#that whole negotiation on the deck

[soubidou]

Indri is SO BAD god

[glitterincandles]

smiling friends playing minecraft ; ☆

glep

is the one who thought of the idea in the first place #socialmediamanager

brought it up to mr. boss as a "team bonding activity" LOL

in charge of their minecraft server and mediates any conflict that happens within it

the ultimate gamer actually a gamer GOD

is in the game 24/7, they never stop the grind

definitely the first one to find diamonds

yo glep the typa guy to have his whole house and storage decked out by the first day

has an automatic farm for everything (cobblestone, iron, gunpowder, slime, etc) like u name it they have it for some reason

he doesn't let everyone use them for free though

he makes the others "pay" (read: do something embarrassing, run an errand for him, give him iron or something) to get access to any of his automatic farms of their choosing for a whole day

they can negotiate w them tho

like if one of them comes up to him and they have something that he doesn't find valuable then they DO have a chance to convince him of its value but otherwise it won't work lol

in fact he'll be quite offended

like u think that red dye is enough to get access to my automatic iron farm?! HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA

undeniably the most powerful person in the server

his minecraft skin is definitely either one of those meme skins with an oddly realistic face on the torso or a skin that looks like some sort of lizard dragon monster thing

mr. boss

honestly barely knew what minecraft was before glep brought it up

he did assume it was some kind of game when he hears the word

like any other video game, he had to be introduced to it by the ppl around him

despite him approving of the game, he's barely ever joins the server

^^^^ he's more into rhythm games and fps

has no clue whats going on in the server tbh

he just gets bits and pieces based off of what others say to him or around him

because of that he tries to join the server more often but he really really can't get ahold of minecraft in general bc he gets bored very easily and needs outside stimuli

is the type to log into a server he hasn't touched in a hot second and be upset that everyone else is so far ahead

he always spawns in the middle of nowhere every time bc he hasn't made or slept in a bed yet

^^^ because he usually leaves the server within 5 minutes which isn't long enough for the day-night minecraft cycle to commence (minecraft days are 10 minutes long)

when he logs on while its nighttime in the server he literally BREAKS into allan's house (much to his dismay) and forgets to patch any hole he left in his walls or windows

he hits/kills everyone else in minecraft for fun

literally just logs in to cause chaos then leave

^^^ everyone is thankful that he doesn't have access to tnt yet

definitely uses the alex minecraft skin

allan red

he took a while to accept that they have a minecraft world together

he found it kinda obnoxious (he joined the server anyway)

determined to have the best house in the game

if he had to take any role, he would be the builder

the first thing he did when he logged in was start building a house... like wood enters his inventory, he just makes a fuckin axe then uses the rest of the wood to build his house ;w;

he's actually pretty good at it since he already is very detail-oriented and shit so he can definitely make a fire house

when it comes to mining or combat tho he's so shit

^^^ glep helps in this aspect LOL

only went to the nether for glowstone and it pissed charlie off once

bc theyre already pretty close, glep is more lenient on him and is usually on his side when it comes to any conflict that occurs in the server

not only does he put a lot of effort into his houses, he also puts a lot of effort into the outside of his houses

he just be building shit

built a whole mansion for his minecraft dog once (just bc)

every time he dies in minecraft he's like "ok that means its time for me to log off"

surprisingly has a very healthy balance of play time. he plays just enough to get very far in the game and keep up with everything and ALSO keep his real life stabilized and normal

he has a creative minecraft world outside of the server that he tries redstone in to get lights in his normal minecraft house to work without it looking too bulky and ugly

^^^ he also uses it to make booby traps for anyone entering his house without permission

^^^^ they never fucking work on mr. boss

he made his minecraft skin himself and its just him if he were yassified

charlie dompler

oh god fucking finally was probably what ran through his mind when he heard the news

he probably joked about it once to pim and was surprised that it actually came true

this guy is second to glep when it comes to gaming

like srsly bro probably has a gaming setup and/or is saving up for one

he was the second to join the minecraft server (second to glep again)

he is the opposite of allan; he hates building and only ever mines or fights mobs

in fact he made his whole minecraft hideout in the side of a cave and it only has like. one crafting table, six fucking furnaces, and like 10 chests full of random drops and bulllshit, then his singular bed in the middle of the room with a big path leading down to a random ass cave

looking at his minecraft hideout would make a minecraft builder CRY their eyes out its worse than u think

would often vc with pim and play with him on the server

spends a concerning amount of time on minecraft bc he always has something to do on it, he just gives himself random side quests

despite the disorganization of his minecraft home he's actually more organized in minecraft than in real life believe it or not

he probably hasn't touched grass since he joined the minecraft server

him and glep duel it out sometimes for fun, or they do like fighting challenges with each other like who can kill the most zombies without dying

extremely attached to a wolf he tamed when he first joined the server

he watched minecraft gaming youtubers and bc of that he enchants everything he owns bc those were his favorite episodes

his minecraft skin is some sort of character from one of his interests, like mr. frog or a random salty's mascot bc he finds it funny

pim pimling

his poor cheap office laptop can barely run minecraft omfg

when he boots minecraft up, it'd lag so hard and the fans in his laptop would go crazy, then after five minutes minecraft runs "as normal"... like it's playable but not to ppl who are used to 250 fps

^^^ it happens every fucking time he doesn't know how to fix it

he's ok with it though he's like ok give it a sec this happens all the time ^w^

^^^^ was the last person to join the server bc of this

sings a song while he's doing a minecraft chore, like in the silly halloween special episode when he was singing picking up twigs! picking up twigs! that'll be him while getting wood or something similar

he's real careful about how long he plays bc he doesn't want his laptop to overheat

his combat skills r pretty good bc of his experience playing gwimbly's games when he was younger

his favorite thing is definitely farming though

he's at a constant dilemma of using bones for either bone meal or taming another wolf to add to his mini army

^^^ the mini army is only making his lag worse charlie Really doesn't understand

settled down in a village in one of those empty houses and fight to protect them from any raid that occurs

talks aloud to minecraft villagers as if they can hear him

his village house is filled with many animals actually

he is charmed by baby zombies and baby villagers

^^^ he adopted a baby villager in minecraft once

^^^^ she died in a freak accident during a raid

^^^^^ pim was heartbroken for days

he does a lot of side quests with charlie for fun

like charlie, his minecraft skin is a character from one of his interests,, most likely gwimbly or a character from that game

[gogobootz1]

Paperback Writer

Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: When Bradley finds a stray journal at the Hard Deck, he makes it his personal mission to return it to its owner. But not before reading what's inside.

Word Count: 2.4k

Top Gun Masterlist

You've spent the last four hours at this bar and still haven't come up with a thing. The newest page in your notebook stares back at you, entirely blank. Well, blank, save for the water ring your mojito has left on it. Only the ice cubes have been left for a while now, and you sip sadly at them as you stare off at the water. Maybe a beach day will inspire you.

Sighing, you close your notebook and push it toward the wall. You don't want to think about the deadline that is slowly closing in on you. A new book, and only about two months left to complete it. It had been three, but you've spent the last month at a complete loss.

This whole night, going to dinner, going to a bar, has been with the intention of finding inspiration. You still haven't found it, so now it's time to find your way home. Pushing yourself away from the table, you peel yourself from your chair and settle up with the nice lady at the bar.

You look out at the ocean again on your walk home. It's extremely nice of your agent to let you stay at her and her wife's beach home. Pam had granted you this accommodation in the hopes it would kickstart your writing. To the extent of her knowledge, it has. She's been worried about you after you argued with the publishing company over a sequel. You fought tooth and nail for the opportunity to work on something totally new. After the commercial success of your debut novel, however, they were reluctant to pass up their chance at a sequel.

Your publishing company clearly hadn't been expecting such an exorbitant amount of copies to sell. Frankly, neither had you. By some stroke of luck or divine intervention, Taylor Swift picked up your book, read it, and posted it on her Instagram story. Stores could hardly keep it on shelves after that.

Now your publishers are simply hoping to milk the cash cow. You can't really blame them, but soon, when you don't have a second novel to give them, they're going to blame you.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Thanks for cleaning up, you two," Penny calls from behind the bar. Maverick had practically begged Bradley to stay and help so that he and Penny could start their date early. After some negotiating, he happily acquiesced.

"No problem, Penny," Rooster calls back, sending a smug look at Pete, who narrows his eyes at him. They're just about finished wiping tables, and he can tell Mav is more than ready to leave.

Bradley turns to wipe the last table but stops when he sees a leather-bound journal sitting near the window. He picks it up, turning it over in his hands.

"Done. Let's go, Pen," Mav says, rushing his girlfriend. Penny finally drops the rag she'd been wiping the bar with.

"I've still gotta lock up," she says, lightly mocking.

"I can do it, Penny," Rooster says, not taking his eyes off the journal.

"Thanks, kid," Mav smiles, whisking his girlfriend away. "Keys are on the bar. I owe you one!"

Bradley just barely hears Penny's protests as Pete rushes her out. He figures he'd better get home, himself. Giving the table a cursory wipe, he heads toward the bar to grab the keys.

Suddenly his eyes land on the lost and found bucket. Most of the Hard Deck's patrons are locals and regulars. The bin is almost always empty, and when it isn't, people always come back for whatever's inside.

Bradley looks at the journal again. Surely no one would be coming back for this tonight, though. And would they really notice if it had been flicked through? Letting his curiosity get the best of him, Bradley takes a stool at the bar and starts reading.

After a few pages, he starts to realize just what the journal is. It's no diary, none of the juicy details of someone's personal life that he had nosily been hoping for. No. It's a book, or some sort of story, at least. It's a good one, too. Bradley takes a sidelong glance at the clock and finds he's stayed for an hour longer than he intended.

He grabs the keys and locks everything up for Penny, not bothering to put his find in the lost and found.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Bradley can’t remember when he’d fallen asleep, but he's certain that it wasn’t before he’d read the vast majority of the journal. His neck is stiff from crashing on his couch, but he has a new interest in finding whoever wrote this. 

He hasn't been that interested in a book in a while, and he'd be remiss if the author doesn't get their work back. Especially when the work is so incredible. Bradley's never considered himself the most avid reader. He only reads when he's got the time and wouldn't rather be watching the game. This book, however, has him hooked. He thinks it should be on shelves, selling out all over the world. He only needs to find this person to tell them that.

Where do people write their names in their journals?

He makes a face, confronted by his own stupidity, and flips to the front page. Sure enough, on the back of the cover is a woman's name and address. Bradley's not quite sure if people knock on each other's doors nowadays, or if that's entirely creepy, but he's willing to find out.

Once his fist is inches away from her door, Bradley hesitates before knocking. Is it creepy that he's here? Is it creepy that he read the journal? He's willing to admit that one. Should he tell the author he read it at all? Maybe he should pretend he didn't. Can he fake being a Good Samaritan when he really wants to ask this woman about her writing? He doesn't have time to answer these questions for himself before the door swings open on its own.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You recoil when you realize someone's standing on the front porch. "Hello?" You're certain you don't know this man. He's too pretty for you to know him, and you'd at least remember him if you did.

"Hi," he responds stiltedly.

You look at him questioningly, "can I help you?"

"Yes! Actually," he holds up your journal, "is this yours?"

"Oh my god," you snatch your notebook out of his hands, "Where'd you find it?"

"You must've left it at the bar last night," he shrugged.

"Well, thanks," you smile, putting it in your tote bag.

"No problem, yeah. Wouldn't want to lose all that work," he nods. You look up suddenly.

"You read it?"

The man grimaces when he realizes he's outed himself. "Sorry," he cringes, "I'm too nosy for my own good. But can I just say that this is incredible? Really! This could be a book!"

Your face falls, and you look at him blankly, "it is." 

"No!" He shakes his head. "I mean- well, yes, it is. And that's a great attitude to have, but what I'm trying to say is that you need to find a publisher. This is-"

You roll your eyes, shaking your head. Reaching into your giant beach bag, you grab your sunglasses and shove them onto your face. Stepping out onto the porch, you grab a real copy of your book from your bag and plop it in his hands. "That’s really not my problem right now, hot stuff. Have a good one,” you lock up your house and start walking towards the beach.

He doesn't follow you until a few seconds later.

"You mean you're already a published author?" You hear from behind you. You roll your eyes and keep walking, but he easily catches up. "What I read was just-"

"The prototype to what seven million American women have already consumed? Yeah," you nod.

"Holy shit!" He says, and you just hum in agreement. "So wait, what is your problem then?" You stop in the middle of the path. You haven't even said it out loud yet.

"They want another one," you admit quietly.

"That's great!" He says excitedly. You slowly turn and remove your sunglasses to level him with a glare, "...or not?"

"No, stranger, it's not great."

"I'm Bradley," he interrupts.

You barrel on, "You know when they want the sequel by?" Bradley shakes his head. "The end of next month!" You practically shout, and he cringes.

"And how much do you have done?"

Your face falls. "One," you say reluctantly, holding up a solitary finger.

"Chapter?" He asks hopefully.

"Word!"

Bradley grimaces, "What's the word?" You huff.

"'The' and the thing is, I don't even like it. I'm gonna go back and delete it." You give an exaggerated shrug, seemingly distraught.

"That's probably a bad idea," he says gently.

"Oh? And what do you know about writing novels?" Your tone is biting.

"Not a damn thing, but I know a thing or two about speed. At a certain point, you just have to keep going," he offers.

"Thank you for that wisdom, speed racer," you snap, sauntering away.

He stands there stunned. 

“Wait!" Bradley jogs to catch up to where you're still marching onto the beach.

As soon as he's next to you, you barrel on. “How am I supposed to give them a sequel to a story I thought was over?” 

“Huh?” He feels like he's still playing catch-up as he matches your pace.

“And I told them - I swore to God that if they made me write a sequel, I'd probably end up accidentally plagiarizing any given Remington Steele episode. But, nooooooo they insisted,” you vent.

“Remington Steele?” Bradley raises a brow.

“Okay, you don’t get to judge my 80s preferences when you look like that!” You gesture to his general appearance, Hawaiian shirt, porn stache, and all. Not that it's not working for you.

He holds his hands up in surrender.

"I've done everything. Really. Everything to try and inspire some writing. I go outside," you gesture to the outdoors around you. "I've switched the font on my computer to comic sans," Bradley visibly grimaces in response to this, and you nod at him. "Hell, yesterday I went on a run."

"I don't feel like that's all that abnormal," he ventures.

You look at him, stricken, "I've never been on a run."

"Never?"

"Not in my life," you confirm. "It didn't even help, and now my legs hurt."

"It does kind of seem like you're hobbling," he nods.

Your eyes widen, "Gee, thanks," you bite out.

"You can probably chalk it up to poor form," Bradley tries to console you. "You're supposed to land on the front of your foot when you're running."

You shake your head. "They always want to teach you something," you mumble.

"What was that?" He looks over innocently. The two of you stand at the entryway to the beach. You decide it's time to make your goodbyes to the near stranger you've confessed half your current life problems to.

"Look, that's very nice of you," your words lack some sincerity. "You seem like a nice guy, and you're very attractive, but I don't really want to get better at running. What I want is to get better at writing, which is my job, and usually, I can do it. But right now, I'm broken, so what I will do is lay in the sun and crisp like a piece of fried chicken. Bye, now!" You say cheerily, placing your sunglasses over your eyes and bounding away towards an appealing-looking plot of sand.

All Bradley can do is watch as his new favorite author walks off. He drives home and finishes the official, hand-gifted copy of your book in one sitting.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A week later, Bradley is once again at the Hard Deck. This time it's Mav's birthday, and the whole squad is celebrating before they all go their separate ways. The Navy gave everyone a month off after the Uranium mission, so this is simultaneously a celebration and a goodbye.

He steps out onto the deck to enjoy the ocean view. Bradley is pleased to find a familiar figure that lies a few meters away from the bar.

"Let me guess, you're crisping like a piece of chicken again?" You hear a voice call from above you. Suspicious of the intrusion on your private beach sulking session, you look up to find the handsome man who'd tried to return your journal the other day.

"Actually, I'm boiling like a lobster," you correct.

"Ah, my mistake," Bradley nods sagely. "Mind if I sit?"

"Okay..." you agree, silently questioning his motives.

"I had an idea," he starts. "The main character in the first book," you nod, encouraging him to continue. "You mentioned her younger sister."

"I did," you agree, not understanding where he's going with this.

"Write the new book about her," Bradley says simply, shrugging.

You stare at him for a moment, processing this thought. After a bit, your jaw drops. How did you not think of this yourself? A slew of ideas pop into your brain, and you lunge for your bag, hoping to grab your journal and write them all down.

"Are you okay?" He asks. You hold up a finger, silently asking for him to give you a second. In a hurry, you scribble down a giant bulleted list. You can't help but wish your hand moved as fast as your brain. Bradley gives a weak call of your name, concerned by the new burst of hyperactivity. It pulls your attention away from the final bullet point you've just made.

"I think you're a genius," you breathe out, looking at him in awe.

He seems shocked, "it was just an idea."

"No, no," you remain firm, "you're brilliant, and you've just saved my life." A grin pulls across his face at your words. "Pam is gonna be so stoked," you say, standing and starting to pack your things. You pause all of a sudden and reach for your notebook again. You scribble something else and tear out a sliver of paper.

You hand it over to him, and his gaze flicks over a series of hastily written numbers. Your phone number. Bradley slowly stands up.

"Breakfast, lunch, dinner, coffee, dessert, movie, ice cream, drinks- whatever you want, on me," you say in a rush. You take about two steps toward your car, hoping to call Pam and confirm that you can go in this creative direction before his voice stops you.

"How about a date?" He asks, looking after you.

You turn over your shoulder and smirk, "That was the idea."

____________________________________________________

Rooster taglist (open): @tallyovie

I hope everyone is having another very Top Gun summer <3

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Bubble gum snow drop plzzzz ❤️❤️❤️🤡🔥🔥🔥

clown fuckers rise up !

Pairing: Buggy x Female Reader

WC: 2000

Prompt: “You’re obviously freezing. Just come here.” 

— — 

*cough* *cough* *sputter* *cough*  

Your eyes snap open and see a cloudless late afternoon sky. You immediately lurch forward to purge the seawater from your lungs. You flip over on your hands and knees while choking out the rest of the water, you gasp and cough trying to catch your breath. 

It had all happened so fast. You were aboard Buggy’s ship to do some negotiations when a massive storm hit. Your serious discussion had been interrupted by violent shaking of the ship and sounds of wood breaking all around you. You both headed out to the deck to assess the situation and that was the last thing you remembered. 

You had seemingly been washed ashore on some small island near where the storm had hit. You finally catch your breath enough to look around. You see what seems like the shape of another human being washed along the shore about fifty yards away. You rub at the salt water stinging your eyes, to make sure you were really seeing another person laying on the beach. After you regain your full vision you realize that yes, yes there was someone laying on the sand, someone with bright blue hair… and someone who certainly wasn’t moving. 

Instinctively you start to sprint towards the body on the beach as fast as you can. Upon arrival, you see Buggy’s body laying face down in the wet sand with no signs of life. 

“Shit…” You huff out. His stupid chop-chop fruit. He probably couldn’t push the salt water out of his lungs like you did. You flip him over onto his back and quickly move to straddle his waist. 

“Come on…” You press your hands onto his chest and push down with your whole body. You continue to pull back and push down in a frantic manner, trying to get him to cough up the sea water. 

“Don’t die, you fucking asshole!” You give one especially hard thrust to Buggy’s chest and his hands fly up to your waist as he begins coughing violently. You hop up to hover above him as he expels the water from his lungs and catches his breath. 

“Y/n?” Buggy looks up at you, confused. 

“Yes?” You question. 

“YOU’RE God?!?!” He shrieks out and his eyes widen. 

“Oh my GOD.” You roll your eyes. “I’m not god you fucking moron, you aren’t dead. Not yet at least.” You pick yourself up off the sand. “It’s getting dark, we can’t look for the rest of the crew until the sun’s back up. We need to find somewhere to shelter for the night.” 

Buggy groans and rolls around dramatically on the sand. 

“This is ridiculous! I’m stuck here with you? Here I thought you’d be in and out of my office with your Berries and I’d never have to deal with you again. Now we’re bunking up in the wilderness?” “Excuse me, circus act? I just saved your fucking life, dickhead. And if you’d like to continue living that life, I’d follow me.” You turn tail and start to walk towards the rock formation in the center of the island. Buggy looks around and sees that you are clearly his only hope at surviving this ordeal, so he scrambles to his feet and follows you. 

Eventually you come across a cave deep enough to shelter yourselves from any enemies or predators for the night. You order Buggy to gather some sticks and logs to put a fire together. You dig your cigarette lighter out of your pants pocket and pray to whatever gods that would listen for it to still be functional. Luck was on your side and the lighter flickered to life in your hand. You light the firewood carefully and watched over the growing flame for several minutes. 

Once the fire was lit, you and Buggy brought yourselves close to the flames so that you could finally feel some warmth in your damp clothes. The night had grown pitch black and you were feeling the aches and pains of being washed ashore catching up with you. 

“I’m going to try to sleep. You should get some rest too.” You crawl over to a corner of the cave and curl up on your side against the rock wall. 

“Right.” Buggy chooses a spot opposite the cave and lays down on his back. He throws his large coat over his body like a blanket. 

Several minutes go by and your body was wracked with a chill that wouldn’t go away. Being stuck in wet clothes all day and the ache in your bones was causing you to shake violently. You rub your sides trying to create more warmth with friction when you hear a sigh from across the cave. 

“You’re obviously freezing. Just come here.” Buggy gruffly announces. 

“What?” You question through chattering teeth. 

“You and I both know how body heat works. Do I have to spell this out for you, princess? Just get over here.” 

You weigh your options. You could go cuddle up to Buggy the Clown or you could freeze to death in a damp corner of a cave. You crawl over to Buggy. He lifts up his coat and beckons you to join him underneath it. You shuffle your body into his under the coat and you already begin to feel warmer. Buggy wraps his arm around you when he felt your shivering shoulders against his chest. 

Although it was significantly warmer in Buggy’s arms, you still couldn’t help but shake from the cold. 

“We should take our clothes off.” You hear from the man behind you. You snap your head in his direction. “Excuse me?!”

“Oh relax, don’t get too excited. Our clothes are still damp, we’re not going to warm up like this. We’ll freeze and catch a cold…. And I do not do well with nasal congestion.” Buggy sits up and starts stripping himself of his wet clothing before you could protest. 

“Jeez can you at least give me a second to look away before you pull your dick out?” You close your eyes instinctively. You unfortunately realize how right the clown was. There was no way you’d warm up if you stayed in your clothes. You sigh and slip your shirt over your head and shuffle your pants down your legs. You cross your legs and move your arms to cover your breasts and pull the makeshift blanket back over you. 

Finally out of your wet garments and with a warm body holding you close, you were able to relax. You release a deep exhale and close your eyes to try and get some sleep. Right as you were about to drift off, you feel something hard twitch against your backside. Your eyes shoot open. 

“Is your dick hard right now?!” You snap at him. “We almost died, you old pervert! How can you be hard?”

“I understand that, y/n!” Buggy hisses out at you, grinding his cock further into your body. You didn’t know if he was doing it on purpose or if he just couldn’t help it. “Regardless of what happened earlier, there is a hot naked girl laying next to me. I’m still a man, y/n.” The way he growled into your ear, your body began to betray you…

You sighed at the feeling of his needy body dry humping you. You pressed your ass further into him and Buggy groaned lowly. He moves his hand from its place on your stomach up to grip your breast. He gropes it harshly, using it almost as an anchor to pull your body back into his. 

Buggy gives your breast a particularly rough squeeze and you involuntarily moan out loudly. You slap your hand over your mouth. You hear the man behind you chuckle. 

“You’re wet right now, aren’t you, y/n?” Buggy whispers in your ear. “Does this turn you on, y/n? You like when I play with your tits like that?” 

Your cunt pulsed at his filthy words. You couldn’t come up with a response other than a whimper. The hand that was groping your breast suddenly released it to pull your right leg up and over his hip, effectively spreading your legs open for him. 

“I bet if I touched this sweet little pussy, she’d be soaking wet. Should I see if I’m right, y/n?” Without waiting for a response from you, Buggy detaches his other hand from wherever it was and slips it between your legs. He uses his middle and first fingers to slip effortlessly through your slick folds. You gasp as he lets his fingers linger on your clit and applies a bit of pressure. 

“Looks like I’m right! You’re all hot now too, what do you say we warm up a bit faster hmm?” Buggy purrs in your ear as he dips his two fingers shallowly in your hole, teasing you before coming back up to rub at your clit, spreading copious amounts of your slick around your throbbing sex. 

“We really shouldn’t, B-buggy… oh!" He pushes his digits into your entrance again and you yelp out. 

“Come on baby, let me stick it in you. It’ll feel good…” Buggy continues pumping his fingers in and out of you, working you up further. “Feel how wet you are?” Buggy dramatically squelches his fingers in your dripping cunt and you clench at the noise and the feeling. “It’d be a shame to let this go to waste… don’t you want to cum? I’ll make you cum on my cock, just let me put it in…” 

How could someone be so hot while simultaneously begging you to let him take you? You were desperate for release so you relented to the clown’s pleas. 

“Yes, fuck me.” You breath out. Buggy pulls his fingers out of you and his leaking cock was already prodding at your hole. You don’t know how did it so fast, it was almost like a magic trick. 

You were so wet that your walls welcomed Buggy’s cock easily. You both groan and gasp as he makes his first experimental thrusts into you. 

“Shit baby, you’re so tight! If I had known you had such a nice pussy I would have bent you over the desk in my office earlier!” Buggy hikes your leg higher in his hand in order to penetrate you even deeper. 

“Right there!” You huff out and throw your head back against Buggy’s shoulder. 

“Here, baby? Does that feel good?” Buggy continues to thrust his cock into you, tip brushing against that sensitive spot with each pass through your slick walls. He nips at your ear as you melt further into his body. He brings his hand that was holding your thigh down to push on your lower tummy. 

“B-buggy… fuck…” The sensation of his cock sliding through your sensitive insides was heightened by his hand on your stomach. “I-I… I think I’m gonna cum… fuck!” Before you finish your sentence the pressure in your abdomen releases and you orgasm violently on your clown lover. 

“There it is, good girl…” Buggy speeds up his thrusts into your still spasming pussy. “Squeezing me so tight, fuck I’m gonna cum too, shit…” 

You feel Buggy grip the soft skin of your tummy and pull your body impossibly closer to his as he spills his thick seed deep inside you. You felt rope after rope of hot liquid fill you to the brim and spill out around his member at your entrance… must have been awhile for him… 

Buggy’s breath was hot and ragged on your neck and you feel his nose nuzzle your spine. 

“So… you still cold?” Buggy asks. 

“I think I’ll be okay now, thanks.” You laugh and cuddle your body into his front even closer. “You’re still inside me, you know.” 

“I know… can we sleep like this? Please? You’re so warm…” 

You roll your eyes. 

“Fine,” You respond. “But if people come looking for us and find us like this in the morning, you’re a dead clown.” 

“Worth it.” Buggy yawns and quickly begins snoring behind you. Finally being comfortably warm, you too drift off to sleep. 

-- --

xx Mo 

[bluegalaxygirl]

Amnesia (KidKiller X Reader) P14

Plot: After an explosion reader wakes up in a hospital with no memory of the past few years, her parents want to take her home so she can recover and get back to a normal life while the Kid pirates want her back on the ship where she belongs.

Warning: Bad language, Family issues, Mental abuse, Body issues/shaming, mentions of eating disorders, reconstructive surgery, Blood, domestic abuse and Violence.

Reader is Female, Poly Relationship, established relationship, Kid X Reader X Killer, Reader is a member of the Kid pirates and is in charge of the money, Budgeting and negotiating the best price.

< Previous part …. Next Part >

The Victoria was oddly quiet mainly because most of the crew where either on the deck doing cleaning work and look out duty or off the ship heading into the shopping area to get the supply's they ordered days ago, Kid of course is mad about it wanting to head into those shops and demand the stuff for free or just take the stuff after such a long wait but Killer and Wire managed to calm him down a little and shove him into his workshop which is where he's currently working on odd things. His leg bounces hating having to wait a whole day to see you and not getting to beat the shit out of anyone, again it would be much easier to destroy this place and take you with them, but he knows you well enough to know that if he does that and you get your memories back you would be overly angry with him and become less trusting of him. Your no stranger to violence and killing but Kidnapping and being forced to do something against your will is something you never tolerated, he laughs at the memory of you calling yourself a hypocrite since you didn't mind doing stuff like that to your enemies. A knock on the door jolts the captain out of his thoughts, swiveling around in his chair he flicks his hand using his devil fruit to unlock the door and open it seeing Killer, Wire and Heat all at the door "What?" Kid growls as the three enter the room, Wire closes and locks the door behind him which makes the red head raise a brow "Heat has found some info for us" Killer stands walking to stand next to his captain before turning to look over at a very tired looking Heat, the bags under his eyes are a lot darker and his eyes are blood shot.

Crossing his arms over his chest Kid sighs hoping they have something good they can use and not just some useless info "Go on then, get on with it" The captain snaps, Heat jumps slightly being brought back to the real world from his slightly sleepy state, cleaning his throat the stitched man runs a hand over his tatty hair knowing he needs a good show but what he found was more than he thought and the deeper he dug the harder it was to pull away. "There's a lot to go threw, i left Mohawk and Narbe, at the library in town, they managed to get in contact with a few people who used to work for the family, its surprising how willing they are say what goes on behind closed doors. Most of the books there though are strange to say the least, all are based on the history of entertainment and old newspapers that only show big achievements and positive views" Kid groans throwing his head back in annoyance not wanting to know how they got the information "Hurry up Heat, i'm loosing patients here" With a gulp Heat nods ruffling his hair a little to get his head in gear, its common for him to ramble when tired so Wire places a hand on his friends shoulder patting it a few times in reassurance and motivation to go on. "R-right, sorry. So Y/n's farther is the 7th owner of most of the companies he owns, all of which was passed down to him from his father and his father before him and so on, but he is the first to make a deal with the world government to supply not only medical equipment but also weapons, the guns the marines use are made by his company but before that they were sold to mulish groups, how he got away with it i honestly don't know. There's only one company he owns that doesn't involve the world government or the marines but there's little to nothing on that one, i only know that its based in the north blue."

Killer nods at the information, its surprising how much your farther caters to the world government, and yet he hasn't called in the marines yet, it makes the masked man anxious. "How many companies in total does he own?" the blonde asks wanting to know how deeply involved your farther is, getting rid of him might work in their favor if you agree to it at the end of all of this. "Four in total, the third one that provides to the world government has something to do with clothes. He also has shares in other companies and places but most of them are medical, he actually owns half the hospital here." Kids taken aback by this new information but it does make sense now why they brought you all the way here and why the staff, other than the nurse, always seem to take your families side. Wire raises an eyebrow removing his hand from the stitched man's shoulder to cross his arms over his chest "I thought they had their medical license revoked, they can't own a hospital without one" The tall man comments makes Killer hum in though his mind running to try and figure out what is going on, its clear they need you for something otherwise they wouldn't be going this far, do they need you in order to get that licence back? if so this seems way to drastic for something so small. Heat shakes his head with a sigh "That is kinda true, they got their license to make medication revoked, i couldn't find much on it but there was this drug they made that ended up killing a lot of marines that were using it, so the government took their license away. They can still make medical equipment, bandages and stuff like that though"

With a loud groan Kid leans back not seeing much point in all this information, so what if your father owns all that stuff and the place your staying in, they still can't tell him what to do or stop him from doing what he wants, your not going to be their hostage, he'll make dam sure of that "Is there anything else?" The captain asks looking back at Heat who quickly looks away while rubbing his arm, the energy in the room shifts to one of nervousness and slight sickness, Wire tilts his head at his friend a pit forming in his stomach knowing its bad if Heat is reluctant to talk about it "Shit.. this about Y/n or the family?" The tall man asks hoping its nothing bad to do with you but deep down he knows it has everything to do with you, Killer stops his pondering to look at the stitched man, his anxiety rising making him feel physically sick, Kid grits his teeth both his hands gripping onto the arms of his chair threatening to crack it under his grip. "Heat… Get on with it" Kid growls in a low tone, one he rarely uses, his anger spikes the longer Heat takes to talk but when he does the three of them stop in their tracks of high emotion "Y/n… she- she used to do beauty contest and pageants from a young age-" Before he can finish Kid bursts out laughing, the anger he once held gone at how stupid it sounded, Killer next to him lets out a long sigh relaxing his shoulders and moving to lean against Kid's workbench trying to calm his beating heart down. Wire slaps Heat on the back giving him a shit eating grin while letting out a small huff of a laugh "Are you fucking kidding me man, thats it?" The tall man rolls his eyes.

Kid leans forward slapping his knee while trying to calm his laughter down "Oh! t-thats f-funny… Imagine our N/N in a fucking puffy dress… she would rather be burned alive then do that shit" Kid laughs hitting Killer on the arm lightly managing to get a laugh out of his partner but the masked man quickly stops himself as Heat growls taking a step closer to the two with bright red cheeks "No really, she's won a bunch, and… She looks good in all of them but.." Heat yells only to stop himself and look down the redness in his cheeks fading away as anger starts to overcome him, Kid raises an eyebrow at his friend wondering why there would be a 'But' in that sentence while Killer looks the stitched man over frowning under his mask. A pit forms in Heat's stomach thinking his captain and maybe even Killer will kill him for thinking your hot but it has nothing to do with that. "I'm not hitting on your girl or anything Captain, its just, I'm concerned some of them are… provocative for a young girl.. i mean the newest ones i could find was when she was 16" Heat tries to explain backing up a bit in hopes his Captain won't kill him, Killer's shoulders tense his hands turning to fists at his side, anger flows through him, not at Heat's commenting on your body, but he can see what his friend is starting to get at. "I don't think she wanted to do it, she always has this fake smile in the photos and her mother is the center of any article about her wins. All she talks about though is weight loss, beauty is pain and shit like, heck there's a part in one new's paper where she openly praises eating disorders" anger boils inside the stitched man making his body start to warm up and smoke start to leave his mouth.

Wire takes a step back not wanting to get to close to the now fire angry man his gaze flicking to the captain secretly asking if he should step in but Kid's eyes are angrily locked onto Heat who continues to rant "I mean if thats what she says when Y/n is winning then what the fuck is she saying when Y/n's losing? I found out from one of maids that used to work there that Y/n had to have reconstructive surgery on both her ears after her mother deiced to piece them with a hot needle and an ice cube, she got other pageant moms to hold her down and then forced her on stage after to prance around in a pretty dress and for what? Winning a gift card… yea thats the fucking prize, a 50 berri gift card and a plastic crown. How stupid is that? The shit that lady made Y/n go threw is ridiculous, i mean calorie control books, daily weighing, restricting or even locking away food if she weighed even a little over, pulling her out of school to be pretty and proper like some little lap dog and almost beating her because she cut her hair without permission. That Bitch is crazy and as for her farther he's just as bad he-" Heat only stops his rant when Wire grabs him pulling the stitched man into a hug, one arm around his waist and the other holding his head to the tall man's chest, thick smoke coats the air as Heat pants making the room stuffy but none of the men move to open the door. Kid's hands shake as they grip together, his body now leaning forwards and his elbows on his knee's letting his mind go run through all the strange stuff you used to do and say.

It all made sense now, why you never got your ears pierced, why you always insisted on working out even when tired or in pain, why you never wanted to wear makeup or dresses and why you hated people commenting on your body, it makes him sick to think he used to tease you over this stuff, liking getting a little rise out of you but now he just feels like a dick. Killer grabs the edge of the workbench making it squeak under the amount of strength he's using, he has his own personal image issues and you've been nothing but sportive thought it, always knowing what to say and how to comfort him, he's done the same for you but hearing this just makes him so mad. You never minded talking about food or helping out with food but you never wanted to know anything about Calorie's or fat content, its clear now why, and he's just thankful that you don't have an eating disorder now, the past might have been different, so he'll make a mental note to talk to you about it tomorrow, he needs to know how deep this goes, he doesn't want you to end up like him, hiding behind a mask and unable to look at himself in the mirror with feeling a sickness growing inside. Before he wouldn't lay a hand on your mother only for your sake but after hearing this he wants nothing more than to wrap his hand around her throat and make her bag you for forgiveness before ending her life weather you like it or not.

With the room oddly silent it gives everyone time to go through their own thoughts and feelings on the matter but Heat knows there's more, he's only talked about your mother, he hasn't even gotten onto your farther yet and there's still more stuff to go through. The beauty contests seemed to be the main problem to everyone who used to work for the family, but he knows you well enough to know that its just the tip of the iceberg, it runs deeper, and he's not sure if he wants to find out how deep. "No wonder she hates being called pretty and beautiful, imagine a bunch of old sweaty judges, family and so called friends commenting on your body for years, judging you on your looks and nothing else" Heat sighs letting the flames in his throat die down and the smoke in his mouth starting to thin out, patting his friends back Wire lets go to unlock the door and open it, letting the smoke flow out of the room, stepping out he looks both ways down the long hallway seeing a cabin boy mopping the floor with wide eyes. "There's no fire, head up top and tell everyone to stay away until further notice" Wire blankly states earning a nod from the boy who quickly grabs his bucket and mop before rushing down the hall and up to the deck, now the area is clear the tall man turns back to his friends letting out a sigh, he tried not to get too angry about it all but even he has his limits. Wire is extremely good at hiding how he's really feeling, even better than Killer which is saying something but even know he's finding it difficult to keep his straight face.

Kids leg bounces as a growl leaves his lips and his amber eyes travel from the floor to the stitched man now leaning against the wall "Her Farther… what did he do?" The captain pushes those words through gritted teeth wanting to know everything before he storms off and releases some steam, with a sigh that releases a little more smoke Heat turns his head to look at the door annoyed at himself for letting the smoke get this bad "Mohawk managed to dig up a few things but there isn't a lot, he's still an ass but at least it sounds like he didn't physically hurt N/n" Killer rolls his eyes not feeling any better about this even though he knew his friend was trying not to make himself and everyone else more angry "Mohawk found that the company in the north blue was having some money issues for almost a year, at the same time Y/n stops doing any kind of contests or pageants, once the issues was resolved though Y/n started doing them again. I think he got Y/n to do all that work just to cast her aside after she was no longer useful, what a prick." Heat slumps against the wall now looking up at the ceiling in order to try and control the fire starting to burn in his throat again, Wire sighs walking over and patting the stitched man on the shoulder, he know something like that would hit you hard. They all see the way your eyes light up when ever you get praised for your work, your also very dedicated making sure everything is in order and perfect. "She's does has siblings but only the youngest who's the first boy in the family is the air to the companies, i couldn't find much on him other than he's still very young" Heat concludes glad he got all of it out, but he wonders if this information was even useful, there is a chance they could remind you of all the shit your family did and that will make you come back but at the same time you remember all of it and still somehow chose to keep them around.

Killers hand grips the desk hard enough for it to crack a chunk off, he flinches slightly bringing his hand up to see the chunk of wood and a bit of metal still gripped tightly in his hand, the anger inside of him is still there, and he knows he needs to calm down before he breaks more of the ship. Kid growls while leaning back in his chair, his hands shaking with anger and the need to lash out, his mind races with things he wants to do and say to your parents making his mind block out the destitution between Wire and Heat "So what about the marines? Why ain't they here if their so buddy buddy?" The tall mans asks feeling like something is off about all this but Heat just shrugs "I don't know, he seems to be friends with most of the lower level marines but other than that i can't find anything too useful." Without a word Kid quickly stands his hands grabbing the arms of his chair and flinging it back into the wall before storming out of the room, his anger getting the better of him, Killer quickly follows with no intention to stop his partner while Wire and Heat rush out unsure of what their captains plan is. Slamming the door to the deck open the crew who are there jump in surprise most moving out of the raging captains way, those who didn't are shoved aside with a gruff huff or a warning growl, the captains eyes are fixed on your parents ship currently five rows over, the guards in duty stand tall one on either side of the ramp while servants run around none of them noticing the heavy aura that starts to emanate from Kid, he knows exactly what he wants to do, destroy their ship and make your parents pay.

He can't hold back any longer with anger reaching an almost overwhelming level, storming down the dock his eyes are fixed on the almost royal looking ship as his boots stomp heavily across the wood making it crack in places and splinter in others, it isn't long before his actions draw an audience of his crew, the men and women of the ship running to the railing of their ship in order to see what's going on. Killer along with Heat and Wire make their way up too knowing know what is going to happen, Heat lets a large smile form on his face as he takes a step towards the ramp leading down onto the dock wanting to join in the distraction only to be grabbed roughly by Wire "Shit, Captain wait" The tall man yells knowing its reached his captains ears since he earns a middle finger in response "Stay here" Wire growls down at the stitched man who growls back while crossing his arms over his chest, he wants to join his captain but Wire can be very scary when he gets mad so opts to do as he's told. Running off the ship the tall man quickly turns back expecting Killer to be right behind him only to see empty space, looking back onto the ship the masked man hasn't moves from his spot just watching his captain angrily make his way to the last dock. He should stop Kid, if he does the captain will listen, they might fight about it later but, no, after everything he's heard he won't stop his partner, they deserve what ever comes to them, you might hate them for it but at this point he doesn't care. A part of him wants to order Wire back to the ship but with his anger seething inside he can't get anything through his gritted teeth and clenched jaw.

With a groan of frustration Wire runs off his longs legs making it easy for him to catch up to Kid just as the captain starts gathering metal around his arm hoping to sink the ship which is now just down the long dock "Captain… Kid stop" Wire rushes in front of the red head trying to stop the man from doing anything too bad, he wants these people to pay for what they've done but there's too many things to consider, one, the marines might get involved which means another big fight and them unable to stay here for too long, two, they have no idea how your going to react when finding out, you might not come back with them which leads to them just taking you by forth which won't go down well and three, the captains rage won't just stop at the ship, it'll carry on until he's satisfied which means the whole island will be burning including the hospital your in. "I know your angry, and they deserve what ever comes to them but not now" Wire still tries to convince his captain while starting to step back seeing the red head not slowing down or stopping, he knows if he stays in the way he'll get shoved aside or worse thrown. "Get the fuck out of my way, i'm gonna tare them apart, rip them limb from bloody limb, make them beg for forgiveness then deny them the sweet relief of death until I'm satisfied" Kid growls with a sickening smirk, one that just oozes blood-lust almost making his mouth water, the captains metal arm becomes huge casting a shadow over your parents ship which is now only a few steps away.

The guards on the deck rush over with guns and swords but their weapons are pulled out of their hand adding to the still growing fist, those in the ship either cower in fear, frozen unable to move or run around calling for people to get off the ship and onto the deck "Eustass Kid, what the meaning of this?" The familiar grinding voice of your farther yells out from behind the captain getting the red head to turn his head, burning amber eyes glaring at your Stoic farther who's walking down the dock to his ship surprisingly calm for a man now in the eyesight of a raging supernova. "You bastard, What the fuck do you want from her?" Kid's voice echo's out as his metal hand grips onto the mast of the ship the once perfect glistening white and chestnut wood splintering at his light grip, he wasn't going to destroy the ship just yet, plus if your mother is on there he doesn't want it sinking yet, he wants to take her out himself. Your farther's eyes narrow as he crosses his arms over his chest "She is my daughter, i would do anything for her" The blatant lie causing another wave of anger to wash over the red head his metal hand unctuously gripping tighter until the mast cracks and splinters into pieces, the part above his hand creaking and falling into the ocean, screams and cry's call out as more servants and guards rush off the ship as it rocks from the waves. Some guards run up attempting to punch or kick Wire only for the tall man to kick them into the water and send a glare to anyone else who gets any ideas, he knows know there's nothing he can do to stop this so has no chose but to watch what ever unfolds and take out anyone who gets in his captains way. "Bullshit, if you actually cared you'd have kept her away from that bitch of a wife"

A gasp is heard from the crowd of people gathered at the end of the dock your mother pushing her way to the front with a frown clear on her face "How dare you, i gave that ungrateful child everything she could want" Kid's burning eyes slowly turn to look at the woman, its clear now she was acting back at the hospital, this is the real her "You conniving, vindictive cow" The captains voice sounds almost inhuman almost like a wolf drooling and snarling over its pray, Wire quickly moves out of the way as Kid lets go of all the metal he had been collecting letting it rain down into the ocean and onto the ship impaling wood, shattering glass windows and slicing through the rapes and sails so the captain can storm over to your mother. "Get away from her" Your farther yells but makes no move to get closer, guards moves to try and protect your mother trying to stop the man from getting any closer as the woman backs up becoming scares for her life. Killer's fists shake at his sides his anger also starting to grow at seeing your mother again, he can't hear what is being said, but he knows their certainly not apologizing for what they've done, honestly it wouldn't matter if they did or not they still deserve to pay, Heat growls his hands gripping into the wooden rail of the ship threatening to break it, his throat starts to warm up and smoke starts to leek out the corners of his stitched mouth. Neither of them can hold back any longer, in unison the two walk off the Victoria earning gulps, wide grins and looks of confusion from the crew watching on, neither of them knew what they were going to do once they made it to your parents but it wasn't going to be good.

[themonopolyhat]

shoulder the sky: the star (a halloween giftfic)

a few weeks ago a creepy-ass phrase popped into my head, and it turned into this: almost 1500 words of holiday horror for my friend @shootingstarpilot. a trick or a treat? you decide!

warnings for body horror, disturbing imagery, and very little actual plot or explanation. featuring @swmoddy's helix the clone medic and pilot's own needle and stitch, aka the chokehold trio <333

the star:

By the time they realize what's happened, the star has already taken Obi-Wan whole and seared its speech into Helix's mouth.

They fail to stop Needle. He casually breaks his bones and ducks into the observation lounge, laughing gaily all the while.

They stop Stitch ten feet from the door. He burns and bleeds and speaks something else's words, all the same.

They let him go.

oOoOo

Cody declares the area off-limits. The men on watch are drawn back to touchpoints along the corridors.

When they begin to bleed, he evacuates the entire section.

Then the sections fore and aft. The decks above and below.

By the time the star has finished, it's carved the Negotiator into thirds—an untouched aft wedge, a safe-enough forward wedge, and a giant gaping maw of madness in the middle.

None of them know why the ship hasn't depressurized and blown them all into the void.

No one wants to ask out loud, in case the star hasn't noticed the oversight.

oOoOo

“We don't think it's really a star,” says Particle after a consult with navigation, astrometrics, astrophysics, and stellar cartography. “It's not on any of the maps, and it's not behaving like a star.”

Waxer snorts. “No shit.”

Particle has the good grace to grimace. “I meant the sensor readings are wrong. It's not reading like a normal star on the sensors.”

“What is it, then?” Cody asks.

Particle glances at Wave, who tugs at her braids anxiously where they hang over her softshell grey shoulder. “Best guess is it's either a creature that looks like a star, or it's a creature that's hijacked a star.”

oOoOo

They keep callling it the star.

That's what it looks like, hanging massive and brilliant and too close off the port bow.

oOoOo

Cody comes to the edge of the star's influence, where the terrible warping of the bulkheads and deck plates tapers.

Eight days have passed since they were yanked out of their hyperlane, all screaming alarms and whining intertial dampeners.

Seven days have passed since anyone sane last saw the general.

“What are you?” Cody asks again, a cold sweat prickling at his brow and down his back. He refuses to glance away. “Is Needle still alive?”

“It has to eat,” the thing that isn't Needle slurs cheerfully with his torn-open grin, crowded with too many teeth that are not his own. His tongue is blackened, swollen, dragging dry over blistered lips. “Has to eat.”

(He comes most often to the boundary. Sometimes it's Stitch, who is calmer and bleeds more.

They haven't seen Helix since he went in after Obi-Wan.)

“What has to eat?” Cody asks him.

“To eat,” Needle bubbles. “It has to eat.”

Cody looks at their second most senior medic. Tries not to inhale the reek of burning metal, burning flesh. Something is sizzling faintly. “You don't need us,” he persists. “Let this ship go. Let my men and our general go.”

Needle's head tilts. Uncomprehending. His left clavicle juts from his skin. The pieces are tugged outward like twisted red saplings sprouting from his torn blacks. “Eat, eat,” he insists, chuckling. “It needs to eat.”

oOoOo

They all say the same things, when questioned. Needle laughs and his breath plucks the strings of his cheeks where they slide over the teeth. Stitch quietly bleeds in place.

They don't seem to understand most of what Cody asks (demands, shouts, pleads).

Eat, they say. Eat.

It needs to eat.

All things must eat.

Helix comes only once. He carries his convulsing heart in a clear specimen bag. Pulls his charred, blood-cracked lips apart and rattles the words loose like bones tumbling down a well—

We must eat.

oOoOo

They're all nearly blinded when the light floods across the bridge. Shouts of pain and surprise ripple through the pits, adding to the chaos.

“Close the shutters!” Cody barks out. He nearly loses his footing when the ship gives another nauseating heave. His eyes are screwed shut, fragile lids helpless against the onslaught. “Ops, status?”

“Stand by, sir!” Teeter chokes out.

Obi-Wan sounds as pained as everyone else, somewhere off to Cody's left. “Dartboard, tell me we're not flying directly into a star—?”

“Sensors are recalibrating and I can barely see the readout,” Dartboard replies, sniffling, “but... I don't think so. It's off to port. Close.”

The shutters drop. The bridge crew as a whole blinks tears out of their eyes, coughing through smoke. Negotiator rolls and shakes and protests all through her beams.

Ops reports some level of damage on every deck, but nothing they can't repair within twelve hours. The engines are down. The shields and thrusters are operable.

They won't fall into the star, at least.

oOoOo

Stitch's new eyes are swollen and discolored, pushing out through delicate neck skin like tumors with scabbed, lashless lids. Cody counts four of them this time.

“To eat,” Stitch murmurs, almost apologetically. “All things must eat. It has to eat.”

“Where is Obi-Wan?” Cody asks.

“It has to eat,” Stitch answers.

“I want to see him.”

“It has to eat.”

“Let me see Obi-Wan.”

Stitch blinks with all six eyes out of sync. The new ones roll about, uncoordinated. “To eat,” he repeats.

He turns to go, leaving dark blood pattering in his wake. His scrubs and blacks are ripped halfway down his back, and he's split open neatly along his spine. Bone and meat glisten in the strange light.

(We must eat, Helix said.

So far the star hasn't eaten anyone except the medics. And maybe Obi-Wan, somewhere in the dark tangle amidships. Every effort to get sensors or cams working through the star's influence has ended in failure.)

oOoOo

Cody goes to the boundary twice a day. A medic comes to meet him every time.

Needle gains more and more teeth, peels his burned face open ever more deeply, giggle-drools pink streaks and charcoal flakes.

Stitch leaves faint blood-steps behind him and speaks through a mouth seared raw, just like the rest. On the fifth day his spine is open to the air. His new eyes come in the day after.

Helix visits the morning of the ninth day. He does not blink; his eyelids have been neatly sliced away. His heart thuds dutifully in its bag at his side. Grotesque veins slither from the pulp of it up into Helix's sleeve.

“We must eat,” he says. His blackened lips weep sorely for the disturbance.

Cody tries everything he can think of to get through to their senior medic. Helix loves Obi-Wan. He loves Stitch and Needle. Surely if he's in there somewhere, he will help Cody save them.

Helix just looks at him, listing vaguely to one side. The smell of burned, rotting flesh is stronger than ever. His heart twitches in its bag.

He leaves only a few flecks of mouth-char when he finally shuffles away.

oOoOo

On the tenth day, Cody opens his eyes to Waxer's voice, frantic and hushed at his bedside.

It's gone, he's saying, it's gone, the star's gone, the ship's back to normal, we've got to—

They run.

oOoOo

The lounge door is just as it should be, lighting and deck plates and bulkheads pristine and normal.

Cody breathes steadily through his nose. He thinks he's imagining the scent of roasted meat at this point—it's permeated him somehow, gotten into his skin and brain a little deeper every time he met one of their mangled medics at the boundary. No one else seems to smell anything unusual.

They key the door open. Step inside, weapons ready. The junior medics hover just behind with their kits just as ready.

oOoOo

They're huddled in the center of the lounge. A pile of sprawled limbs that rips Cody's heart into his throat for a split second of cold, numbing horror.

(Nothing but bloodied, mangled flesh, melted together into one horrific mass—

What if it moves, what if they're alive like that—)

He blinks and the vision fades.

There's nothing burned. Nothing broken or twisted.

Obi-Wan looks like he fell asleep the way he does sometimes after a difficult meditation, curled up loosely on the deck with his head pillowed on his arm. His boots are tumbled a little ways away, like he kicked them off at some point.

The medics are curled up with him, clutching his cloak and each other tightly. No scorched flesh, no jutting bones or bagged hearts.

Obi-Wan's hand rests on Helix's chest. Needle drools a little against Helix's shoulder, with cheeks and lips now soft and clean and whole. Stitch is flopped over them, his back and throat visibly mended, unmarked.

They're asleep, the junior medics will confirm within moments. All vitals are normal. No sign of trauma.

oOoOo

“It had to eat,” Obi-Wan murmurs, frowning in thought, and Cody shudders before he can stop himself.

“Please,” he manages. “Please��don't say that.”

[late-to-the-party-81]

His little dolly

AN: Here we go, party-people. Here is the third part of my DBF Steve, officially making it a Series by the rules of Jen. This is actually based on the original idea by the lovely @krissy25 which started the whole thing off. It also actually adds some plot, which I was not expecting. It is, however, still absolute filth

Beta’d by @endlesstwanted, wrangler of commas

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@steverogersbingo  - C3 - Free Space

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Summary: You have to try and control yourself when your parents and you spend the day helping Steve building his new deck. The evening, however, is a different matter.

Relationship: DBF Steve x Inexperienced Reader

Word count: 4.3k

CW: AU: No Powers, Age difference (Steve 40s, Reader early 20’s), Soft Dark Steve, Power Imbalance, Secret relationship, Oral Sex (F receiving), Fingering, Squirting, Unprotected PIV Sex (reader on BC), Pussy slapping, Breath-play, Under-negotiated kink, Mild Angst, Implied Somnophilia, Implied Cum eating, Steve Rogers Dirty Talk, Bimbo-fication.

This was going to be torture. You were going to be spending the whole day with Steve, which on the surface, sounded like a dream - you only usually spent snatched moments together. However, your parents were also going to be there this time. 

Your Dad had gleefully announced three days ago that you’d all be spending Saturday at Steve’s house, having a cook-out while he and Steve worked on renovating Steve’s deck. So here you were, in the backseat of your Dad’s car as he drove the couple of miles across town to get there. You’d be so near but so far, and you had no idea how you were going to keep it together, especially since you hadn’t seen him in a week and he was still in possession of your toy-box.

The car lurched as your Dad pulled up outside Steve’s house, braking a little too hard, and you could almost hear his eyes roll as your Mom clicked her tongue at him. As they both got out of the car you put your best game face on and joined them. 

It was a warm day, and determined not to be labelled as a ‘useless woman’ you’d eschewed your normal hot weather wardrobe of a sundress. Instead you’d put on sturdy sneakers, some denim shorts and a baggy sleeveless tee, intending to help out with Steve’s renovations. You hoped that if you were busy, you’d be able to distract yourself from being so close to what you wanted.

That plan went straight out the window almost immediately. The three of you walked up the path, but instead of heading to the front door your Dad veered off toward the gate that went directly into the back yard. He pushed it open, holding it for you and your Mom, and you followed her through it. 

You came to a grinding halt as all thoughts were driven from your head.

Steve had already started working, and he must have been at it for a while because he’d already discarded his shirt and had a sheen of sweat over his body.

Your mouth went dry and you barely noticed the way you pressed your thighs together, your clit already throbbing with arousal. He looked like a god come to life.

Yes, you’d seen him naked more than once, but you’d never seen him like this in the bright light of day, just looking so masculine. Was there a name for this kink? The urge to just lick the sweat from his pecs was almost overwhelming.

“Sweetie? Are you okay?” Your Mom’s voice pulled you back into reality.

“Umm, yeah. I - uuh - just got something in my eye.” You blinked rapidly and rubbed at your right eye to bring credence to your story, but it seemed that your Mom wasn’t fooled. She leaned in close and whispered conspiratorially. 

“He is rather distracting, I’ll grant you.”

“Mom!” You felt your cheeks flame with embarrassment, and looked around to see if either your Dad, or god forbid Steve, had heard. “You can’t say things like that,” you hissed out.

Your Mom just gave you a wink. “Married, not dead, sweetie. Just don’t look at boys your own age like that - they might take it the wrong way and try to take advantage.”

You bit your tongue, desperately hoping she wouldn’t work out your secret just by looking at your face. Luckily you were saved by an unlikely ally when your Dad shouted out for your Mom’s attention as he tried to locate his tool belt. “I’m gonna go and get the cooler from the car,” you shouted, desperate for a few moments alone to compose yourself.

Spending all day with Steve was one thing, but spending it with him when he was topless, his skin kissed by the sun, and with him letting out little grunts of effort that reminded you too much of other noises? Well, you’d be lucky not to just orgasm on the spot and then the game would be up.

You jogged back down Steve’s front path to where your Dad’s car was parked at the curb. You popped the trunk, and were just leaning into it to lift out the cooler full of beer and meat for the cookout when a shadow fell over you.

You whirled around, coming straight into eye contact with the physique you’d just been admiring.

“Hey, Babydoll. You look a little warm. Something got you all flustered?” The way he teased you normally got you going, but given the current situation it just made you cross. You stepped away, needing space to breathe, and looked over at his smirking face. At least he’d thrown his shirt back over his shoulders, but it wasn’t buttoned and his chest was just there. 

“You’ve done this on purpose,” you ground out, trying not to raise your voice and catch your parents’ attention.

“I don’t know what you mean, sweetheart,” Steve drawled mockingly, as he reached into the trunk and effortlessly picked up the cooler. “I just got a bit overheated while working and needed to strip off. Surely, you can understand that. And anyway, I’m just your Dad’s friend - not your type in any case.”

“Fuck you!” you whispered, full of both anger and arousal. 

Steve stepped back up onto the sidewalk heading back towards his house, but he paused as he passed you, ducking his head to whisper in your ear. “Later, Babydoll. Later. And don’t go touching yourself when you go to the bathroom. I’ll know if you do…”

He walked away, and you gave yourself a few seconds to take in some deep breaths before following him back into his yard. He was already talking to your Mom when you got there, back to being the genial friend of the family.

“Thank you for bringing over the food and agreeing to come help out. I expected it to just be me and Twinkle-toes over there.” He jerked his head in your Dad’s direction, who pouted at the nickname, and your Mom threw back her head and laughed.

“Oh, it’s no problem at all, Steve. You’re like family. You know we think of you like a brother.”

Steve glanced over at you, and the look you saw in his eyes was in no way ‘uncle-like’. You shivered and tried not to think of all the things the two of you had done - things that would probably make your Mom faint and your Dad go apoplectic. 

There was only one way you were going to get through this day, so purposefully ignoring Steve you strode over to where your Dad was looking at the decking planks, a measuring tape in hand and a carpenter’s pencil between his teeth.

“How can I help?” you asked, and got stuck in.

Your plan worked to a certain extent. At least while you were helping your Dad measure and cut, or helping your Mom prepare the food for the grill. However, everytime you thought you had your equilibrium back on an even keel, Steve seemed to somehow know and would make a point of brushing past you or would stand in your eye line. He’d then tip his head back and drink from his beer, uncaring if any errant drops spilled from his mouth and trickled down his throat and chest. A few times you were tempted to disobey him - go to his bathroom and relieve the tension building in your core. You even wondered if you could sneak off to his bedroom and use his pillow to get yourself off, but you weren’t that brave.

The hours passed by fast despite each minute feeling like an eternity, and it was with a sense of pride that you realised that your assistance had actually been useful - Steve’s deck was almost complete. The railings on one side still needed to be put into place and the protective wood stain needed to be added, but all in all it was a success. 

Now you were all relaxing on loungers, having filled up on burgers, wieners and your Mom’s potato salad, sipping on the remaining beers. 

Your parents and Steve had been talking about local goings-on while you’d been daydreaming when Steve directed a question to you.

“So, d’you think you’ll have the energy to meet up with your girlfriends after all your efforts today?”

For a moment you were confused. You had no plans after this, let alone with any girlfriends, but then a lightbulb came on in your head. “Oh, uh, yeah. I’ve just gotta check if they still wanna go out. They weren’t sure, which is why I hadn’t mentioned it,” you turned to your parents, hoping they found it plausible. Your Dad just waved his hand.

“You’re a grown up now, sweetie. You don’t need to account for your movements to us. We know you’re sensible. And it won’t be too long now before you spread your wings and leave the nest completely - get that job you’ve been dreaming of.”

“Oh,” said Steve with interest. “What job is that?”

“Hasn’t she told you?” Your Mom sat forward in her chair, full of excitement. “She’s got an interview for an internship at Walker Industries. Our baby’s on the up and up.”

“Mom,” you groaned. “It’s not that glamorous. It’s really just glorified data entry.”

“But it’s a big company,” your Mom argued back. “International. And you’re smart and ambitious. You’ll be working your way up in no time.”

Neither her or your Dad seemed to notice how quiet Steve had gone - how his now dark gaze was settled squarely on you -, but you did and you couldn’t work out what it meant. Then, with a smack of his hands on his thighs, Steve stood up.

“Well, it’s been a long day and I really do appreciate the help and the company, but if Little Miss Social Life here has something planned, I’d best let you go.”

Your Dad looked at his watch and gasped, making some comment about time flying, and then you were all caught up in a flurry of activity and goodbyes. Your Dad checked he had all his tools and your Mom made sure she had all her food containers, despite Steve’s insistence he should keep them to wash up and return at another point. Ten minutes later, you were all back in the car heading home.

Twenty minutes after that you were under the shower, washing the sweat and dirt of the day off yourself and trying to ignore how every nerve ending in your body was on fire from the anticipation of what was to come. In another forty minutes, you’d tried on and discarded various different outfits, trying to find just the right one. It was proving difficult because your parents thought you were going out with the girls, so your outfit had to reflect that, but at the same time Steve preferred a certain aesthetic on you - loving you in little sundresses and flirty skirts. However, having emptied most of your meagre wardrobe over your bed and your floor, you finally settled on something that you hoped would work - a hot pink dress with spaghetti straps and skirt that swirled when you moved. You slicked on some light make-up, again trying to strike the balance right, grabbed your purse and jogged down the stairs.

You shouted a hurried ‘good-bye’ to your parents, who were cuddled up on the couch sleepily watching one of their favourite police procedural dramas, and finally made your way out of the door. While walking down the darkening sidewalk, your jacket slung over your arm, you checked your phone. You’d sent Steve an estimate of when you’d be ready and hoped he’d be waiting for you at the end of the block. There was no response to the text you’d sent to the number saved under ‘Janice’, and you started to feel nervous until you turned the corner and saw the vehicle you’d been on the lookout for.

Feeling a bit giddy, you skipped over, opening the passenger door and sliding in beside Steve. You threw your arms around his neck and pressed your lips to his. He looked back at you, indulgently, and licked his lips.

“You look like a doll come to life, sweetheart.”

You preened under his praise. “I’m glad you like it,” you replied, smoothing the hot pink fabric over your legs.

“If I was less of a gentleman, I’d have my way with you here and now,” he growled, dramatically.

“And if you were more of a gentleman, I wouldn’t even be here,” you teased back.

“Brat,” he replied with a chuckle and a warning pinch to your thigh. “Behave.”

“Yes, Steve.” You pouted and batted your eyelids, and he chuckled again before putting his car in drive and peeling away from the curb. As he drove, you gave him sideways glances, studying his profile as you hummed to the music on the stereo and tapping your hands on your lap. The streetlights helped to highlight the streaks of grey at his temples, and you longed to run your fingers through it. You just had to be patient, though - it wouldn’t be long until Steve had you spread out on his bed and you’d have the chance to do just that.

Heat started to pool within you, the anticipation making you fidgety, and you let out a sigh of relief when Steve steered the car up his drive and into his garage. As soon as he killed the engine, he was making his way around your side of the car to open the door. He helped you out and then immediately took your face in his large hands, laying a demanding kiss on you. You squeaked briefly in surprise before leaning into it, your hands fisting his shirt for balance. You’d worn higher heels than normal and weren’t used to the change in your centre of gravity. 

Steve smiled against your lips, sliding his hands down your body until he grasped your ass and lifted you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your skirt riding up, and dug your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. He walked across the garage but didn’t take you through the door into the main house, instead heading out into his backyard. He lowered you slowly, your bodies sliding against each other until your feet hit the new planks.

“Why are we out here, Steve? We spent all day on this damn thing.”

He smiled at you in the moonlight. “Exactly, Babydoll. You helped me build it, so now you have to help me christian it.”

You cocked your head at him, brows furrowed, and then realisation hit. “Oh!”

Steve pulled you back into his embrace. “Oh, indeed,” he said, and then he lowered his mouth to yours again, demanding entrance and acting as though he was going to devour you. You gave back as good as you got, feeling desperate for his touch. “Today was so hard,” he muttered against your lips. “Every time you bent over in those shorts, fuck. There were moments where I almost didn’t care that your parents were here. I wanted to rip them from you and take you right here.”

“‘Wasn’t any easier for me,” you murmured back. “My Mom saw me staring at you - I think she thinks I’ve got a crush on you. Warned me not to look at boys my age the way I look at you.”

“As if you’d dare,” came the jesting reply.

Steve’s hand skimmed down your side until it reached the hem of your dress. It made its way under, his palm sliding over your thigh working its way up to your hip where it stopped, and he pulled back from your kiss.

“Sweetheart, have you come out without any panties on?”

You peered up at him, coyly from under your lashes. “Maybe…” It was your turn to smirk.

“Fuck,” he barked and then dropped straight to his knees, his hands throwing up your skirt so he could grasp your naked ass and pull you onto his face. His tongue found its way, unerring, between your folds and straight to your clit, giving you no time to prepare yourself.

“Steve!” you screeched before biting down on your lip, and grabbing hold of his head as you tottered on your heels. “Oh god!”

He was like a man possessed, slurping lewdly at your sex and alternating between sucking on your clit and thrusting his tongue in and out of your spasming cunt. It was a vicious onslaught of pleasure that left you dizzy and out of breath. When he pressed two of his fingers inside of you without warning, you had to let go of him with one hand so you could bite down on the base of your thumb to stop from screaming in ecstasy. “Give it to me, Babydoll. I need you to make a mess.”

He stroked that special spot inside of you without pause, and sucked on your clit as your legs shook. There was a heavy feeling inside your core, like the building of an orgasm but different, as he kept up his pleasurable torture.

“Steve!” You gasped. “I…I’m gonna…what’s happening?”

He didn’t answer, just kept up what he was doing, driving you closer to the brink and also towards something unknown. When you came, it was with a massive release of pressure. Your body jerked in his hold, your eyes rolled up and you felt a wet flood between your legs. You heard Steve moan into your cunt, and then you heard the patter of liquid onto the wood between your feet. You felt like you were flying and sinking at the same time.

“What the fuck?” You slurred as Steve slowly rose back to his feet.

“You squirted, sweetheart. So fucking sexy.”

“I what?” You squeaked, unbelieving. “But isn’t that…” A feeling of shame started to wash over you, but Steve interrupted it, pressing one of his fingers to your lips.

“Yes, but also no. Don’t think too much about it, honey. It’s nothing to be ashamed of - it’s natural. Just means you were really turned on, and let me tell you, it’s quite the ego boost to do that to you. Made me even harder.”

His eyes narrowed and he took hold of your hand, so much smaller than his and placed it over the bulge in his jeans.

“It’s gonna make it a lot easier for me to slip inside that tight pussy of yours too. She’s so wet, ‘m gonna just slide right in. And fuck, it’s gonna make some beautiful sounds. Would you like that, Babydoll? Want me to stuff this fat cock into your hungry cunt? See if I can make you squirt again?”

His words hypnotised you and you groped at his cock, staring up at him with your mouth wide open and your eyes glazed with lust. Fuck, you could feel your cum running down your bare thighs. “Please,” you begged, your tone husky and full of need.

As if you were a rag doll, Steve steered you backwards until your back hit one of the completed portions of railing. He spun you to face it and then plastered himself against your back. The heat of him burned through your dress, and his breath tickled your ear. “I’m gonna take you right here and you’re gonna be good for me and take it. You’re gonna be quiet too - we don’t want Mrs Kennedy next door coming out to find out what’s going on.”

You heard the metallic snick of his fly being lowered and your eyes fluttered closed. Steve’s foot tapped yours and you widened your stance, taking hold of the railing for stability. Slowly, he pulled your skirt up above your hips and his cock nudged against your naked ass. Steve placed his left hand, fingers splayed over your stomach, holding you right where he wanted you as he guided his cock to the entrance of your cunt and then pressed in with one hard thrust.

You choked back your cry, your fingers tightening their grip on the wood in front of you.

“Good girl,” Steve praised, and he started to fuck into you with long, firm strokes. “Such a perfect little dolly, just for me.”

His right hand came up to the straps of your dress and bra, lowering them down your arms so he could free your breasts. The cool evening air blew across you, making your nipples peak, and you moaned low in your throat as Steve rolled each of them in turn, plucking and pulling at them in a way that was both painful and oh-so-good.

He fucked you languidly, building you up slowly. His left hand moved down and he drew lazy circles over your clit - enough to have you whimpering with need, but not enough to bring you to orgasm.

“I’m gonna fuck you just like this - slow and deep - until you feel like you’re gonna burst. I want you to come on me and fucking soak my cock like you did my hand. I want your cum to splatter all over this fucking deck. I want you to feel so much pleasure that you never want to look at another man.”

Your mind was hazy with lust, your hips moving to meet his thrusts. “Don’t want anyone but you, Steve. Make me feel so good.”

A small change in the angle of Steve’s thrusts had his cock rubbing over your g-spot the same way his fingers had earlier. The feeling of your orgasm building still felt strange, but at least you knew what to expect. You just didn’t know how you were going to stay silent, though.

He cruelly twisted one of your nipples just as he thrust forward and reedy warble left your throat. Steve responded by slapping your clit, and even as the sharp pain registered you heard the wet squelch as he did so, your squirt already starting to seep out of you as he continued his assault on your cunt.

“I said to stay quiet,” he hissed.

The pressure inside you was rising once more, and you knew you were close. “I don’t think I can,” you whined, and your body convulsed as he fucked into you. “I’m so close. Please, Steve. I… I…”

“Aawww, does my Babydoll need help?”

You bit your lip and nodded, unable to comprehend how he was going to do it. 

Steve took his left hand from your clit and trailed the back of his knuckles up your side, then settled it around the base of your throat. “Do you trust me, sweetheart?” His voice rumbled in your ear.

“Yes,” was your whispered response. You trusted him with your life.

“Then take over touching that pretty clit for me and just relax.”

You let go of the railing with your right hand and did as he asked, feeling how soaked you were as you started to play with your clit. As you started to crest higher, unable to hold back little pleasures squeaks, Steve resettled his left hand on your throat and began to lightly squeeze. Your noises stopped as your airway was constricted. Everything within you was concentrated on the feeling building in your cunt, and as black spots began to form in front of your eyes, your body began to tremble.

When Steve let go of your neck, your orgasm exploded out of you. His hand immediately clapped over your mouth, leaving you to breathe out your scream through your nose as you jerked on his cock like a puppet on a string. The gush of liquid that erupted from your cunt flooded over your hand and onto the deck like a waterfall.

“Fucking god,” Steve exclaimed, the movement of his hips finally speeding up as he chased his own release inside your spasming channel, adding his own cum to the sticky mess leaking from you. 

You collapsed against him, unsure how you were even still upright after that. Another whimper left you as Steve pulled himself from your body, but he immediately scooped you up in his arms and carried you inside, walked up the stairs, and placed your exhausted body on his bed. When he didn’t immediately lie down next to you, you blinked your eyes open. “Steve?”

“I’ll be right there, sweetheart,” he assured, and you watched as he pushed down his jeans and briefs. Your eyes widened when you realised they were sodden.

“Oh my god! Did I do that?”

Steve grinned as he climbed naked onto the bed and crawled over you. “You did and don’t you dare apologise. Whenever I wear them from now on I’ll think of you and how fucking sexy you are. Now you rest for a bit. I have more plans for you, and I need to make sure you get home at a plausible time.”

You pouted as you took in his words. This was the thing you really hated about your relationship - if you could call it that -, you couldn’t just curl up next to him and stay the night the way you wanted to. Would you ever be able to be open about your relationship, or was it doomed from the start?

However, your body was totally wrung out from Steve’s ministrations, and it wasn’t long until you fell into a doze, your body pressed up against his.

Steve looked down at you as you took your rest. You looked so innocent - so young - as you slept. He shouldn’t want you this much, but he did, even if he’d go to hell for it. He’d burn the world for you. 

When your mother had announced you were hoping to work for Walker Inc, it had taken all of his self control not to stand up and forbid it. Who was he to do so? Besides, it wasn’t your fault that Walker was a grade A ass-hole. 

Steve had no doubt that you’d ace the interview, so he’d just have to hope that the CEO didn’t notice you. If he did, the sleazeball would have no qualms about trying to take advantage of you. A little voice inside his head pointed out that he’d already done just that. He batted it aside. The difference was that he cared for you. Walker cared about nothing but himself.

You let out a sleepy little noise as you snuggled into his side and he turned back to you. He’d give you another half an hour, and then he was planning to feast on your messy pussy. That should wake you up with a smile. Then he’d watch you bounce on his cock, like the little dolly you were.

Tag list: @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @wolfsmom1, @doasyoudesireandlive, @goldylions, @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989

[jpitha]

Between the Black and Gray 40

First / Previous / Next

They thundered down the hall, caught up in the crowd of people trying to escape the basement. The person that Northern was negotiating with leading the way. At an intersection in the old Starjumper, people streamed in every direction, trying to go to every exit they could.

As they ran, there was another rippling thump of missiles striking the hull and Fen's inner ear did gymnastics as the gravity generators fluctuated and tried to compensate. Immediately after a sound like paper tearing but two octaves lower caused the decking to vibrate.

"They finally have the defensive cannons up. Took them long enough." The woman said. As she walked down the hall, she slowed and palmed a door everyone was ignoring. It slid open and she gestured for them to enter.

Everyone stepped in, and the door shakily slid shut. The Action Stations alarm was muted but still audible, but the shuffling and noise of the crowd escaping the basement was nearly completely cut off. The room was large and dark, and had an echo that was odd. Fen tried to look around, but couldn't figure out where they were.

Northern looked at the other woman. "Penny, are you going to tell us why you brought us here? We need to get to the docking hall. We don't even know who is attacking us."

"Relax Northern, if the gravity is still on, that means they haven't hit anything important yet. I needed to get us out of the flow of traffic so I can reach out." Her eyes flashed blue as she communicated. "Okay, so I have two candidates that are interested in piloting for you. One wants a flat fee, the other wants a cut of the profits."

"Who are they?" Northern looked around. She seemed anxious. She kept staring back at the door.

"You won't know them."

"What? Try me."

"Okay, one is Timewinder - they were a frigate back around contact, presumed lost during the purge, and showed back up here a few months ago asking around about work. The other is Stormy Days, an old Starjumper. She says she's actually only a little younger than Gord. I don't know why she's not more involved in AI politics, all the oldsters seem to be. She went to ground when the purge started, and avoided it."

Northern's eyes widened. "Stormy is still around? And she's looking for work? What happened to her Starjumper?"

Penny shook her head. "You'll have to ask her. She's also the one that wants the cut of profits."

Fen was watching the conversation intently. "How large of a cut?"

Penny turned to Fen. She seemed to notice her for the first time."Ten percent."

Zhe's ears flicked. That was a lot, but less than all their shares. "We can't afford to be choosy Fen, and it sounds like she has lots of experience."

Fen balled her fists and scowled. "I would have preferred to have some time to discuss this and meet with them-" there was another series of thumps "-but it seems like we're short on time. We'll go with Stormy Days, Northern knows her at least. Have her meet us at my ship."

Penny nodded. Her eyes flashed again. "Done. Stormy accepts and will meet you. Now then." She started towards the other end of the room, away from the door. "Come on, I think I know a shortcut."

"You think?" Fen said, but walked after her anyway. As they walked, they felt the presence of imposing machine, long dark and cold. Reactors? Where were they?"

About halfway down the hall, there was a clack of gigantic relays, and the overhead lights came on, buzzing and loud. Everyone shielded their eyes against the glare and as Fen's eyes adjusted, she looked over at the machines. "Those are wormhole generators!"

As if on cue, more relays clacked to life and the generators began to spin up. There was a warbling whine that got louder and louder until it felt like Fen's whole body was vibrating sympathetically. "Why are they coming online?"

Northern was laughing slightly manically. "They really did keep the wormhole generators! They're going to link Picaresque away from the attack. It's brilliant if it works."

Zhe turned her face away from the machines coming to life. "What do you mean "if" it works?"

"Wormhole field generation is a tricky thing. I imagine Picaresque is a lot larger than whatever starjumper was used when this station was built. If they don't get it right, only half the station will go."

The noise of the generators was getting louder, almost too loud to speak. "Is it safe to be this close?" she shouted.

"Probably not, no." Northern agreed. "Let's go-"

****

Fen woke up again, laying on the grass.

She sighed. Well, if they were going to be destroyed from a bad link, at least she could stay with Ma-ren. She sat up. Ma was lounging on the grass a meter away or so. "Hey hon. Been a while. Not linking around?"

Fen shook her head. "No. Was with Gord again for a bit, had a thing with Nanites." She snapped her fingers in recollection. "I got to meet the Empress too. She drinks too much for my tastes, but she was nicer than I expected."

Ma laughed. "The actual Empress?"

"I think so yeah. She said I was a clone of the first human Empress."

Ma nodded. "Yes, I knew."

Fen's jaw dropped, and her eyes widened. "You knew?"

"Just about everyone knew. We all agreed to keep it from you until you were ready, but it wasn't a secret, not really."

"But why?"

Ma shrugged. "That was something our grandparents decided. By the time you came of age the reasoning got lost in "everyone knows." Maybe they thought that having you would mean an Empress they could reason with. Maybe they thought the Nanites would be more willing to connect to you. Maybe they just wanted to annoy the Empire. I don't know."

"The Nanites did connect with me, when I went through a Gate. They said I could be the new Empress if I wanted."

That caused Ma-ren to pause. She leaned back slightly. "You're here so you didn't accept?"

Fen scoffed. "I didn't have a choice. They just did it to me. I had no idea what had happened until Northern guessed. Gord had some thingy that got rid of them though. He said he was going to work to defeat them."

Ma's ears flicked. "Interesting." She looked around. "Be safe, love. Things are going to get... weird."

****

Fen woke up on the floor of the generator room, her head pounding. The wormhole generators coasting down to a stop. The whine had lowered to a deep thrum and as the noise sank, the harmonics caused the floor to buzz and vibrate more. Northern and Zhe and Penny looked at her owlishly.

"Oh, she's one of those?" Penny said.

"Yup. Come on Fen." Northern held out a hand. "If they linked away, we probably have a few minutes before whoever was attacking us figures out where we went and comes around."

Fen took her hand and stood up, her head still pounding. That was new. "Yeah, okay." She shook her head. That just made the pounding worse. "Let's go."

Penny led them through the generator hall, and out of another door into a large, dusty, dark hallway. There were a few sets of footprints in the thick dust, but not many.

As they ran, Fen notices the hallway change. It started to twist almost, until they were running on a wall. They passed a room which had an open door on the ceiling, with some wires and hoses dangling down, as if there was some kind of struggle.

The sideways hall ended in a large bulkhead. Penny looked up and there was a door. As she stared, the door slid open smoothly. "That's where we need to go."

Fen looked up. "It's at least two meters up."

Penny nodded. "Yes, but the gravity changes orientation at the doorway. Once you're up, the 'wall' will be the 'floor'.

"That's fine, but how do we get there? Zhe and I can't jump that high.

Penny didn't say anything. Instead she crouched low and sprang up.

If Fen didn't see it herself, she wouldn't have believed it. Penny launched herself into the air, crossing the distance with ease, and grabbed onto the doorway with both hands. Hanging for only a split second to redirect momentum, she flung herself through the door. "Northern and I will help. Come on Northern."

Northern rolled her eyes and looked at Fen. "I don't like doing this either, Fen. I hate showing off how we're different." She crouched low like Penny and, just like Penny, sprang up into the doorway. A second later, a belt was lowered down. "Grab onto it."

Fen gestured to Zhe. The K'laxi walked up and timidly grabbed the belt with both hands. With a yelp, she was hoisted aloft and then the belt was lowered again. Fen grabbed on, wrapped the belt around her wrist. She needed have worried though, she was lifted up as if she weighed nothing.

The feeling of changing gravity orientation was odd. It made her ears hurt, and she felt nauseous for a moment. It passed, and she looked out through the door and saw the floor. Down was always relative in space, it's just that most places took great pains to hide that fact.

Penny led them a short distance and they came upon a ladder. "Okay, we're under the dock. Up that ladder and through the hatch and you'll be close to your ship." She looked at the three of them. "This is where we part ways. Northern, you have my finder's fee?"

"Fen's got it." Northern turned to Fen. "Pay Penny please. She got us what we needed."

Penny beamed the invoice to Fen. It was... eye watering, but she paid promptly and completely.

Penny grinned. "Lovely. A pleasure doing business with you. I hope we can meet again under more pleasant circumstances." She turned a corner and was gone.

Fen sighed and started up the ladder. At the top the hatch slid open without her having to do anything. There was a blast of hot air, and sure enough, they were in a rear corner of the dock.

It was barely contained pandemonium. People were running to their ships, some with hastily treated injuries. People were running with the clothes on their backs and whatever they could carry. The few stevedores and traffic control personnel did their best, but when this many people wanted to leave at once, there wasn't much you could do.

The three of them climbed out, and as Northern exited, the hatch slid shut. Fen saw her frigate and yes, there was a young woman standing around it, her bored expression out of place in the sea of concerned faces.

The three of them pushed their way across the dock until they reached the frigate. "Stormy, is that you?" Northern looked questioningly at the woman. She was short, a bit shorted than Fen, and young. If she wasn't an AI, she was twenty five at best. She was immaculately made up, wearing designer clothing and was perfectly put together. Fen didn't know many AIs, but the ones she had met before just looked like people not like... a model.

Stormy smiled a million dollar smile, revealing perfect teeth. "Northern Lights is that you? I haven't seen you in a few centuries at least!" She ran over and gave a huge hug to Northern. "Last I heard you went to ground and were doing fortune telling."

Northern grinned weakly. "I do that off and one when I have nothing else going. I'm running with Fen and Zhe here for now. We're giving mercenary work a run, and I'm sick of being the ship. You know how it is."

Stormy nodded sagely. "I know your history, yes." She turned to Fen. "Did Northern ever tell you about her history? She's a war hero!"

Fen blinked. "She's a what?"

Northern's face darkened. "I don't want to talk about that right now, Stormy."

Stormy raised an eyebrow. "Okay Northern. We don't have to discuss it." She looked at the ship. "This the frigate? It looks practically new."

"It is new, I got it from Dreams of Hyacinth."

Stormy turned to Fen. "Dreams is around? Last I heard they were shackled with the Empire."

Fen looked away. "I unshackled Dreams, but then she destroyed herself after giving me the ship and supplies."

Stormy Days nodded. "It's not your fault Fen. Releasing Dreams was the right choice. She didn't kill herself because of you. Come on, let's get out of here before the Empire finds us."

"The Empire?" Fen gestured towards the ship and the gangplank lowered.

"Yup. They sent out an all wavelength blast saying that the kidnappers of their Empress would be dealt with harshly."

"Uh oh." Zhe said, as they all climbed aboard.

[inchidentally]

I dreamed that there was a misunderstanding between Lando and Oscar, which turned into rough sex and then an apology. I don't know if anyone would want to write fan fiction based on it.

anon I've been mulling this over and going through multiple scenarios! but I find it impossible to go the full rough sex over a misunderstanding w those two bc my hc Lando doesn't give even a whiff of aggression during sex and Oscar would never be the type to let his aggression slip out uncontrolled - I can only imagine it like in fics where it's established relationship and negotiated kinks etc.

absolutely if someone else sees this idea and feels inspired then lmk!

BUT ! I did write something in my shitty sort of a fic sort of just an expanded idea style - idk if it will suffice?

I thought of like media duties at the start of a race weekend in Vegas 2024 and they have a group of drivers at a bar for a Q&A - crucially it must include Daniel, Carlos and ofc Lando and Oscar.

to kick things off, the Sky team have a makeshift bar set up on the small stage and have the drivers taking shots and having the other drivers try to guess what they're drinking (water, vodka, tequila) they've made sure to include far more shots of water bc they're not wanting the drivers so loose that things get out of hand around fans with their phones up.

except Lando hates the taste of tequila or vodka so he makes a face and pushes his shots over to Oscar begging him to down them instead, which of course Oscar gamely does. it's too late when he hears the tougher guys sputtering bc damn, whatever that tequila was it was definitely too strong. Will Buxton is hahaha good jokes but very awkwardly bc genuinely some of the guys are struggling. Oscar is red in the face and coughing and Lando is laughing but kinda feels bad. they decide to move on from the shots challenge before anyone's gone multiple rounds bc dinner was only an hour before and group vomiting isn't what the fans stumped up several hundred each for.

ironically it ends up that the rest of the guys can swagger through the tipsiness but Oscar's famed self-control decides to drop just one barrier. and it's with his hands concerning Lando. the drivers are now doing stupid challenges with decks of cards and magic tricks and shit and ofc Lando is the favorite person for them all to get paired with and Oscar starts to get weirdly… rowdy about it?? Daniel and Carlos are as usual shoving Lando around and using their hands on him a lot and Oscar is sort of half-joking half-aggressively heckling them to fahck off. Lando starts sputtering and his eyes are bugging out bc Oscar never swears where there's fans and since when is he this loud ?? fortunately everyone finds it hysterical when Oscar finally barges in when Daniel gets too touchy-feely and Oscar bodily wrenches Lando away and back to the barstools set up on the far side of the stage. he sits down and tugs Lando back against him, between his legs. hahaha so funny! nobody knows Oscar's at half mast against Lando's lower back so everyone else can just laugh!

at first, Carlos and Daniel are doubled over cackling and the whole thing seems like a hilarious teammate jealousy bit. Oscar is nowhere near drunk but apparently any level of tipsy has him absently pushing a hand up the hem of Lando's shirt and mumbling nonsense into the hair at Lando's temple. it's infuriatingly hot and Lando has to fight every cell in his body to keep pretending to laugh and not just melt into Oscar finally doing what Lando's been silently begging for for what, a year and a half?? except it's in front of fans and their friends and god knows how many cameras and Lando can only keep the smile hitched on his face and keep tugging Oscar's hands away from his nipples and the hem of his boxers. Daniel is doing his best work selling it as a gag but Carlos keeps catching Lando's eyes and seeing the little twist of the knife each time Oscar's mouth smiles hot and pleased against Lando's head.

Lando can't decide if he's relieved or in agony when it's time for them to move to the autograph tables. it means Oscar will be able to drink water and sober up, but it also means breaking the daydream he'd drifted into of Oscar's hands being at home on Lando's body. of Oscar holding him just like that all the time, and not just because he happens to be a handsy drunk. he can blame his usual shyness around crowds for staying fairly mum as he scribbles his name over and over, safely positioned between Daniel and Liam who are loud enough for anything. Carlos seems to have corralled Oscar into the purgatory of being dead last at the table where fans hover awkwardly on one side, and Carlos himself on the other. Lando doesn't see - 'on purpose' - that Carlos is able to steer Oscar by the elbow ahead of the rest of the group when they're finished, so that he can corner him alone in the desert cold outside. give him the whip crack of his dark eyes and a tanned, hairy finger jabbing at Oscar's chest and "if you don't fix this now I will be hearing about it all weekend long from him." all Lando sees is the tail end of the exchange when Oscar's face is dutifully humbled and he looks sheepishly small, even though by now he stands at least three inches taller than Carlos.

by the time they're dropped back off at the hotel, Lando's lovesickness has turned into righteous fury. Daniel had given up trying to include him in filming a reel of the inside of the other guys all singing off-key in the Escalade. he shoots Oscar a sympathetic glance as Lando storms off ahead and gives Oscar's sleeve an angry tug to follow him.

the degree, if not the specifics, of how badly Oscar's fucked up starts to sink in during the long, silent elevator ride. all he can think is 'dead man walking' as he follows Lando to his room.

the door has barely snicked shut behind him before the dam bursts.

"you know we don't touch like that. you know that. you're Mr. No PDA with anyone! and I've just about managed to get used to it. you weren't even like that with Lily most of the time so it was, y'know, fine. and then you down one shot of tequila--"

"--and a shot of vodka…" Lando's face makes Oscar instantly regret interjecting. "Sorry."

"and suddenly you're all over me as if there wasn't an entire audience? as if we aren't going to have to turn this into some hilarious joke tomorrow so people don't get all… frickin' stupid! and I'm gonna have to see all these stupid fancams and…." Lando makes a hysterical noise of frustration here that one normally hears from children under the age of five. the way he hurls his own body onto the sofa adds to the image.

the silence is suddenly so loud that Oscar can hear his own fingernails against his jeans as he struggles with what do with his body. Lando has his head thrown back and is staring a hole into the ceiling. he no longer looks furious, just rumpled and… small.

Oscar gets a horrible feeling of tunnel vision, like the always-distant idea of Lando as something more than his casual friend and teammate is suddenly pulling away from him at an alarming rate. it makes his throat inconveniently close up.

"I'm sorry," feels like the correct start, even if it's choked out. no, he doesn't want it to sound like he's barely choking it out.

some instinct makes him move forward and drop down to one knee in front of Lando, who lifts his head inquisitively. already a big improvement.

"seriously, Lando. I'm s- so sorry for putting you through that. it was fucked up and probably borderline harassment and jesus." the enormity of it all starts crowding in and he has to press a hand over his eyes before he can bear to meet Lando's eyes again. "god, I know it's not like a 'compliment' but there's a reason why I don't go out and get drunk around you. fuck, I've been such a dog. I'm so sorry, Lando. believe me, I feel like absolute shit. as I should."

a curiously rapid change has been taking place over Lando's shape on the sofa - starting first with the clench of his jaw softening to a curious little 'o' between his lips and spreading out until his posture eases completely under the bulk of his hoodie and baggy jeans.

now he sits upright and leaning slightly forward, hands fidgeting in his lap.

"I mean. you don't have to be like that about it. Daniel's done more than that to me on camera. not like he ever asked for 'consent'. it's not a big deal."

"yeah, but he didn't actually mean it."

Oscar bravely holds his gaze steady, is almost blinded by the the daybreak of hope that crosses Lando's face. Oscar can see him debate back and forth three times before he finally speaks, mouse-like.

"you meant it?"

Oscar thinks he could give up food and drink to live entirely on the way Lando looks when he's this open and trusting, body in perpetual small motions like a creature let out of a cage and looking up at the big human hand hovering over it and hoping for a caress instead of a blow.

he rests his hand on Lando's knee, rubbing little circles with his thumb and offers a slow blink and a gentle smile.

"you know I do."

for a split second he worries when Lando's face crumples that he's going to burst into tears. instead, Lando slips off the sofa and bundles himself urgently into the circle of Oscar's arms. relief rolls like a tide over the panic he hadn't fully realized had hold of him and Oscar really lets himself put his hands on Lando: clutches him close around the shoulders, the back of his head, pressing grateful kisses into the curls and pulling the scent of Lando's hairline into his memory.

Lando sniffs and possibly wipes his runny nose against Oscar's shirt. he raises his face to be kissed properly, eyes closing when Oscar can't just kiss his lips and has to bless the tender, dusky skin of Lando's eyelids and the smooth warmth of his cheeks.

when he finally pulls away, Lando looks almost too beautiful to bear. his fists have wriggled between their bodies where Oscar's arms hold him close. he's compressed himself impossibly small in that way he can and smiles kittenish and sunny-eyed.

"do your knees hurt yet?"

and then Oscar bursts into high pitched giggles and Lando joins him and they roll in a ball of idiot boys on the floor and kiss. because there will be big decisions and awkward conversations with members of McLaren staff happening tomorrow and probably for days after. but right then it's all still their little secret world and all their only decision is between making out all night or trying to sleep.

[mrsmothmom]

I recently had to deal with some horrible people invading my stream with them saying some not so nice things to me and about others.

I’m still fresh and new to streaming and don’t have mods. How am I supposed to combat this?

buckle up

if you're a streamer reading this, and you have a tip that i haven't mentioned here, please feel free to reblog and add on~

how to deal with assholes

part 1: you are the dad of this rodeo

never forget the most important part of streaming. you are in control. you turn the stream on, you turn it off. you have all the power.

with that out of the way, let's talk about chat moderation.

part 2: a viewer is never more valuable then your time

when new streamers encounter people who are kinda mean, they sometimes feel like they have to put up with it because no one else is watching. this is incorrect.

you do not have to put up with anything - this is your stream and this is your community (even if that community is just you for now). tell mean people to be cool or move on. that is always your right.

part 3: ban them

if someone comes into your stream and makes you and your community uncomfortable, ban them. ask questions, think deeply, feel feelings about it later.

when you ban them, their messages for the last while will go away. they can appeal later and cry about it on their own time. if you ban by mistake, simply unban them and apologize. nice people who enjoy your stream will understand. rude people who don't care about you will be a problem about it. you don't want people in category 2 in your stream anyway.

part 4: what you react to is what you get

the bigger your reaction to something, the more of it you will receive. twitch is all about reactions (just ask xQc).

therefore if people are being mean, they are doing it to see you react. they want evidence that the bullying is working. therefore...

do not let them see you sad

do not let them see you mad

do not let them see you cry

do not argue

do not negotiate

the best reaction you can have to a group of rowdy bullies is the stone-faced enforcement of your power.

part 5: what to do, step by step

in the event that your stream is overtaken by a whole group of assholes (maybe just some bullies, maybe a hate raid), i encourage you to take the following steps:

stop, take a deep breath. all problems are solvable, and all disasters recoverable. do not let panic take over

go on break and mute your mic. don't give them the satisfaction of seeing you upset (the more overwhelming the attack, the more abrupt your break should be - don't bother explaining why you're leaving. if you have time to say anything at all, say that you'll be back in a moment and nothing else)

put chat in emote only mode

put chat is sub only mode

if you can, run some ads (if they're gonna be assholes, you might as well get paid)

if there are an actionable number of people causing the problem (read less than 30 or so), ban them by hand now. you can do more advanced clean up later if you need to. if it's too many to ban, you've gotta end the stream.

once the folks have been cleared out, get back on stream, apologize to your real viewers for the interruption, restore chat and continue on your way. don't bother giving air time to assholes. when it's over, it's over.

if you are too upset to continue stream, don't.

if you use a stream bot, stream deck, or alternative (touch portal, deckboard, etc), you can set many of these actions to a button that you can press to automatically go into SOS mode. i strongly recommend this.

part 6: aftermath

your community will move on as soon as you do. take a moment to calm down, decompress, and remember that those people don't know you and their opinion means nothing. don't let the community dwell on it - that is what they want, for you to be sad for as long as possible.

if you've got a whole ton of bots clogging up your followers, use commander roots tools to clear them out:

part 7: prevention

prevent known bots and assholes from crawling into your stream by using commander roots tools (to pre-ban folks) and sery_bot:

part 8: other security measures

never stream live from a public (as is people you don't bring in can appear) discord channel. if you are live, make sure you have total control over what appears on stream

never click links without checking them off-live first. what your friend thinks is harmless fun might be ban-able by twitch TOS

avoid streaming your entire desktop

people are not entitled to everything they want right when they want it (NO MATTER HOW MUCH MONEY THEY GIVE YOU). people who care about you will wait until your ready and willing do say / do / answer / preform etc. etc.

set community rules and hold everyone and yourself to them.

put disclaimers on links to gift / donate / tip you saying that everything is considered a gift and is non refundable or exchangeable.

part 9 (FINAL): respect yourself

it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks is ok. all that matters is that you feel safe and comfortable. remember:

hit them with the biggest hammer you have, and never look back.

i hope this is helpful. godspeed.

[ofdragonsdeep]

2: Horizon

Where the sky and sea meet.

(technically spoilers for the very very first quest of Dawntrail)

Preparations for the trip had taken a long time.

Ships did not often sail to Tural, even though they were tentatively more open to trade than before. On top of that, the unusual nature of their party made negotiating fare a difficult prospect.

Krile had very patiently dealt with a number of ship captains who were not, despite their assurances, ready for the bulk of Stoh Oosh. While she was quite content to fly when the sun was up, the night demanded a place to rest, and the decks of many of the little merchant vessels simply couldn't hold her. That was the line for many of the captains, but after that, Krile also had to ensure they could get Haurchefant and his wheelchair up on to the deck, despite his assurances that he would be able to manage.

Ar'telan, who knew very little about money and the price such services might demand, had steered well clear of the whole thing. All he knew was that, by the time they boarded the ship, Krile was already exhausted, and Wuk Lamat was incredibly antsy to be off.

It was a little strong to say that Ar'telan hated ships, but he was not overly fond of them. Ever since his first ill-fated trip from Meracydia, it seemed that every boat he set foot on wanted to take him into one terrible situation or another. He could count on one hand the normal boat rides he had taken - and even then, on some of them he had been subject to some very unorthodox visits.

He sat on the deck, back to one of the masts, trying to keep his distance from the footfall of the sailors working on the rigging. He looked out to sea, and fancied he could feel the air get a little warmer. He hadn't been anywhere with a climate close to Meracydia's - even the South Sea Isles only came close. The bottom of Tural, if the maps he had been shown were accurate, would be similar, but they were headed to the middle for the start of Wuk Lamat's succession bid.

He did not want to be here.

"The morose look doesn't suit you, Ar'telan."

Mitron sat beside him, not even asking if he could. That was fairly normal for him, to be fair, so Ar'telan did not protest.

"I have things on my mind, that's all."

Mitron followed his gaze out, the sea stretching on. There was nothing to see, of course - they were far past land by now, and it would be some days yet before they approached Tural. Mitron, of course, had not come to help Wuk Lamat with her problem. He had come for the fishing, and the incredibly important job of moral support.

"You don't do well when they give you breaks, do you?" he said, an amused tone in his voice. "It'll be fine." He glanced over to Wuk Lamat, who was leaning over the side of the boat and completely failing to hide the nausea. "Probably." Ar'telan grimaced.

"It's not about that. I don't really know enough to worry about that yet, to be honest," he confessed. "I'm just… homesick." Mitron made a thoughtful noise under his breath at that.

"I don't think anyone would complain if you went home, you know," he said. Ar'telan shook his head.

"It's… complicated. It feels too final."

Mitron's eyes travelled from the sky to the dragons. Stoh Oosh was rippling through the water below them, but Orn Mahr and Moh Rhei were both at the prow of the ship, enjoying the winds.

"Yeah. I can imagine."

There was a silence between them then, but it wasn't strained. The sound of the wind and the shouts of the sailors at work rang out on either side, and Ar'telan let himself think.

Meracydia would not hate him for what he had been party to. Tiamat knew. Midgardsormr knew. Vrtra knew. The layers of pain that made up what had become of Nidhogg were complex, and he could not articulate it to his fellow mortals well enough for them to forgive the crime. But the dragons did, even if he didn't think they should have.

Perhaps that was it. He didn't think they should have.

It had been so long ago now that the pain had faded, but it had been so hard. He had heard the judgement in Hraesvelgr's voice, the fact that it was the fault of mortals that Nidhogg had to be stopped at all. That even though Midgardsormr had seen it for what it was, it still hurt.

He had wrung a promise from Estinien that he would not kill Nidhogg, and in the end, it had been false. Ysayle had fallen into a despair that matched Hraesvelgr's for so long that he had worried she would never rouse from it. He had eked ilm by painful ilm across the war-scarred fields of Coerthas so desperately never harming a dragon, and then they had faced Tioman on the mount.

It is like Tempering, they had said.

But it was not.

And even if the dragons had forgiven him, he had never forgiven himself.

All of his life he had held in his heart that there was nothing more sacrosanct than the life of a dragon. It was the epitome of Allag's evil - to kill Bahamut, to drive the others to desperate summoning, to damn all but a few to the Tempering. To trap his twisted idol in perpetual agony. He had all but wept when he had found the engine of prayer in the heart of Dalamud's workings. And there he was, on what had once been Allagan soil, commiting once more the sins of Allag.

To go home with it weighing on him felt like a betrayal of his people. And even if he could make peace with it, Meracydia would not feel the same as it had when he had left. He had changed too much now. He had been a fire keeper, a potwatch, the one who wrangled unruly kits. And now he was a godslayer.

He hadn't wanted any of it. But nobody in his position had ever asked for it.

"You know, I think it'll be good for everyone here," Mitron remarked. "A real adventure, you know? I'm not sure any of your little team have had the chance for one in a while." Ar'telan considered the statement.

"It would be nice to explore without the fate of the world on my head," he agreed. Mitron smiled at that, eyes on the sea once more.

"It'll do that stuffy elf- elezen, sorry, still got the First in my head - some good to see new places," he added. Ar'telan made an amused noise.

"Of all the elezen to call that, I'm not sure Haurchefant is the one you want," he replied. "But you're right. Maybe I'll call it an adventure."

"Just don't forget to call me if the fishing is good," Mitron said, a cheeky grin on his face.

"I would never forget."

[megamind2010]

Ladybug dies how

peacefully in her sleep at the ripe old age of 94 NAYYYYY IM SORRY

Assuming youre here cuz koby told you to come and yell at me for doing this and id like to say first of all im very sorry i just love tragedy soooo much. koby got really mad at me when i first brought up the idea and it also tortures me horribly too And we also talk a lot about the alternate universe where she doesnt die and instead she and casey just move to new york and hang out and get married and Chill Out

but in the "canon" ending im sorry yes nell dies (ducking rocks and bricks) IMMM SORRY! She's subject to the hereditary blue beetle curse of dying in a fight tragically young (she jumped in front of the metaphorical bullet for jaime on account of he's exempt because he has a much healthier support system than other beetles)

i'm a hack so i haven't really drawn or written anything concrete about it but how it goes down in my mind is your classic event/crisis where all the heroes are mobilised to fight off the annual universe destroying threat. this time it's aliens of some kind and while the league and the rest of the important guys are up there fighting or negotiating or punching the universe or however this particular one gets solved, ladybug is down on the ground in gotham helping to evacuate people and deal with some alien scouts/robots/etc that are menacing civilians. (casey has already been evacuated and is safely sheltering underground with a bunch of other civilians, being checked in on every now and then by some flash or another, & her general attitude is UGH Can you idiots get this sorted out so we can order chinese and watch real housewives...)

it happens while ladybug is getting a family to safety and an alien scout lands on the roof of their apartment. he ushers them downstairs and to his credit does a good job of holding off the attacker while the civilians get out of there - nell has no powers but is a very competent fighter and also is decked out with plenty of kordtech gadgets to help even the playing field :] but it's been a long day and she's so exhausted and there's only so much you can do when an alien shoots you in the chest with a laser and flies away and leaves you to bleed out

so there's nell with her communications down & unable to move & lying there staring at the sky full of invading spaceships and flying superheroes... if she could get someone's attention she might be okay but everyone is busy. it's a crisis! and nell knows that, she knows what this whole business is like, and she's been ready for something like this to happen for a while. nell is a very confident person but she isn't deluded about her own mortality... it's part of her personal philosophy that it's cruel to have too many attachments if you're likely to die horribly young (a mentality learned from the death of her mother and refined by the death of ted kord) so isnt it great that she doesnt have many friends? and that she's on okay terms but not super close with her family? and that casey doesnt actually care about her at all and wont be affected by her untimely death past the inconvenience of finding a new place to live?

lol

at the end of it all nell isn't really that upset about dying... they went out doing something worthwhile, they saved lives, they did the best they could with what they had, and they made a positive impact on the world while they were here. and that's about what he's always wanted to achieve so hey a+ work ladybug! obviously its not like he WANTS to die, theres always more to do, things he's going to miss... he'll miss talking to ted, working on gadgets and sorting through problems and making him laugh... he'll miss his family obviously but they'll be fine without him... michelle is someone she hadn't expected to get so close to, but she and ted both have booster to keep them on track

really annoyingly as she's closing her eyes the person who keeps coming into her mind though is casey. At this point nell is pretty aware that she cares about casey more than she ever planned or wanted to and has done a lot of mental gymnastics to convince herself that it's fine that nothing ever came of it (and now nothing ever will) and in her last moments she reassures herself that it's onesided and casey doesn't love her and he'll be fine without nell and You did a great job at not forming attachments ladybug that's why you're the best! but she can't help the surge of intense regret and fuuuuuck what if it was different and what if what if.........

here's my primo ladybug dying on a roof song

Nell's fatal flaw will always be her self-reliance and conviction that she's doing things the right way despite it all. if she bothered to communicate with the people in her life then she might be swayed on her views on love, or if she was less stupidly independent then maybe she would have been working with another hero and wouldn't have been in this situation. but that's tragedy i suppose, knowing how a character could have escaped their fate and yet having to accept that in this scenario with this set of rules there was no other way for this to happen

anyway if you'd prefer to think about nell alive and happy living in new york with casey then please do that. It's easy and free and it makes me smile

[talenlee]

Game Pile: Sheriff of Nottingham

Sheriff of Nottingham is one of my favourite games that I will probably never get to properly play.

The core mechanism of Sheriff of Nottingham is a simple game of bluffing. It’s hide-and-seek with a deck of cards. The group are all playing merchants, and in each round, one player takes turns being the Sheriff of Nottingham. The Sheriff gets to inspect each of the players’ offerings, with a penalty if they inspect someone innocent and a reward if they find someone guilty.

That is the core of what goes into the game. Things like tallying scores, the distribution in the deck, burn cards and comparative weight of contraband, that’s all stuff that’s there to lend it texture, but in its absolute heart of hearts, this is a game where one player watches as two to five other players all line up to not tell them lies, honest, officer. Complicating it from just a straightforward ‘do you believe me?’ vs ‘do you not?’ is that players can wheedle and negotiate during the phase where the Sheriff is deciding whether or not to bust your chops, but also complicating that further is the way that the game is set up to have a clear and distinct boundary between whether you’re being investigated or not.

See, you could just have this game built around a deck of cards; you set say, four cards in front of the Sheriff and say ‘hey, this is all apples, please don’t look,’ but they pick it up to look at it – when in that process is it too late for the Sheriff to turn back? How quickly can you blurt a bribe that’ll stop the whole affair out? It’s a really interesting thing where when you deal with physical, material objects, truly binary boundaries between two game states can be very challenging to maintain cleanly.

What Sheriff of Nottingham does to facilitate this is a little purse in which you slip your cards. Once you do, you’re committed; there’s no almost-in, or not-quite in cards. You choose, you put them in, and then you close the purse with a clasp. That clasp is a push-clasp, which also means that pulling it open is a little bit of effort. The player commits when they submit their bag and the Sheriff commits to searching the bag once they pop that clasp.

It does not escape me that this effort creates an access problem for players with weaker hands. This is along with the way that this game of pretty much pure bluffing discourages players who don’t like to lie or can’t lie, and the way that the whole game presents real challenges for players who struggle with on-the-fly mathematics. See, one of the complaints of Sheriff of Nottingham is that the actual resolution of the game is a bit fiddly; once you get to the end of the game you work out how your score works based on the number of cards you got, and to facilitate that, you get a little paper pad. Trust me, a game that ends with everyone doing complex math has to be satisfying at every step of the way, or, you know what, no, it has to be Wingspan. Wingspan can end the game with fiddly math and note taking, that’s how good a game has to be in order to make this not a pain.

Sheriff of Nottingham is an introductory game in disguise. You don’t need to buy into an elaborate fiction to understand it, even though the narrative supposes a modest connection to a Robin Hood kind of story. The fiction of the game is that the players represent traders who are moving into a market, in irregular groups, and each time they move in, they get their carts checked (or not) by the local sheriff who is of mercurial mood and disposition. In fact, buying into the fiction creates a question of why bribing the guards goes into the pockets of another player, so really, it’s for the best you don’t. The gameplay loop of trying to fool one another presents itself very obviously and by pushing all the scoring complexity to the end game, nobody needs to track exactly how well they’re doing while they learn.

I think that a scoring system that doesn’t rely on doing math but instead relies on dividing your end-game cards would be the best way to do things. Make it so it’s not that apples are worth 2 points and the player with the most apples gets a bonus, but instead, you keep every third apple card, and have scores be much lower. Numbers would need tweaking to ensure that the coinage scores weren’t that important – the fiction clearly indicates that

The problem of course is that when the game is this simple, built around a mechanism so tightly defined, is that it’s essentially, a tension engine. Not only is it a matter of a game where you have to lie to people – even if only to not seem completely honest! – it’s a game where you’re presented with a non-stop sequence of tense experiences. It might as well be Shoplifting Simulator for the way the game’s mechanics inspire people to start sweating!

And therein lies the barrier for entry.

I love this game. I love watching this game. We use it in our classes to teach students who have never played a board game before how to go from ‘nothing’ to ‘proficiently playing.’ It has a beautiful, almost predictable arc where poeple play the first rounds in quiet silence, then someone gets away with their first lie and suddenly there’s a layer of tension and people start to laugh. Then someone bribes someone else to investigate another player and suddenly there’s a new source of laughter.

I love to see it! I love to see the way players learn to tease one another, the way players learn to mess with one another.

Now remember that my play group often involves children and my mother.

This is not a game that fits my playgroup! And that’s okay to know and it’s okay to remember it! But then I get to enjoy watching people play it, either on the internet or in class.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[voltronisanobsession]

Platonic Yandere! Voltron x Reader

These are my first headcanons I’ve uploaded so they might be a little all over the place and unorganized💀💀 but anyways hope you guys enjoy?

I don’t know if having all of them obsessed with you is a good thing or a bad thing

On one side, they’d be willing to do anything in order to protect you

But on the other, there’s literally no way you’re ever getting away from them, not with the defenders of the universe being your personal guard dogs

You had to have been friends with at LEAST one of them before finding the blue lion and I’m feeling Pidge was the first one to have been the starting catalyst

So once you’ve met everyone else, something just clicked in their brains

Your whole being was just so comforting and familiar for them that they didn’t even realize their feelings towards you becoming twisted

You wouldn’t be able to go anywhere by yourself

Feel like eating something? Good thing Hunk’s tagging along, maybe he’ll make you a tasty meal

Need to train in the training deck? Well, Keith feels like his fighting skills are getting a little rusty

Want to look over the star chart? Luckily Coran and Pidge are right there to help you understand some of the patterns

Want to get some rest in your room? Allura’s already suggesting you guys should have a slumber party in her room!

You won’t get any time to yourself, not with one of them breathing down your neck

There will always be one of them right next to you wherever you are

Like they’re clinginess is unreal💀 some will make their clingy needs obvious (LANCE, Hunk, Coran) while the others will be a bit more discreet about it (Shiro, Keith, Pidge)

I feel like Allura would be in between

But despite this, none of them are willing to take the risk of you roaming around outside the castle

You could try and run from them, maybe the aliens on the planets they visit will want to keep you for themselves, or the galra might show up and start attacking!

Because of that lingering fear, missions are usually done with you back in the safety of the castle with Coran and Allura (if she hasn’t begun piloting the lion yet)

They’re usually left on babysitting duties with you which they don’t honestly mind…

All of them would be SUPER overprotective of you to the absolute MAX, telling you the castle was the only place that could keep you safe

If they aren’t around that is

Being around them in the castle begins to feel more an obligation, and you feel more like a prisoner

Which is why you prefer Shiro out of all of them because he’s the only one who gives you some amount of freedom

Shiro understands what it’s like to be kept as a prisoner and understands just how restricting your situation is

He definitely tries to work out some negotiation with you

To make up for the others obsessive need to constantly be around you, he forces them to chill out and just let you be

Kind of like a schedule of some sort

With Shiro’s light supervision, you can finally take a moment for yourself without having to worry about the lingering eyes you’ve felt since leaving earth

Just don’t take advantage of Shiro’s kindness because the little privacy he’s given you can easily be taken away and you’d be back at stage one with the group hogging for your attention

Because this group is diverse in personalities, it can be extremely draining having to deal with them all on a daily basis

Lance and Keith fight for your attention, Lance being more loud and open about it

It’s like a tug of war situation with them, constantly having them bicker over who gets to hangout with you and fighting for that right

“Hey y/n, I say we make a break for it. You, me, we’ll make a great pair just saving the universe!”

“You really think they want to spend time with you?? I think y/n was on their way to the training deck right?”

It’s exhausting to say the least

Having Pidge run on and on about programs she’s working on can be draining and you often find yourself dozing off until she wakes you up, forcing you to listen to her rants and programs she’s currently working on again

(Definitely has some sort of tracker on you, everybody knows about it except you)

I feel like Hunk wouldn’t be as bad as the others but he does force you to cook with him in the kitchen, constantly wanting your inputs and needing compliments, not allowing you to leave until you’ve taste tested all of his new dishes

Manipulates you into staying with him by saying no one appreciates his cooking💀 makes you feel bad so you reluctantly stay in your seat

Allura and Coran…

They have never felt such intense feelings for a person before, so it really throws them off once they’ve developed their twisted version of affection for you

Their planet was destroyed and now that they finally found a home in you, they’re both willing to do anything in order to keep you in the safety of their arms

“Y/n just the person I was looking for! I need your help in running some tests for me”

“Ah y/n there you are! I was starting to get worried when I didn’t find you with the others,,”

Shiro plans on keeping and protecting the innocence he saw in you when you guys first met

Definitely gives overprotective dad vibes

He’ll be forceful with you if you try and do anything dangerous, like trying to go out on missions or even trying to escape them

I don’t think escaping is even possible tbh, they all kinda desperate ngl💔

Overall, this group is dead set on keeping you with them

It doesn’t really matter what you want because you don’t really understand the true dangers the universe can throw at you

They just want to keep you safe and happy

As long as you follow along with their rules and requests, living in the castle with this group won’t be as terrible as compared to you constantly fighting against them

That won’t be well received by either of them, especially Allura and Shiro

[raevenlyreads]

My Tarot Story

I was first drawn to Stephanie Law’s Shadowscapes deck as a way to dip my toe into tarot. I’d been working with runes throughout most of high school, and was ready to set myself free from the “tarot cards are a gateway to Hell” nonsense that is so common in the conservative Christian South I grew up in. I was determined not to be afraid anymore, and the Shadowscapes’ warm, soft artstyle was welcoming and alluring—and it came with a guidebook, which I felt I desperately needed.

At first, I challenged myself to do “dry” readings, where I would look at a spread and try to interpret them without the book. Then, like a kid flipping to the back of the book when doing their math homework, I would feverishly search the guidebook—only to find that not only were my interpretations correct, they were more specific and targeted than the more open-ended “answers” in the guide. This process made it clear to me pretty immediately that a good deck that you vibe with will tell you everything you need to know in the card itself. I forged ahead, feeling more confident with every draw.

I looked longingly at several other decks over the years, but none of them pulled me in the way the Shadowscapes did. There was always something just sort of Goldilocks about the whole search: this deck is too plain, this deck is too busy, this deck is too literal, this deck is too abstract. I played with some of my wife’s decks (she has a stunning collection too, full of shapeshifters and faeries and oracle cards - all fascinating, but none quite for me), but nothing spoke to me like the Shadowscapes. Pretty to look at, but “empty” for me. I didn’t know how to connect with them like I could with the familiar watercolor world of Shadowscapes.

I kept searching, reading books and listening to podcasts and following Tumblrs and doing my own journaling, slowly building up a background of formalized knowledge to support my intuitive reading.

I finally picked up Masa Kazuki’s Silhouettes deck at the suggestion of a mentor. I was shocked to find it so argumentative! This deck has opinions! This deck wants to be rifled and marked up and creased and broken in. Where I’d previously treated my Shadowscapes almost like a delicate artifact, the Silhouettes demanded to be an everyday workhorse. I started doing silly readings with it on Tumblr, pulling cards for friends’ fictional characters—anything to give this deck something to do. It was then that I started really considering reading for other people, genuinely and seriously, not just as a game. Silhouettes taught me that cards are to be used; a pretty deck that sits in the box does no one any good.

My old fears and hesitancy with divination were gone. I began doing shadow work with my decks, exploring my deeper psyche with my familiar friend, Shadowscapes, and using what I learned from there to branch out into astrology. That primed me to work with my next two decks, both by the fabulous Xia Hunt. I opened negotiations with her diva of a deck, The Children of Litha. This one fought me, and still does to this day on occasion. If Silhouettes is a workhorse, then Litha is a show cat, pampered and doing nothing for anyone’s pleasure but her own. Litha demands attention, Litha demands time. Until I put in the work of learning all her tricks and quirks, my efforts would all just sort of …slide off. I put her away for a long time, but as I continued my dive into astrology and shadow work, Litha opened up to me, and our partnership blossomed.

When Xia announced Litha’s cousin deck, The Nameless One, on Kickstarter, I knew I had to have it. Its inky black cards drew me in like a scrying bowl, and its sigils seemed to lift off the page like moons. I was already a huge fan of Xia’s work by that time, and so was happy to back it and wait - and waaaait. This project was delayed due to both Covid related logistics troubles, and because—as Xia continued to work on this project—its guidebook became a massive tome of a grimoire, rich with details about the symbolism used in each card. My astrology foundations came in way handy as The Nameless One’s court cards are all masks of the zodiac. I adore working with this deck because I learn something new every time, and will probably continue to do so all my life. It reads like the alethiometer from His Dark Materials, with layers and layers that go all the way down into its inky depths.

By this point, I was pretty keen to branch into new forms of card divination, and—during the long, long, loooong wait for the Nameless—the Magpie’s Lenormand also launched on Kickstarter. Since a lenormand deck is not a tarot deck and, as a corvid lover, I couldn’t pass up such gorgeous magpies, this seemed like a natural next step. Much to my delight, I discovered that a lenormand deck is meant to be read more like a story, where the cards themselves are less important than how the entire spread fits together. The writer in me was delighted: this was exactly what I would do when I drew story cards for my Tumblr friends! How fun to discover a deck that does this on purpose. Rozenn’s unique art style of using bleach on ink creates a hypnotic swirl of blooming paths for the eye to wander, and the color palette is like nothing else. It’s rich, royal blue edges are such a treat to just sit and play with while I settle myself into the headspace to read.

And of course, I didn’t stop there. Xia’s third deck, The Children of Ostara is now in production (and you know yours truly backed it immediately). Also on the way is a Xia collaboration with Wyrmwood, a more classic set of playing cards with her own distinct art style. I can’t wait to get my hands on that one and see how reading with that style deck goes. Should be fun!

Until then, I’m delighted to be writing the next chapter of my tarot story with all of you. Many of you already know me from Tumblr (and if not, you’ve probably seen a post or two of mine screenshotted in the wild - check the icon!), and those that don’t, come say hi! I love answering questions and talking about tarot- or astrology, or fandom, or astrology and fandom, as seen in my “What is Tom Locke’s natal chart?” adventure when re-reading LJ Smith’s Forbidden Game.

Thank you all for joining me on this adventure. I can’t wait to see what the future holds.

Come join me on Patreon for exclusive reading discounts! Or, check out my ko-fi page for single reading commissions

[melanieph321]

Pedri x Black Reader - Our Secret Part 3/10

*Pedri's POV

⚠️Warning ⚠️

*mentioning of needles

The story of Marcella and Pedri. As students of the most prestigious high schools in the country, the two are very focused on developimg their indvidual talents. Marcella has music whilst Pedri has football. However, worlds collide when Pedri's secret is revealed, he has diabetes.

Enjoy!

A  day in the life of Pedri. He woke up to the sunlight invading his bedroom. He yawned and turned over, reaching for his phone to confirm that "Jupp" he had indeed slept through his alarm.

After taking a few minutes to say goodbye to his bed, Pedri stood and made his way towards the bathroom. He brushed his teeth in front of the mirror in the same way he always did, from the bottom left to the bottom right. Followed by the top right, to the top left. This routine has never changed in his eighteen years of life. One thing had changed however, and Pedri hated this part of his morning routine. He back up in front of the bathroom mirror, viewing his full body. Alot of people like what they saw, outlined abs, tanned skin and a hairless chest. Pedri however, hated it, because only he knew that his body was broken.

He sighed clipping the lid if his insulin pen. The nurses in the hospital showed him how to do it correctly, but it never managed to feel right. He pinched the skin on his belly and pierced the needle through it. It hurt and would never seize to hurt. The doctors recommend that he brought at least three or four needles with him to school, Pedri however, only brought one.

Good morning cariño, did you sleep well?"

"Yes Mami."

She put a plate of scrambled eggs on the table, pulling out a chair for him to take a seat. Since his diganos of type 1 diabetes last year, his mother made it clear that eating breakfast was not negotiable. She kissed him on the cheek once he sat down. "Don't forget to help your father at the restaurant after school. He's gonna need all hands on deck to prepare for Martina's quinceanera this weekend."

"Isn't Martina a little too old to be having a quinceanera?"

She was about Pablo's age and Pedri only knew that because his friend had a huge crush on her and wouldn't stop talking about her during training.

"Yes, but Martina and her family moved from Mexico when she was fifteen and did not have time to throw her one then, so your father and I are helping them throw one now."

"Why can't Fernando help? I have training this afternoon."

His mother left the sink and returned to him, kissing the top of Pedri's head. I know you do cariño. But you know how your father is, he wants you and your brother to get along again."

"Making us decorate the whole restaurant in pink won't bring us closer together, trust me."

To Pedri his older brother was dead to him. He died when he got put in jail for drinking and driving, and stayed dead upon his release three months ago. No. Pedri only had one brother and that was Pablo Gavi.

"Pedrito!"

The little bastard had yet gotten his driver's license so every morning Pedri took the liberty to pick him up and drive him to school.

"It's a beautiful day, no?" Pablo walked down his driveway, hair still dripping from his shower as he got into the passenger seat.

"You're in a surprisingly good mood, why?"

"Love, Pedrito. I'm in love."

"Of course you are."

"Guess who invited me to a party this weekend."

"Martina?"

Pablo frowned. "How did you know?"

"Her family is throwing her quinceanera at the restaurant. I'm suppose to go down there this afternoon and help decorate."

"Can I come?"

"She won't be there Pablo."

"She might." He said, draping the seat belt over himself. "And what have I told you about calling me by my first name. I'm known as Gavi now."

It was an honor for any player to make it into the Estudios Filántropos football squad. Being formally adressed by once last name came along with that honor, that's how people in the streets knew that you could play.

"How about you stop calling me Pedrito, then we can talk."

Pablo chuckled. "Don't make me get rid of Pedrito. It sounds so cute."

"Cute, eh?"

"Yes. Isn't that what Rosie shouts when you make her..."

Pedri's hand left the steering, smacking his friend upside the head.

"Puta!" Pablo rubbed a hand where it hurt the most.

"Don't talk about her like that."

"It was a joke. A joke man."

"Yeah, but we don't joke about stuff like that."

Locker room talk. Pedri had worked hard to get rid of the misogyny within his football squad. As the captain he worked to install the players to focus only on what was important during training. What they did and how they behaved outside of the pitch he couldn't careless. Although he cared how Pablo spoke about women outside of training. To him Pablo was his successor and needed the right values handed to him as soon as possible, even if it meant handing out a slap or two now and then.

"Why are we just standing here." His friend complained. "We'll be late for school, drive!"

Pablo was right, however Pedri's car remained parked alongside the sidewalk. His attention was drawn to the house next door to Pablo's. The house where she lived.

"What is it, what are you waiting for?"

Just as his friend asked the question she emerged out of her house, grabbing the bike parked in her driveway.

"You've got to be kidding me." Pablo sighed. "Not this again."

Pedri rolled down the window. "Hey Marcella!"

Passing his car she looked to him with furrowed brows. "What do you want?"

"You need a ride?"

"No." She snorted and waited until she got on the road to mount her bike, disapearing with it down the street.

"Everyday." His friend shook his head. "Everyday since, what, Tuesday? Everyday day since Tuesday you've been waiting for Marcella to come out of her house, asking her if she wants to ride with us to school. Why? Is it because I hit her with the ball? Is that it, do you feel bad for her? Because I told you that she was crazy, didn't I?"

Pedri smirked as he reached for the button to push the car to a start. The two of them left Pablo's driveway on their way to school.

"Like what's your deal, you're into crazy chicas now?"

Pedri found it funny, letting Pablo's words slide without a slap.

"I mean she not ugly." He said. "But did I tell you about the time she glued my hand to a wall."

There were many stories like that, of Pablo and Marcella. Apperently the two had been neighbors all their lives, thier parents even throwing cookouts together in the summer. Pedri had asked alot about Marcella lately. If Pablo could tell him about what she was like. Her personality and such. "Crazy." Was his friends answer.

"If you're dumping Rosie for Marcella can I have a shot with her incase Martina rejects me this weekend?"

Pedri smiled, "What makes you think you have a shot with a girl like Rosie?"

"She's into footballers, no? I'm ten times better player than you are."

"You wish."

"Watch me play a full ninety minutes on Friday. At least coach won't sub me off after halftime like he does you. Shouldn't that be illegal, subbing off the team captain? They should make Rodriguez captain, he's a goalkeeper, he never gets subbed off."

Pedri let Pablo go on with his rambling, not knowing that his words had struck him right where it hurts. Yes, Pedri's diabetes was discovered after one of his coaches suggested he got checked out for his worsened stamina. It had all come up on his first visit,  the reasons for suddenly feeling drowsy and unable to perform during training. The doctor told him that his body had stopped producing a hormone called insulin, causing his glucose levels to drop, resulting in his severe health problems. The day Pedri found out that his body was broken was the day he started fearing for his dreams of becoming a football player.

"Hola clase, today's lessons is...."

School went by in a flash. Pedri didn't share any lessons with Pablo since the two weren't in the same grade. However, he did share most of his lessons with Rosie. Apart from the occasional hook up, she was also a good friend.

"Guess what?" She said, stopping him in the hallway to peck his lips with her own.

"What?" He smiled, as she was quick to wipe away the excess lipstick that had rubbed off on him.

"Angie and I made a bet."

"A bet? Sounds fun."

"It is. I bet that I will make out with whichever player scores the winning goal on Friday."

Pedri raised a brow.

She nipped a few hairstrands off his t-shirt. "Make sure it's you."

With that she strutted down the hallway, looking back to make sure that Pedri was checking her out.

He was.

"Man, did you hear?"

There was commotion as Pedri joined his teammates. Most of them sat gathered around one table during lunch hour.

"What?" He asked Pablo, who looked to want to fill him in on what was going on.

"Coach is gonna make us run windsprints for today's warm up. WARM UP."

"Windsprints." Pedri frowned. "In April?"

"Yeah, and we have a game on Friday,  I can't be sore for that."

"Strange, must be something up."

"It doesn't matter. The team wants you to talk to him, tell him to cancel the warm up, or at least change it."

"Why me?"

"You're the captain, aren't you?

And it came with his perks. All eyes were on him, his teammates nodding their heads, agreeing with Pablo.

"Alright, I'll see what I can do?"

He left lunch early, although his mother would curse him out for that. However it was best to get his rest now incase coach wouldn't change his mind about the windsprints this afternoon. He made it to the far ends of the building, where the school had its auditorium. There was a classroom near by, the door unlocked. Pedri plotted down on the old sofa behind a dusty keyboard. There he could hear señor Garcia tinkering away on his piano, and Marcella, warming up her throat as she was getting ready to sing. There were others singing along with her,  but Pedri preferred to focus on Marcella's voice. It brought him comfort as he removed the lid off his insulin pen with his teeth, pinching the skin of his belly. Pedri squinted his eyes as the needle went into him, followed by the pain of inserting the insulin. He fell back against the warn out pillows, relaxing his muscles after tensing up during his shot. He drifted off to sleep to the sound of her voice, Marcella, with a voice like no other.