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saddleups · 1 month ago

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𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐒. ↳ 𝐂𝐇. 𝐈𝐈 ( womanly charm )

★ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 . . . 3.8k

★ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒 . . . ongoing , part two. ARTHUR MORGAN X F!READER !! 18+ SMUT MDNI !!

★ 𝐂𝐖 . . . wet dream sequence . dirty talk . flirtatious y/n and a very jealous arthur morgan.

★ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 . . . dutch informs arthur and y/n of an upcoming mission , prompting a trip to the tailor where arthur struggles with his growing attraction to y/n. later arthur confesses what he'd witnessed the night prior.

★ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 . . . gwarsh darn didn't expect my first fic to get that much attention in such a short time !! thank you everyone who liked/reblogged , i hope you enjoy this part as well ... promise arthur and reader will eventually have their fun but we're still building up to it !!!

Beads of sweat roll down entwined bodies, fighting for dominance over each other. Arthur's grip on your wrist is like iron, pinning you to the mattress with a primal strength that leaves you breathless. With a subtle shift, you spread your legs without even realizing it, offering yourself up to him completely. A chuckle rumbles from his lips, "Atta girl" he growls, "you want it this bad?"

Your half-closed eyes lock onto his intense gaze as you nod, barely able to form words. "Yes, Mister Morgan," you whisper, feeling his power and control wash over you.

"Tell me what you want, exactly," he demands, freeing his hands to roam over every curve and dip of your body. His thick fingers glide over your aching core, teasing and taunting your desire.

"I want your hard cock inside me," you whimper, your cheeks burning with arousal. "I want it deep inside my wet pussy." Without hesitation, he enters you, filling you completely with each thrust. The intense pleasure washes over you like a tidal wave, consuming every inch of your being until…

Arthur jolts awake, the dream still vivid in his mind and his body tense with arousal. The night prior had been a blur of desire and frustration. Now in the morning air, it manifested in his dreams. Haunted by your illuminated silhouette, the scene replayed in his mind over and over. Pushing himself off the bed with a groan, the fantasy lingering in his body as he stood. Defeated, Arthur seeks something to jolt him back to reality.

He exists his tent with a stretch of his limbs. Heading towards the nearest barrel of clean water. The camp was just beginning to come back to life. The early morning sun casting long shadows across Clemens Point. Arthur dips his hand into the cold water, splashing his face in an attempt to clear his thoughts. He lingered there for a moment allowing the cool water to wake him fully.

Meanwhile, you'd already been awake for some time, standing by the extinguished campfire as you spoke with Hosea. The old man's calm demeanor had drawn you into a casual conversation, a welcome reprieve from the intensity of the previous night. But your relaxed mood quick shifted when Hosea casually asked, "Has Arthur returned your journal yet?"

Your eyes widen in size, heart nearly skips a beat. "Journal?" you repeated with alarm.

Hosea nodded. "You left it last night. The boy said he'd give it back to ya."

Like a punch to the gut, the realization dawned on you—Arthur had your journal. All the personal thoughts, the details you kept about your travels, about the people you encountered—he had it in his possession. The thought of him reading through it made your stomach twist with embarrassment. Without another word, your eyes scanned the camp until you spotted him, standing by the water barrel.

With a quick motion, you find yourself marching across the camp. Footsteps are quick and purposeful. Arthur looked up just as you approached, a lazy grin spreading across his face as pulled the journal from his coat pocket. He held it up in the air, just out of your reach.

“Lookin’ for this?” Arthur drawled, clearly enjoying the power shift. He swung the journal in the air, smirking. “If 'yer such a good thief, shouldn’t be too hard to steal it back.”

You scowled, the mortification and frustration flaring up inside you. “Give it to me,” you snapped, your tone sharp.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Come and get it, then,” he teased, holding the journal higher. “Or maybe you ain’t as quick as they say?”

Your teeth clenched, your mind racing as you weighed your options. You could feel eyes on the two of you from across the camp, watching this unexpected exchange. Arthur’s teasing was infuriating, but you weren’t about to let him win this little game he was playing.

“Well?” Arthur taunted, still holding the journal out of reach. “What’s it gonna be, princess?”

The journal dangled just out of reach. A mix of humiliation bubbled up inside you. With clenched fists, ready to make a move by force or some clever distraction, in order to get back what belonged to you. Just as your about to act, a sudden hand swiped the journal out of Arthur's grasp.

"Enough," Dutch's voice cut through the tension like a knife. He stood between you and Arthur, holding the journal with a stern expression. His usual charm muted by a fatherly disapointment. "Arthur, we're better than this, aren't we?"

Arthur's smirk faded, rubbing the back of his neck. "Was just havin' a bit of fun."

“Fun’s fine,” Dutch said, his tone lighter but still firm. “But let’s not push our new friend too far on her first day, huh?”

Dutch turned to you, offering the journal with a warm smile. “Here you go,” he said, his voice softer now. “I believe this belongs to you.”

You took the journal, your heart still racing, and quickly stashed it in your satchel, your eyes narrowing at Arthur who only shrugged in response. Relief mixed with the lingering embarrassment, but you didn’t dwell on it too long.

With the journal now returned, Dutch’s mood shifted. His usual air of confidence returned as he addressed both of you. “Now that we’ve had our fun, I’ve got something a little more important on our plate. Saint Denis. We’ve got a job, and I need both of you for it.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed, intrigued but cautious. “What kind of job?”

Dutch folded his arms, a glint of excitement in his eyes. “There’s someone in Saint Denis who’s been making moves. Politician by the name of Alistair Dupont. Heard of him?”

You hadn’t, but Arthur grunted in vague recognition.

“Dupont’s been hosting some fancy gatherings, throwing money around like it’s nothing, buying influence left and right. He’s got half the city’s upper class under his thumb, or so they say. But here’s the thing,” Dutch leaned in slightly, his voice lowering as if revealing a secret. “We don’t know who he’s really working for. Could be a front for Cornwall, the Pinkertons, or worse—someone even bigger.”

You crossed your arms, already sensing where this was heading. “You want us to figure out who’s pulling his strings.”

Dutch nodded, a grin spreading across his face. “Exactly. We need to vet him, see if he’s trouble, and more importantly, if we can get something out of him.”

Arthur sighed, leaning against the barrel. “And how do you suppose we do that? Can’t just waltz into his house and ask for tea.”

Dutch chuckled. “No, Arthur. We’re going to a party. A fancy one. Dupont’s hosting a ball in a few days, and I’ve got a way to get you both in.”

You raised an eyebrow. A ball? This was not what you were expecting. “And we’re supposed to what, make small talk and dig up dirt?”

“Precisely,” Dutch said, nodding with enthusiasm. “It’s not just about what he says—people like Dupont have enemies. Rivals. Allies who can turn into enemies. I want you two to get a feel for the man, see what you can find out about his connections. If we play our cards right, we might be able to leverage his position to our advantage. And if not…” Dutch trailed off, his meaning clear.

Arthur grunted again, though his tone had softened. “And I suppose you think she’ll fit right in with all them fancy folks?”

Dutch’s smile widened, and he turned to you. “She’s quick on her feet. I’ve no doubt she’ll manage. Besides, who better to send to a place full of secrets than someone who knows how to keep ‘em?”

Dutch shifted his weight onto his other foot, "and if that don't work she can just use her… womanly charm."

Both you and Arthur bolt upright without comment. The silence is interrupted with Dutch's laughter, "go to Saint Denis. Get somethin' that'll make you fit in with the fancy folk. The ball is in three days."

You glanced at Arthur, then back at Dutch. The job sounded risky, and you weren’t exactly one for mingling with high society, but this was the West—everything was a gamble. And the promise of a payday, not to mention the opportunity to prove your worth, made you nod in agreement.

“All right,” you said. Arthur shot you a look, his expression unreadable, but he didn’t protest. You could tell he wasn’t thrilled about partnering with you again so soon, especially after the morning’s exchange, but he trusted Dutch’s judgment. And despite his teasing, you could sense that he’d have your back when it mattered.

With the job set and the plan in motion, Dutch left you both standing by the water barrel. You watched him walk off, already mentally preparing for the role you’d need to play. Arthur, meanwhile, shifted his weight and gave you a sideways glance, his teasing from earlier now replaced by something more thoughtful.

“Well,” Arthur said, crossing his arms, “I hope you clean up well. We’re gonna be rubbin’ elbows with a whole different kind of scum.”

You shot him a look, half annoyed, half amused. “I’ll manage. You just try not to get us kicked out before we even get through the door.”

Turning on your heel you make a path toward the exit of the camp,

"Got a horse?" Arthur asks trailing behind you.

"No shit, I have a horse."

"Jus' makin' sure."

The journey to Saint Denis arrived sooner than you expected. As you dismounted your horse, the bustling energy of the city washed over you. You wiped your palms on your trousers, your nerves subtly betraying the calm exterior you tried to maintain. The streets were alive with activity, vendors shouting, carriages rattling by, and people moving in every direction. You kept your face hidden beneath the low brim of your hat, eyes scanning the crowd. A part of you couldn't shake the lingering feeling that today might be the day when the law finally catches up with you. Unlike Arthur who greeted the town with such fearlessness, ready to tackle whatever dared crossed his path.

The two of you made your way through the busy streets toward the tailor shop, weaving through the chaos of the city. When you finally reached the store, it was a stark contrast to the wildness of the world outside. The place was tidy and refined, with elegant fabrics hanging from the walls and mannequins dressed in the latest fashions.

Arthur hung back as the tailor approached you, guiding you to stand on a small platform surrounded by mirrors. You were used to practical clothing, the kind that could withstand the wear and tear of the work you did. Standing still while the tailor fussed over you felt unnatural. He began taking measurements, expertly wrapping the tape around your waist, shoulders, and hips. You stood rigid, feeling out of place, but the tailor moved quickly, pinning fabric here and there, adjusting the fit to highlight your figure.

As the tailor wrapped his measuring tape around your waist, his fingers brushing the fabric as he cinched it tight, he paused, stepping back to get a better look at you. “Ah, yes,” he said, nodding appreciatively. “You’ve got quite the… gifts, miss. This dress will truly highlight them—should be no trouble turning heads at the ball.”

Arthur, who had been leaning casually against the wall, suddenly stiffened. He cleared his throat loudly, a bit too loudly, causing the tailor to glance over with a raised eyebrow. Arthur quickly masked his discomfort, looking away and scratching the back of his neck.

"Ain't no need to get all poetic about it," he muttered under his breath.

Catching a sight of you underneath the rim of his hat, Arthur earned a fleeting glance of your clevage, the lace of your chemise peaking through the low collar of your blouse. His eyes tracked the movement of the tailor’s hands, pulling and adjusting the material until it hugged your curves in ways that your usual rough-and-ready attire never did. For a moment, his mind drifted back to the night before—when he'd caught that glimpse of you through the tent—and now, seeing you like this, the memory flickered in his thoughts, unbidden. He quickly glanced away, focusing instead on the fine stitching of his own jacket as if to shake off the wandering thoughts.

You shot a quick glance at Arthur, catching the way his gaze darted to the floor, a faint blush creeping up his neck. The tailor, seemingly oblivious, continued adjusting the fabric, tucking and pinning around your hips. “Indeed, you’ll be quite the vision,” he said with pride. "The fit is perfect for someone with your… figure. Whoever has you my dear, must be a very lucky man."

Arthur let out another awkward cough, turning slightly so his back was more to the room. “Yeah, well, let’s just get on with it, huh?” he grumbled, still pointedly avoiding looking directly at you.

You stifled a laugh, amused by Arthur's uncharacteristic bashfulness. When you stepped down from the platform, you gave the fabric one last tug, still adjusting to the new feeling of it clinging to your form. Arthur glanced at you, his usual snark nowhere to be found, replaced by an almost sheepish silence.

"Thank you kindly for your time sir" you smiled curtly at the tailor. In response the tailor nods, informing you that the dress should be ready tomorrow afternoon.

Returning to your usual attire, you reunited with Arthur outside the dress shop. The sun was setting, casting a golden hue over the cobblestone streets. The air was crisp, and you could hear the distant murmur of townsfolk going about their evening routines. Arthur shoved his hands into his pockets, kicking a stray pebble along the street.

"We should head back," you suggested.

"Nah, I need a drink first," Arthur replied, his tone more decisive than before.

You sighed, though the thought of a drink at the nearby tavern did sound tempting. The warmth of alcohol might help ease the unease that had settled in your chest, and perhaps it would give you a chance to tease Arthur about his earlier awkwardness.

"Alright," you relented, falling into step beside him as you made your way towards the tavern.

The interior of the tavern was warm and dimly lit, the flickering light of oil lamps casting shadows on the walls. The smell of ale and roasted meat filled the air, mingling with the low hum of conversation. Arthur led you to a quiet corner, where you both settled into worn, wooden chairs. The bartender, a burly man with a thick beard, approached with a knowing grin.

"What can I get ya?" he asked, wiping a glass with a rag.

"Two ales," Arthur replied, leaning back in his chair.

As you waited for your drinks, you couldn't help but notice how Arthur seemed to relax once inside the tavern. The tension that had lingered since the dress shop began to dissipate, replaced by his usual easygoing demeanor. You decided to seize the opportunity to tease him.

"So," you began, leaning forward slightly, "having trouble keeping your eyes off me today?"

Arthur's brows furrowed, and he shot you a look that was half-offended, half-amused. "I ain't got no trouble keepin' my eyes off ya," he retorted, though his cheeks turned a faint shade of pink.

You chuckled, taking a sip of your ale when it arrived. "Sure you don't," you teased, nudging him playfully with your elbow. "But maybe next time, you could try not being so obvious about it."

"Eh, don't flatter yourself." He mutters into his drink.

A scoff escapes from you, dripping with disdain. While Arthur drowns his sorrows on your right, another man takes refuge on the wooden chair to your left. You turn slightly to examine him, assessing every detail of his appearance. He fits the mold of your typical prey - a wealthy older man seeking attention from pretty women.

Unbuttoning the first few buttons of your blouse, you purposefully catch Arthur's attention. "What the hell are you doing, girl?" he snaps, his drunken haze interrupted by your subtle seduction.

"Showing you what I'm good at, Mr. Morgan," you purr, using his last name as both a taunt and a reminder of your position in this dangerous game.

The honorific sends a jolt through him, bringing back memories of his dream from earlier this morning. His cheeks flush with embarrassment and anger, but he can't tear his eyes away. Is this what Dutch meant by "womanly charm"?

Turning your back on Arthur with deliberate intention, you surrender all of your attention to the rich gentleman beside you. "My my, if it isn't the most handsome man in the entire west," you flirt effortlessly, earning the man's full attention without any effort at all. He leans closer to you, drawn in by your seductive aura. And all Arthur can do is watch in disgust as a hint of jealousy begins to stir in the pit of his stomach.

The man introduces himself as Alistair Dupont, and to Dutch's luck, he is completely enthralled by you. The drinks continue to flow and you use every weapon in your arsenal to keep Alistair's attention solely on you. Picking up your ale and purposely allowing a small stream to trail down your lips and chin before finally disappearing between your cleavage with a suggestive moan. Both men salivate at the sight, but Alistar has no idea of the intimate knowledge Arthur possesses. He doesn't know about the finger that traced up your pronounced cleavage, or the one that explored the wetness between your legs the night before. The same fingers that Arthur fantasized about gripping his hard cock. Arthur squeezes his thigh with such force, it's a miracle he didn't tear through the fabric. He nearly lunges forward, ready to grab your wrist and tear you away from your seat.

"Excuse us now," he growls.

"Hey!" you protest, but Arthur's grip on your wrist is like a vice, making it difficult to break free. Before he can drag you away from the bar, Alistair grabs onto your other wrist in a desperate attempt to keep your attention. In one swift motion, he slips a folded paper into your palm before releasing his grip. "I said come on, woman," Arthur grunts, tugging you forcefully off the stool while you give Alistair a coy goodbye wave.

You walk alongside Arthur, your heart still pounding from the reckless game you’d just played, you unfold the crumpled piece of paper in your hand. Inside, you find an invitation to the ball and… a hotel key. Before you can react, Arthur snatches the key from your grasp.

His sudden, erratic behavior gives you whiplash. You're not sure if he's drunk or just being difficult, but either way, it's hard to tell if arguing with him is worth the trouble.

“I ain’t playin’ games with you, boy,” you say, your voice low and steady, masking your frustration. “Give it back. Now.”

Arthur's eyes glint with something—defiance, maybe even jealousy. “Or what?” he says, his tone laced with challenge.

It sounds like a dare.

You stare up at him, your patience fraying. “Or… nothing, Arthur,” you finally sigh, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle over you. “Dupont is our target. He’s the person I need to get close to if we’re going to make Dutch happy and get what we need.”

Arthur's expression darkens, and he takes a swig from the bottle of liquor in his other hand. “So, what’s the plan, huh? You wooin’ him? Flirtin’ your way to answers?” His voice is sharper now, his words dripping with a bitterness you hadn’t expected. “Dutch didn’t say this was your job alone.”

You bristle at his accusation, realizing where this is coming from. “It’s not my job alone,” you snap back, crossing your arms defensively. “But you know how people like Dupont work. He’ll talk more freely to someone he thinks he can charm. I’m just using what I’ve got to get him to open up. It’s a part of the job.”

Arthur’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, he looks like he might argue more, but instead, he grunts and stumbles forward, the hotel key still in his grip. “Yeah, well, I ain’t just sittin’ around while you play nice with some rich bastard,” he mutters, starting to walk off, his steps uneven.

Before Arthur can stumble too far, he pauses, his back still half-turned to you. He seems to hesitate for a moment, as if wrestling with something in his mind. Then, with a grunt, he spins back toward you, his expression hard but his eyes revealing something else—something deeper.

“There’s somethin’ else,” he says, voice low and rough. His gaze flicks to the ground, then back up to you. “Last night… I saw somethin’ I wasn’t supposed to.”

You frown, your stomach twisting as a knot of confusion and dread forms in your chest. “What the hell are you talkin’ about, Arthur?”

He exhales heavily, the weight of the words he's about to say clearly gnawing at him. “When I went to return your journal. I saw you… in your tent. You weren’t exactly… dressed.” He shifts uncomfortably, and despite his rough demeanor, there's a vulnerability in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. “You were… you know… busy. And I—hell, I didn’t mean to—"

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut, leaving you speechless, your mouth slightly open but no words coming out. Heat floods your face, and for a split second, you wish you could vanish into thin air. Arthur’s gaze holds steady on you, almost daring you to respond, but all you can feel is the sudden rush of mortification and shock.

“I wasn’t spying, I swear it,” he adds quickly, his voice gruff but tinged with something almost like guilt. “I turned away. But I ain’t been able to stop thinkin’ about it.”

Your breath catches in your throat. The confession hangs heavy between you, the weight of it suffocating the air.

“Arthur…” you manage to say, but the words falter, your voice barely a whisper. You're at a complete loss for how to respond, a thousand emotions swirling through you—embarrassment, anger, confusion, and something else you’re not ready to name.

But before you can say anything more, Arthur lets out a harsh breath, shaking his head as if trying to rid himself of the moment. “Forget I said anything,” he mutters, turning abruptly on his heel, the hotel key still in his hand.

“Where are you goin’?” you call after him, your voice rising in irritation.

Arthur stumbles over his feet, but manages to catch himself, waving the key in the air. “Gonna go piss in that rich man’s hotel,” he slurs, his words barely coherent.

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#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x y/n #filed: honor among thieves.#saddleups

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wonysugar · 1 year ago

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it’s so over for me…. ch. 21

a date!! no shivers

word count : 1.1k

you stared at her latest message, “only if you want it to be<3” before scoffing.

ugh. who does the fuck she think she is?? making you giggle like an idiot like that.. embarrassing, really..

upon sending your latest message, the one containing your dorm number, you immediately threw your phone on the bed and rushed to your closet, already thinking of a possible outfit. this exact sequence of actions gave you very vivid flashbacks of the night of the party, which made you scoff.

cause, yknow, that was the same night that an intoxicated aeri was tongue deep inside you.

that really wasn’t relevant at the moment, what especially mattered was the amount of bomb ass ice cream you were gonna eat later,

with a very sober aeri.

you giggled as you looked into your closet, smiled wider when you thought of a potential cute outfit (thanks to that one trip to h&m), grabbed the necessary clothing for it, and quickly got dressed, enthusiasm and excitement definitely showing through the speed of your actions.

after getting (very nicely) dressed, you patiently waited for an indicator that aeri was here. thankfully, it didn’t take long at all for her to show up and be at your door, the sudden sound of the doorbell getting you even more excited about the ‘date’ in question.

“hey whore.” she said, wearing a wide grin, so wide that it made her look stupid.

“hey slut.” you said back, grinning just as much as she was, because you apparently didn’t mind looking stupid, either.

she stood there, stared at your outfit with a dorky smile, then subconsciously, slightly, nodded her head at the sight. i mean, you dressed up for her, she’d be crazy not to notice that. what she didn’t notice, though, was that she was staring for a bit longer than she intended to. you internally laughed, god she really was a dork.

in response to her staring, you teased, “didn’t think i could wear cute clothes, huh?”

snapped out of her trance, “yeah.. y-yeah, nice to see you at least have some fashion sense.” she nervously giggled, attempting to seem just as rude as she always is, stepping aside from the doorframe, leaving you space to leave your dorm. “anywaysss uh– after you.” she added, avoiding your gaze.

you could’ve sworn you saw a tint of red on her face, she was blushing at least a little bit, you were certain of it.

with a grin, you walked out of the room, the action followed by the sound of her gently closing your door, her rhythmic footsteps so loud, so loud that they were practically resonating in the hall.

or was that your heartbeat? you really couldn’t tell.

“yeah so then i was like… ohhh my god like please shut up and just let me copy your homework, like it’s really not that deep, you know?” she explained, sitting on the driver’s seat of her fancy car with you, by her side, as she took occasional licks from her very basic, very vanilla ice cream. you, on the other hand, were already done with your food, and waited for her to finish.

you nodded, “so you were the exact same in high school. you never change, huh?” endlessly teasing her as she laughed with you.

“basically, yeah. it’s in my blood.”

“you know, if i was your classmate in high school, i would’ve let you copy any sort of homework you asked for.” you said, trying to get another one of her flustered reactions out of her. which very much worked, as per usual, considering she quickly stumbled on her words and slightly fidgeted with her hands. it was a thing she did whenever she got nervous.

oh it was so fun seeing her like this.

“oh if i did ask you it’d be a way of flirting, probably— anyways uh!! so like i was saying–”

you smiled warmly as you listened to her every word, looking at her eyes, her lips, the structure of it all, her whole face in general. you even watched her body language, the way she paid close attention to not breaking her nails whenever she did any sort of movement, the way that, despite that, she’d still dig them into her fingers whenever she fidgeted with her hands.

god she was really cute. the best way you could describe it is… yknow– if a loser girl randomly woke up in the body of a super attractive mean girl one day and asked no questions, just quickly took advantage of the fact that pretty privilege existed and did whatever she wanted? yeah, that was her.

that was aeri uchinaga.

she was a huge bitch, yeah, but once you got to actually know her? once she let you see what was behind that ‘bad bitch’ facade she always seemed to have, she was a sweetheart. for example, she definitely didn’t want you to notice, but she got you five extra napkins and asked for extra sprinkles when she ordered your ice cream; but you did, you did notice.

in other words, she was a softie, she just didn’t wanna show it.

you’d get it out of her one day, though! you were determined.

“–like i get reading books, but if you seriously expect me to read planet of the apes and enjoy it enough to answer stupid fucking study guide questions about it, you need to be locked up as soon as possible?? like, how is someone as sick and twisted as yo–”

“wait, books??” you quickly exclaimed, your selective hearing really coming through on this one

she sighed, “yes, y/n, books. were you even listeni–”

“oh aeri i love books!”

oh there you go.

“i don’t think you read much but god, reading is so fun! especially romance books and especiallyyy sapphic books!” you added, rambling, on and on, as she listened to you, on and on.

“okay– well…” she quickly cut you off before you continued, you stopped, worrying that you might’ve talked too much. you truly never shut up about your interests, particularly books.

“ugh okay– hate to admit that you’re right but yeah no i don’t– i don’t read. so do you have like.. any recommendations? like, what a beginner should read and shit?”

oh my god.

oh my god?

is it too early to propose??

“aeri, you really didn’t have to get me a&w, you know that?” you stated, holding onto the bag of junkfood before settling it down on the drawer next to the door.

“we drove around for like 2 hours y/n, i’m not making you go back home on an empty stomach, i’m not a man.” she joked around, smirking and leaning into the frame as you giggled at her words, mentally high fiving herself for making you laugh at one of her jokes.

“well, it’s not like i can eat this whole thing alone.” you muttered, making her eyes perk up at you.

“h-huh, what do you mean, do you not have a big appetite?”

you smiled, she really was clueless,

“i’m asking you if you can stay the night, aeri.”

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differentpostrebel · 3 months ago

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Lost and Found: A Pirates Promise

This gif cause it was way to funny Lmfaoo

Chapter 25: The Colosseum Countdown

A/N: And we are back at it again with a new chapter! So we finally learned of Sam’s true identity. We will be getting more POVs, and we are getting a flashback sequence. Thank you guys so much! For liking, following, reblogging, and commenting/interacting! I have Chapter 26 also done, might drop that one as a special surprise since im currently working on 27 and 28. I will be going back to some of the previous chapters to add onto the new ones, but without further ado, let's get to it!

Word Count: 5.1

Sanji x Reader, Sanji X Y/N, One Piece X Reader,

Sabo POV…

I watched as Y/N ran towards the colosseum, my smile never faltering. The truth was, I was still deeply in love with the girl I met two years ago, and that feeling only intensified. I never imagined falling for someone, let alone someone who washed ashore on the all-male island. But everything about Y/N drew me in—the fire in her eyes, her infectious laugh, the way she cared about others, that light she carried, and of course, her feisty spirit. I chuckled to myself as I made my way back to the home, taking in the aftermath of our earlier encounter. The sheets were a mess, flower petals scattered everywhere, and the candles had burned down halfway. But it was worth it. I hadn't expected to see her face again, but when I saw her in danger from those men, I had to act quickly.

Telling Y/N the truth—my real truth—wasn't easy. She had known me as Sam, but that was a facade. My real name was Sabo. But when we shared that passionate kiss, it felt like the first time all over again.

Flashback:

The sun was dipping low on the horizon, casting long shadows over the sandy beach. Y/N was training with a fierce determination, though her movements were growing slower and more labored with each passing moment. I watched from behind a cluster of trees, admiring her persistence. Her hair, left long and wild, was sticking to her sweaty face.

“Ughhh, I can’t seem to get this move right!” she shouted, her frustration evident as she threw the two small blades into the sand.

I stepped out from my hiding spot, walking towards her with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Y/N, you’ll get it!”

She turned to me, her face a mixture of exhaustion and irritation. “Easy for you to say, Sam. You’re not the one who’s been training all day!”

I stopped a few feet away, trying to offer some encouragement. “I know it’s hard, but you’ve got this. Just take a moment to breathe and refocus.”

Her shoulders slumped, and she let out a heavy sigh. “I know, but it feels like I’m just not making any progress.”

I walked closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You’re making more progress than you realize. Sometimes, you need to step back and see how far you’ve come.”

Our eyes locked, and for a moment, everything else seemed to blur. I reached out and gently cupped her cheek, my thumb brushing against her skin. “You’ve always pushed yourself so hard, Y/N. It’s one of the things I admire most about you.”

She looked up at me, her expression softening. “Thank you, Sam.”

There was a charged silence between us, filled with unspoken words. Slowly, I leaned in, and she mirrored my movement. Our lips met in a gentle kiss, full of the emotions and connections we had both been holding back. It was a kiss that spoke of hope, affection, and the undeniable bond we shared.

As we pulled away, our foreheads touching, I whispered, “I’ve wanted to do that for some time.”

Y/N smiled, her eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite describe. “I’m glad you did.”

End of Flashback…

I shook my head, pulling myself back to the present. The memory of that first kiss was still vivid and warm in my mind. The shrill sound of my transponder snail broke the silence, pulling me out of my reverie.

“Hello?” I answered, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Sabo, where are you? You’re supposed to be at the colosseum already,” Koala’s voice crackled with worry on the other end.

I scratched my head, a bit embarrassed. “Sorry, I kind of, sort of... lost track of time.”

There was a pause on the other end before Koala spoke again. “Wait, did you find her?” She knew about Y/N and how much I’d been longing for the right moment to tell her the truth.

“Yeah, I did,” I said, a smile tugging at my lips.

“I knew it! You guys had a moment, didn’t you?” Koala teased, her tone light and playful.

I chuckled, feeling a bit flustered. “Maybe. I’m on my way to the colosseum now. Keep me informed if anything changes.”

With that, I hung up the transponder snail. I closed the door behind me and stepped into the bustling streets. The weight of the day’s events settled on my shoulders, but my resolve was clear. I needed to get to the colosseum and see this through. As I navigated through the lively business streets, I couldn’t help but replay the moments with Y/N in my mind, each memory fueling my determination to make things right.

Sanji POV…

I must have died and gone to heaven because Violet, the enchanting dancer, had yet to leave my side. The adrenaline from the chase still buzzed in my veins, but every time I glanced at her, my heart skipped a beat. The way she looked at me, with those captivating eyes and a faint blush on her cheeks, made me feel like the luckiest man alive.

We dashed through the winding alleys, our footsteps echoing against the walls. The police had been hot on our heels, but we managed to lose them. As we slowed to catch our breath, Violet squeezed my hand, and the touch felt electrifying. It was as if we were two fugitive lovers, united against the world, running from anyone who dared to stop us.

“Ohh, I can’t believe this,” I murmured, my voice a mix of awe and delight. I felt like I was dreaming. Here I was, side by side with Violet, our escape from the police almost like a scene from a romantic adventure.

Violet turned to me, her blush deepening as she looked up at me with a shy smile. “Let’s go together,” she said softly, her hand still holding mine. The way she spoke, her voice laced with both urgency and tenderness, made my heart race even faster.

I nodded, unable to hide my own smile. “Lead the way,” I said, trying to match her hopeful gaze with one of determination. As we began to walk together, my thoughts momentarily drifted from the chaotic situation we had just escaped. Instead, they centered on this extraordinary woman beside me and the unexpected connection we were forming.

Despite the chaos and danger, there was a sense of exhilaration and possibility in the air. For a moment, it felt like nothing else mattered but the path we were taking together.

Y/N POV…

I had been running for what felt like an eternity, my breaths coming in ragged gasps as I tried to navigate the labyrinth of streets and alleys. The colosseum was proving to be elusive, and frustration mounted with every passing second. “I wish I had asked Sabo for directions,” I muttered to myself, the words coming out more like a desperate plea than a complaint.

My thoughts kept circling back to that intimate moment with Sabo. The revelation that Sam was actually Sabo had rocked my world. The memories of our time together on the island—his playful teasing, him tending to my injuries, our shared laughter, and that first, unforgettable kiss—seemed to replay in my mind like a haunting melody. How did I not see the truth before? I felt a pang of regret and confusion, but there was no time for that now.

As I continued my frantic search for the Colosseum, my lungs started to burn from the exertion. Despite having my weapons on me, I couldn’t afford to risk exposure, not with Doflamingo keeping a close watch on me. The danger was all too real, and I needed to stay hidden.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the chaos, laced with a mixture of determination and irritation. “You’re not getting away from me, you thieving fairy!”

That voice sounded unmistakably like Zoro’s. I glanced to my left and, to my relief, spotted him running after his sword. “Zoro, wait!” I shouted, hoping to catch his attention. My feet pounded against the ground as I sprinted toward him, weaving through the crowd.

Sanji POV…

Walking arm in arm with Violet felt like a dream come true. The warmth of her presence beside me was more comforting than I could have imagined. “Violet, my dear?” I said, my voice dripping with affection.

“Yes?” she responded, her cheeks flushed with a delicate blush.

“Nothing, I just wanted to say your name,” I said, letting my admiration seep into every word.

Violet’s giggle was like music to my ears. “Sanji?” she said, her voice soft and playful.

“Yes?” I replied, gazing at her with adoration.

“Nothing, I just wanted to say your name,” she echoed, her eyes twinkling.

I swooned, feeling as though I could die of ecstasy. The moment was so perfect, it almost felt unreal. Just then, a dangerous presence caught my attention. Without hesitation, I used Skywalk to propel myself upward, my leg snapping out to kick a sniper from a nearby tower. The sniper fell, and I landed gracefully on the ground beside Violet.

She looked at me with wide eyes, clearly impressed. “My goodness, you are strong! Oh, my hero!” she exclaimed, nuzzling closer to me.

“We are safe now!” I declared, a satisfied smile on my face as I stood tall, enjoying the rush of adrenaline and the warmth of Violet’s closeness.

In my mind, I couldn’t help but think of my beloved crewmates, especially Nami, Robin, and Y/N. “My dearest Nami, and Robin, my beloved Y/N,” I thought, “I hope the weather is treating you nicely. As for me, well... I’ve been struck by love!”

The thought made me smile even wider, as I reveled in the bliss of the moment.

Laws POV…

The moment we stepped onto the bridge, the tension was palpable. Usopp and Caesar were already on edge, and I could hear the faint sounds of splashing water growing louder.

"You guys hear that?" Usopp asked, his voice trembling.

"Better yet, look at that!" Caesar pointed ahead, and in the distance, several massive fighting fish were speeding toward us, their teeth bared, ready to tear through anything in their path.

I kept calm. "They’re just fish. Handle it."

Usopp turned to me, eyes wide. "What do you mean, handle it? You’re the Warlord! You do something!"

"Like I said," I replied coolly, "there’s a time and place for me to fight. This isn’t it."

The fish crashed against the bridge's protective bars, the entire structure shaking. Robin was already on the move, using her powers to fend off the creatures, while Usopp scrambled to keep up.

"You better unlock Caesar," I instructed, glancing at Usopp. "He’ll be helping."

"What? No way! He’ll escape the second we do that!" Usopp shouted, not even considering it for a moment.

I held up Caesar’s heart, smirking slightly. "He knows better than to try. Isn’t that right, Caesar?"

"Y-Yes, yes!" Caesar stammered, sweat forming on his forehead. "I won’t go anywhere, I swear!"

Usopp looked unconvinced, but there was no time for debate. I tossed him the key, and he reluctantly unlocked Caesar’s chains.

Caesar rubbed his wrists, glaring at me before he grumbled, "You’ll all pay for this... especially the princess—"

I clutched his heart with force, lowering my voice dangerously. "You will not touch her. If you even think about it, I’ll make sure your heart never beats again."

Caesar’s face turned pale as he gulped. "It was just a joke! Really, just a joke! I'll focus on the fish!"

"Good," I said, turning my attention back to the fighting fish. "Then stop wasting time and prove your worth."

Caesar muttered curses under his breath but obeyed, using his gas powers to help fend off the fish. The battle raged on, with Robin and Usopp taking down the ones that got too close, while I kept an eye on the rest of the bridge. As we ran, it became apparent that the situation was getting worse—the bridge was collapsing in sections behind us, and there was a thick fog forming, making it harder to see.

Just as one of the fighting fish lunged toward us, it suddenly stopped mid-air and collapsed, lifeless.

"We caught it! There’s a fight happening, so we gotta conserve our strength!" voices called out from the mist, hauling the dead fighting fish away as if it was just another day's work.

"Great, more surprises," Usopp muttered under his breath, already exhausted from the constant threats.

I looked ahead at the collapsing bridge and the fog obscuring the way. "Looks like we’ll have to figure out another way across."

I turned to Caesar, who was already sulking. "Caesar, fly us over."

He protested immediately, throwing his hands up in frustration. "What am I, your personal transport? You can’t just order me—"

"Now," I interrupted, giving him a sharp look.

Grumbling and still muttering curses, Caesar used his gas powers to lift us into the air and carry us over the gap in the bridge. We flew through the mist, which only made Usopp more nervous.

Once we landed on the other side, the sight in front of us wasn’t any better. The entire area was covered with massive shipwrecks, some half-buried in the sand, and towering, unfamiliar giant plants, their leaves swaying ominously in the breeze.

"You don’t expect us to go in there, do you?" Usopp asked, his voice cracking with fear as he took in the unsettling scene.

I glanced back at him. "If you want to stay out here with the fish, be my guest."

Robin gave a small smile, trying to reassure Usopp. "It’ll be fine. We’ve handled worse."

Usopp sighed in resignation as we stepped forward, venturing deeper into Greenbit. The eerie landscape seemed to close in on us with every step.

Sanji POV..

I finally made it to the nearby town with Violet by my side. Her grip on my arm loosened, and she suddenly pulled away, a strange look in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" I asked, concern lacing my voice.

"Sanji, this was a terrible idea," she muttered, her voice shaky. "Just walk away. You shouldn’t get tangled up with someone like me. Asking you to do this... it was a mistake."

Tears welled up in her eyes, and I felt my heart twist painfully at the sight. I took a slow drag of my cigarette, trying to remain calm.

"If something were to happen to you, I—"

"Don’t worry," I interrupted gently, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "So, this lowlife thug is in here, huh?" I pointed toward the warehouse in front of us. "Wait here, Violet."

"Aren’t you going to ask me why?" she suddenly blurted, her voice a mixture of despair and hurt. "Why I asked you to do this?"

I paused, glancing at her over my shoulder. "What do you mean?"

"You never questioned me. You just... did what I asked, without hesitation. Why?" Her tears spilled over, her voice trembling.

"I don’t need to question you," I said softly, looking into her tear-filled eyes. "Your tears are more than enough."

She bit her lip, trying to stop the sobs from escaping, and I couldn’t help but smile at her.

"My sweet Sanji," Violet whispered, her voice filled with emotion.

"This will only take a minute," I reassured her, my tone light and confident. "Leave everything to your faithful bodyguard."

I kicked the door open with a forceful strike, the wooden frame splintering as I strode into the warehouse. "Alright, where’s the lowlife scumbag who’s been causing my sweet Violet trouble?" I growled, scanning the room.

"Who the hell are you?" a man sneered, stepping forward from the shadows.

"Looking at you, I can tell you’re the one who’s been hurting my angel," I replied calmly. "And just so you know, her name is Violet."

"Oh, so she put you up to this, huh?" one of the men spat, laughing.

I didn’t bother to answer. Instead, I let my legs do the talking. In an instant, I dispatched each of his goons with swift, precise kicks, sending them crashing into the walls around us. They didn’t even have time to react before they hit the ground, unconscious.

But then, my heart skipped a beat. I turned just in time to see the thug holding Violet at gunpoint, his arm wrapped tightly around her neck.

"Sanji..." she whispered, her voice trembling.

"Violet, my love!" I called out, my mind racing.

"I’ve had enough of you!" the thug growled, pressing the gun closer to her.

I clenched my fists, my anger boiling over. "I’m only going to say this once: unhand her, or else."

Without waiting for him to make a move, I activated Diable Jambe. My leg ignited with fiery intensity, and I launched a spinning kick, sending the thug flying across the room with a single strike. His weapon clattered uselessly to the floor as he crashed into the wall, unconscious.

"When you stand in the way of love, I put my foot down," I said confidently, extinguishing the flames on my leg.

Violet rushed to me, throwing her arms around my neck. "Sanji, can you do one more favor for me?" she whispered, her voice soft but urgent.

"Just one?" I swooned, feeling my heart race at her touch. "I thought you’d have learned by now that I’d do anything for you."

But before I could process what was happening, Violet suddenly stepped back, locking cold, heavy chains around my wrists and ankles. I looked down in shock as the metal clicked into place.

"Here’s my last request," she said, her voice taking on a chilling tone. "You must give your life to me, every last drop."

"Wait... what are you saying?" I stammered, confusion and disbelief swirling in my mind.

Her expression changed, the sweetness in her eyes replaced by something darker. Her true intentions had finally come to light.

"Violet... What are you doing?" I asked, my voice faltering, trying to grasp the situation.

Y/N POV…

"Roronoa, I swear to god, when I get my hands on you, I’m going to..." I muttered, still trying to catch my breath. "How the hell can he run so fast, yet can’t follow simple directions?" I grumbled, frustration gnawing at me as I hurried down the streets of Dressrosa, dodging townsfolk and merchants.

I passed by a mirror hanging outside one of the shops and caught a glimpse of my reflection. My hair was a mess, my clothes were ruffled, and I looked like I’d been running for hours—which, to be fair, I had.

"Jeez, I look like a mess," I sighed, quickly pulling my hair out of its loose bun and letting it fall around my shoulders. I ran my fingers through it, styling it enough to look somewhat presentable. "That’s a bit better."

I paused for a moment, considering my next move. "I should just use my power," I thought aloud. "Maybe then I could find Zoro faster. But knowing Doflamingo, he’ll have a watchful eye on me from the sky. If I use my speed, it’ll make me an even bigger target."

I continued to jog forward, weighing my options. "I need to find that Colosseum," I muttered under my breath. "Really should've asked Sabo for directions."

My mind wandered as I ran, thoughts drifting back to the moment I shared with Sabo earlier. My body still tingled from it, my heart racing as a vivid memory crept into my mind...

Flashback…

Night had fallen on the island, and the air was cool, the ocean’s gentle waves lapping against the shore. Sam had returned with food, and we sat near the fire he built, the warmth of the flames licking at the night air.

"This is delicious," I said, savoring the flavors of the meal.

Sam (who I now know is Sabo) grinned, his eyes reflecting the firelight. "I’m glad you liked it, Y/N."

Just then, I noticed him pulling out a basket from behind a nearby rock. Inside was a blanket, two glasses, and a bottle of wine. He glanced at me with a playful smirk.

I raised an eyebrow and leaned in teasingly. "You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think this was a date."

Sabo chuckled, his voice smooth and calm. "Well, I guess you could say that."

He poured us both a glass of wine, the fire crackling softly in the background, the night stars twinkling above us. Sabo then unwrapped the blanket and spread it out beside the fire.

"Cheers," he said, raising his glass. "To a memorable night."

I giggled softly, clinking my glass against his. "Cheers."

After a few sips of wine, I leaned against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath as he wrapped his arm around me, pulling me closer. His touch was gentle yet comforting, and the warmth of the fire combined with the cool night air created a peaceful, intimate atmosphere.

"I never knew you were the romantic type," I teased again, glancing up at him with a playful smile.

He smirked, running his hand slowly down my back. "There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me," he said quietly.

As the night wore on, I found myself drifting off to sleep on his chest, lulled by the sound of the ocean and the gentle pressure of his hand as he absentmindedly drew circles on my back. It was soothing, his touch making me feel safe and secure.

I stirred slightly, feeling the soft press of his lips on my forehead. A tender kiss, warm and fleeting, but enough to make my heart flutter. Even in my half-asleep state, I smiled to myself, feeling completely at peace.

End of Flashback

I snapped back to reality, blinking up at the sky as the memory faded. My heart still ached from the warmth of that moment, but now wasn’t the time to get lost in it. I shook my head, refocusing on the task at hand.

"Right. Gotta find Zoro," I muttered to myself as I picked up the pace, weaving through the crowded streets.

Suddenly, I heard a shout. "Hey, look, it's the girl!"

My heart sank. "Crap, they found me!" I glanced over my shoulder and saw a group of men closing in, their eyes locked on me with malicious intent. I had no choice.

Clenching my left hand into a fist and raising my left leg, I activated my speed power. A surge of velocity coursed through me, my surroundings blurring as I pushed myself faster. "Don't let her get away!" the men yelled, their voices fading behind me.

I smirked, feeling the familiar thrill of speed. "Too slow!" I shouted back, my voice a fleeting echo as I dashed away from the pursuing men. The city’s buildings and people were mere streaks of color as I zipped through the streets.

"Oh, how I missed this," I thought, the wind whipping past me. "Okay, now to find Zoro and head to the Colosseum!"

With newfound urgency, I continued my rapid search, dodging obstacles and maintaining my focus. The streets of Dressrosa seemed to stretch endlessly before me, but I was determined. I had to find Zoro and make it to the Colosseum before it was too late.

Sanji POV…

I groaned as Violet and her men continued their assault, blood spilling from my mouth. "Violet... but why?" I struggled to ask, confusion and pain blending in my voice. "You're a failure, Black Leg. I knew you had a soft spot for women, so I exploited that," she said coldly.

"Violet, please!" I gasped, my voice faltering as I tried to reason with her. "This isn't like you!"

She laughed bitterly. "What do you know about me? I ate the Glare Glare Fruit, so I can see right through anything. You men are all the same! Always thinking you can use your charm to get what you want."

"Violet, you're not thinking clearly," I said, trying to catch my breath. "My intentions were always pure. Your tears were more than enough for me to tell the truth."

Violet's eyes widened as she activated her powers, searching through my thoughts and memories. Her expression shifted from anger to shock, and she took a step back, her face pale. "What are you?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

I looked at her, trying to stay upright despite my exhaustion. "I told you. My intentions were genuine. I wanted to protect you, not hurt you."

Violet's resolve seemed to crack, tears streaming down her cheeks as she stared at me.

The men taunted me, "This guy must think he's in a romance novel. You've got to face reality—she pulled one over on you."

Violet stood up, her expression fierce as she faced her men. Their laughter echoed as they pulled out their blades, marching towards me with deadly intent. Just then, Violet's eyes blazed with determination. She unleashed her Hierro Lagrimas, striking them with a powerful force that sent them crashing to the ground. The once menacing warehouse was now filled with destruction.

I watched in astonishment as Violet freed me from the chains binding my hands and feet. "Violet, what—"

"You were forced to work for Doflamingo."

I shook my head, trying to process everything. "Go, Black Leg. From the moment your crew came with Caesar, your fate was sealed. Everything is following Doflamingo’s plan. Gaze into my mind and you'll know what truly is happening."

As she spoke, I focused on her eyes, diving into her memories from today. Shock and dread filled me as I saw the trap we had walked into. "He's also after the girl," Violet said, her voice trembling. "He’s been keeping a watchful eye on her."

"What?!" I exclaimed, my heart racing. "I need to warn Law, and I have to find Y/N! Come on, Violet. I'm not leaving here without you."

With determination, Violet and I made our way out of the warehouse. The urgency of our mission drove us forward. We raced through the streets, navigating our way to find the rest of the crew. My mind was focused on reaching Law and making sure Y/N was safe. Violet, despite her earlier betrayal, was now my ally in this desperate fight against Doflamingo's plans.

"Stay close," I instructed, my voice firm. "We have to get to them before it's too late."

Laws POV…

Only two more minutes until we handed Caesar over to Doflamingo. The tension in the air was palpable as we approached the designated meeting point. My transponder snail began to ring, and I answered it, expecting routine updates. Instead, Sanji’s urgent voice cut through the static.

"Law, you need to get out of there! It's a trap!" Sanji's voice was strained and filled with panic. "Doflamingo set the whole thing up; he never resigned! We walked right into his trap."

I froze, my heart sinking as Sanji's words registered. "The marines are in on it too! You guys have to get out of there!" Sanji continued. His voice was laced with desperation.

"What about Y/N?! Is she safe?" I demanded, my mind racing.

Sanji went silent for a moment. "I lost track of her," he finally admitted.

"What?!" I roared, fury boiling over. "How could you lose track of her?"

Sanji's voice crackled with urgency. "Listen, we’ve got bigger issues. Doflamingo has been keeping an eye on her whereabouts; he wants her! I’m going to go find her!"

Before I could respond, the call ended abruptly. I slammed the transponder snail shut, frustration and fear overwhelming me. The reality of the situation hit hard—we were walking straight into Doflamingo's trap, and now Y/N's safety was at risk.

"Damn it!" I shouted, my rage echoing through the empty beach of Greenbit, trying to make sense of the chaos unfolding around me. “What the hell do I do?” I muttered under my breath, every second ticking by like a countdown to disaster.

Just then, a familiar voice cut through my thoughts. “Law.”

I spun around to see Robin’s form emerging from the sands, though I quickly realized it wasn’t really her. "Nico! Is that—”

“No, this is just a clone of my body," Robin said calmly. "Was that Sanji you were talking to just now?”

I didn’t have time for this. “First, where’s your real body? Second, if what Blackleg says is true, the deal with Doflamingo is off,” I said, my voice tense with urgency.

“What do you mean the deal is off?!” Caesar shrieked from behind me. “What about you handing me over?”

“There’s not going to be any handover,” I shot back coldly. “Nico, find the nose, and we have to get out of here!”

Robin’s clone folded her arms, remaining composed. “We’ve hit a bit of trouble since we’re underground.”

“You’re what?” I hissed in disbelief.

“Go without us. We’ll reunite soon,” Robin’s clone said, her voice calm but firm.

I clenched my fists, feeling the weight of the situation crushing down on me. “Okay, got it.”

As the clone vanished, I was left alone with my racing thoughts. “Where’s Y/N? Is she okay?” The questions swirled in my mind, guilt gnawing at me. I knew I shouldn’t have let her go with Luffy's team. Now Doflamingo was after her, and I had no idea where she was.

Just then, the sound of footsteps alerted me to another problem. The navy was closing in.

“I presume one of you goes by the name Trafalgar Law?” a deep voice asked. I looked up, recognizing the man in front of me—the new admiral, Fujitora.

“And here you are,” I muttered under my breath. Doflamingo’s shadowy figure appeared behind the admiral, his smirk twisting into something sinister.

“Joker!” Caesar gasped, his voice trembling.

The clock struck 3:00, and Doflamingo sauntered forward, his grin widening. “Hey, Law. I hate to admit it, but you managed to impress me. Must have taken a lot to get an actual navy admiral here, huh? And since I’m still a Warlord, well, I’m shaking in my boots.”

“You’re a damn liar!” I yelled, anger burning through me. His lies, his manipulations—it was all part of his twisted game.

Doflamingo chuckled, enjoying the chaos he had created. “By the way, where’s the princess? I would have assumed you’d have her under your protection by now, but it appears she’s... missing.” His smirk grew darker. “My men have already spotted her, you know. Quite the little troublemaker, that one. Fast too. Makes me wonder how long she can keep running.”

The blood drained from my face as his words sank in. Y/N—he had eyes on her, and she was out there, alone, running for her life.

Doflamingo laughed softly. “Better hurry, Law. She won’t last much longer.”

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sketchfanda · 1 year ago

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Kirishima's Mystique:Babewatch

Somedays Denki wondered and worried if Mineta's libido was going to be the death of him. Now don't Ol' Jamming Whey wrong (and remember only Kyouka can call him that), he had a more than healthy appreciation for the opposite sex himself but the little grape-head was far too willing to endure great lengths of pain and humiliation to get his jollies. Small wonder the girls in their class didn't dare to risk wanting a look inside the runt's dorm room and right about now the human tazer was wondering if plucking off some of those sticky balls of his was giving him brain damage. Given what sort of plan he was looking to spring into action which he claimed was 100% guaranteed to get him some major action or if you were being a realist like kaminari?

It was an idea that reeked of sheer dumbass stupidity that would likely see Mineta at the very least get the crap beaten out of him or at the most and worst? Beaten to death, arrested and humiliated and not necessarily in that order, mind you. Now you might be asking what's got Denki so worries and Mineta more perversely impulsive than usual? Well naturally a little provision of context is in order here, folks....

The fine guys and gals of UA's class A and B were having a nice relaxing get together at the local community swimming pool one fine summer day. Said pool was being overseen by an absolute stunner of a lifeguard named Kanani who had come all the way from Hawaii on a work exchange program for a change of scenery. Now believe you me this woman was a work of sensual art, a curvy, thick and toned rich natural born islander tanned body contained within a skin-tight hugging red one piece swimsuit distinct of all in her profession. Definitely good genetics along with years of swimming and surfing topped off with a model quality face and luscious sun-kissed flowing mane of blonde hair.

She was definitely turning heads be it man or woman and who could blame them really? Now Denki among other guys was certainly fine just watching albeit with more control and a bit of politeness but Mineta? Good grief the grape head had been a bit much to deal with sharing way too many detailed, vivid scenarios about what he'd love to do to even get close to that island goddess. Which of course leads back to what was making ol' Chargebolt worry so much.

Denki:"I'm telling you man, it's just not going to work out the way you want it to…” *The electric ikemen reasoned with the grape runt. But of course he knew it was falling on deaf ears. Once Mineta listened to his libido, all bets were off. Hard to believe this guy was among the highest rated students in class on the written tests.*

Mineta:”Ooh ye of little faith, you’ll be changing your tune once I make my moves on that Hawaiian hottie.”*The human grapebowl arrogantly declared with confidence as shameless as his lust. In his mind this plan was fool proof, he saw it in this old 90s American movie. He’d fake drowning and Kanani as per her duty would dive in to save him then proceed to deliver cpr. And that was when he’d spring his trap…*

Denki however knew Murphy’s law would see to it that Mineta’s so called fool proof plan would be anything but. As he sat beside Sero who watched on curiously with him, wondering why the walking taser seemed so deadpan as they saw Mineta strut along the pool edge. Amidst the swarm of activity throughout as classes A and B enjoyed those rare welcome moments of actual student normality, Mineta shot a glance at Kanani sitting high and comfy in her lifeguard chair as she made some small talk with Mina and Maya before he smirked as he waited for his moment. Well he would’ve had it not been for what happened next.

If there was one thing to be said about the sequence of events that occured, it was like if klutziness played out as elaborate and over the top as a Rube Goldberg machine. As Mineta found himself stepping and slipping on a stray puddle, causing him to glide along the pool floor like an air hockey puck. Proceeding to crash right into the six packed abdominals of Kirishima, as the runt’s sticky balls caused him to bounce off and fly away all over the place like a pinball. Finding himself landing right in the hot tub with a splash, said tub occupied of course by Class A's own walking short fused, Bakugo who was none too pleased to find his personal relaxation time violated.

While Mineta was suffering his, quite frankly not undeserved, punishment, poor Kirishima had wound up being knocked by the grape-head into the pool. Which wouldn't be so bad had the stumbling not caused him to fall in such a way that his head had hit the edge on the way down. Rendering him knocked out as he fell in with a splash much to the shock and panic of many especially his girlfriends. Fortunately Kanani was quick to react as anyone in her profession would, exiting her perch to dive in and save him.

Now Kirishima wasn't sure if it might've been just the possible concussion of the loss of oxygen from water filling his lungs as she sank into the deep end. But as he looked up at the sky above the water, the sunlight shining down, his brain couldn't help but think as he caught sight of Kanani. Making him remark how she looked rather angelic, almost equal parts like a mermaid and an angel coming to his rescue. Certainly wasn't a bad last sight to see before his vision faded as unconsciousness claimed him, blacking out.

For a moment Kirishima had nearly wondered if this might be the end for him but he found he wasn't having his life flash before his eyes. No, rather it was his sex life as like a veritable montage, memories played of his sting of romps and fun times with Mina and Maya. Not to mention that of his many frequent erotic encounters and illicit, explicit liaisons, practically feeling their bodies against his, the tastes of their tongues and their lips on his. It all felt so very real before he cracked his eyes open, vision proceeding to un-blur and show that no, it was not a coincidence why the sensations felt so vivid.

The reason being Kanani was laying atop him, their surroundings indicating they were in the Pool’s medical room. Straddling his waist, the camel toe of her swimsuit grounding against the crotch of his swimsuit. The bulge bumping against her motions as she was pressing her lips to his, tongue exploring his mouth as it traced and memorised his sharp, pointy teeth. Not an unpleasant surprise to wake up to but certainly not expected to say the very least as she noticed he was awake, breaking their liplock with a trailing strand of saliva between them.

Kanani:*a sensual grin and blush on her sexy face as she sat up, not moving from where she sat straddling him.*"Aloha handsome, was wondering when you'd wake up. No worries, your head is fine, got a little carried away with the cpr, but I'd say your girlfriends didn't mind..."*That got the redhead’s attention as he looked to the side to see Mina and Maya sitting on a nearby bench. Sensual grins in their faces as they waved playfully, no doubt eager to watch the pending show. Before he looked back at the Hawaiian blonde bombshell who leaned close to his face, lips inches from kissing him once more.* “That being said, I think you and I both k know where this is going and I ain’t picky. Its been way too long since I got any action so tell me…you a riot in the sheets as much as on the streets?”

Kirishima’s expression became determined, his gaze passionate as he responded the way he knew best when in the presence of such a sensual woman like this. Making her gasp as he grabbed her glorious tanned booty with firm squeezes, pressing his lips to hers much to Kanani’s delight as they began to make out more properly. Tongues dancing together as the lifeguard rubbed her cameltoe against his pitched tent, her nectar flowing through the material of her swimsuit. Maya and Mina’s arousal skyrocketing as they fingered one another, making out as they watched their man once again prove his stud status.

Now for those of you wondering about the others in the meantime, they were resuming their R&R in the meantime especially after Mineta had to get hauled away on a stretcher after what Bakugo had done to him. Leaving the lifeguard plenty of privacy to enjoy the sturdy himbo as she performed in a 69 position, stroking his cock as she sucked and blew on it while he had pried the crotch portion of her swimsuit. His tongue probing away as he licked and ate out her pussy, tasting the flow of her juices while she levelled up and whipped her tits out. Sandwiching his juicy sex meat between her meaty boob buns, stroking and massaging thst length and girth with pillowy warmth.

Now if Kanani thiught this foreplay was getting her nice and wet, the moment Kirishima started to fuck her? She found him putting any and every prior man in her sex life to shame and she was loving it!! Screaming with wanton sexual desire and abandon as he fucked in a mating press. Her tanned booty jiggling with every impact of those heavy balls and that jackhammering cock dancing together in a sloppy open air game of spitswapping tonsil hockey.

Of course just the very moment he penetrated her had made he cum, orgasms rocking her so intensely that she couldn’t keep count. But any and every moment he came was a different story, the thrill and rush of his cum pouring inside her or spraying in her exotic skin the sweetest ecstasy. Of all the hunks at this pool today, talk about luck of the draw getting acquainted with an absolute unit as she continued to ride the Red Riot wave of passion. Relishing each and every shift in position and intimacy.

Kanani:”ooh fuck, oh god, You’ve cum 3 times and you haven’t pulled out once yet? You even human?”*the blonde islander babe praised as Kirishima was currently fucking her doggy style. Fully naked as her red one piece was discarded, laying in the floor as he pumped away into her snatch. Her tanned body glistening with luscious sheen of sweat, gasping with delight a the himbo stud used her arms as handle bars or firmly grabbed and pulled her glorious mane of blonde hair. Her boobs bouncing with erotic freedom as the medical bed shook and creaked.*

Mina and Maya were naked themselves of course and scissoring one another at watching their himbo teddy bear get another hottie get sexually addicted to his fuck meat. The blonde hottie screaming and howling as she was bent and twisted in a mating press and a piledriver. Before she found Kirishima really showing off those powerful muscles of his as he pumped her on his cock in a full nelson nold. Postion after postion, orgasm after orgasm and it only got spicier and wilder whe the cotton candy/bubblegum duo added the elves into the fray.

Mineta meanwhile laid in the exam room of the nearby local hospital, awaiting for someone like recovery girl to come along and heal him up. Currently heavily bandaged and mumbling at how badly his plan went wrong. Before he coils reflect any further and plan his next idea of making a move on Kanani, his cellphone buzzed as he fished it out and checked. A notification from Mina which he opened and screamed bloody murder.

Tears of blood flowing as he found his phone spammed with videos and pictures of Kirishima fucking Kanani as well as the alien queen and The shapeshifting hottie. Cursing God for making him so as once again Kirishima beat him out in terms of sex and luck with women. While Kanani was still noting her fun and making plans to get better acquainted with the chivalrous stud. Especially if he ever decided to come on down to Hawaii sometime….

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gerrymike · 7 months ago

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I LOVE your writing style. The details you think of to include and how you can go from something so poetic and profound I’m knocked on my ass directly to something that has me rolling and they feel absolutely congruous? your WORDS. The PICTURE YOU PAINT. It’s a delight to read, and I was wondering if you had any advice to offer on achieving something like that in my own writing? I struggle to abstract from literal details a lot of the time (and find myself beholden to run on sentences more often than not) and if you had any tips for that I would be delighted!

Thank you kindly! This is a real nice message and pretty helpful to get because I’ve been blocked recently and probably should get my facts straight too so I can get back into the swing of writing. You mentioned ‘abstracting from literal details’ and imagery in general - I thought about it and hope my advice coheres.

I don’t think these are skippable even though they may not seem immediately relevant, but my first Considerations:

- Know your speaker. I find writing in close third person or first person the most rewarding for getting interesting imagery. Essentially, you’re in a character’s head, and they see everything based on what they know, what’s familiar to them, and what they believe. Different people interpret literal details differently

These are Mike Crew examples probably because to date he’s my favourite close third person to write in. #1 is almost low hanging fruit - cracked spine of a book, he sees lightning where Gerry might see a wrinkle in the skin of an old woman. Being intimate with someone he doesn’t really care for, there is no metaphor: just “large hands” - “a face on his face”. You don’t always need abstract because it really depends on how much your character is willing to abstract something. If you make sure not to overload on your metaphors/abstractions/pretty images, they punch a bit harder when they’re there.

For #2 it’s a chunky example because it’s a montage paragraph - equivalent of quick cuts in a movie. I like to think of my writing as cinematic firstly. To me, sentences that go on for days are fine (my roots were the Donna Tartt school of commas). But they should have new information for each lengthening clause - and it’s even better if you can end it with a picture that stands out from the rest. Here Mike goes to uni in a lulling sequence of “and…and…and…” except the very last and is him lying in bed in absolute terror watching the Lichtenberg lurk outside his window.

There’s also a trick I abuse in #2. Which is the Dream. Sometimes you want a more surreal picture to flavour the images you evoke. Enter the Dream, where you can basically make your characters witness anything you like. I gave him “camphor and crystals on his feet”, because where else could you use the word “camphor” in your Magnus archives fanfiction? But honestly I am/used to be a very vivid dreamer and I think there’s an inexplicable texture to dreamscape images that can be used to very satisfying effect.

So it definitely helps to be very familiar with the character whose perspective you’re using. I do try to balance the poetic with the lighthearted/funny and I’m glad you like it! I think, again, it mostly comes from character work, like how they speak to each other, interpret situations, etc. I liked the previous Mike excerpt #2 where after a very dramatic “I’ve lost something and I can never get it back” (paraphrased) he tells us “I tried smoking but it gave me sore throat. So I stopped.” It’s not too out-there or comedic, but it’s definitely more chill than the existential anxiety from before. Picture him coughing and making faces and deciding he’s not THAT tortured that he’s gonna keep having nicotine. So…

- Listen to people talking

People can be pretty funny. A lot of my insp comes from just hearing what people will say - especially those people who will simply say shit, filterless. I dislike writing where everybody sounds the same, or worse, sounds like they’ve all had therapy (though my own Achilles heel is that everybody I write sounds like they were a joy to have in English class). But I digress honestly

Now for the main thing - Painting pictures

In my opinion metaphors should 1) sound good 2) be the tense surface layer of a deeper body of water, instead of just oil sliding around on it. Sounding good is a matter of typical linguistic features - consonance, assonance, alliteration, pretty words, etc. being good is different.

So ask yourself: What’s under the metaphor? I’m gonna do a cop out real quick and attach someone else’s opinion here. Ocean Vuong on metaphors - I’m not the majorest fan of his work and he’s actually frequently corny but he is 90% accurate here

You get the gist…..!

And to end off. My Quick Inspiration Notes:

those old Tumblr “choose an aesthetic” posts, where they list items like: “white-hot sunlight. black-eyed glares. a pin in the sole of your foot. chequered picnic blankets. promises you won’t keep. the slow creeping approach of sundown. a hand running over the sharp comfort of a buzzed head.” It was THE shit back then, and the idea is you just have pictures and pictures of things that form a coherent whole while being different images that introduce new dimensions and ideas. I ate these UP back in 2017. This is a good example of how I might portion out my painted pictures: nothing that repeats, only things that redefine, or even contrast with what’s already there.

Colour/texture/pattern fashion advice. This goes - if an outfit isn’t interesting by colour, it has to be interesting by texture…if it’s not interesting by texture, it has to be interesting by pattern…. Okay what the hell, you get the idea. You could rephrase this also but saying it like, for a really good outfit, you need an interesting colour, an interesting texture, and an interesting pattern. Now apply this to your writing - you are describing the literal detail of a person’s face. For eyes, you might go for colour. “Old moss” for green - but psych! That’s also texture. That’s also kinda pattern. You suggest softness, wiseness, maybe darker flecks in the iris. You can start from “green”, think up something else green, then work your way through all the implications until the final picture works the way you want it to. Just like dressing yourself in an outfit based around one item of clothing.

And movies…for contrasting pictures, the way people talk and walk and sit down. Photography helps too in terms of visual stimulus. I like to think of my writing as being the written equivalent of old school 35mm film, muted colours, grain. It’s up to you what type of picture you want your writing to evoke. Black and whites, or sharp digital focus, or blurred surreal avant garde… anything really!

#not edited and I’ll prob think of other things to say in the future but hope I make sense at least..

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altocat · 1 year ago

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Alto, I had a shockingly vivid and super angsty dream about Sephiroth that I’d like to share with you—

My mind was on The First Soldier story and I kept thinking about the trailer shot of young Seph with the blood on his face, and so in the dream, it was a scene after something horrible had happened with young Seph. I believe a decision he had made unintentionally led to the FS trio’s death. (Although Glenn must have survived).

But for the time being, young Seph thought they were all dead and was frozen with guilt…all the while Hojo’s voice was heard praising him for being ruthless, saying that whatever loss he felt would only make him stronger. Then Seph was suddenly hit with a vision very similar to the one Lucrecia had in DOC, a Jenova cell induced hallucination. He was shifted to Nibelheim, surrounded by flames and bodies, and ahead of him was…himself. The older, mad version.

It was nearly identical to this scene we caught a glimpse of from the Square Enix event earlier in the year. I don’t know if this will be the official Rebirth sequence, but it mattered because it wasn’t the usual pose where Sephiroth merely raises his head. Instead he turns around to face the viewer.

Here: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ij5E6kuoI-I&pp=ygUSU2VwaGlyb3RoIHRncyAyMDIz

In this case, the viewer was young Sephiroth. He was crying, terrified and grieved to see himself in the future, a monster, eyes lit with madness. He barely recognized himself, the devil smiling back at him. All the while he heard the voice telling him that he was doomed to this fate. There was no choice. He was a monster and always would be, and one day he would accept it.

I got the impression that whatever this scene was, it intended to reveal a great secret about Sephiroth, which was that he came to understand at some point in his youth that one day he would lose his mind. He knew it was going to happen, but he didn’t want it to, and we were meant to understand that every decision he made afterwards was based on the desire to subvert this fate.

His friends, Genesis and Angeal, were likely his greatest hope. He saw them as a way out, but when they defected, his fears came back. He didn’t want to cause their deaths like he had his first team, so he did everything he could to avoid facing them. He wanted to avoid putting himself in a position where he would be a monster. He just loved his friends and wanted to live.

He was safe until Nibelheim, and everything he had tried to avoid or tried to avoid rose up when he went into that reactor.

I couldn’t believe how strong this dream was. I woke up in shock. It was so strange to see the fire scene with Sephiroth where he wasn’t looking at Zack or Cloud, but was turning away to see his younger self. That was, frankly, incredibly painful. I wanted to cry.

You know what? This actually all makes sense enough for it to be legit. Or at least parts of it. I'm debating if that trailer is an actual cutscene or plot point but this integrates it pretty well! And would finally be the final piece of the puzzle of "knowing" Sephiroth.

I don't think Seph will end up killing them directly. At least, not anymore. But an accident or series of chaotic events could very well make him indirectly responsible, boosting his guilt complex and perhaps leading a pathway to him snapping. I would love an actual indicator that Seph is suffering from PTSD beyond fan speculation. We'll see...

#asks #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephcanons #sephiroth #Ffvii first soldier #First Soldier #ever crisis #ffvii ever crisis

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mywifeleftme · 1 year ago

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178: Various Artists // The Paths of Pain: The CAIFE Label, Quito, 1960–68

The Paths of Pain: The CAIFE Label, Quito, 1960–68 Various Artists 2021, Honest Jon's (Bandcamp)

One of my favourite reissue compilations of recent years, Honest Jon’s The Paths of Pain: The CAIFE Label, Quito, 1960–68) collects recordings discovered in 2013 in the offices of impresario Carlos Rota after his death. The Quito, Ecuador-based CAIFE label had gone out of business more than 40 years before, and while at its height a number of regionally popular stars recorded for the label, its growth potential was hampered by the fact that few Ecuadorians owned record players in the 1960s. Based on the photographs and descriptions in the vivid liner notes by Ramona Stout, Rota was a compulsive hoarder (and general scoundrel), but despite the chaotic state of his storage, the tapes are uncannily pristine. (Being restored at Abbey Road no doubt helped as well!) When I hear traditional mestizo folk music, it’s nearly always on a battered 45 or through a rime of tape hiss even a diligent remastering engineer has failed to eliminate. Though with my inexpert ear I’d have guessed a vintage for these songs closer to the ‘30s or ‘40s than the ‘60s, the sound is crystal clear and untouched by contemporary studio gloss. Like unearthing a perfectly preserved music box from a fossil bed, there is something magical about hearing this delicate music with all its detail intact: intricate Spanish-influenced guitarwork, lovelorn vocal harmonies, quavering organs, even the occasional twinkle of a xylophone.

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Stout attempts to hunt down information on all of the artists featured on the compilation with varying degrees of success. Of Biluka y Los Caníbales, she is able to not only share that the strange cartoony whistling sound featured on the recording is the artist blowing over a Ficus leaf laid flat on his tongue, but that he could play up to eight songs on each leaf before it became unusable. Of Los Iñaquingas, an Andean flute duo, she can tell us nearly nothing. In the case of Romany-Italian émigré Raul Emiliani, who contributes violin to a Gypsy jazz-inflected duet with pianist Héctor Bonilla, tracking down his still-living widow provides material for a wryly amusing miniature biography, including the detail that he once stole label head Carlos Rota’s car to settle an unpaid debt. These musicians’ individual stories weave together the narrative of Rota’s family (Carlos’s son Daniel headed the restoration project) with that of the musical era captured on these tapes—both a ‘pure’ distillation of Ecuador’s unique musical heritage, and one largely abandoned by younger generations in a more culturally globalized era.

The songs are sublime and sublimely sequenced. If there is a theme beyond their common provenance it is that the compilers have chosen to stick to songs of sorrow. While the album’s frequently chipper melodies makes for light, even easy listening, the translated lyrics helpfully provided tell a different story. Try “Sangrante Corazon / Bloody Heart” (performed by Hermanas Mendoza Suasti):

The bloody heart which you hold in your hands is granted eternal life when I may kiss your temples. Captive like this, I want to live. I exist in anguish, fearful of abandonment. In my martyrdom, sacrificed on the altars of oblivion, downcast, nonetheless my soul beams, when you’re near.

Or better still, “Desesperacion / Desperation” (Benítez y Valencia):

You live enchained to my memory, but still the poisoned claws of pain constantly dig into me. Ever since you crossed my path, like a hallucination, my fate is to follow you. Since then all I can think about is seeing myself in your wide eyes, suns of passion. Even if it impossible to adore you because my heart is in ashes. My pain makes you out dimly, like the shadow of a cloud. In the end, if you leave, my darling, you abandon me to pain, and so I hide, in despair, crying for love. In the end, without your love, I’ll die in desperation, from love, from pain.

Goddamn. But the searing intensity of the lyrics’ anguish isn’t a great leap from the jaunty English murder ballad, or the wave of drownings and vehicular suicides going on in contemporaneous American pop. The songs on the CAIFE tapes hold on to something luminous in loss—and like all beautiful lost things, give off an unmistakable glow to those who find them.

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178/365

#'60s music #honest jon's #ecuador #ecuadorian music #andean music #mexican music #south american music #central american music #music review #vinyl record

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clotpolesonly · 1 year ago

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9, 10, 17, and 18 for the fanfic asks. 🥰

9) Fake dating or arranged marriage?

also difficult FUCK alkdfjgh ok arranged marriage

10) Mutual pining or enemies to friends to lovers?

ok this one i know, definitely enemies to friends to lovers, gimme that SLOW BUUUURN

17) Describe a fic that is still in the ‘ideas’ stage.

Declansey fic where after a Lynch Brother Parking Lot Brawl™, Adam takes over the managing of Ronan and for once leaves Gansey free to check on Declan instead. lots of ex-almost vibes, where they used to be friends too but don't quite feel like they're allowed to be anymore (after Ronan got Gansey in the metaphorical divorce). Declan stiff and distant and bitter and refusing to accept any sort of offered comfort or intimacy from Gansey, telling him to go back to Ronan instead, because lashing out is a patented Lynch coping mechanism. asking if Ronan knows that he was Gansey's first kiss. Gansey admitting that, no, he doesn't, and it's probably best they keep it that way. the frustration of caring for someone who won't allow themselves to be cared for. of straddling the fence, of being forced to choose. i have so many vibey thoughts for this one. lots of disconnected dialogue snippets that i could probably string together in sequence if i had the available brainspace it would require, lol.

18) Do you have a fic reading/writing routine?

i usually spend several hours daydreaming i mean brainstorming about the fic in vivid detail before i commit to writing it, lol, if that counts. if it’s long or if i have something really specific in my head that i don’t wanna forget before i get there, i’ll do some outlining, level of detail depending on the complexity of the idea. i don’t really have much of a process for writing beyond just putting words on the page tbh 😂

send me fanfic asks!

#and the answer is #kelliealtogether

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cuddling-siren · 2 years ago

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warning, may describe some unsavory situations from nightmares ahead

Ok, so I’m no stranger to lucid/vivid nightmares that I can usually remember, even if with some missing details, but every so often I have bad dreams that aren’t inherently scary but they are extremely uncomfortable and unsettling...

I think, for me, this mostly happens when it involves some kind of sexual assault or even just sexual acts that are vivid and sometimes a little...weird (weird situations, complete strangers, colors, or scenery). The best way I can put this is as if you are a kid watching something happen, and you aren’t completely sure what it is, but there’s something wrong with it. (the atmosphere of these dreams are always skewed).

Back to my point; it ends up leaving me pretty anxious the rest of the day after waking up, for whatever reason it may be. Sometimes it may be related to real-life issues, but more often than not I can’t accurately pinpoint where it comes from. (Including the fact of things like I don’t have sleep apnea or didn’t eat before, didn’t watch anything “scary” etc.)

They rarely follow common patterns of dreams/nightmares (with deeper meanings); you know the ones, things like being chased, falling, drowning, being late, etc. These are always weirdly intricate.

I’m gonna just talk about my dream last night, because the other part of this is that I more than likely remember all my nightmares and they are recurring. So last night is one of those; I know I’ve been there before, but it’s different. I’m in a sort of maze and obstacle course with one other person, who at the beginning attacks me after stealing my name tag and doesn’t give it back. All other contestants are generally kind and there is a pretty happy atmosphere and color palette. But the catch to this dream is that it’s clear that we are going to die some way or another.

At the end of one obstacle, there’s a single bullet, but no gun. My partner and I haven’t come across the gun, which means we either missed it, or someone else has it. Completely normal, we don’t feel offput by this detail.

A little further away is a sign, telling us that if we’ve noticed all the cameras close by watching us, then to point them all towards a specific direction then open up our phone camera to face us (and take a photo apparently). This gives us bonus points at the end of the game (if we survive).

Next up is a fake waterfall and log obstacle; we hear someone driving up behind us, but we don’t know who it is. We get moving. Thing is, remember how this world isn’t scary inherently? The waterfall and logs are like a blow up jump-house. The “waterfall” and logs are cylinder blow ups that we have to walk across as they are rotating, and as someone is following us. (even though it turns out to be a friend...maybe).

In between all this happening, like a little flash here and there interrupting the dream is some sequence with a man m*sturbating (note, he’s in strange colors, like there are lots of lights in the room dousing it in oranges, yellow, and blues). It’s also strange because it almost seems like the editing format for a TikTok video. I know, don’t ask, I don’t want to know either. At the very end (over the course of less than 5 seconds) is a woman doing the same with him? This part is fuzzy, I think because I deliberately wanted to forget it. This is the part that “scares” me the most. It sticks in my head like glue and gives such a distinct unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach. Not just the feeling of watching something I shouldn’t be, but that something is very wrong with this scene.

The worst part about this all? I’m at least somewhat aware I’m dreaming. I can vividly feel in the dream that I am thinking of how this all looks familiar, and I’ve dreamt something similar before and that this is weird and I don’t like it (but can’t necessary do anything about it, ie not freaking out).

If anyone has crumbs to throw my way about feeling similar or having eccentric dreams that make no fucking sense leave a comment I guess.

#dreams #nightmares #lucid dreaming #vivid dreams #vivid nightmares #recurring nightmare #recurring dreams

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bomberqueen17 · 3 years ago

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Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach

It strikes me to write out a little comparison here, of this character as he appears in the books, as opposed to how he appears in the Netflix show. This is not because I dislike the Netflix show, it’s just that in the absence of a second season, I went ahead and based all my fic on the book character, ha ha oops.

They have taken him in a very different direction for Netflix, and that’s their prerogative and I won’t say it’s either better or worse, it’s just different, and unfortunately I have become very fond of the book version. Not just because of his actual merits as a literary character, but also because he happens to suit the purposes of the fan fiction story I want to tell very well. So, at any rate, since the books are something a lot of fans find sort of inaccessible or impenetrable, I wanted to just lay out what we know.

Cut for length, and of course book spoilers! Bonus, the end has an explanation of why Nilfgaardian names are Like That, if you were wondering.

Cahir is one of several beloved book characters who is unknown to game fans, and this is a spoiler of course but it’s unavoidable: the reason he’s unknown to game fans, along with several other characters who have been much-discussed of late, is that of course the games take place after the events of the books. So it is safe to say that, just like most beloved book characters that a game fan scratches their head upon hearing of, he does not survive the books. That is the first of many spoilers to come, so if you do not wish for spoilers, well, you are in the wrong place.

Cahir is, both in Netflix and in the books, the Nilfgaardian officer in black armor with bird feathers sticking dramatically off his helmet, who captures Ciri during the fall of Cintra, and gets her safely out of the burning city. Ciri is terrified of him, and for years afterward has nightmares featuring his monstrous silhouette, larger than life, with the fearsome feathered wings of his helmet looming. It’s actually the opening sequence of the book Blood of Elves, one such nightmare, and it’s very vivid and terrifying.

There, however, Netflix and the books part ways, never to reconnect.

In the books, Cahir is one of a number of knights sent to fetch her. All the others are killed; he alone survives. He is no more or less important than the others— all are elite warriors, but none are of any particular rank, and it is by coincidence that he is the one to survive and succeed. At some point his rank is given as “count”, and he is related by blood to several important people, but he is not a general or of any particular military rank.

He gets Ciri safely out of the city, and keeps custody of her until he collapses with exhaustion. She makes her escape then, and when he comes to, he loses his mind, frantic at the loss of her. He has to eventually give up and report back to Nilfgaard that he has failed. He is summarily imprisoned for his failure, and spends some time in prison in Nilfgaard, disgraced.

But then when rumors of Ciri come to them again, Nilfgaard has no choice but to send him to retrieve her: he is the only one who has seen her face, and would know reliably who she is. He is given a do-or-die mission to retrieve her, and is sent with a detachment of Scoia’tael, led by Isengrim Faoiltearna, to Thanedd Island. (These events are recounted in Time of Contempt.)

In the chaos, as a coup and counter-coup unfold on the island that contains Aretuza, Cahir pursues Ciri, and manages to corner her in a courtyard. He and she recognize one another; she is terrified, again, of his helmet, and his “ruthless eyes” burning from the eye slit of the helmet— the description of him from her nightmare at the beginning of Blood of Elves is repeated almost word-for-word. But this is after her time training in Kaer Morhen, and she has a sword. So it... doesn’t go well for Cahir.

Fortunately for him, her frenzied attack on him knocks his helmet off, revealing his human face— “There was no black helmet, no raptor’s wings, whose whistling had tormented her in her nightmares. There was no black knight of Cintra. There was a pale, dark-haired young man with stupefyingly blue eyes and a mouth distorted in a grimace of fear, kneeling in a pool of blood. The black knight of Cintra had fallen beneath the blows of her sword, had ceased to exist. […] The terrified, cowering young man bleeding profusely was no one. She did not know him; she had never seen him before. he meant nothing to her. She wasn’t afraid of him, nor did she hate him. And neither did she want to kill him.”

Moments later, Geralt joins the fight, after Ciri has fled. Cahir, wounded by Ciri (she permanently damaged his hand), does not resist. Geralt looms over him. Cahir whispers a plea for mercy. Geralt asks for one reason not to kill him, and Cahir explains that he is the reason Ciri did not die in the fire when Cintra fell. He saved her life. Geralt leaves him there.

Cahir escapes from Thanedd with Isengrim. Meanwhile, Vilgefortz’s accomplices, Rience and Schirru, have also been instructed to find Ciri. In the papers of Codhriger and Fenn they find a description of a Cintran refugee who looks similar to Ciri and is of the correct age; Codhriger had attempted to convince Geralt to hand this decoy over to Emhyr, but Geralt had refused.

Schirru and Reince capture this hapless girl and send her to Nilfgaard, saying that Cahir had captured her and said she was the real Ciri. (Remember, he was the only one to have seen her.)

The girl is presented to Emhyr as Cirilla. He greets her kindly, acknowledges her, immediately gives her an estate, and sends her off to it, but then makes it clear privately that he knows she is a decoy. (Unlike in Netflix, in the books Emhyr’s true identity is not revealed until near the end.) Mysteriously to the reader at this point and to the bafflement of the people present, Emhyr says: “Those traitors probably told themselves that I would not recognise her. But I will know the real Ciri. I would know her at the end of the world and in the darkness of hell.”

(Netflix is clearly going a wildly different direction with Emhyr as well, and that I’m actually sort of excited about, because while Emhyr is a fantastic antagonist, some of his plotline is so fucking creepy. But I hadn’t meant to opine, here, so I’ll leave it at that.)

Emhyr calls for Cahir to be arrested and tortured, to the dismay of his father Ceallach, who is present and acting in his capacity as a steward. Ceallach attempts to protest, and Emhyr says if the boy is only an idiot he will be merciful and merely behead him.

Time passes, word comes to Isengrim that Cahir is wanted for treason. Isengrim complies (Cahir has sort of been annoying him, insisting that he has to go and find Ciri, and has been borderline unhinged about it), and ties him up and leaves him locked up in a coffin, for some illicit weapon dealers to hand over in a prearranged rendezvous with Nilfgaard.

Geralt, who has spent the intervening time recovering from getting his shit wrecked by Vilgefortz at Thanedd and has just come out of hiding in Brokilon, accidentally intercepts this delivery. He opens the coffin and discovers Cahir, recognizes him, and does not kill him. Nor does he free him, he just leaves him a knife to free himself, and departs, with pursuit close behind them.

Thus unfolds the events of the Hansa subplot, which is recounted in various places. The relevant progression for Cahir is that at first he follows them, and they think he pursues; he helps them, at various points, and speaks to them once but Milva drives him off. Later he saves her, and winds up joining the company, and Geralt is the last to accept him. But he reveals that he has dreams of Ciri, and they’re identical to dreams that Geralt also has-- and it turns out, they are true dreams, showing what Ciri is going through at that time. And at one point when Geralt is convinced Ciri has died, Cahir believes that she has not.

He feels that he is tied to her by Destiny. When pressed, he admits he is in love with her. When asked what he realistically hopes to happen, he reveals that he wants her to come to Nilfgaard and then maybe he can be in her bodyguard or see her sometimes.

Mmkay.

Everyone but Geralt likes him a lot because he’s a very good bro, he’s very noble, he’s kind especially to Milva, he says wonderful things about women’s rights (it’s apparently an important cultural phenomenon in Nilfgaard that women are absolutely in charge of their own reproductive capacity, and this is spelled out explicitly), he’s very patient, he’s a good sport, he’s brave. The only thing he repeatedly is cranky about is that he insists he is not Nilfgaardian, he is Vicovaran. Vicovaro fell to Nilfgaard only in the time of the Usurper, so he would have been born in a free country, possibly, depending how old he is. (I’ll get to that.) Clearly, the national identity remains, but is absolutely meaningless to the Nordlings with whom he travels.

There’s eventually some great bro stuff with Geralt when Cahir is injured in an encounter with Schirru (see above re:conspiracy stuff) and they have to make their own way to safety with Geralt literally carrying a fainting Cahir, it’s very noble, then a bunch of other shit happens.

Anyway, Lady of the Lake unfolds, the plot climaxes, and Cahir, as has been sort of portended, nobly dies for Ciri.

I feel like he’s sort of-- underutilized even in the books, there’s the edge of so many themes he just sort of pokes out of. But he’s a very good slightly-fanatical doomed hero. A+, I love it.

Netflix is clearly going a *whole* different direction with him, so, good for them, let’s see where that lands, very interested, but he’s not my Good Doomed Boy so like.

In closing let’s have a few more Facts About Cahir:

Physically he is described as tall, dark-haired. His eyes are blue, described in varying ways; the Polish word specifically compares them to blue tungsten oxide, which is a remarkable dark blue. He is also young, Geralt specifically looks at him in the casket and speculates that he is under twenty-five. Later Dandelion observes that he is yet too young for his beard to come in thickly as it would on a more mature man. (Well, the actual quote, and bear in mind this is several days after having last seen him: “[The poet] remembered the young face, which hadn’t grown much more stubble since the adventure under the beech tree.” He is furthermore described as having the bearing of a soldier, and being hard to disguise. His Nilfgaardian accent is faint but present.

Finally, his home life is very slightly described for us, in his last flashback scene. Darn Dyffra is the family stronghold, described as being “a castle” and clearly having several buildings and a curtain wall. Cahir is ten when his oldest brother Aillil dies in battle in Nazair during the early wars of Northern conquest, and is too young to join the men in vigil over the casket-- his grandfather Gruffyd, his father Ceallach, his other older brother Dheran are the named characters. It is clear that many young men have died in these wars-- that would be on a campaign either early in Emyhr’s reign, or under the reign of the Usurper, when Nilfgaard began to expand northward. It also says Cahir has three sisters of unspecified ages (actually that’s said earlier, when he is discussing reproductive rights with Milva, so at least some of those sisters are likely older than he is).

His mother is the daughter of a Nordling woman, who his father calls a “She-Wolf from the North” (but only behind her back). (Other relations: Mawr’s sister Cinead var Anahid is related to the sorceress Assire var Anahid, in such a manner as to make Assire Cahir’s great aunt, which does come up later. Fringilla Vigo also admits she’s stayed at his house, when he was a child, and that’s why he keeps squinting at her as if he knows her; he does, but can’t remember.) His mother, after Aillil’s death, exhorts him to promise to always hate Nordlings, which slightly surprises him because he knows his grandmother is one, but he, in the flashback, promises to obey her.

Anyway. There’s Blorbo From My Books, which is the version of the character I’m using in my fics. Look for a more poetic and less succinct summary of the events of his life and death in chapter 19 of Fit For Pearls, going up momentarily up now!

Oh, and his name, his fucking name-- the only thing I will say against Netflix that I can say unambiguously is against them is that they have him indignantly introduce himself in Cintra, within Fringilla’s hearing, and he does so whilst appending a rank I’ve never heard before, and omitting his own personal name, which is the only part of that entire moniker that actually belongs personally to him.

Here is how the very long Nilfgaardian names work:

[Personal Name] [Mother’s Personal Name] [Family Surname] aep [Father’s Personal Name].

We know this easily from Cahir because we meet his father in a present-day scene with Emhyr, and we meet his mother in the flashback. Her name is Mawr, his name is Ceallach.

Cahir’s full name, with which he identifies himself at every opportunity, is Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach.

His acquaintance, who he faces on the bridge across the Yaruga the first time he picks up arms against Nilfgaardians to save his Hansa comrades, recognizes him and calls out to him, identifying him as “aep Ceallach”; clearly, this is how people are addressed. He responds, stunned, with a name of Mortesen for the other Nilfgaardian, and then the encounter is aborted before they can catch up any more, but.

That’s how those names work. For the record. Someone like Emhyr var Emreis is known by his personal name and family name, because he’s more famous than his father / his family is more prominent than his father. (Emhyr is also known as his ruling name, the White Flame Dancing on the Barrows of his Foes, because he gets to do that because he’s the Emperor.) Someone like Cahir, who is young and not of any particular rank, is known by his patronymic appellation, because his father is a prominent person.

Just in case you were wondering!

Fine print: I had some assistance and cheering in writing this from some of my Discord pals (thanks especially to crou for info about the Polish word for his eye color!) but in the end did not have this final version proofread so any inaccuracies are sincerely my own personal misunderstanding/oversight. Again, not making any judgements on the merits of any adaptations or superiority of any media over others, just liked this version of this character and wanted to explain more about him. Anyone who wants to know more, the five books that deal with the Ciri plot are: 1) Blood of Elves 2) Time of Contempt 3) Baptism of Fire 4) Tower of Swallows 5) Lady of the Lake.

#the witcher #cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach #baptism of fire #lady of the lake

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masquayla-the-splendid · 2 years ago

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I have this whole cinematic sequence in my head for this song, but I sketched out a storyboard of the most vivid part at school.

It starts with them landing from the space colony, and going from there.

At the start, Snively harmonizes with Julian (mostly for the main chorus,) but then gradually gets quieter as Julian starts to take the show for himself.

Uncle Chuck is the one who does the spoken Lorax part, and it goes like Helluvavoss (I am not a hardcore fan, I just saw the one episode if you were wondering) mode and has this whole crazy visual sequence of him roboticizing midway through, and the background is doing whatever.

Idk if I'll board the beggining half, so I'm just telling you now.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic satam #Satam #Sth

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thatsparrow · 3 years ago

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just got back from the theater, post-let there be carnage thoughts

shit fuck man I missed going to the movies so much I missed going to the movies SO MUCH I know this isn’t specific to let there be carnage but genuinely movie theaters dark rooms overpriced popcorn overwhelming sound levels my beloveds

truly an incredible amount of romance in the movie. fully leans into the premise that these two are in a relationship together in a way that is jokey at the surface but is clearly working from a genuine emotional place

the end scene…the beach…the toes in the sand…”did you say you love me?” like!!!

for a movie called ‘let there be carnage’ there was. shockingly little actual carnage

I get that’s what happens with a pg13 rating (is that what explains the uh very vivid ‘carnage suffocates a man by literally shoving his tongue into his lungs’ scene bc there wasn’t as much visual gore involved?) but it did feel odd that we only got hints/promises of carnage’s violent potential without really exploring it (even him just going on a violent rampage for the fun of it. like all of his superpower uses were very goal-oriented as opposed to carnage for carnage’s sake)

absolutely a+ usage of their one allotted ‘fuck’

the hinting-at notion of carnage also applies to cletus when he’s just in his woody harrelson form, too. yes, they give details about the violence in his youth, but for a first act that leans so heavily into cletus’ past as a serial killer to set up the chain of events, we hear/learn very very little about what he actually did

the sequence where venom goes on his break-up spiral though…bedecked in glow sticks…gets up on stage to prove how much better he is without eddie…the very mournful “I wish eddie could see me”…truly boyfriends in love with terrible communication skills

I would have happily seen SO much more of venom!michelle williams

don’t get me wrong, I like a movie that can tell its story in 100min, but the actual plot did feel pretty thin

buck WILD to introduce shriek—a character whose abilities are fundamentally at odds with a symbiote’s existence—and not have her introduce any consequences to cletus/carnage beyond hinting at the divide between the two of them

that said, the scene where venom’s like ‘we need sound’ then looks at shriek meaningfully before. fucking bodyslamming her into grace cathedral’s bell to start it ringing KILLED me

I like that they gave dan something to do! I’m a fan of the trend (also see ant man and the wasp) of our male hero recognizing his ex has a healthy relationship with someone else and not resenting her new partner

although…..fucking speaking of the cathedral scene…….”they’re not symbiotic, we are” let there be carnage really said “eddie and venom are soulmates” like!!!

sonny and cher my beloveds

of course I’m annoyed with the post-credits scene but I think the thing that annoys me the most is trying to make the hard pivot into venom being a villain for holland!spider-man

like he looks at peter and instantly goes “gotta eat that boy” inexplicably! absolutely nothing prompts this except wanting to adhere to the comics!!

you could have extended the ‘venom on his own’ storyline and fleshed out the plot a little further by having venom (while possessing random san franciscans) actually eat somebody now that eddie isn’t keeping him in check, foreshadowing that those impulses are just as present and just as powerful

BUT it’s so much more meaningful to have venom—away from eddie, able to act out and go full praying mantis re: head biting—to curb that impulse! even when eddie isn’t around, his voice is in venom’s head! at some level, venom doesn’t want to disappoint eddie even when eddie would never know!!

which is sort of the whole problem with introducing hardy!venom into the holland!spider-man storyline (excepting the much larger, disney is consuming everything please make it stop problem) which is you can’t spend two movies setting up venom as a heroic character (imperfect, admittedly, but still driven by heroic-ish impulses) only to then have him go into some sort of rabid villainous state when he sees holland!spider-man because??? he hates spiders or something I don’t know

i want to end on a high note so woody harrelson’s hawaiian shirt/blazer combination was an absolute look

#venom #venom let there be carnage #let there be carnage spoilers #also I still don't love chalamet for paul atreides but seeing the trailer on the big screen does have me fucking HYPED for dune #kayla's thoughts on media

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milaswriting · 3 years ago

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another commission for @unithecorn. this drabble is for their Golden MC Elie (xe/xer/xem) paired with Kaidan.

An argument with a vampire isn't what Elie had in mind, not at all. It wasn't a screaming match, so to speak, not that Kaidan's one who acts like that, anyway. It was the two of them not seeing eye to eye, really.

Darting gazes, twisted lips, nothing insulting said, but it's playing on their minds despite that - Kaidan's especially.

His hands clutch the steering wheel, knuckles whitening at the tightened grip. He's definitely going over the speeding limit, Kaidan's sure of it, but the roads are clear. His head is far from that though.

Dark grey eyes. Xer tender smile. The image of Elie is a vivid one, his favourite one.

"Oh, fuck," he mutters to himself, rolling his eyes before he indicates left, turning the corner, going around the roundabout and heading to the centre of the city.

It doesn't take him long to get to Elie's mansion, he gets out of the car, locks the door and walks up the short path; eyes the water fountain for a moment before knocking on the door. The same knocking sequence he uses, long-short-long, and then he waits.

He's bouncing from foot to foot, worried that this is a bad idea, that maybe another text message would sort everything out. But his thoughts are interrupted when the door swings open.

His topaz eyes lock on Elie's grey ones. There's a deep frown on xer lips, xe lifts xer hand towards xer nose, fiddles with the septum piercing quickly before clearing xer throat.

"Kaidan," xe mutters, far from xer usual happy and playful self, but xe walks away, leaving the door open for the vampire to walk in - and he's grateful for the invitation, steps inside, closes the door and follows Elie.

They end up in the living room, from the lack of sounds around the house, it seems that Elie is alone.

"I wanted to talk to you," Kaidan mutters.

Elie takes a seat on the sofa, gestures for him to sit across from xem and he does. "We sort of did that already."

"Without the arguing bit."

A wave of silence engulfs them, Elie fiddles with the cushion beside xem before blurting out xer next question. "Do you feel anything?" xe asks. "For me, I mean."

Kaidan's gaze is firmly on the rings over his fingers, his bottom lip is clutched between his teeth and he glances upwards. He knows the answer, has known for a while now, and the answer should fall off of his tongue with ease. But it doesn't.

"Surely, you..." he trails off, "know?"

Elie scoffs, xer eyes rolling this time. "I can't know if you don't tell me." Xe then shrugs. "I like you, Kaidan. A lot."

A phrase that makes Kaidan's heart flutter, enough for the edges of his lips to curl into a small smile. Elie's openness is something he admires, is jealous of, in fact.

"I—" His hands run through his curls, a curse word on the tip of his tongue because of internal frustration before he shakes his head. "I'm really shit at this stuff, all of it. And I'm sorry that we argued before, sorry that expressing my feelings isn't something that I do but—"

"But?" Elie urges.

"I adore you."

Elie blinks rapidly. Almost needing Kaidan to say it again because xe didn't catch it the first time.

"More than you know," Kaidan adds on quietly, feeling himself unravel slowly, a weight lifting from his shoulders as he's finally being honest with himself.

#golden #golden if #the golden series #personalised drabble #kaidan de la renta #k de la renta

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verymuchimmortalcat · 3 years ago

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Familiarity

For Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month Day 3: Identities

ao3

@maribat-bdbwm

part 1

Marinette couldn’t quite put a finger on it but there was something about the Waynes that felt familiar. Rose would say it’s because they’re family but Marinette knows it not that. In fact, they remind her of the Bats. The simultaneous inclusion and exclusion, the chaos, the feeling of knowing them, everything.

She isn’t quite sure yet if she likes the idea of her family being the Bats but she does know it would explain a lot of things that have happened in the two days since she arrived at the Manor for the first time.

.oOo.

Steph watches as Tim and Marinette plan out pranks, it’s creepy how well the two of them work together. It’s almost like they’ve worked together before. From the way Cass is analysing Marinette, Steph knows she’s picked up on the strangeness of it all too.

Duke had told her they’d asked Marinette to join so they could get to know her better and to spite B, who had told them not to drag her into their chaos. They hadn’t really expected her to be so good at planning pranks. From what she’s learnt she was brought up as an only child. Not that it really matters, they’re going against Babs, they’re going to need all the help possible.

Duke looks thoroughly lost, Steph doesn’t blame him, Tim’s thought process is hard to follow normally but Marinette and Tim, Steph’s just as lost. As the three of them stare at the two of them in the middle of their planning, Steph can’t help but feel they’ve been here before. Which makes absolutely no sense she’s never even met Marinette before today.

.oOo.

His sister’s time has been monopolised by Drake, Cassandra, Duke and now Stephanie. Planning, probably. A pointless endeavour, he's going to win in the end, just because his team has lesser people doesn’t mean they’re going to lose.

However, he has spoken to her. She’d approached him the first day and while their conversation had been awkward and stinted, it had been a conversation. Damian wasn’t planning on telling Grayson but speaking to him had helped.

But what’s been bothering Damian is that it feels like they’ve had that conversation before. Which they haven’t, Damian’s sure he’d remember if they’d somehow met. Jon says he should talk to her but Damian’s sure he can figure it out on his own.

.oOo.

Tim has a theory: Marinette is Ladybug. He doesn’t bring it up with the others, if she had wanted them to know her identity, she would have told them herself a long time ago. Besides, it’s just a theory and even if he is right, he remembers the feeling of betrayal when B had told Steph his identity, so he doesn’t pry.

.oOo.

Cass knows Marinette. She’s not able to place it and it makes absolutely no sense, but there’s something very familiar about her. For someone who walks into objects at least three times a day she carries herself with a grace that Cass hasn’t seen outside vigilantes or dancers and Marinette denies being able to dance. Even if her new sibling is one of the Parisian heroes, Cass doesn’t know the Parisian heroes very well, having met them only a few times. Their training had mostly been taken care by Dick, Tim and Damian, since the three of them spent the most time at the Tower. She leaves it alone, Tim mentioned that the miraculous holders' identities were protected by magic, it would be impossible for her to figure it out.

.oOo.

Dick had wanted to see if he had left his phone in the gymnasium, when he enters the room, Marinette’s there. He watches in shock as Marinette leaps and flips her way through the gymnasium. She’s a surprisingly good gymnast for a civilian. A lot of the moves she uses are familiar to him. Things that he had taught to some of the younger heroes as fighting sequences. He wonders what kind of teacher she must have had to be taught that.

When she finishes, he claps and she turns back in shock, her eyes widen in recognition and she becomes a vivid shade of red. He holds back the urge to laugh.

“That was amazing! Where did you learn all of that?”

“Oh, uh here and there, I went to classes for a while and I have a friend who’s really great at gymnastics.”

Dick frowns, she sounds unsure of her answer, but he lets it pass.

“I’d love to meet that friend of yours.”

She looks like a deer caught in headlights for a second before her expression smooths over and she grins at him and says, “I’ll be sure to ask him!” before skipping out of the room.

Dick is officially very curious.

.oOo.

Thursday morning, she’s informed by Duke that they usually have family dinners on Thursday and a few of Tim’s friends would be attending today too. Marinette’s excited, it’ll be fun to meet Tim’s friends.

Alfred’s banned all pranks for the day since they have guests visiting in the evening. There’s some complaining but in the end they all give in. Tim heads to his room saying he has something he wants to work on, Dick and Damian are going out for the day, she can’t find Duke, and Jason isn’t at the Manor. She’s currently searching for Cass. When Marinette finally gives up and returns to her room, she finds Cass waiting for her there.

“Want to join me and Steph? We’re going out.”

Marinette agrees and the two of them leave the manor to join Steph in the actual city. They spend the day roaming around, eat enough junk food to give Alfred a heart attack and just pass time. Steph returns with them to the Manor in the evening for dinner. They’re late but only by a bit, they’d hopefully only get a disappointed frown from Alfred.

Alfred lets them in with a sigh of disappointment. The three of them offer him sheepish grins before running off to the dining room. They can hear all of them laughing, Marinette doesn’t pause to analyse their voices.

She wishes she had.

It’s not surprising really, she’d already known how highly possible it was but nothing had prepared her to be staring at Kon, Cassie and Bart.

Jason notices her staring and asks, “why’re you looking at them like they’re aliens?”

She takes another second to finish processing, and then grins, “Well, Kon is half alien.”

Their reactions are priceless. Plagg would be proud of the chaos she’s unleashed.

Jason’s staring at her in shock. Tim’s yelling, “I KNEW IT!” Dick and Cass look like things make more sense now. B, Steph, Duke, Kon and Cassie. Damian’s jumped onto his seat and is pointing his katana at her. Bart had attacked her in a hug, yelling, “Bug!” which had thrown her to the floor.

Groaning she gets up, “not wearing a super suit right now, Bart.”

“IforgotI’msosorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh my, what is going on here?”

They all turn to look at Alfred who’s standing at the entrance.

There’s a lot of apologies as they sit in their seats and everyone settles down. She ends up sitting next to her father.

“So,” he starts, “you’re Ladybug.”

She smiles, “and you’re Batman.”

Before she can reply, she’s dragged into the others’ conversation. Her father offers her a smile and returns to his food. Marinette grins and joins the argument about the stupidest villains.

#this is nearly a week late #maribat #bio dad bruce wayne #mbdbwm2021 #my writing

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