his head on his man's shoulder.

'I'll be back, I promise.'

Innes watched the couple before looking over at Muir, who was on the phone with his family. Seeing him made him feel light, and that lost happiness he craved for years return, but he didn't know what to do. He had so many plans but he didn't know where to start. Maybe, some advice?

'Hey, Simon. Can we talk in private, please?'

'Sure.' The pair wandered into the garage, away from any pair of pricked ears. 'You okay?'

'Can I ask you something?' Simon just responded with a shrug and a nod. 'How do you make Trots happy?'

'Well, I listen to him. Make him feel special when he gets home.' Simon chuckled. 'He's always grumpy when he gets back.' Innes noticed the loving look in Simon's eyes as he focused his attention back to Trots. He watched his man help Irene put her luggage away, like he was a fallen angel. That loving look in his eye. Innes was jealous of it. He knew he could never make that expression. 'So, I cook him a good meal. Pasta is his favourite.' A pause lingered. Innes looked to the floor with crossed arms. When Simon noticed the lack of a response, he turned back to the blonde deckhand. 'You're struggling with Muir, aren't you?'

'Not struggling,' Innes replied. 'I love Muir, I really do - heck, I admitted my feelings first - but, what do I do now? I haven't been in a relationship for over a decade, and on the spur of the moment, I finally tell him what he has been waiting for since he met me.'

'Find an interest he has and share it.' Simon was quick with his words but soft in tone. 'What does he like?'

'Music. He would sneak a harmonica on Beria and wake me up at all ungodly hours of the night to tease me.' But Innes never resented Muir for it. As tired as he was the following day, he couldn't be mad.

'Do you have it?'

'Yeah.'

'Then learn it. You don't have to be an expert, but he'd love to see that you care about something he's passionate about.' Now, Innes felt like an idiot for not knowing something so obvious, but he felt better knowing he was worried for nothing.

'Thanks, Simon. Now, I just have to learn how to cook.'

'Did Muir do that?'

'No, we both can't cook for shit.' The pair shared a laugh.

'Right, let's get out of here.' Caz didn't sound enthusiastic. He was so tired and was hopefully going to sleep away the entire trip. He and Addair shared a quick, knowing glance before he climbed into one of the trucks, joining Rennick and, yes, his robin Ruby too. Addair wasn't an animal lover. Always thought a pet would be too much work and too expensive to care for. But, if Tommy was able to wake up, he'll make sure to get him a dog. Maybe a staffy. Big but loyal.

'Are you sure you're okay watching the farm for me?' Muir asked O'Connor and Mary. 'Ma said Angus will be home in a few hours. We can pay you both for this.'

'Nae bother, Muir,' O'Connor replied. 'I just can't take off on another adventure again.'

'Why, will your heart explode?'

'Maybe. Just bring me a fridge magnet.'

'Fair enough. Innes left the schedule by the back door.'

'Thanks.' O'Connor got a quick glimpse of Addair. He hated the man with a burning passion, but here, he felt sorry for him. He and Mary never had children, but he could feel his heartache. Like a stone sinking into the depths of a lake. This didn't change anything. Still a cunt in his eyes. Now just wasn't the time to feel the usual hate. It will come back, eventually...

The McLeary family bundled up in the first truck whilst Roy, Simon, Jack, and Irene took the second housing, Muir, Gibbo, and Trots. A tight squeeze on the bench seats, but they'll manage. Caz, who was sat by the door, rolled the window down and gave a thumbs up. And with a roar of the engines that rattled the trucks, followed by a final wave from O'Connor, the team drove down the drive and carefully turned for the village.

'What's London like?' The idea of going somewhere knew left Cait bouncing in her seat as her mind was filled with questions.

'Big,' Addair said. He seemed happy to be on the road now. His gravelled voice that rivalled Roy's was light, which the men have heard before, but that wasn't malice to it. For once, the Londoner was genuine. He even let out a small, nostalgic chuckle to himself. 'Lots of history. Busy streets, parks for as far as the eye could see. You'd love riding a red bus. You always have to do that in London.'

'Is there a zoo?'

'Yep.'

Oh no...

Cait gasped and turned to Caz with a pleading look. Her father was always the weaker one to her puppy eyes. He tried not to look at her and kept his attention to the country road. Maybe now was a good time to pretend to be asleep? However, he couldn't resist, and his eyes glanced to his eldest daughter.

'Can we-'

'No,' Suze sternly said, saving the day as she always did. 'We're going home.'

'But, I want to go to London with dad.'

'Well, you've got school next week, and what dad's going to London for is too adult for you.'

'Edinburgh is better anyway,' Rennick boasted through the small hatch, causing Caz to laugh, which was more of a cackle. 'What?!'

'Nothihg. Nothing.' Caz snickered and wiped his eyes. 'I've never been, Davey, but why's it better?'

'Really, my flat. You could see the entire city from the window.'

'But, you don't have an Edinburgh accent.'

'Aye. I was born and raised in Fife. Moved to the Captial about fifteen years ago.'

'Fife's better..."

'Fife didn't have job opportunities.'

'What will happen to your home now?' Suze pondered.

'Who knows. I guess I could sell it, but why would I need money now?'

'Can Mr. Rennick, come and live with us, Daddy?' Maidie's innocent voice and imagination didn't consider that they lived in a 3rd story of a 10 story flat with no garden to call their own. Cait nodded in agreement. Rennick and Suze chuckled. Addair was silently amused. And Caz, as surprised as he was at the thought of his boss sitting in their front room, had to be logical.

'Maybe,' he said with a fake smile. He reached over and held Suze's hand, who tightened her grip in return. 'Let's just get you weans home first.' One day left. Caz could feel reality coming for him, and as much as he wanted to run again, his family anchored his body and cleared his mind. Suze leaned and rested her head on his shoulders. Caz kissed the crown of her head and rested his own on her. He peered to the window next to the driver, where the first buildings of the village passed by. This was it. Was Caz scared? Yes. He was terrified. But he had to be strong for his own sake of mind.

Soon, they were on the empty motorway of the A93 for Aberdeen. Then Glasgow.

[eugenedebs1920]

Beyond that lab in Wuhan, long before the COVID 19 virus crested the shores of the United States a pandemic had begun to infect the American populous.

In 1999 I was a sophomore in high school. I would skateboard to school, listening to NIN pretty hate machine or Ministry’s Filth Pig album on my Walkman, whatever rock, or metal album I had recorded to cassette. I Wore Jnco pipes halfway down my ass, and usually some mildly offensive tshirt. One could say I was a dirty stoner f*ck.

So holding true to my pothead principles, when 4/20 comes around, you’re ditching school and getting high.

As a Colorado native (although well before weed was legalized there) we take our cannabis holidays seriously. So following tradition, on April 20th, 1999 myself and a few of my dirtbag friends went over to a buddy’s house to blaze.

As blunts and joints, bongs and pipes were shared between friends, jokes and laughter drowned out the volume of the tv, rendering it basically background noise. I remember being perplexed to see the banner on tv stating that a shooting was taking place in a school in Littleton Colorado. Littleton was no more than 5 miles from the school district I attended.

Apparently Columbine High School was under attack. I didn’t have any friends there, but I did play against them in football (they beat us handedly). Despite the copious amounts of cannabis smoked, it was a sobering moment. To think, just a stones throw away, a couple kids, my age, had taken a school hostage and there were suspected victims.

Harris and Klebold would kill 15 people in that shooting, injuring many others. The contusions went beyond students and staff present that day. The entire state of Colorado, the United States, perhaps the civilized world hadn’t seen anything quite like it. Unbeknownst to all, this would only be the beginning.

Youth goes by so fast. One day your skateboarding to class, listening to your Walkman, the next you’re in your work truck barreling to a jobsite, taking in a favorite podcast.

The Columbine shooting was one that stuck in my memory, I can also recall one in Boulder Colorado at a grocery store. There’s the Parkland shooting that comes to mind and the horrific scene at Sandy Hook elementary. Otherwise there’s been so many it’s hard to keep track.

Unlike a large proportion of liberals such as myself, I have a predication for firearms. I don’t jerk off to them like maga. Nor am I delusional enough to think that I could make my stand against the United States military. It’s just that, if redneck Bob has an AR15, I want one too. If he has a bazooka, I want one too. Heck! If he had a tank, I want one too! You don’t bring a knife to a gunfight and you don’t exchange 556 rounds with a .22 or even 9mm.

Again, unlike like much of the left, I don’t think the source of these massacres are due to the gun soaked culture America condones. Although access may make it easier, the cause is not the gun, it’s the person holding it.

I have a significant amount of firearms and not once have I thought to myself, ‘Hey! Why not go slaughter a bunch of unsuspecting innocent people?”. There are numerous reasons for this, and even not being the stablest of stable individuals, I don’t suffer from homicidal ideation. That, and I’m not a psychopath.

There has never been a moment of rage, a despair so low, a lapse of reason to where murdering civilians in mass was given space as an option. Alas, to far too many it has.

I often can put myself in someone’s position. Not empathetic, but see a situation through the eyes of someone. Feel the fear or anger, the desperation or righteousness, can see the frustration and feeling of abandonment.

To get to a point where a mass shooting is appealing, appropriate, or justified, is a mental arrangement based on confusion, revenge, spite, or indignation, extreme sadness.

A healthy individual would process these emotions, internalize and rationalize them, coming to the conclusion that this act is wrong. Find and isolate the trauma or root cause that would raise such hostilities from themselves. A healthy individual would certainly not act upon such inclinations. A healthy person would reach out for help to resolve the growing conflict festering in their minds from friends, or either a mental health professional.

Regardless what part of this country you reside in, rural, urban, upscale or skid row, we have all seen some fellow citizens struggling with mental health. This could be as obvious as someone with schizophrenia screaming to a void of humanity. This could take shape in the loneliness epidemic that is affecting our aging male (and female) population. This can manifest through aggression and crime.

America psyche is not well. Addiction, loneliness, depression, anger, racism, despair and delusions of grandeur run rampant across it. From my perspective as a male citizen, we are taught to ignore these issues. To see it as sissy or lacking masculinity. To hide our pain that we carry with us from the world around us.

Women carry their own burdens, their own set of obligations and fears, body dismorphia and stress. Although it is more socially accepted to seek help and/or share troubles, it is not always apparent, nor does it hold any less relevance or suffering than the male experience.

Mental health is as important, if not more important to a persons overall health than physical health. Yet there seems to be a stigma around mental health. The notion that it serves either as a luxury for over privileged snowflakes with first world problems, or that therapy shows a lack of personal strength, or as if seeking it is to confess your insanity.

None of these cases resemble factuality.

As individual beings we all have a story, we’ve all lived a life. What one considers commonplace, the other may see as absurd, what hurts one may have no affect to another.

Trauma is real. Trauma is not only that which may have happened to you, but also that which did not. As children we are vulnerable and dependent, malleable yet fragile, able to adapt and protect ourselves without our knowledge.

In this we build traits we may not even be aware of, coping mechanisms installed long ago as a way of dealing with the uncertainty and emotions we but just began to cultivate. Our child mind will forever impact our adult self, forging and shaping who we are today, and unbeknownst to ourselves we harbor defense mechanisms and coping skills we were unaware existed.

Recent studies suggest that biologically our minds can’t keep pace with the technological and social advances in the present. In terms of biological and human existence, the last 200 years have transformed the way in which we survive, life itself.

It wasn’t that long ago where the only means of mass transportation was ships. It wasn’t that long ago where the only means for long distance communication was parchment carried by a messenger on foot or horseback. It wasn’t long ago the only means for food was hunting with spear or bows. It wasn’t long ago humanity wasn’t much more than nomadic tribes bartering goods. Heck! It was less than 250 ago colonists with black powder muskets fought off the Red Coats to enshrine this nation with liberty.

Needless to say, in an evolutionary standpoint the human mind was not developed to process the information and societal systems that our world has become.

Anxiety is a survival skill, pumping adrenaline and heightening senses in the cause of self preservation. All mammals, as well as other species, have this instinctual protective feature in which to stay alive, to avoid becoming a predators next meal.

As humans our rise to the pinnacle of apex predator has outpaced our instincts for survival. To the point where now we don’t worry about becoming a snack for a beast of equivalent predatory capabilities, but that instinct to survive, that internal fear of avoiding one’s demise, is very much embedded into our subconscious.

This has led to increased hyper vigilance and stress conducting itself in ways that don’t suit our status on the food chain. Rather than worrying about becoming food, we worry about obtaining food. Rather than worrying about fighting off a larger species, we worry about competing with our social standing within our species. Our basic instincts are very much apart of our human brain, yet aren’t up to date with the rate in which our advances have emanated through our experience

Now this once imperative and essential survival skill is no longer relevant in the way in which we live, yet very much ingrained in our thoughts. Stress and anxiety is just our minds trying to keep us safe in a world where it is unnecessary for it to do so.

I am not a mental health expert, nor am I a scientist, I’m just some idiot with a phone and apparently expendable time in hopes to communicate my thoughts with others.

What I’m trying to pass along is your mental health is important to your overall wellbeing. That these feelings of anxiety, stress and depression are natural and just basic survival mechanisms adapting to the vastly different environment we live in today than what we did less than a millennium ago. That you are not alone in your experiences and difficulties navigating this life.

It does not show weakness to ask for help, to open up to a friend or confidant about how and what you’re feeling, your struggles, your thoughts. Don’t allow these things to consume you, to overrule your better judgment.

The actions that these mass shooters have engaged in, even actions such as suicide, are permanent solutions to temporary problems. If you’re experiencing difficulties realize you’re not alone, that this too shall pass, that it won’t always be dark. Life isn’t easy, and if someone told you it would be they were pulling your chain. That doesn’t ease the burden of being human but hopefully can console you in the idea that we all go through this, that pain is natural, that there are no problems where there isn’t a solution.

Take care of yourself. Reach out if needed. Understand your wellbeing overall is greatly impacted by taking care of the mind as much as the body. That we are all in this together and we all are doing the best we can.

[vtmgremlin]

Howdy! Just a shy anon here, happy to see you posting again! Hope you've been doing well!

;; A;; !! I...thank you so much kind stranger skjdfnsdjf it may just be a small message but it really means a lot :, )) I've kinda fallen on semi-hard times (like most people have im sure;;) and it's been a struggle atm

But we must press on! or something like that lmfao- thank you again, and I hope you are also doing well or are soon going to be in a better place than you were before <3

[im-not-buying-it-ether]

Billy Batson, who got his sixth case of vampirism in his lifetime, cracking open a bottle of coconut water: Aint gonna get me this time either universe!

Joker, straightjacketed up in his cell: Something funny is happening and I’m not involved…

[trianglesand]

Marble hornets x Slendermansion AU but instead of Hoodie and Masky being proxies they also live in a small cabin in the same woods and are constantly trying to sabotage the creeps plans. Hoodie learns Jeff is supposed to kill some random family and follows him there to purposely set the home security system off and Masky jumps out of the closet and tackles Jeff. They all run away to their own homes afterwards when the cops are called. The Operator/Slenderman could put a stop to it if he so pleased, but finds the shenanigans amusing.